lads-ficrecs

[lads-ficrecs]

COLLARS ‘N LEASH

STARRING: caleb x reader

synopsis: you're injured and supposed to be resting but you just can't stop going out. so caleb finds a way to convince you to stay inside to let your injuries heal (it gets freaky).

warnings: porn with plot, use of collars, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pussy slapping, obscene use of hands, cum eating, sloppy wet marathon sex, multiple creampies, manhandling, squirting, spitting, pussydrunk!caleb, cockdrunk!reader, you two are just nasty freaks.

wc: 3,4k

a/n: i'm literally about to cumbust. caleb's got me feral these days. and he will never be beating the panty sniffer allegations!!

MINORS DON'T INTERACT!

You believed it was a joke. Or some one of the many weirdly ominous things Caleb had a habit of saying to get a kick out of you. It must have been.

“What?” You blink, staring at his hands. 

“Remember what I told you?” He asked, free hand slowly reaching up your thigh. “About that stray cat.”

You were fresh out the shower, skin still steaming from the heat of the water pelting your back. You have nothing on but a gown, and not one of the fluffy ones either. His eyes had been on you since you left the shower and he hasn’t bothered hiding his blushing.

“The one you put a collar on?” Your brows raise at the memory. He really was worried about that poor kitty. It was all injured and kept trying to run, so Caleb eventually put a collar with a bell on the cat so he’d know if it tried to go and be adventurous again.

Then it clicked. You had a minor injury on your leg from your last mission. A solo mission that was supposed to be an investigation had ended with you fighting at least six Wanderers throughout the night. Caleb made sure your superiors put you on break for at least two weeks (with Zayne’s medical support) to give you time to rest. 

But being the stubborn person you are, you always found a way to leave your apartment to Caleb’s agitation. It got so bad that even he had to take leave from the Fleet to keep an eye on you— as if his usual methods didn’t already work.

It all makes sense. The fact that he’s in Linkon, the fact that you’ve been put on sick leave for two weeks, and the fact that he’s been watching you like a hawk especially since you try to go out. 

The damn collars in his hands are to make you the cat in this situation. 

“Are you serious?” You blink, trying to ignore the growing heat in your core. You couldn’t lie, it was hot. 

One of the collars, you presume is yours, has a pretty red bow tied around its bell. The other has a leather leash attached to it. Almost like a leash for a dog.

“I don’t want you running off when you’re still recoverin’.” Caleb’s hand disappear into your silk robe, inching higher and higher up your thighs, just so damn close to your pussy. “And I don’t want you to get worried. So I shouldn’t leave you.”

His lips inch closer to your neck, hot breath ghost over your damn skin. This fucker—

“How about I test a little theory of mine?” The metallic jingles of the collars ring in your ears. His sunset eyes raise to your gaze with that stupidly handsome puppy look he gives you when he gets needy and desperate. “Can I put this collar on you?”

“You’re such a freak.” You hiss, watching his eyes flutter in plain as the fucking sky obviousness. You learned he had a thing for you being a little bit mean. Just a little. And he does everything he can to get on your nerves.

“So are you.” His hand finally reaches your soaking pussy and circles your entrance with a single finger. You deeply inhale feeling your walls clench on air. “Look at you, so wet. I think you want me to collar you up. So I always know where you are.”

Bold of him to talk. You can literally see the growing tent in his pants. He likes it just as much as you do. 

His finger slowly dips into your pussy, pumping in and out with deliberate precision. He knows exactly what to do to set you off, turn you on, make you beg. And he is making things extra slow to get to you.

“Caleb.” You attempt to warn but he curls his finger right into that spongy pleasure spot that he knows drives you insane.

“Why would you wanna go out and about when you’re injured, pips?” He asks with concern in his eyes as if he isn’t torturing you with his finger. It’d be better if he put in another or two. Wet squelches travel right up to your ears to add to the injury. What a tease.

Your eyes gloss over with intense need. What a fucking— 

“It’s almost like you want me to keep you close,” Another finger finally slips in, stretching you out deliciously. A heavenly moan escapes your lips, not that you were trying to hide it to begin with. “Keep a close eye on you and remind you that you’re better off restin’ here at home.”

His words quickly become white noise just from how his fingers turn you into horny mush. If there’s one thing your boyfriend has mastered, it’s driving you insane with his fingers alone. Now imagine what his cock does.

“Fuck.” You sigh, feeling your back arch to feel his fingers deeper inside you. And like the good boyfriend he is, he gives you exactly what you need— pushing his fingers deeper and deeper until his knuckles nudge your entrance. “And– oh, Caleb- what- what about you?”

“Hm?” His tongue darts out his mouth, deeply concentrated on how your pussy clenches around his fingers as fast as your pulse. The tent on his sweatpants start to darken from his leaking precum.

“There’s two… collars.” You say slowly or else his ministrations would bring you to a stutter. “If the bell one’s for me, what about the one with the leash?”

Caleb’s lips form an ‘o’ shape, eyes following your gaze to the collars in his hand. “That one’s for me. You want me to stay close to take care of you, right? What better way to do that than to make sure I never leave your side?”

Your hand slowly travels down to grip his hardened cock, gently stroking it through the soaked fabric. Your finger danced around his tip just the way he liked it— slow and light, just to rile him up even more. You watch his eyes squeeze shut in a sore attempt to hold back his own lewd noises. 

“So if I wear the collar you will too?” Your hand expertly works his cock, squeezing his clothed shaft as you stroked him. Unable to verbally respond, Caleb slowly nods while huffing out soft groans.

That’s how you end up on your back in the bed, legs spread with your boyfriend ruthlessly eating your pussy.

Your room is silent apart from the obnoxiously slick noise of your wet, cum soaked skin being slurped and devoured. Caleb made you cum three times already and it looked like he wasn’t stopping. 

“C-Caleb—” Your eyes roll back for the nth time as his lips close around your clit for his tongue to flick back and forth in that delicious pattern. He expertly works your clit, slowly and carefully spelling out his name into your arousal all while curling his fingers deep inside your soaking pussy.

“Caleb— god— please—“ Your pleas fall to deaf ears, mostly because he’s trapped his head between your trembling thighs to suffocate in your grip. You can tell he’s getting off on it based on how he fucks your slick back into with his fingers, how he moans loudly with every slurp, kiss and bite on your skin. 

He is so gone and he fucking loves it. 

Your collar jingles every time you squirm and twitch, and sings a melody whenever your back arches for him. It’s like a little instrument that accompanies the symphony of moans and whimpers that leave your pretty lips.

He’s so animalistic with it, slobbering and drooling all over you while he slurps you up like one of his protein shakes. The bed’s shaking from how he’s grinding on the mattress to get a kick from all that self induced edging— his main priority, however, is you and that cute pussy that has him on a leash (literally and figuratively).

“Keep drippin’, pips.” He groans into your pussy, pressing hot smooches on your lower lips. “Keep cummin’ on my face. Tug on my damn leash. Fuckin’ love tasting you.”

Your clothes had been long abandoned after the first orgasm he ate you through. You made such a mess that your panties (which he will keep for later) were thrown across your room along with the rest of his clothes.

The way his tongue just effortlessly slides right past your entrance and caresses your walls brings a hoarse cry right out of your kiss-swollen lips. And of course your boyfriend dutifully responds with the sluttiest whine you’ve heard. You tug harder at his leash, overwhelmed by the continuous stimulation from his nose bumping your clit.

It all rushes straight down to his cock, jutting against he mattress. He shakes his head to spread your juices all over his face, wanting to be covered and blessed by your essence. Wanting to lick it right off his face once he was done. To have your scent on his form without having to scramble for it by rubbing your used panties on his face.

Eating your pussy alone was more than enough to make him cum untouched. What makes it even better is your relentless tugging of his leash, continuously pulling his face closer to your weeping cunt. If your moans weren’t enough then your trembling thighs were more than sufficient to keep him going. And he’d be damned to waste the meal you’re serving him on a diamond platter. 

“Caleb!” Your cry summons another harsh, intense climax bringing your legs to a violent shake. His grip on your thighs tighten and the slurps and muffled groans get so much louder that you can’t even hear your own moans.

He tilts his head back, finally releasing your legs from his iron grip. Eyes closed, Caleb chuckles as he gulps as much air as his lungs can allow.

“Should’ve had you sit on my face.” He rasps and wipes your juices off of his chin. Almost intuitively, you open your lips awaiting a taste of your juices.

“Fucking freak.” You whimper as he stuffs his fingers in your mouth for you to wipe him clean. Your tongue laps up your yummy essence, ensuring all that remains on his hand is just your saliva.

“Your fucking freak, baby.” He slowly move in and out of your mouth until the tips of his fingers tap the back of your throat making you gag around him. “Your freak that loves eating you good, loves making you feel good, loves making you cum.”

His free hand cups your pussy, feeling your wetness soak his hand like a waterfall. “Look at you. Making such a mess.” He raises his hand and lands a soft smack on your pussy making you jump from the overstimulation. Your bell jingles from the impact. He finally retracts his fingers to lick your spit off his hand, relishing in your taste with a low moan.

“Speak… for yourself.” You huff, eyes darting down to his reddened twitching length. Globs of precum dripped down his thick shaft surrounded with throbbing veins— three to be specific. “Got you all hard from eating me like a good boy.”

Caleb’s eyes flutter shut from the dirty comment. His cock jumped, dripping precum right onto your hot skin. “It’s like you want me to stuff you to remind you what gets your eyes rolling back.”

“All bark, no bite.” You grin, watching his eyes rapidly dilate. “You gonna bark again, baby?”

“Woof.” Damn, that’s fucking hot. You say nothing apart from spreading your legs wider for him. An invitation for him to act on his word. “Humble me then, Colonel. Or maybe I’ll be doing that—“

Your words get swallowed by his lips and tongue engulfing you in a lascivious kiss. Rough and demanding, breaths heavy and endless, Caleb wastes no time aligning his dripping tip with your entrance. He circles around you, slowly stroking up and down, bumping his cockhead with your swollen bud. Your juices spill all over his shaft, making it so much smoother, wetter, lewder. Fuck.

“Stop teasing,” You tug his leash as you moan against his hungry lips. “Put it in, ‘leb.”

“Mm, command me.” He grins. “You want me to fuck you good, yeah? You want this cock all up in you? Want me to stuff you full?”

The stimulation is too good for you to respond, all that can be mustered is a nod. “Use your words, pips.”

Of course.

His finger taps the bell on your collar, ringing out a cute dingle! Teasingly tapping on it, his cock slides up and down your folds, tip occasionally teasing itself right into you before pulling out. You can tell it’s driving him insane too, from how his breath is laboured, how his eyes are slowly but surely rolling back, and most definitely those soft whimpers he’s struggling to hide.

“Please, baby,” You whine, grinding your hips hard against his cock and tugging harsh on his leash. You’re practically drunk on him without even having his girth inside you. “Put in in f’me. Want you to fuck me full. Be good ’n stuff me.”

“Heh,” Caleb huffs, almost choking from how hard you pulled him. He presses his cockhead into your pussy, groaning at how tight you squeeze around him, sucking him in like a vacuum. “Yes ma’am.”

And he slips in smooth like a hand into a glove. Maybe because you’re slick from all the times he made you cum with his mouth. You both tilt your heads back, close to cumming right on the spot. He pauses to catch his breath, the dog tag on his necklace and the leather strap of his leash dangling right over your face.

“Oh, she’s squeezin’ so hard.” He grins, practically drooling from how your pussy sucks him riiiight in.

He rocks in and out of you fast, absorbing the sound of your slick and cum squelching, drenching his cock in your essence. Each thrust takes him deeper and deeper into you until his tip pokes your sensitive gummy spot.

Your little bell jumps with your titties, jingling and ringing with each relentless pounding of his length in you while his heavy sacks smack your skin. It feels so gooood and so fucking lewd that your words are reduced to incoherent mumbles.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Caleb chuckles, dragging his length in and out of your pussy with relentless speed. Even he can’t hold back his deliciously slutty moans from how good you squeeze and tighten around him. His eyes are locked on your collar, glossing over the jingling metal accompanying your moans.

“You like how I’m stuffing you?”

Your eyes cross right over, tongue tempted to loll right out. The overstimulation becomes too much even for you, forcing out so many fresh cruel orgasms from you that a ring of your cum paints the base of his cock.

“You— ah— must love how tight I clench on you,” You manage to bite back, deliberately clenching your walls to tease him. “While you fuck me deep ’n rough.”

“Fuck—“ The bed is practically screaming from the pressure of you being hammered clean. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Then do it, baby.” You must have trained him subconsciously. His cock spills heavy, hot globs of his cum right into your soaked pussy, stuffing you right up real good. His whines travel right down to your core, turning you on even more than you could possibly imagine. Something about him being so relentlessly horny for you drives you insane.

“You’re evil, baby.” Caleb groans, pressing hot kisses all over your skin, from your neck right to your jaw all while still thrusting his cum into you. You can just feel some of it escaping your plugged pussy, leaking onto the bed with the rest of your lewd juices. “Making’ me cum like this. Driving me crazy with that pussy of yours.”

Plap! Plap! Plap! sounds around the room alongside your joint cries, sweat-slick skin smacking, and your bell jingling like crazy. Your grip on his leash tightens, tugging him down right to your lips.

The kiss is so deliciously sloppy and wet with your tongues overlapping and teeth clashing. Your core tightens and burns with that familiar heat, screaming for release. “Caleb— ‘m gonna cum again.”

“Good.” He pulls right out of you, leaving your poor pussy clenching on air and practically pulsing his name in morse code. “Cum f’me like a good girl.”

He raises your legs from the bed, hooking them on his shoulders and pounding his cock right back into you. In a much deeper angle hitting your sensitive core all while pinching and rubbing your clit with a calloused finger.

You choke out a cry, vision going completely white as the overstimulation burns through your skin right up your spine. The tightness in your core completely snaps, releasing juices all over you, all over him, all over the damn bed until everything in the eye can see is soaked.

“Thaaaat’s it, baby.” He grins, watching your juices drip down his abs flexing with every thrust. He leans down, pushing you into the meanest mating press to date. His cock practically bullies your cervix with his inhumanely mean thrusts, spurting globs of cum from his last orgasm right into you. 

“Squirt on me.” Your toes curl as your eyes roll back into your head. “Make a mess all over me.” He’s babbling at this rate, praising everything you do while he rails you to the stars. “Pussy’s so good f’me. You’re so good f’me. Wanna stuff you to the brim. Wanna make you feel so good ’n comfy that you won’t need to lift a finger.”

You can only whimper in response to his praises. Your nails claw at his back while fruitlessly tugging at his leash. But a flimsy thing like that won’t hold either of you. If anything, it drives you even crazier for each other.

You could go on for hours, days, till the fucking room smells like you. Till the windows and mirrors fog. Till you milk him dry to the fuckin’ bone. Till you’re both so cockdrunk and pussydrunk that your names are the only things you can utter.

Not even a few seconds after Caleb loudly whines as another huge stuffing of hot cum fills you up good. His eyes cross as his tongue sticks right out, dripping saliva right into your mouth. Feeling so nasty yet so damn good, you take it all in, relishing in his taste.

“Fuck, wanna taste you—“ Using the remnants of his strength that didn’t go with his cum right into you, Caleb lifts you up into his arms with his cock still lodged inside. You swear it must have swollen up inside you. 

He drives his hips up into you, pushing his cock nice and hard and deep. “Spit into my mouth, baby.” He sticks his tongue out, almost wagging it for you like the tease he is. “Drip into my mouth.”

And who are you to refuse him of his desires? Not to mention, you’ve always had the desire to do it too. The only concern is how he expects you to do it while he fucks you both beyond the point of overstimulation.

But Caleb being Caleb always finds a way. He nips your squished titties, dragging a loud sultry moan out of your lips, bringing drool right out of your tongue and right into his waiting mouth. And that alone just makes him cum again, strongly spurting his cum right into you as if he hasn’t done it twice already. 

You’re fucked through and through, almost limp in his embrace and yet still hungry for more. As his cock pumps his seed deep into you, he kisses you with praises of reverence and love.

“So good.” He babbles, tonguing the bell on your collar, whimpering with the soft jingles. “So fuckin’ good. ‘M not gonna stop. ‘M gonna fuck you good all night. Stuff you full of my cum. You want that, baby?”

You quickly nod, mumbling your yeses with hiccups and moans. There was no way you were going to stop at the rate you were going. Perhaps when the sun rises. Or when your injuries heal. You’re not complaining though. It’s not every day you get to have your boyfriend like this, and you plan to make the most of it.

caleb's making me too feral for my own good.

[lads-ficrecs]

𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: caleb x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: liberal usage of gege/meimei. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the colonel has never known how to love gently— not when it comes to her. spoiling her with pretty things is merely second nature to him. sometimes, she calls it too much. he calls it love.

caleb didn’t know when he came in— he rarely did. 

the weight of the day still clung to his shoulders— the crisp collar of his uniform creased with long hours, boots dulled with dust and gloves still on his hands. but none of it mattered now. not when he stood in the doorway of the quiet little apartment, holding something delicate and lovely in his hands— wrapped carefully in soft tissue paper, tied with a pale satin ribbon.

“meimei,” caleb called softly, voice low and warm like it always was when he was deliberately trying not to scare her off.

“c’mere for a second.”

she peeked out from the hallway, hesitant and shy as ever, sleeves of her pyjamas tugged down past her hands. her eyes caught on the package he was holding, then flicked back up to his face. 

“caleb…” she began softly, a slight frown on her face. though perhaps it was more akin to a pout, a pathetic attempt at a frown because even she couldn’t be mad at him.

“you didn’t have to get me anything…” she murmured, already shrinking into herself, as if to prepare for an argument she knew she wouldn’t win.

“i did.” he crossed the room, boots silent against the wooden floor, and pressed the bundle gently into her hands. “i wanted to.” 

she blinked up at him. “you always say that…”

“i know.” a breath of a smile touched his lips. “but i saw it and thought of you. and once that happens, well… you know i can’t help myself.”

“i want to see you in it,” he said plainly, honestly, stepping pack and resting a hand on his belt. “right now.”

she looked down at the box, then back at him, wary but touched. “r-right now? caleb, it’s getting late,” 

she opened her mouth to further protest, but he was already unfastening the ribbon, gently lifting up the lid. 

and there it was: the softest powder-blue dress, dappled with silvery stars like frost caught in twilight. it’s skirt puffed just slightly with layers of light tulle beneath, and black, satin bows rested on the shoulders lie little whispers of sweetness, and a dainty silver belt circled the waist in a constellation of charms. on top, were a pair of white knee-high socks delicately ribbed and trimmed with tiny, matching bows. the second box had a paid of glossy black mary janes that had little bows on the double straps. 

she stared, fingers trembling just slightly as they brushed the fabric. “it’s too much, gege….”

he stepped closer. “no, it’s perfect. for you.”

“caleb,” she whispered, brows furrowed as she averted her gaze. “this must’ve been expensive. i don’t need fancy things, i— “

“nope.” he held up a hand, face stern, the same look he used on his subordinates to get them to shut up and one that worked effortlessly well on her too. “not listenin’. don’t care.”

“but—“ 

“i said,” he cut in again, stepping forward now, close enough she had to tilt her chin to meet his eyes. “i wanted to buy it for you. because i knew you’d like it. and,” — he bent just a little, voice lowering to a near-whisper against her temple— “because i knew my meimei would say no.”

her breath caught. she’d forgotten how warm he sounded when he spoke, how the words curled around his affection or her. gentle, but unyielding. 

he drew back, smirking faintly. “so i didn’t give you the chance.”

“go on,” he nudged her gently towards the bedroom with a hand on her back, warm and firm. “the dress is here, and i want to see you in it.”

she hesitated, glancing back at him once before slipping out of sight with the main box in hand. 

he waited.

and when she returned, she did so quietly, almost uncertain and hesitant. adorably, endearingly shy. 

she looked perfect. caleb was sure of it. the way the fabric floated just above her knees, the glimmer of the thread catching in the light, the way the bows framed her bare shoulders— it was all perfect. 

“i… can’t reach the zipper,” she mumbled, voice barely a breath.

caleb crossed the roomm without a word. he took the socks from her arms, setting them on the couch behind him before stepping behind her. gently, he gathered up any hair in the way and moved it over her shoulder. she shivered when hsis fingered brushed the curve of her neck, exhaling softly.

“tricky zipper, hm? gege is here to help.” he murmured, mostly to himself, though there was a fond smile tugging at his lips.

with careful precision, he guided the zipper up the back of the dress, letting the fabric mold to her frame. he took his time, not because he struggled, but because he didn’t want to rush. when he was finished, he let his hands linger just a moment longer at her waist as he smoothed the dress out. 

she made a quiet noise of pretest when caleb suddenly settled onto a knee after picking up the socks again, biting her lip. 

with a practiced gentleness, he cradled her ankle and guided her foot into the soft cotton. her hands didn’t stop him as he bunched up one sock, holding her ankle in his palm like something precious. he slid the fabric up slowly, smoothing it over her skin with quiet, reverent care. 

“you don’t have to do all of this…” she mumbled softly, her voice wobbling. 

“i do. i want to.”  she’d gone quiet, her cheeks flushed, her knees pulling just slightly inwards as she sat on the couch, but she didn’t stop him.

he took her other foot and did the same, rolling the second sock up with the same quiet precision, making sure every ling was smooth, every wrinkle gone. the little bows sat delicately right against her upper calf. “let me take care of you.” 

caleb’s thumbs smoothed over the delicate fabric just beneath the bow on the socks, before reaching over for one of the shoes, bringing the box closer to where he was kneeling for each access. the glossy black mary janes gleamed under the warm room light, polished to a mirror shine, the cute little bows practically winking up at him. 

he turned the shoe in his hand, thumb brushing along the sole before lowering it gently in front of her.

“sit still,” he said softly, nodding towards where she was sitting on the couch. and she obeyed, knees together, her dress spreading in a soft fan around her thighs.

“you don’t have to do that,” she murmured, watching him with pink cheeks, voice small.

“i know i don’t,” he answered without looking up, already easing the shoe toward her foot. “but i want to.” it was his same response for her nearly every retort.

she opened her mouth again, probably to protest— that it was embarrassing, that she could do it herself— but she closed it as quickly when he took her ankle in his hand.

caleb was gentle, careful as always. her foot was light in his palm, small, and cool to the touch beneath the socks. he slipped the shoe on with a practiced gare, guiding her toes in, cradling her heel. he took his time adjusting the strap over the sock, making sure it didn’t pink, then fastening the buckle with a quiet click.

“there,” he murmured, smoothing his thumb over the top of her foot. “one down.” 

she made a quiet sound in the back of her throat— half laugh, half sigh— and he swore he felt her twitch.

the second shoe followed in the same rhythm. caleb took her other foot into his hand and repeated the ritual— slow, tender, reverent, as if this simple act held all the weight in the world.

“you know,” he said as he buckled the strap again, “these little bows are gonna be the death of me.”

she blinked. “w-why?”

he looked up at her with a crooked smile, still kneeling at her feet, the picture of a man far too proud of a moment so ordinary. 

the colonel of the farspace fleet, at his knees for her.

“because you look like you walked out of a dream,” he said, a deep hum leaving him. “ you look like a little present,” he said, voice thick with something soft and dangerous sand utterly full. “like someone wrapped you up just for me.”

she looked down at him, eyes slightly wide, lashes fluttering. 

“i want to keep you like this,” he murmured. “tucked away, somewhere safe. somewhere only i can reach. is that selfish?”

she didn’t answer, and he didn’t need her to. he reached up instead, tugging slightly at the hem of her dress and smoothing it over her lap with both hands before resting his cheek against her knee.

“let me do this for you,” he whispered, tilting his head to press a kiss to her knee. “let me keep you. spoil you. protect you.”

she sighed, her fingers hesitantly threading into his hair. a touch that said: i don’t know how to say yes, but i won’t say no.

and for now, that was more than enough for caleb. 

[lads-ficrecs]

nurse for a day

synopsis: who knew a sick doctor could be such a handful? 

tags: stubborn zayne who hates being sick, reader takes care of him anyway, sleepy delirious zayne, fluff fluff fluff, humor(?), suggestive for .5 seconds word count: 2k 

a/n: i personally think i ate with this one 

It was quiet. Too quiet. 

As you slink through the seemingly empty house, ducking into shadows like you’re on a stealth mission, you really wish your boyfriend weren’t so damn stubborn. 

On your earlier phone call, Zayne had tried admirably hard to mask the nasally tone in his voice—to pretend like his frequent coughs were simply him “clearing his throat.” But you knew better.

He doesn’t get sick often—what with knowing exactly how to prevent it, and all—but when he does, he detests it for several reasons. The most pressing one, at the moment? You love when Zayne is sick.

Not because you think he deserves it, not because you want to see him suffer, but because you get to play nurse. After so many days being taken care of and scolded by the best doctor in Linkon, you finally get to return the favor. 

Except Zayne isn’t particularly…appreciative of the favor. You’re a very strict nurse, he’s frowned at you several times before. You tell him over and over again that you only want him to feel better, but that doesn’t stop him from holing up in a bunker every time he comes down with something. It’s the only time he avoids you. 

And now, he’s hiding from you. In his own home. 

You know he’s here. When you arrived, his freshly washed car was sparkling in the driveway, a full mug of jasmine tea was still steaming on the kitchen countertop, and various office supplies were left scattered across the coffee table. As if he’d heard you coming and frantically abandoned ship. 

You’d searched the usual spots: his empty bedroom, so pristine it looked like a hotel cleaning crew had stopped by; the walk-in closet, to make sure he hadn’t disguised himself among the hangers; and his study, where there’d been nothing but heaps of paperwork threatening the desk’s structural integrity. 

He’s being extra sneaky this time, you scoff to yourself as you tiptoe around upstairs. Room after room, and no endearingly, adorably, annoyingly stubborn doctor inside. 

But then, pressing your ear to the laundry room door, you hear it. 

The unmistakable crinkle of a candy wrapper.

You’ve never felt so lucky that Zayne reserves his self-control for you and not sweets. 

With a deep breath and a crack of your knuckles, you jiggle the doorknob slightly before bursting into the room. The man inside, hunched over the floor next to a tissue box, jumps at the sudden noise before freezing in place. And then, slowly, shyly, he spins to face you with the wide eyes and stuffed cheeks of a disgruntled hamster. 

Zayne has spent enough time with you to know what the unimpressed look on your face means: Explain yourself. 

“I don’t remember you knocking,” he sniffles curtly, unable to hide the way his stuffy nose constricts his throat. The rosy blush on his cheeks is the only indication of his guilt. 

“I don’t remember signing up to date an escape artist,” you shoot back, satisfied with his resulting wince. “What are you doing all the way in here? Was the space under the desk in your study not suitable this time?” 

“Just wanted a—”sniff—“change of scenery,” he jokes lamely, gesturing to the sleek washer and dryer towering over him. 

Sighing, you crouch down in front of him, taking in the wall of chocolate wrappers barricading him in. “Is the idea of me taking care of you really that bad? I’m just trying to help.” 

“That’s exactly it,” he says dryly. “You always help more than what’s needed.” 

At that, your eyes narrow into slits sharp enough to cut through bone. His bones, if he’s not careful. “Excuse me?” 

“I mean,” he clears his throat, grimacing at the dull burn in his sinuses, “You always help me exactly how I need it, and more.” 

“That’s what I thought you said. Now, come downstairs so I can give you the medicine you need, Dr. Zayne. And hand over the candy.” 

It was no secret that Zayne loved sweet things. The confiscated tub of chocolates sitting on the counter was evidence enough. 

But as you look down at his frowning face, cup of chemically red liquid in hand, you can’t help but wonder if it’s because Zayne loves sweet things that he hates taking medicine. 

Once he’d finally trudged into the kitchen, you’d sat him down on a barstool before fishing the dreaded bottle out of the cabinet. “Why not a lozenge instead?” he’d asked. “One of the citrus ones.” 

You hadn’t fallen for his trap, of course. But as he eyes you like he’ll make a break for it any second now, a weary part of you wishes you had. 

“You know,” you lean in conspiratorially, “they say if you plug your nose, you won’t taste it as much.” 

“Illness doesn’t make me a fool,” he mutters bitterly. “I, more than anyone, know how fruitless that trick often is. It doesn’t even work on the kids in the pediatric ward anymore.” 

“And why would a 27-year-old man need the same encouragement as sick children, I wonder?” you crack slyly. 

Zayne looks away, taking a sudden interest in the floor tiles. 

Snorting, you double-check the dosage in the medicine cup and hold it out to him. He regards it with abject misery, his big, hazel eyes staring up at you pleadingly, and you feel a crack in your resolve.

“Fine,” you grumble, pivoting to raid the pantry behind you. Retrieving the most acceptable pastry you can find—there are about 7 different options—you set the blueberry muffin on the island in front of him. 

At the peace offering, those hazel eyes light up slightly, driving out some of the pallor on his face. With a deep breath, Zayne grunts softly before downing the liquid like a shot, shuddering at the aftertaste. Eyes closed in a lasting grimace, he reaches blindly for the muffin before you push it into his grasp, and he sighs in contentment when he bites into it.

Running a hand through his dark hair, you can’t help but grin fondly. 

If only the pediatric ward could see him now. 

After Zayne recovered from the horrors of modern medicine, he’d sullenly asked for more tea, since the batch he’d made earlier was cold now. Pinching his cheek, you’d sent him to sulk on the living room couch so you could keep an eye on him. Which had worked, for several minutes. You’d gathered the ingredients, and he’d flipped blankly through a journal, intermittent sniffles reassuring you of his presence. 

But as you gawk at the abandoned sofa, you realize he must have ducked you while your back was turned. 

Yep. Definitely an escape artist.

With a frustrated growl, you hurriedly plunk the tea bag in and listen for signs of movement. Hearing the faint clicks of a keyboard, you stomp up the stairs to his study, not caring if the drink in hand sloshes over the rim of his favorite penguin mug. Serves him right.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you snap, setting the cup on his desk to put your hands on your hips.

“Working,” he answers with an innocent upturn of his lips. 

“I mean,” you clarify, “what do you think you’re doing when you should be resting?”

Too distracted to keep typing, Zayne switches his attention to the stack of papers before him. “I feel much better already,” he lies flatly, breaking eye contact when yours bore into his. 

As an incredulous laugh escapes you, you throw your hands up in exasperation. “What would you say to one of your patients if they tried to work through an illness?” 

“I’d say that as a medical professional, I only have the jurisdiction to advise them on the best course of treatment. Once out of hospital care, it’s up to them to exercise judgment and decide if they’re able to work or not. Like I’m doing now,” he retorts, and you almost commend his ability to bullshit such a polished answer.

“Right, of course,” you entertain him sweetly. “So is that why you just scrawled your signature through the bottom of that confidentiality agreement?”

With sluggish alarm, Zayne jerks his head down to survey the damage, and sure enough, his swooping penmanship has rendered the contract illegible.

“How could I have missed the signature line?” he whispers, face aghast with disbelief. “I…I don’t even know what…”

“I do,” you sing triumphantly, walking around to haul him up from his armchair. “I know exactly what’s wrong.” 

The main reason Zayne hates being sick isn’t the symptoms. It isn’t the unneeded pity, the inopportune sick days, or even the insidious slide of what tastes like poison down his throat.  

No. Unfortunately, for your stubborn snowman of a boyfriend, the main reason Zayne hates being sick is simply of his nature: cold medicine makes him terribly drowsy. 

Its heightened effect on him is just like his alcohol intolerance—something in his genes just can’t handle outside influences. 

So as you lead him back to rest on the sofa, laying his head across your lap, it becomes clear you’re now dealing with an oversized koala. 

“You smell nice. I think. I can’t really smell anything,” he murmurs into your navel, tickling your skin with his rhythmic deep breaths. 

“Mm. You smell nice too, under the medicine scent. Like jasmine tea.”

As you gently massage his scalp, he burrows into your stomach, lifting his head up seconds later as if remembering something. 

“Did you d’something different with your hair today? Looks nice,” he slurs, blinking at you with sleep-laced eyes. 

“Yep!” Nope. “Thank you for noticing, Zaynie. So observant even when you’re sick,” you coo, rubbing soothing circles into his back. 

With a delirious hum, he smiles softly at the praise before his gaze lands on your chest, rising and falling above him. “You’re very…warm,” he whispers, baby pink tongue wetting his lips. But just as he leans up to nuzzle into you, you stop him halfway. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” you chide, catching him by the scruff. “Not right now, at least.” 

A quiet sigh is his only resistance, and as he slumps back down, he brings a hand around your waist to leave a lingering kiss on your stomach. 

“Are you tired, Zayne?” you ask, cradling his head in your palms to meet his clouded gaze.

“Mm. I’d like to go to bed now.”

As you turn off the bedside lamp, preparing to leave Zayne in peace for the night, feverishly warm hands pull you down onto the mattress. Lying beside him, you flutter your eyes closed as he presses a tender kiss to your cheek. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting me sick?” you question, raising a brow in the moonlight. 

Chuckling, he shakes his head languidly. “Sinus infections aren’t contagious,” he yawns. “But even if they were, transmission would only give me the chance to look after you in return.”

“Are you sure? Someone once told me I’m too stern of a nurse. I’d hate to be the same way as a patient.” 

Zayne frowns contemplatively as he rests a hand on your hip. “Even though your methods are…involved,” he swallows, “I appreciate the consideration you’ve shown me today. Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Approval from the illustrious Dr. Zayne,” you whisper, gently tapping his reddened nose. “I hope this means he won’t hide from me next time.” 

As he winces, you can almost see the events of this afternoon replaying in his mind. “If he can help it, there won’t be a next time. But yes, I won’t hide from you again. I truly do feel better with you here beside me.” 

“And you’ll feel even better with proper rest,” you remind him. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here until you do.”

Finally relenting, he turns on his side, holding you to him like a child with a teddy bear. 

And though he’s never believed in them before, when Zayne wakes the next morning, nose clear and fever broken, he thinks you might be a miracle worker. 

[lads-ficrecs]

the shape of grief.

as far as rafayel is concerned, pygmalion's is a horror story, not a myth. guy decides all women are beneath him, quite literally designs and builds one for himself, and somehow his narcissistic prayers for her to live are granted. what humans define as love and the stories they tell about it are always so revealing of their selfish nature. he only ever gets the appeal of it when he looks at his faceless galatea unable to take shape in his clay-sodden hands, and thinks, what wouldn't i give for you to open your eyes so that i could remember their exact color.

♯ ⸻ pure angst, sfw, 3.7k, read on ao3

note: directly inspired by this post about rafayel trying to sculpt mc/reader but not remembering her face. a bit late to this but i was hit with the procrastination fairies LMAO . i wrote this in a feverish delirium without caring for any canon at all, i apologize if rafayel is ooc !! this work assumes he has his memories of his life as the god of tides, you can think it as an AU if you believe he has no memories of it in the main timeline (yet.) This also takes place before the Addictive Pain anectode (if you like nitpicking and think why he doesn't have a photo of her and that this could have been avoided HAHA)

but without further ado, i hope you enjoy, please let me know what you thought!

The gallery Thomas had to basically bribe him to attend was cold with intention. Whitewashed walls were almost blinding beneath the overhead lights, each fixture angled to make the sculptures glow faintly at the edges like relics, a violin track playing at a volume calibrated for reverent hush with the crowd adjusting its voice accordingly. Somehow, the worst of it was that they'd scented the room with something floral and expensive, and it clung to the back of Rafayel’s throat. 

The exhibit was titled Breathed to Life: The Divine Muse in Modern Form. He’d read the placard twice, though once would’ve been enough. Wherever he looked, Rafayel couldn't escape from the oozed hauteur for the attempts at capturing a miracle, sculptures of taxidermied epiphanies resting under glass that was tempered with more care in Rafayel's opinion, preserved with just enough light to make the delusion shine. Words like transcendence, revelation, and worship had been worked into the catalog copy, and even the bubbles of champagne he was swirling in the flute glass was more interesting as he moved through the space slowly.

He passed a piece labeled Galatea No. IV — a full-bodied woman in bronze, lips parted in awakening, arms half-lifted as if to greet the man who had imagined her, the texture of her skin smoothed to impossible precision, idealized down to the the pores with not a single wrinkle or mole.

One of the critics standing nearby called it sublime. Another said, "She looks so real I almost expect her to blink."

Rafayel said nothing. He kept walking.

A curator caught him between rooms. She was in something backless, dark green, dripping with confidence. “You must feel at home here,” she said, beaming. “Mr. Rafayel, you're the Pygmalion of our time."

He looked past her to one of his own works, mounted near the final archway. A man slouched on a low stone, arms folded, spine curved with a kind of refusal, turned away from something but looking up at it at the same time in criticism, his face gaunt with a pinch of displeasure, half-shielded by a fall of hair. No awe or supplication.

His was the only Pygmalion in the entire exhibit, and no one seemed to realize it. Rafayel had heard some talk about how progressive it was to genderbend Galatea for gay representation, or that this could be the moment Galatea came to life and rejected her maker in a plot twist. 

Rafayel had left it up to interpretation if his Pygmalion was looking at Galatea at all. He was staring past her — past all of them, really. Every woman he ever imagined beneath him, too dull or too much or too sharp to matter. A man convinced that the thing he made was a compromise, that he’d been forced to shape it because nothing real had measured up. Neither a lover, nor a muse. A reflection bent to fit him. And maybe resenting how much of himself had ended up in the marble anyway. Nothing of the yearning saint the myth preferred. 

The gallery had tried to soften this image of human ugliness within the divine benevolence of Galateas all around, projecting wind through bare branches beside the figure, trying to frame the posture as meditative. They titled the piece Invocation. Rafayel wasn't even asked before they changed the name and he was definitely having a talk about it with Thomas after.

He offered the curator a a dismissive hand. “A flattering comparison. Though I hear his success rate depended entirely on divine intervention.”

She laughed, unsure whether it was flirtation or rebuke. “Still, what an honor. So many of us see ourselves in the myth, don’t we? The ones who love so deeply we bring our muses to life.”

He excused himself with a nod that meant nothing. Her perfume followed him down the corridor.

The flowing hallway was a blur of marble, alabaster, glass, bronze, the women luminous and soft, the men always absent — except in the titles. The Sculptor’s Prayer. In the Hands of the Maker. Love Before Breath. One artist had suspended a torso in resin, veins threaded with copper, the heart cavity open and waiting with the accompanying quote that read: “She lives because I saw her clearly enough.”

Rafayel stopped in front of it. The figure inside was beautiful and fragile, designed to be admired.

He traced the edge of the plinth with one fingertip and thought: She lives because you needed her to. Not because she wanted to.

He left the gallery floor and stepped into the auxiliary corridor lined with donor plaques and black-and-white photographs. One showed a young couple posed beside a sculpture mid-process. The woman’s face was amicable, and the man looked directly into the camera, his hand on the small of her back. The caption read: The original Galatea — forever immortalized by love.

He looked at it until the focus dissolved, and the polished surface of the frame stopped reflecting anything but his own cold expression.

Pygmalion was granted his wish. That alone was enough to make Rafayel despise him. 

A man shapes greed with his hands, pulls at the skirts of heavens like a petulant child, and the gods — watching from a distance they rarely breach — clap their hands in glee and say yes.

The myth pretended that mercy could be earned by longing, that a body sculpted by a beholder who sees himself so above others is owed because he called it love. There was no weight in that kind of miracle, only cruelty dressed as grace, a prayer granted just to mock the millions that weren't. 

Pygmalion was the epitome of human selfishness, the final limit where want transformed into greed for more than the world could grant. Only his statue, made by his own greedy hands and given life through someone else's breath, was beautiful, because only she embodied perfection to him, not because she was worth desiring but because he desired her. Pygmalion's love didn't reach past his self, it served only to feed himself and satiate him with the sight of his narcissism, like any other creation brought to life by humans for their own benefit; machines built to kill, guns painted gold so they look like art when killing — all just tools made to feed men's hunger for more.

But he would have never cared about Pygmalion if it wasn't for the gods.

Because Rafayel envied those gods, all too human in their vanity, for the power and might they wielded to give so easily like that. Their ability to move mountains without ever being touched by grief, to pull strings that bind worlds without fearing losing something of theirs; it was unfathomable to someone so bound in mortal tethers such as he.

It must feel so freeing, living like that, he thought. Must feel so good, pulling at other lives like they are your playthings. So easy to get lost in those dreams.

The same way he did back then.

The disdain covering Rafayel in a second skin as if he was an oil-soaked seagull was fuel enough to get back to work after that travesty of a gallery.

He’d been developing a concept for a painting — a large-scale composition of a coral-devoured, bleeding cathedral submerged in the sea, its steeples fractured and stretching toward the surface in a gesture that evoked both surrender and yearning, an image meant to convey the contradictions of loss and reverence, a symbolic convergence of decay and devotion. At least that’s what the so-called critics were about to yammer on about. It in fact was the fate of a certain buyer Rafayel was targeting, and the message was meant for his people and his people only.

The draft lived on the sketchbook propped against his raised knees, his legs crossed on the high stool, charcoal gripped tightly in one hand and smudging downwards the length of a pillar as he added textures and shadows to create depth. It was a hasty thing, but effective at illustrating what he envisioned, complete with notes scribbled around the edges, jotted reminders for little details here and there he needed to add to truly flesh out the piece later on. Rafayel was so distracted by a couple more things to add to the sketch that the canvas already prepared beneath the dome skylight felt neglected despite the brushes sitting ready and dipped in paint atop a palette of bruised violet scraped from stormclouds, diluted ultramarine, blue fog, a soft grime green of oxidized copper, rotten ivory, a sliver of warm rust, a cold pink scraped from the underbelly of spent roses, and more.

And yet, when he finally got up to start for good, his gaze drifted elsewhere.

Toward the bust armature.

Rafayel stood beside it, hands in the pockets of his black suit pants, head tilted sideways with one hand playing with it in thought. He loosened the buttons of the white dress shirt he wore after flinging off that horrid tie, sleeves pushed to mid forearms as he dragged a stool and took a seat before the armature, right elbow propped atop the round table to the side holding supplies, chin resting on knuckles, now gazing up at the base of the clay cast while chewing the inside of his cheek.

He had always told himself he would return to it when he was ready, when time had softened the raw, exposed nerve endings of loss, when he could render your likeness with a steady hand instead of a shaking one.

But then months stretched into a year, days faded into seasons which blended together into a period of numbness broken occasionally by an intrusive thought here and there while he focused on Lemuria and Lemuria only, and then — nothing. Until it was easier not to think about it at all. He became absorbed in his mission, dedicated to getting revenge, and avoided thoughts of you, for all intents and purposes, until moments like these where he simply sat in silence looking up at a form without feature to remind him why exactly he did what he did.

Galatea, huh?

He crossed the room with the same distracted focus he used to summon bruyous, hands rummaging through the storage shelves until he found the sealed bag of clay, not expecting it to be heavier than he remembered, dense with neglect. Dumping it unceremoniously beside the armature, he sliced it open, letting the block fall onto the slab table with a dull, resistant thud, finding it cold to the touch, too stiff to yield immediately, so he pressed it between his palms, wetting them, working the material slowly until the top layer lost its brittleness.

He didn't sit right away, hovering over the lump with furrowed brows, kneading it down into something usable, folding in water from the bowl on the side, rotating it as he moved, pushing and turning until the tension bled out. Once softened, he dunked the mass onto the metal plate mounted over the dented and sluggish, old man of a banding wheel. Only then did he sit, lowering himself onto a battered wooden stool, one bare foot braced against the leg of the wheel’s base while the other nudged gently to angle it.

All done. He reached for the wire loop tool without thinking or looking over, fingers already coated in the dull slip of moisture and clay.

The first lines came quick and confident. Indents for the eyes. The line of a nose. Just scaffolding, clearing a space where you might return to him, the only sound in the room the soft grind of his tools and his breathing. 

He narrowed the chin, adjusted the brow. Then sat back, frowning.

Too young. This was closer to the child at the beach who had hooked pinkies with him. 

He scraped the forehead flat again, thumb dragging clay down like peeling skin. The smoothed face stared up at him in blank reprieve, a temporary erasure before he tried again, less baby fat on the cheeks, sharper cheekbones this time, a more adult curve to the jaw, something more defined around the eyes, though he wasn’t sure what. A firmer mouth, perhaps. A stronger line. He reworked the nose — it ended up being too straight the first time and he chided himself for the mistake, then he decided it was too narrow, crooked it just slightly at the bridge, something he'd sworn felt right.

It wasn't long before the moment slipped from his fingers, and all the revisions felt more like mistakes than anything, tilting the whole balance of the face into something uncanny. He could pretend it was nearly familiar, but only in the way dreams pretended to be memory.

With an annoyed click of his tongue, Rafayel tilted the wheel. Leaning in with an emotion-tense strain in his spine, he angled the bust toward the overhead light until the shadows shifted and spilled away from the features he’d laid out like a confession.

He stood up for a burning stretch to contemplate, stepped back, squinted with his head tilted, and stepped forward again.

Was it just him? The angle? The lighting? The fatigue of the gallery distorting everything?

After he sat back down with more determination to get over whatever this slump was that made him get you wrong over and over again, one adjustment in the temple led to a collapse in the jawline, and the later correction to the mouth made the chin too long.

The realization that the eyes looked distant now and he couldn’t tell if it was him failing the depth or the absence of something deeper was particularly worrying. Rafayel had always trusted the process, but this didn’t feel like a detour into arriving at the same destination, the clay was actually resisting him in a non-art block way and it was starting to actually bother him. 

He scraped again, set the brow differently, ignoring the thing niggling at him at the back of his head and brushing against some the internal nerve. Was it ever really that shape? Or had he once wanted it to be, and kept telling you about how doing your brows that way would compliment your features better when Algie had sat you down before the vanity in your room to try out some dresses for the ceremony and work on make-up to go along with each one of them?

The clay warped gently beneath his fingers as he tried to trust the sensation, but every stroke seemed to subtract rather than add. The frustration Rafayel hadn't sensed had made its way into his hands like fire following the path of a wick, making the cheekbone dip under the tool, and he had to sit back straighter with a huff from his nose. 

His eyes flew all over the features of the bust, the whole incomplete face. Rafayel couldn't even call it yours. One mistake or two could be expected, even pictures could be unflattering. But it was worse than that — he couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong. The structure was exactly the same, proportions were what he remembered. The surface was close to reality enough to breathe, but the person who would come to life if they did wasn’t you, and he didn't know where he had gone wrong. 

Rafayel stared longer. A pressure grew behind his ribs, and it was beginning to feel like trying to hum a melody he hadn’t heard in years. The more he reached for it, the more the silence beneath it yawned open.

He reached up and pressed his palm against the clay, not to shape, just to feel if it might suddenly remember for him.

It didn’t.

This was someone else. Too much of him.

He looked down at his hands, coated in slip and streaked with fine dust, and flexed the fingers slowly as though wondering how long they’d been disobeying him.

He pressed the backs of the base knuckles of his thumbs into the inner corners of his eyes, pressing at the tear ducts.

Where was the scar you used to trace absently while thinking? He tried to recall the way your mouth moved when you were amused but trying not to smile. Was it one side that curled first? Or both? He had drawn it once, years ago, sketched it from memory with absolute certainty. But when he reached for it now, he found only doubt.

The chair scraped backwards and nearly toppled as he sprang to his feet, crossing to the small cabinet beside the canvas where he kept what little he dared to revisit. He almost flung the drawer halfway through the room when he yanked it open, pulled the first sketchpad he could reach, pages flipping too and frenzied to register until he paused and kept going through them slower to make sense of it. 

Eyes, alone. Dozens of them. Glancing sideways, gazing directly, lowered in thought, every single one of them slightly different in expression, none of them quite right. A nose rendered in three-quarter view with a soft crease that might have been tension. The arch of a brow, mid-expression — concern, maybe? Hair texture studies in every style you wore it that he remembers. A mouth caught in a smile with no cause. Hands more frequently than anything else — folded gently, held in motion, reaching out. The gesture of a wrist mid-turn, the curve of a knuckle mid-thought. A sketch of a nape that vanished into the shadows of the page’s lower edge.

None of them carried your name. But they were you. Bits of you. Shards. And every one of them had been committed to the page when he hadn’t even meant to — absentminded, between tasks, in the margins of other projects. A fragmented archive of heartbreak he’d been too cowardly to complete. As if assembling you would demand an answer to where you had gone, as if seeing it finished would require confronting what it meant for him to have stayed, inviting something too vast and unhealed to fit back inside him without breaking something else a lie in full.

Rafayel had underestimated the sheer amount of notebooks he'd gone through for years now, like paper towels one would wipe away their tears with. The grudges he'd immortalized left to collect dust and avoided religiously.

He could only look through a draft of your eyes and hold on to the sketchbook for dear life when his vision blurred and something trickled down his cheek. One by one, the tears solidified into pearls, striking the floor and rolling away into obscurity among the chaos of his studio.

Dropped right into the throes of a realization far bigger than he could accept.

Like a dream that slipped away upon waking, your face had receded to the place where Lemuria had sunk — unable to be grasped fully or played back clearly unless he called them forth, the rest reduced to snippets and gestures instead, images that flickered through his mind like slides projected on a screen, ephemeral and fading faster the harder he fought to keep hold of them. What remained was abstraction — softness that used to be hair, the dimple of an incisor tooth, a tilt of the mouth that belonged to laughter. Those fragments still possessed color. What they lacked were definitions that would allow him to shape the clay in your image.

He went through more sketchbooks until the last of it joined the pile around him and he was left standing motionless in the wreckage of graphite and paper spilling open across the floor like overturned reliquaries, pages fluttering mockingly gentle under the breeze nudging through the half-cracked windows, reflecting back a half-you, or an almost-you. He stared at them for a long time without moving, eyes dragging from shape to shape, as if willing one to speak with your voice.

What answered was a notification pinging in his pocket, a sound so mundane amid the shambles of his misery. He pulled his phone out in a detached daze, swiping at it with no thought.

Thomas: Pygmalion and Galatea gallery photos are up on their page! Your attendance was well publicized and people are talking about your piece, so I expect requests for interviews soon. Just letting you know 😃

 His knees gave out before the grief did, he caught the armrest at the very last possible second, and slid down the length of the sofa's side.

She lives because I saw her clearly enough. Those words barricaded his mind like blood rushing to fill a bruise.

Rafayel was a creature built from ripples, shaped by a lineage of memory so ancient it existed without written record, a primordial awareness of past pains and future sufferings alike, generations upon generations worth of invisible scar tissues patching him up like a rag doll. Cities had fallen and crumbled behind him, yet he could name their street corners and the songs sung during their funerals.

So why — how — had you slipped from him this way?

The thought unspooled inside him slowly, a wet thread tugged from a wound so raw that Rafayel didn’t dare touch it. He had thought, in some arrogant, buried part of him, that if he ever tried, truly allowed himself to miss you more than he mourned his people, and stopped tormenting himself by creating puzzle pieces of you out of scraps in his refusal to obtain a photo of you living your new life, he would be able to rebuild you perfectly. Even the gods who breathed life into Galatea would turn green with envy.

His gaze crawled back to the Frankenstein's monster of a bust, all unrelated bits and pieces that had looked like you when isolated but made no sense when he put them together, taking the shape of grief itself.

She lives because I saw her clearly enough.

He tossed the phone aside without giving Thomas an answer, threw his head back to lean on the lip of the couch, and covered his face with a forearm.

And at last, bitterly, he realized he was no different than Pygmalion: longing for the memory of a woman to etch itself into life.

[lads-ficrecs]

21:58 — caleb comes home and fucks you in his colonel uniform.

➸ author's note: just a horny drabble i wrote on a whim. he looks so fine in that goddamn uniform it's making me feral :( not proofread btw!

“this what you wanted, baby?”

you’re on all fours, knuckles white as you desperately claw on the sheets, knees digging in the soft mattress as your ass hangs proudly in the air. you feel tears well up in your eyes, feeling them almost roll into your skull from how good caleb was eating you out.

you just know it’s absolutely nasty behind you. he’s slurping your slick like a man severely depraved, and oh — how his tongue slowly spelt each letter of his name over your walls covered in white. he’s diabolic for this. sprawled out bare naked beneath him, and he’s all clad in that damn colonel uniform that he knows has you reeling for him.

the smooth leather of his gloves presses on your clit, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your sensitive nub as he teasingly pushes the tip of his tongue in and out of your gaping hole. you quiver, a downpour of sinister noises resonating around the room. it merely fuels him to drive you mad from his tongue alone.

“c-caleb,” you cry out, your vocabulary dwindling down to one word, and you chant it over and over again in a mantra, the oversensitivity triggering cry after cry as he’s about to pull another orgasm out of you.

how many times has he made you cum already? three? four? or maybe five? you don’t know, you don’t remember, you lost count. hell, you weren’t even counting in the first place. all you know is that you’re about to approach another intense peak.

“cumming again, pips?” he speaks against your sopping folds, the vibrations of his mockery has you arching your back into a deeper curve. he doesn’t even have to ask, he already knows from the way your legs inevitably shake, moans turning up to a higher frequency as your folds clench tighter around his tongue. he wants you to feel him, take everything he has to offer you.

oh, how he wanted to fuck you so bad as if you’ve downgraded into a mere fleshlight, his cock straining tightly against his pants, but nothing is rewarding enough without patience. so, he waits, waits for you to fall apart one more time in his mouth before he can finally fill you up like you’ve always wanted.

“caleb, caleb, p-please…!” you cry out, drooling against the sheets but you pay no mind to the mess you’re making, your thoughts fixated on the way his tongue and thumb drew patterns on your soaking cunt.

back and forth he flicked his tongue against you, leather-clad thumb playing with your clit and snap goes the string in your gut, gushing out like niagra falls and into his awaiting mouth. he laps everything up, lips engulfing your entire pussy as you uncontrollably shake beneath him.

his hands find their place on your hips, keeping you still as he finishes any remains from your high, only pulling away when he knows you rode it out.

“such a good pipsqueak f’me…” he mutters adoringly, loving eyes wandering over your bare body as he finally frees his cock from its restraints, not completely pulling his pants down.

you gasp, feeling the dripping tip tease itself against your folds, and you feel his chest press on your back, lips hovering over the shell of your ear.

“gonna take my cock like a good girl, won’t you, pips? your gege’s gonna make you feel so, so good…” he whispers, voice hot and sensual, aching with need as you finally feel the angry veins of his cock slowly breach your insides.

“ha… ngghh… caleb…” tears form in your eyes again, not from the pain, but rather from how good it felt. everything about caleb feels good, but nothing beats the way his girth perfectly sheathes itself inside you, only to fuck himself in and out of you for hours on end.

he chuckles menacingly from the way your face twists in pleasure, white-knuckled from how tight you were clawing on the sheets as the sound of skin slapping continuously bounced off the walls.

“c-caleb…” you sob, your mind completely gone beyond mush as you can solely focus on the way his cock kept kissing your cervix. “too much..!”

“shhh…” he soothes you, thumbs drawing circles over your skin. “you can take it, yeah? i know you’re a strong pipsqueak,” he whispers against your ear, voice ever-so gentle that it shows a stark contrast between his mean thrusts.

you try running away, the overstimulation overwhelms your senses to the point where you dwindle down into a sobbing and drooling mess.

“oh no, no, no.” if it weren’t for the steel grip he has on your hips, you’re certain your legs would’ve gone out by now. you let out a strangled cry, immobile as his cock kept rearranging your insides.

“just six more minutes, baby,” he murmurs, “six more. so be a good girl, yeah?”

you whine, unable to comprehend his words yet you nodded nonetheless, too cock drunk to care anymore. when he meant six minutes, however, he meant two more hours.

[lads-ficrecs]

if i were your boss

synopsis: when you rant about your boss, sylus attempts to persuade you to join onychinus.

tags: suggestive, dry humping, banter attempt, sylus described as condescending once because i’m into that and it’s not serious, i don’t think power dynamics are a problem here because we all know who the real boss would be, marriage reference, a couple “sir” mentions, one “miss” mention pairing: sylus x fem reader (because of the “miss” mention) word count: 1.1k

a/n: i didn’t know where this was going, to be honest. concept popped into my head after thinking of how much he wants mc to join and i said yeah i want to write that

“And she never listens to me! Like, how is it my fault that she can’t check her inbox on time? Why do I have to babysit someone whose salary is three times more than mine?”

In the midst of your heartfelt tirade, Sylus's eyes sparkle with amusement. He can’t help it, really; he loves seeing you animated like this. It’s the intimacy of your anger—the way you catch your breath before airing a new line of criticisms, the way your voice fills with delicious disdain, the way the target of your ire isn’t him.

The way your fury gives you the courage to be rough with him, like you are now, venting your frustrations in his lap. As you splay a hand across his chest to ground yourself, gripping and pinching when your feelings build, the sharp points of your nails are a stark contrast to the soft embrace of his silken sheets. 

The star of tonight’s rant was your supervillain of a manager. Always nagging, always hovering, always making your life a living hell—you got so sick of her sometimes. And the second you stepped into the comfort of his territory, Sylus was subjected to the worst of your complaints.

“Poor kitten,” he drawls, pinching his eyebrows close in a pitying frown. “It pains me to see you so frustrated. They just don’t respect you there, do they?” 

“No,” you pout back, and he coos at the subtle whine in your grumble. Taking the moment to sulk in his arms, you nestle in the blanket of his condescension. He knew—and you knew—it was exactly what you needed, being forced to show composure all the time. You always had to be so strong at work, so mature. It was different here, with him. He let you—implored you to—show him every side of you. Jagged edges, round curves, and imperfect angles—he wanted it all.

Sylus palms your hips before he speaks again. “You know, if you joined Onychinus, sweetie, none of this would happen.”

And just like that, the annoyance flares back up. “Not this again. Sylus, I told you I—”

“If I were your boss,” he begins, and the interruption is so rare from him that you’re stunned into silence. “I’d treat you with the respect you deserve.”

“Like the way you just cut me off?” you retort, raising an arched brow. 

“Forgive my enthusiasm, sweetie. I’m just so excited to tell you the benefits,” he rumbles, shuffling you closer in his lap. “Won’t you let me continue?”

“Fine,” you sniff haughtily. “But it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“Let me paint a better picture for you, then,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “If I were your boss, you’d have your pick of offices—I’d build you a new one, if nothing suited your tastes.”

“What if I chose yours?”

“Then I’d be flattered that you wanted to work with me so closely. I’ve heard rumors about how…productive collaboration can be,” he smirks, blinking up at you with the hint of a challenge in his eyes. “But of course, if you’d prefer to evict me entirely…well, some sacrifices have to be made.”

As his warm hand rests firmly on your thigh, you realize his persistence may outmatch your resistance, this time. It’s embarrassing, a little, how just the simple touch of his palm consumes you. If he were any other man, you’d be self-conscious at his effect on you—but this was Sylus. Your Sylus, the one who watches your every reaction, searching for things that bring you pleasure. The one who urges you to take, take, take from him, draining his essence until he’s forced to hunt for more. The one who’d pitched you joining his crime syndicate dozens of times, just to keep you under his care (and because he got a bit lonely, sometimes, no matter how loath he was to admit it). If anything, your effects on each other were equal. 

“If I were your boss, you’d have full control over Onychinus—the men, the weapons, the intel—everything,” he offers, sonorous voice reclaiming your attention.

Alarmed, you snap your eyes wide open just to squint them back down at him. “I thought I already did?” 

“You do,” he says simply. “But not in writing, yet. Although there are…other ways of claiming my assets legally, if you’re interested.” 

A startled squeak leaves you as soon as you catch his meaning, and you bury your face into his neck before his taunt can arrive. “I…get it,” you mumble, voice muffled by the velvet lapel of his robe. “Are there any other perks?” you add, eager to change the subject from something so delicate.

Chuckling breathily, Sylus continues his advertisement. “If I were your boss, your work-life balance would be my top priority.” 

Somewhere in his persuasion, he’d started rubbing smooth circles into your sides, lulling you into calm compliance. Unconsciously, softly, you rock your hips on top of his, sliding forward and back on his loosely clothed manhood.

And as he meets your core with gentle thrusts of his own, the unspoken sign of your receptiveness spurs him on. 

“You’d never have to worry about taking time off—you could just tell me. ‘Sylus, I’m too tired after last night,’” he whines in a high-pitched impression of you, not even attempting to dodge the swat you land on his shoulder. “And all your tasks for the day would be handled.” 

“That would be nice,” you sigh, nuzzling closer to mouth at his neck. “But what happens if I get frustrated? I won’t be able to vent to you—not anymore.” 

“When you’re upset, we’ll schedule a private meeting in my office. Between the two of us, I’m sure we could find a way to release your anger,” he hints, driving his hips up for emphasis. 

Lifting your head from his shoulder, you grin at him. “That’s an HR violation,” you quip, a teasing glint in your eye. 

“Good thing you’d know the boss, then,” he volleys without hesitation. And between his charming smirk and the growing bulge between his thighs, the woes of your real job are long forgotten. 

“If you were my boss,” you start sweetly, watching him preen when the suggestion comes from your lips. “Would I call you ‘sir’?”

He stiffens at the title, fingers flexing on your heated skin. You almost don’t expect him to take the bait, with how much he cherishes you. Distinguishes you from him, no matter how much he may cling. But it seems the illusory rush of authority is too tempting for the one who calls you “Miss.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” he evades, but the way his pupils inflate tells you everything you need to know. 

“Well, then,” you sigh, plucking at the red fabric of his robe. “Why don’t we negotiate? If you can take this off and give me what I want, I’ll consider your offer, sir.”

[lads-ficrecs]

𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫!𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 — non!mc. a princess from a powerful merchant kingdom is thrust into a political marriage with rome’s most feared military emperor—only to catch the eye of a rival sovereign who believes her freedom is worth starting a war. 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 — set during the early imperial period of rome, the story unfolds at the height of political intrigue and military dominance, where empires clash, alliances shift. story will take place between 1st century bce – 2nd century ce, give or take. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 — swearing, nsfw language, political manipulation, power imbalance, emotional manipulation, toxic relationships, war and violence, sexual themes, misogyny/patriarchal culture, classism and elitism, culture tensions, xenophobia, racism, non consensual stuff at times.. uhh.. romantic love triangle, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — please note that this is a civilization thousands and thousands of years ago, so they probably aren't as socially accepting.. you are also of arabian and hellenistic heritage. normally i am ambiguous of how i describe the protagonist of my stories, but i'll be a bit more focused on my details in this story. I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, IF YOU HAVE ANY OF THESE TRIGGERS PLEASE BE MINDFUL. i will also put a DISCLAIMER of any non consensual stuff or any triggering events that may end up happening PRIOR to the actual scene. (obviously it will not be frequent thing) — reblogs comments & likes are appreciated. let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 — PROLOGUE | next chapter

this will be a bit short. its the prologue— so its going to just go over a little tid bit of how everyone is going to be and you can see how the atmosphere is.

the morning is soft with silence.

sunlight filters through the sheer drapes like it’s hesitant to enter, golden dust suspended in the hush. your room smells faintly of rose oil and crushed figs, of silk warmed by the sun. servants move quietly around you—gentle hands braiding your hair, smoothing the folds of your linen dress, adjusting the golden clasp at your shoulder. you don’t speak. neither do they. it’s an old, practiced ritual. the preparation of a daughter for something unspoken.

you watch yourself in the polished bronze mirror. not a girl anymore, not quite a queen. something in between. something uncertain. how were you feeling? you felt dreadful. to be a pawn was never a good thing. a knock at the door. soft, like you can hear misery through a pounding. then a murmur. “his majesty is waiting.”

your sandals smack softly against the stone as you walk, heart quiet but heavy. the hallway stretch long, filled with mosaics that tell stories of your ancestors—men who conquered, the women who waited. you walk past them like a ghost. your father is standing near the open colonnade, among the atrium, staring out at the city below. his toga catch in the breeze like banners. he does not turn when you enter.

“you sent for me,” you say above a whisper, as the chamber echoed your voice. he nods once. his voice is as it always is— stoic. weathered by experience.

“rome has made an offer. emperor caleb xia would like your hand in marriage”

you say nothing. the wind picks up. it carries the scent of figs and pomegranates— your favorites. you stand, stiffened. is this from the emperor himself, or his senate? 

“you’ve always understood the weight of your position,” he continues, still not looking at you. “this isn’t punishment. it’s legacy.” you wonder if he’s speaking to himself.

“and the emperor?” you ask softly. “do you trust him?” he couldn’t even lie if he tried. your father turns, finally, eyes sharp and tired all at once. “no. but alliances are not built on trust. they are built on necessity.” he steps closer, and for a moment, he is not a king, but your father. his hand rests on your shoulder, not heavy, but firm. “you will do what must be done,” he says. “as we all have.” you nod. because what else is there to say? no? what the hells would even happen if you said that? with an even heavier heart, and a tight lip, you bow slightly, before turning heels and walking back to your chamber. 

later, when you return to your chambers, you unpin your hair with trembling fingers and stare at the mirror again, and when you look up to the mirror, your tears fall. you realize this may be the very last time you could have your peace to yourself— at least for a while. you weren’t a woman basking in the sunlight anymore. laying near the ravine with your closest friends. you were a pawn. 

the air inside the tent tastes of iron and dust.

outside, the murmurs of the camp never sleep—shields being oiled, blades checked again and again, men speaking low in the hush of an almost-won war. the sky beyond the canvas is the color of smoke, the kind that clings to your skin long after the fires are gone.

caleb stands alone over the war table, eyes fixed on the parchment map that bears the scars of too many campaigns. lines drawn and redrawn. cities conquered. rivers crossed. this battle will end tomorrow, and with it, resistance in the east.

he doesn’t smile. he never does. victory is expected of him. and expectations are chains dressed as crowns. a soldier enters, bows low. news of the enemy’s retreat. talk of surrender. a whisper, almost offhanded, like it doesn’t matter:

“a formal alliance is being discussed in the senate—nabira’s hand in marriage. her daughter.”

caleb says nothing at first. he does not lift his head. just another treaty. just another crown to bind with rome. how many women were given to him for this reason? he couldn’t count the amount of attempted alliance and leverage thrown at him. a mere woman’s soul is the price of not being taken and pulled apart? no. no, this would be different.  

“what’s her name?” he asks, not because he cares.. just to know what name history will one day try to stitch beside his.  the soldier hesitates. then: “they don’t speak it aloud, not yet. only that she is.. magical…shadowed... her father guards her like a secret.”

caleb’s gaze lingers on the edge of the map, where nabira is inked in faint gold. a kingdom on the edge of empires. he says nothing else, and neither does the soldier, and after a couple beats skip, the soldier leaves.

caleb stays there a while longer, the quiet pressing in as he glides his fingers across the map, calculating to himself. he knows better than to believe in fate. but still—he wonders what kind of woman is hidden behind a crown, guarded like a blade, spoken of only in quiet corners of powerful rooms. was she formidable? he wonders. his heart races at the slightest at the thought of you. 

and he wonders what kind of man he will need to be to win your loyalty. surely not with war? with silken drapes, and golden gifts. will he need to throw lavish expenses to win such an even more lavish heart? he was thinking too hard— he doesn’t even know a god damn thing, and this was distracting him. 

shahanshah - king of kings / emperor (persian. pronounced sha-han-sha)

the night air in parthia was cool, the scent of myrrh drifting through the royal palace gardens. shahanshah  sylus stood alone beneath the towering date palms, his thoughts far from the usual state matters. the sky stretched dark above him, the stars twinkling like scattered diamonds, but there was little peace in his mind tonight. the soft footsteps of an approaching figure broke the silence. the emissary bowed deeply as he came closer, careful not to disrupt the stillness. “shahanshah,” the emissary spoke, voice low and respectful. “we’ve received word from the princess' brother. the decision has been made.” sylus didn’t turn right away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. his voice, when it came, was quiet but sharp.

“what decision?”

“the marriage… it’s been arranged. the princess of nabira will marry emperor caleb of rome.”

sylus paused, his fingers tightening on the edge of the stone column beside him. he hadn’t expected this development, not so soon. but your father had always been pragmatic, and in these times of shifting alliances, a marriage to rome made sense—at least politically. still, the news stung.  

“and the princess?” sylus asked, his voice colder than it had been moments before. “was she consulted?” it was a quick quiet, the emissary hesitated. “she… was informed. the decision was her father’s. from what i understand, she did not take it well. there were tears, and anger.”

sylus absorbed the information quietly, his gaze never leaving the view before him. he knew this was coming. the union of rome and nabira had been hinted at for months, but hearing it was another matter entirely. he didn’t think that your father really had the balls to actually pull through. 

“her brother– the diplomat, he must have known this was coming,” sylus said, a small frown pulling at his lips. “why send the message to me now?”

the emissary nodded. “her brother… he has long worked with you, shahanshah. he is a trusted ally in trade, and he wanted to ensure you heard it from him directly. he also believes this marriage could open doors for more favorable dealings between parthia and nabira.”

sylus turned now, finally facing the emissary. his red eyes were hard, calculating. unreadable. the emissary shifted his posture.

“so this marriage is as much about trade as it is about politics?” sylus asked, voice laced with an edge. “but what of the princess? does she have no say in the matter?”

“her father has made the decision. the princess is caught in the web of diplomacy. her brother… i believe he tried to shield her from the worst of it, but ultimately, the decision rests with the king.”

sylus’ jaw clenched, and his mind raced. the political situation was delicate, but this… this felt different. he feels as if he’s seeing a life slip from its freedom.

“what does her brother say?” sylus pressed. “is he pleased with this marriage?”

the emissary hesitated again. “he does what is best for nabira. but it is clear he does not want to see her in the hands of rome. he worries for her.”

sylus’ lips tightened in thought. he had always known your brother had his eyes set on securing an advantageous position for nabira, but this marriage would change everything. the alliance with rome would tilt the scales of power in ways that were difficult to predict. an insurmountable amount of money would be handed over to the most powerful empire in the world. the silk road would bloom into something more. 

he straightened, his voice firm as he turned back toward the emissary, “tell her brother that i expect an update—soon. and i will not forget what this means for parthia. if rome wants nabira so badly, they will have to deal with us.”

the emissary nodded and bowed deeply before taking his leave. as sylus watched him depart, his thoughts lingered on you. you were bound by duty, but he knew that the chains of politics could break, and alliances could shift.

“she may not have a say now,” sylus murmured to himself, staring into the night. “but nothing is final until i decide it is. and i will make sure that, in the end, she has her freedom.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @rcvcgers

[lads-ficrecs]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, talks of depression/mental health, tba notes – not proofread. i want reader n caleb to meet soon.. eek hurry up space baby!! i started a taglist- if you want to be added, let me know in the comms!! love ya 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 3 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter

a group of men surround the ‘maverick’-- a beautiful dark grey f35. they study the aircraft in awe, excited to try and sit in the cockpit. your father and another official had taken a handful of the pilots to tour the hangar that housed some of the most prestigious aircrafts the DAA had ever produced, and in the front and center, ‘maverick’ was standing loud and proud. not everybody has the credibility to be able to go into this hangar, so for the pilots this was almost a dream come true. 

“this is my favorite thing in the world.” your dad puts both his hands out, showing off his pretty girl. the pilots stare, silently, as your dad reminisces his history with the aircraft, “when i first started such as yourselves, i saw this beauty first being unveiled. one of the most gorgeous things i have ever seen in my life– aside from my wife of course.” he snickers, “--  i told my sarge that i wanted to fly on that thing. he told me ‘in your dreams.’ and well.. look who got to put his name on the side.” he says smugly. 

“when was the last time someone rode it?” a pilot asks, looking off to the side, your father looks at the cockpit, inquisitively. when WAS the last time someone rode the f35? .. “hmm. probably when i retired from the DAA as a pilot. maybe 15 plus some years ago.” – they raise their brows at him, “is it still … good to run?” – “of course! we constantly update it, at least once a year, or if my daughter is feeling generous– every other month. she mostly runs the logistics of the planes here.” he motions the rows of other planes behind the maverick, “these are the top of the line and her company regularly maintains it.”

the men stare dumbfounded, and one raises his hand to speak up, “sir… how old is your daughter?” 

“shes 27.” their jaw drops, only a year or two older than some of these pilots. dumbfounded at how someone that young already had such an impressive impressive portfolio. “she graduated college when she was 15. she’s been working in the aviation field since she was 17. she’s got a very experienced track record.” he chuckles, a cheesy wide smile spread on his face as he boasts about you. that was his favorite pastime aside from sleeping and watching sports. if you heard him talking about you like this you probably would’ve stuffed him in a trashcan to shut him up. 

“you think shes single?” someone whispers near his friend, and if wasn’t so insanely silent in the hangar, your father wouldn’t have even heard that. he turns to the pilot, his smugness coming back, “you want to try your hand with my daughter? i can certainly pass a note to her.” he pauses, then looks at the pilots again, “i’ll tell ya what. whoever gets the maverick, i can let my daughter know about you.” 

“well damn, calebs already won.” the same pilot groans in his hand, clearly already defeated. 

“who is caleb?” your dad looks around, and the men part like the red sea to reveal caleb in the very back, “huh-” caleb looks up from his hand, and your dad walks towards him, inspecting him.

“son. get in the plane.” your dad commands, and caleb stiffens, before nodding– despite being reluctant about it. he didn’t hear a damn thing they were talking about.

he was too busy staring down, his necklace in hand. he had spaced off due to so many thoughts in his head. he felt bad, because he was in the presence of aviation royalty, and yet– his brain trailed him off to another path. so now when hes needed he didn’t know where they were in the conversation. all he knows now is that he’s being picked on for an aircraft that he was intimidated by. maybe his friends were padding him a bit too much. his head was definitely not in the game, and he doesn’t have forever to figure this out.

he walks towards the aircraft, staring through it. it was godly, to say the least, and as he stared more the manly urge to hop on the aircraft and pretend that he was in a simulation increases. 

caleb eyes it one last time before hopping up on the cockpit. he’d had his fair share from training but the fact that he was on the maverick felt surreal to him. he stares at the buttons, the screen, his fingertips graze the throttle. he was absolutely reeling from the experience. 

“you look like a natural” your father would say, as he examined calebs actions. maybe the young bucks did have a point in always showboating this caleb man. the way he was eyeing the plane in a way that looked of experience. the way he fit in the aircraft reminded him of a younger version of himself. full of dreams.

caleb looked down at your dad and gave him a goofy little grin, before standing up, and sliding out of the cockpit. hes going to definitely think about that for a while. 

“come have dinner with my family.” 

you’re one foot in the grave, staring down the wanderer in a highly fortified and shielded cage, and near is a group of hunters, ready to kill it in the event it broke out.

the testing ground was quiet, there was a low humming coming from the wanderer as your team shifts around, trying to figure out what to do.  just outside the containment cage was a jet– call sign enterprise– was powered up, systems running, and sensors blinking as the team prepared to collect interference data.

you sit behind the barricade with the systems engineer. her eyes shift everywhere that data moved, “telemetry looks clean… for now.” her eyes flickered over the readings, and you look over, tapping the screen, “let’s bring it closer by a couple klicks.. i want to nudge the threshold. let’s see if we can find the sweet spot of when the ai started to glitch.” 

besides you and the lead engineer was another engineer, he frowned as you said that, his eyebrows furrow, “are we sure the containment will hold if the wanderer reacts to the power signatures?” you point towards the hunters near the containment bay, not taking your eyes off the telemetry monitor, “that’s why they’re here. but short answer– no.” your lead engineer cuts you off, “but if we don’t understand how it scrambles our tech we’ll never stop it from grounding us.” you nod in agreement as the both of you lock into the screen.

as the jet started to inch forward, the diagnostics began to blink rapidly– small distortions in the avionics, and slight lag in the navigation feedback. the data starts to stream in, as the jet groaned softly under the invisible barrier the wanderer was emitting.

the lead engineers eyes squint, jaw set as she leans over the terminal, “it’s mimicking the input distortion… like it’s learning what to break?” 

the intercom patches through the room and a tech reports, “mainframes still responding, but not cleanly.”

as you remain quiet, the hud of the jet starts to flicker violently. the screen starts to glitch all of the sudden. the ai was locking up. your engineer and you look at each other, “it’s invading the ai.” you both say, in unison, your internal alarms going off. as you go to push the buttons the plane starts to hum even louder, the afterburners roaring life. your face contorts to annoyance as you stride over to the emergency button, slamming down on it. 

the engine dies almost immediately, the last of the power whirring away softly until it goes quiet.

it was frozen in the room, your eyes flicker to the engineers as you motion them, “get the results sent over to me and print it as well, we need to send this over to the DAA and jenna so we may figure out what they want to do.”

as you step towards the exit your secretary hands you your phone. it was your dad. your eyebrows furrow, puzzled as to why your family members have impeccable timing  calling you at the worst time, ‘i gotta have some intervention with them. whose next, my mom?’ 

“hi dad. terrible time. whats up?” you ask, grabbing your laptop and bag. “we are having dinner tonight, i’d like you to meet somebody.” your brows raise, confused, as your dad never invite anyone over for dinner. “this sounds like a trap. are you about to sell me off to some man?” 

“no honey, there is.. 

–a prospect that i may have… for maverick.” 

you look at yourself in your compact mirror as majors drives you to the family house. you couldn’t help but think who your dad finally thought would take over maverick. that person must be that impressive of a pilot for him to be giving away one of the most valuable jets in the inventory. well not necessarily give away, but it wasn’t something to be trifled with.

you watch as the car gets closer and finish applying your lipstick, straightening yourself out. majors comes out to open the door for you, and you step outside. you wore a red blouse with your dress pants, and your red bottoms that matched. your hair was down, and you had your rings and earrings on today. you always showed out with your outfits, because who knows when theres a sexy and respectable man ready to sweep you off your feet?

you make your way inside the house as you hear laughing, chit chatting. and it sounds like your mother. your eyebrows raise again, confused as hell. your mother didn’t come home that often, because she was a busy woman herself. as you step into view your father lights up waving you over. “ah, she’s here!” he exclaims, standing up. you take a look at the people in the table. it was a handful of men, one of them being the man you locked eyes with at the gala. 

your eyes land on him again, and once again, your sights linger. his eyes never leaving you as you had to pry them off of his to face your dad, “sit sit! have you met caleb?gideon?--” you nod as you place yourself in the seat in front of caleb. “at the gala, but we aren’t on a first name basis.” you admit, and he smiles at you. something in you felt warm almost instantaneously. is it gettin’ hot in here?

your father takes the reins, speaking about all the men in the room. gideon, and whomever else. the only man really relevant to you is caleb. mr sexy man himself. your eyes never leave his, and his never leave yours. caleb felt tense from your gaze. was it intimidation? he wasn’t sure, but he definitely felt a pull towards you. caleb definitely felt some sort of intimidation, but he also wanted to get to know you.

your dad goes to explain the tradition of a pilots hand off. you zone out, to be honest. you just heard this too many times during your youth, and you ignored it. after he was finished you clear your throat, “so… let me get this straight.. you’re going to hand maverick over, because you felt that he was the one for it?” you ask, tilting your head and looking at caleb, who stayed in eye contact with you. you didn’t know whether or not that was hot or threatening.

”well yes..” and then your eyes dart to your dad, who was just all smiles, as if he was stupid. “i feel like that’s… now forgive me–” eyes dart to caleb, “caleb.” to dad, “you haven’t even seen what he’s capable of..”  one of his friends raise his hand slightly to come to his defense, “w-with all due respect– i think that hes more than capable.. he was our valedictorian, and he is #1 in our graduating class.” you nod. clearly underestimating him, but you couldn’t help it. that jet was your responsibility, you couldn’t just… hand priceless art to some… random, because of feeling. no matter how hot they were– especially not that. cant cloud your judgement!

“if you want to spend some time with the pilots, i can see about pulling some strings on getting you clearance to perhaps shadow them?” your father sits back, wiping the food from his lips, you had thought that would be a good idea, to see what the men are really capable of, since you mostly take the DAA’s word at face value. you think it through, eyes on you. as you ponder, the guys make conversations amongst themselves, complimenting the food, talking about their day.

“-- alright. but we have to evaluate everybody fairly. just because caleb looks good for the jet, doesn’t mean he is.” 

‘she said i look good..’ he thinks, ‘not like that stupid.’

as you say that, relief washes from everybody. not everyone was happy with the caleb dick ride, so for you to say that put an immense relief on their shoulder. at least someone, was neutral about it. you nod at them and stand up, your mother swallows her food quick, trying to catch you before you start to walk off, “honey! you’re not staying for dinner?” you smile down at her. you shake your head, and your phone rings, “sorry mom. work…”  you walk outside, your phone ringing from your engineer. 

caleb watches you as you walk out, and by divine timing his phone also rings. he takes a look at his phone, and the caller reads: ‘pips ♥️’ and he excuses himself from the dinner to walk outside. “hey pips what’s up!” he speaks softly, a small laugh escapes his lips, a bit relieved to hear from his beloved (ik this hurts u to read girl lol)

“caleb! i miss you so much, when are you going to see me?” his heart warms, thinking to himself, when is his next availability? especially the fact that he might have even more restrictions due to the pressure of your dad. “i’m not sure pipsqueak, i just a new assignment.” as he steps outside he sighs, “i promise we’re going to celebrate new years eve just like every year.” he coos into the phone (UGH)

as you focused on your phone call you lean in one of the pillars, out of sight, listening intently at the information that your engineers were discussing amongst themselves. as you listen, you also hear the sound of the door opening, and a distant voice, “i promise we’re going to celebrate new years eve– just like every year.” the man mumbles, and you side eye the person, immediately peeking from the pillar. you notice it was mr handsome– caleb, and you blink, before turning back to listen to your phone call.  'probably talking to his girlfriend' you say to yourself in passing, gluing back into the conversation with your coworkers.

“send me the data to my computer. i think i’ll stay here for the night, but i’ll probably be working on my computer.” you pull from the pillar as you approach caleb. his eyes snap to you, and he beams at you, with you just giving him a simple nod. “you guys did well today- have a good weekend everybody. i’ll call you if i have any issues, do the same.” you end the call. 

“whose that?” her voice rings through calebs ears as he snaps back to his reality. his pips asks- a bit impatiently, caleb raises his brows, at the sudden tone from her voice, “oh shes a colleague. general’s daughter.” as you walk past him your shoulders brush, and caleb looks away, his face pinks, as he puts his attention back to his pips, “well.. i have a lot of stories to tell! we have to catch up soon, caleb!” – “i know, i will try and find a day off to come see you. i swear pipsqueak.” 

you look down at your phone and notice a message that you had not even noticed. it was sent to you 30 minutes ago. it was from whispr, it was captain apple. your eyes light up, a grin spreading on your face as you hit the notification

captain apple: hey, space baby! hope you’re doing good today. been busy at work.  space baby: you’re all good, been busy at work as well. what are you up to today? captain apple: talking to you hopefully?

you felt a blush creep through your cheeks as you stared into the screen. you bit your lips, unsure of how to respond. ‘that was kinda cute.. ugh am i this down bad?’ you wrestle with the thoughts in your head, and close your phone, going  downstairs.

most of the men had left, except gideon and caleb. they were speaking with your dad in the living room while you were up in your old room, camped for the night. you had your computer laid out in your desk as you walked to the entrance. your engineer was supposed to come up and deliver you the papers for your study, and you were going to show your dad to see his insight, and maybe the pilots that remain. you bid the engineer farewell as you close the door, the folder in hand, and you walk towards the living room where they were enjoying some spirits and discussing aviation.

“hey dad. i need you to take a look at this. it’s about wanderers and jets interfering? i don’t know if you know anything about it.” you set the folder in front of the men, and sit down. “i had copies done if you guys want to take a look as well.” you motion them to take some papers. “i’ll be back.” you walk off, going upstairs to get your computer.

captain apple: did i scare ya? i apologize for coming on strong! 

you’d almost forgot about the message. you pursing your lips, unsure what to say 

space baby: oh no sorry haha. i had to step away really quick, but i’m flattered, thank you. what are you up to tonight? 

you spent the night discussing with caleb gideon and your dad about the wanderer and jet interference, and while the boys didn’t have much to say, they revelled in the fact that they were able to listen in on this. they surely were taking alot of mental notes.

you didn’t keep them long, and just briefly filled them in on what’s going on, and any possible changes that would be made to the jets, then answered any questions they might’ve had and then dismissed them.

as you step outside to get some fresh air, you lean on the pillar, looking up at the stars. you felt the presence of another person so you turn to face who it was, and it was gideon, giving you an awkward smile. you return the smile. he looked like he had something to say- so you wait.  he looks down at the floor, as if suddenly intimidated-or shy, “we really appreciate what you did. i know some guys don’t like constantly putting caleb on a pedestal.” 

you look at him, a giggle escaping your lips. he is pretty handsome, “don’t worry about it, i think you should all have a fair shot. it’s only natural.” as you step by him he trails you with his eyes, million thoughts running through his head, and before you could disappear from view he shouts towards you:

“are you seeing anyone?” 

caleb finds his spare room for the night and thanks the maid for taking him to it. he fishes for his phone, almost dropping it as he tries to look at the notification from whispr. ‘oh shit i forgot to reply to her!’ and taps his conversation with space baby, rapidly typing

captain apple: not doing anything today, kinda just relaxing. had a busy week. what about you? staying in or not? 

he went to go find the shower as he messages space baby.

he couldn’t stop thinking about you, how beautifully confident you were, commanding the stage. the aura you exuded, how smart you are, especially regarding the aviation world. you seemed so distant, not throwing yourself onto him as other women have, and while that made him curious, he felt a pull from that. it was alluring him. he wasn't sure whether to be scared of you or be drawn to you, but he felt weirdly torn. he felt as if his brain couldn't fit more than one woman in his head. is his head space reserved for his pipsqueak or you? he was in a tough spot.

a tickling feeling was the best you could describe. gideon was cute. he seemed very respectful, but it was so out of left field. you weren’t entertaining anybody, so you figured, why the hell not? the person you were even remotely interested in was taken. you might as well. one date won’t hurt.

“i’m not…why do you ask?” you give him a look, that look, to which gideon felt his knees buckle. his mouth dries, thinking of words to say. he didn’t think he’d make it this far. “i-” he stammers, “i wanted to know if you were free to go out sometime?”  for reals, what have you got to lose?

“yeah. i’m down!” you so casually say, bumping your phone with his. your phone number appears on his, your picture and profile along with it. he gives you a flashy smile before you step into the foyer, whispering a good night to him.

space baby: sorry been busy all night. are you still up? captain apple: no haha you do not need to apologize. i’ve been busy too. have you seen any good movies recently? looking for some recommendations. space baby: hmm. i watched dunkirk recently. i’m a lover for historical stuff or war documentaries.  captain apple: oh! ill take a look at it then. are you going to sleep anytime soon?  space baby: ah no. have some stuff to do, but if you want to keep me company i won’t be mad :)  captain apple: haha, of course, but if i dont reply i might have passed out. space baby: don’t worry i get it, it’s late. what is your favorite color?  captain apple: hmm. orange, blue, maybe red, you? space baby: hmm. sounds like a cop out, but everything. favorite color depends on my mood of the day. captain apple: i get it. what do you do for a living?

you briefly pause, looking at your computer that had data running through it. then you look back down to the chat

space baby: hope it does not come off rude, but i do not want to reveal any personal information of mine. i’m not quite comfortable, sorry!! ... maybe in the future?

calebs smile falters a bit, but shrugs, smiling, before typing back, his head softly hitting the headboard. 

captain apple: do not even worry about it! i totally understand haha... does that mean we have a future? ;) haha joking space baby: i really do appreciate your understanding. not a lot of people do... and yes... depends.. ;)  captain apple: i appreciate it. can i vent? space baby: of course! i’m not a licensed therapist, but i am a good listener captain apple: i feel so lonely. mentally exhausted  space baby: oh god, i’m so sorry. i know the feeling, what’s going on? captain apple: work tires me out lol, havent seen my friends outside of work in so long, so you know. i can’t really tell anyone at work.

unbeknownst to them, space baby and captain apple were just a few walls apart. both smiles falter as they read the message history. you sigh, feeling awful. you knew how it  felt, the loneliness at work, the feeling of being in a corner, you felt for captain apple. 

space baby: i’m so sorry captain apple. i completely understand what you’re going through– i go through that sometimes, it’s a cold world. have you been able to take some time off from work? captain apple: i just appreciate someone listening to me. to be honest no. i’ve always been the…care taker of my family, you know?  space baby: no i get that, makes things even worse, you have this feeling of having to uphold the family together. i’m so sorry, i wish i could help!! if i was your boss i'd totally give you a week off, or however long you need! >< captain apple: you listening is more than enough honestly. i appreciate our interactions more than you know. space baby: i appreciate you too, captain apple! i’m so glad i could be a good friend to you. i look forward to talking to you more. been looking forward to our conversations on a daily basis now.

caleb lays in the bed, staring at the text message, a tear hanging from his eyes, threatening to spill. such little interaction left such a big impact. he’d been feeling so bad, and the fact that space baby was willing to sit and listen to him, even so miniscule was enough for him. he wished to meet her one day, but for now, baby steps.

captain apple: i’m going to head to bed, but i really appreciate you being here for me. thank you so much space baby. space baby: i hope you have a good night captain, i’ll be here anytime! 

caleb lays there for a while longer, snuggling up to the soft pillow staring at the phone, contemplating his thoughts, appreciating the message that space baby had sent him, rereading the messages. he decides to hop on his movie app, searching for dunkirk, and watching it for the night or until he fell asleep.

you take one last look at the data that you were watching, and move your computer to the bed, getting yourself ready to relax for the rest of the night.  after a while, as you finish watching the data collection you feel a sense of sleepiness overtaking you, and as you go to shut your computer off, you could’ve sworn that you heard dunkirk through a wall. ignoring the noise, you close your eyes, getting ready to retire for the night. you had a long day ahead of you tomorrow. you couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness for your mutual. you'd somewhat wish you weren't so closed off, or else you would've been open to meeting him.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ! - @mcdepressed290, @young-adult-summer, @unstablemiss, @britishfailure, @caramelizedpopcirn,

[lads-ficrecs]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                                                         ◦ ♡

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 – non!mc. you are a successful aerospace engineer, a girlboss, with terrible luck in romance. let's hope this strangers website brings you out of that rut! 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 / 𝐭𝐰 – swearing/foul language, strangers, slow burn, tba notes – not proofread. ok due to my stupidity, i forgot caleb spoke on his graduation. lore purposes, the gala you were at was NOT the graduation ceremony… u simply did not attend that..tehe… 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 2 of many ! previous chapter | next chapter

                         couple weeks later

you rub your temples, peering into your notes and eating your burrito. it was friday night and you were knee deep in paperwork, once again. “thrust vector.. 2.3 degrees starboard. okay. compensates for drift, something something peak climb rate–” you flip through another page, scanning quickly, “thermals peaked at… 1785, not 2000.. failure points lower than expected..blah blah stress limits– got it.” you give a short pause, furrowing your brows as you read, “coolings-” – “babes what the fuck are you on about.” stacias valley-esque tone rumbles through your facetime call. you looked up from the phone and you had forgotten you were in a 4 way conversation with your friends from the group chat, everybody doing their own thing. 

you shook your head, a worn smile plastered on your face, “sorry– was just checking some notes from work.” you inform, signing off on a couple of things before you close your book. you huff, exhausted, and thinking on what you should do next. as you grab to scroll through your phone stacia gasps, “oh! hey! i know its been like a hot hot minute, but remember when you said you had some like info you wanted to share with us. … like a month ago?” stacia sings, and your other friends chuckle at her, seemingly interested all of the sudden. as much as you hate to admit, your hot gossip wasn’t as frequent as the other ladies, so when you had something to say, all eyes and ears perk up on you. you rolled your eyes, pursing your lips, “so like remember when i went to the aviation gala?” – “uh yeah. the one with hot fucking guys and women that you didn’t want us going to?” stacia states matter-o-factly, you roll your eyes at her before continuing, “because its a top security event you idiot– but you dont wanna hear that” you chuckled, “ – there was this hot- and i mean sexy hot, mister ten, knockout man there. purple eyes, brown hair, tall. big broad shoulders– i mean he was big.” you emphasize with your hands, this was the giddiest everybody got, awoo and whistle and all, “i was going to maybe go talk to him– but his fucking girlfriend was there! they kissed.i was so fucking mad ” stacia rolled her eyes at you falling to her bed, “of course the dreamboat  has a girlfriend already– i’m sick!!  did you at least get his name?!” – “fuck no! i said fuck all that, i’m not interested anymore.” 

you were a ride or die for a woman till the end. you have had your crazy run in’s with men who were married-but-not-married or we’re-in-a-rough-spot and you didn’t want any public reputation that you had tarnished. it was one thing being scrutinized by the public, but its another being scrutinized by your family. and you certainly weren’t going to bat as a mistress nor be responsible for a broken family. 

“i could cry for you.” one of the girls said as she fakes a sob, and the three of you mourn over the possibility of a hunk. you quickly recoil from it and plan your brunch for sunday– a longstanding tradition you had with your friends. a morning filled with sexy servers delicious meals, episodes of island love and bottomless mimosas. now normally some may say, that’s a bit excessive, yea? no! you live to work, not work to live– even though you dont build a good case for yourself– with all those all nighters you’ve pulled, and all the extra days you went in, but you did it for the love of the game. 

stacia is a social media manager for a big company, talia is a professor, and marina is an engineer as well. 

you met stacia when you were at a convention, and she hit on you. you both bonded over the sexy farspace fleet hunks in their uniform that walked by you two. completely normal interactions. eventually you exchanged numbers and became inseparable ever since.

talia met you when you and your co-founder mark were giving a presentation on something regarding jet engines to the aerospace cadets in the university she was teaching in. 

and you met marina at the park on your walk. she came up to you to compliment your outfit and you hit it off. 

it was a solid group. your friendship is going 5+ years strong, and you couldn’t be any happier. you loved your girls, and you all pitched the sunday brunch idea for a way to reward yourselves for the hard week you all mightve had. it was a way to give thanks amongst yourselves, and you wanted nothing more than healthy interactions.

-

“soo theres this website thats taken off recently. its sorta like a blind date type of situation. you’re not allowed to put your real name on there, and you can either call or text– but if you call its a voice changer so the person doesnt know what you really sound like. its kind of cool actually. you write down your interest and you can match that way or you can leave it blank and match with someone completely random.” 

this prospect piques your interest the slightest. you listen intently as you sip your mimosa awaiting for stacia to continue, she notices your immediate interest and her evil ass grin widens, “something tells me this is perfect for our miss ceo.” – “i mean this is literally perfect for you. its like AA but dating.” 

caleb was resting in his bed when his roommates came in, rambunctious, as always. he loved his friends- dearly, but for the life of them, they had poor volume control. 

he groans turning his back to them, trying to continue his thoughts as one of them threw a pillow at him, “yo get up. you promised a game!” he laughs, as he grabs calebs arm off his head. caleb looks up at him, a sheepish grin as he reluctantly goes to join his friends in a game of basketball.

-

“theres some new website thats going around, some anonymous chat. we should try to find each other on it.” one of his friends mused, taking the ball from caleb. another one piques, “that sounds fun. whats it called?” – “whispr? just came out like a week ago.” 

caleb couldn’t help but agree that he should (for once) partake in this shenanigan his friends had suggested. he had been starting to feel lonely lately. unable to see his pipsqueak and gran, and always working so much in the aviation unit. it was tiring him out, but he really did enjoy the experience, and not to mention the pay was superb- especially the pay bump from the administration recently. 

the group plays for a couple more hours, before he breaks away from them. he wanted to go for a run before he retired for the night, just to clear his thoughts once more. he really couldn’t shake the feeling of sadness. he never understood why, hence, the plagued thoughts, but he did well to hide it. 

a mile into the run he stops, sweat beads falling from his face, his shirt wet with moisture, as he cools down he takes a slow walk, breathing in the air around him. he was in one of the districts of skyhaven. how he ended up here was beyond him, he was just running. 

as he walks he notices a couple with their children coming out of the store. it warmed his heart seeing the sight of. the little girl holding her dads hand, her little digits managing to barely envelope half his pinky. dressed in a cute pink dress with a tiara. the mom holding the girls other hand, and the babies treat in the other. they look both ways before crossing, and she bounces around, giggling all the way.

he wished that was him. he wanted kids so bad.

caleb shakes his head, smiling at the thought, and continuing his walk after that moment. he stops a moment, before checking his phone. his hand hovers over the app store, and types in ‘whispr’ on the search bar. he sucks a breath in. did it come this far that hes resorting to texting strangers? couldn’t he just text his beloved pipsqueak? she’s probably on a mission, or asleep. 

as he almost hits ‘back’ on his phone the app finishes installing, and he stares at it. ‘well.. fuck it i guess..’ he opens it and hes met with a purple screen

‘whispr - 83,358 online’ 

‘damn’ he clicks on the ‘create-a-profile’ tab and looks through the information, 

‘welcome to whispr. whispers from strangers– soft, mysterious, and personal. 

text random strangers, whether you have shared interests or just feeling up to randomly connecting with someone. feeling bold? call a stranger! but don’t worry, your voice is changed. you still retain your anonymity. we encourage everybody to keep their personal information hidden. you enjoyed the conversation? ask to remain mutuals! otherwise- chats disappear within 24 hours. do not give out information you do not want revealed. stay safe, take care, and thanks for using whispr!’ 

caleb shrugs, continuing through the second page, filling out his private information and starting his profile. 

you yawn and sprawl into your bed. you had the day off tomorrow and you were actually going to use it for once. you had already reserved yourself a spot at the salon to get a full body experience. mark had given you a gift card for the spa and you figured it was time to cash it in. 

you rolled around your bed, unable to sleep even if you were yawning every 5 seconds. as you give up your attempt to sleep you flip your phone up to your face, not even realizing you forgot about the app.

you quickly pull whispr up and finish putting your information in there. 

‘ space baby’ your randomly generated pops up, you hit ‘female’ on the tab.

there were a couple of features that stood out to you. the random room, and the interests box, that you could potentially match with if you had the same input .

you werent too keen on hitting random room. who knows what you’d get. you shudder at the aforementioned thought, annnnd tap it anyways. you wanted to get a good laugh.

ping! 

friendly bird:  hey  space baby:  hello  friendly bird:   a/s/l?  friendly bird: 24/m/linkon, u?

what the ever living fuck does that even mean? your brows furrow, and immediately skipping the guy. this might be more painful than you anticipated. you had to look it up. age, sex, location– something chat website goers liked to abide by. ah. perhaps you were a bit too harsh? 

you hit the randomizer again

ping! 

smart pug: hi! space baby: hello.  smart pug: how are you?  space baby: i’m good, how about yourself? smart pug: i’m awesome. first time? space baby: yup lol, how’d you know?

oh, maybe there were good and normal conversations here!

smart pug: everybodies lol. hey, are you into kinky roleplay?

nevermind.  skipped

‘chicken king: wanna meet up?’ skip

‘starfruit girl: sex rp?’ skip!

‘cake hero: u wanna trade numbers? im horny.’  SKIP!

you couldn’t help but laugh at how fucking silly the deliveries of some people are. you were actually having fun. you showed stacia a couple of the chats here and there, her howling with laughing, but you had enough. maybe trying the shared interest was a better idea.

you stare long and hard before putting down random shit that you liked. wine, food, movies, tv shows. 

you matched immediately with somebody, but same old shit. you realized impressive it wasthat down-bad people can redirect a conversation of eating some food to asking you to eat their dong. 

you were about to hang up the towel, before you looked at the shared interest one more time.

..

..

planes, aviation, jets

you nerd. you’re never going to match-

ping !

captain apple: hello there! space baby: hi

caleb laid there, staring at his phone, waiting for a match. he was getting endless invitations from horny people wanting to have a good time. he did admit that this would be a crazy site where the reckless acted upon their fantasies. he managed to find one of his roommates on the site before everybody called it a night. 

he too was going to call it a night before he was matched after 5 minutes of waiting. 

‘you’ve matched with space baby!’ he scrambles his fingers to the keyboard and starts to type.

captain apple: hello there! space baby: hi captain apple: you like planes? space baby: yes. do you like top gun?

caleb giggles to himself. giggled. 

captain apple: i feel the need..  space baby: the need for speed! lol! 

caleb felt giddy! they just started the conversation, and it was already a pleasant one. he stared at the heart button- the mutual buttons, but he stopped himself, before typing again

captain apple: what brings you on this website? space baby: friends told me about it, you? captain apple: same. we were bored– wanted to try and find each other on it. space baby: did you? captain apple: just one. theres a lot of people on today i think space baby: yeah there are lol. tbh i think this is interesting. i have had weirdos left and right, but you’re the first one that didn’t ask me for weird stuff. captain apple: haha no, not my type of thing. what else do you like?  space baby: hmm i like food, wine, and i love tv shows. what about you? captain apple: literally everything, except wine. not a wine guy, i don’t drink, and if i do, maybe beer i guess. whats your favorite food? space baby: ok true. i honestly love a good beef stew, or a good homemade braised chicken. that reminds me of home.

calebs eyes light up, especially at the mention of braised chicken. the only other person who likes that is-

space baby: oh no, did you disappear ! :( captain apple: no! sorry was grabbing something. i love braised chicken too actually haha, but my favorite is anything apple related tbh. i’ve been on an apple strudel kick lately.  space baby: ooh awesome, ill have to try!! whats your favorite movie or tv show? mine is top gun, and island love.. honestly any dating show. theyre so fun. captain apple: haha my favorite movie is also top gun and probably jurassic park. space baby: ooh i have never seen jurassic park. hmm.. favorite flavor of food? captain apple: apple stuff, and i like all spices/flavors…except cilantro.. space baby: haha, me too! tastes like soap for me. makes me so sad.

you and caleb are grinning, ear to ear, moving around your beds like love struck teenagers, pillow nestled in between your arms as you text away with each other. 

you were actually having so much fun with this person, that you didn’t notice it was after midnight. you frowned slightly, a little bummed, before you go back to text captain apple

space baby: hey captain, sorry to cut the convo short, but i’ve got to go to sleep. do you wanna be mutuals before i head off? 

caleb looked at the clock and damn near panicked. he had to be up early for PT, he quickly hit heart on the conversation and a pink heart bursts in the screen, followed by a ‘congrats! you are mutuals!’ 

captain apple: yeah no problem! have a good night. was nice meeting you space baby!

you exit the app, a huge grin on your face, as you settled down. you couldn’t help but try and envision who exactly captain apple was. 

[lads-ficrecs]

fav caleb xia fics bc im a lover girl ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

art is by 绝世西瓜 (xhs id 117998996) ˚ . ⊹ ⋆

im a certified baby apple girl Ok i know what i like & whats good so i will kindly share these to the world!! this is for my caleb lovers and pseudocest enjoyers

psa i refer to caleb w nicknames like colonel silly / silly / apple boy etc !! in case ur confused lol ,, ♡ are my absolute favs !! ,,

(,,>﹏<,,) ao3 fics

sugar pit by knightjpg

9.6k words, pseudo-incest, more sex leaning, angry angsty mc at caleb & colonel silly cant bring himself to get angry (i love him)

rotary devotion by kirketeer ♡

35.1k words, very poetry esque, my kind of devotion (aka kinda scary type!!! wanting to live in his skin, being near him/skin touching not being enough etc), sooo angsty from silly’s pov, dont read this if u dont want to be hit with an intense amount of sadness and worry (affectionately)

he ain’t heavy (he’s my—) by kirketeer ♡

8.3k, REALLY poetry esque (so my fav fic by default!), dunno how to explain but the metaphors towards caleb & reader being synonyms + antonyms is making my head spin, dynamic is sooo sweet! kirketeer is a rly good world builder so ure immediately in it all the way (which i love)

the taste of a forbidden fruit (i offer you my heart, bruised and bitten) series by luvl3ss ,, my favs below

> ikaw lang: 1k words, caleb is still caleb, reminds me of this one quote abt how loving someone is having to grieve every version of them :’)

> extra thin!: 0.5k words, apple slicing prefs, really short but its just as sweet as that first bite of a perfect apple slice :P

origin: sine qua non series by tinylethologica ,, favs below

> footprints underneath a pulse storm ♡ 11.111 words (i HAD TO !!! its perfect), based off his deceptive solitude card ^__^ aka the gun cleaning one w the towel barely hanging on around his waist and his v line showing mmmmfffppjhhhh, dynamic is so good they banter SO YUMMILY, caleb and reader being panty sniffers i know thats right!, the sex is a bit milder — it focuses more on dialogue and thats exactly my kind of smut i love it so bad, also um um gun play Nods head. sucking the gun … him fucking reader w the gun uh huh okay that says enough right

> calomel in libation: 4.1k words, caleb knows u better than anyone else (even urself), he eats u out, kinda crazy how he just knows that reader needs to be eaten out after all the stress…. ugh such husband material wheres the ring!!

drive you insane by soarinapple

10.4k words, IM SHAKING omgomgomg SPANKING fic!!!!!! oh hell yeah, he spanks her she counts and thanks him and it goes on sooo long u almost feel it on your bum too </3 oh i wish that was me, aftercare scenes included too ! its so good

(..◜ᴗ◝..) tumblr fics

quick psa i read more incestuous things / heavy topics here so be warned! pls ignore or dont interact if u dont like <3

my love, my alibi by prettyboykatsuki

23.3k words, pseudocest (HEAVY. if u dont like it dont interact!!), im gonna be so real rn and just say this has to be my fav fic w the incestuous theme cause this is just ALL about that dynamic between them. growing up together but the lines blur as you grow up and suddenly someone youve always seen as ur brother is hot and u realise he takes care of you more than a brother should, caleb knows u but also. not? idk all i remember is that him cumming in you felt more romantic than it should be

spilled sweetness by piroulinewafers

2k words, pseucocest (heavy), watersports!!!!!!! this is piss focused lol!!! he checks ur bladder thru ur meow meow..... (yummy), kinda crazy kinda not . its kinky for sure esp w the pseudocest theme ...

drabbles by piroulinewafers

> married reader & caleb + jealousy (from reader) 2.4k words

> vv submissive reader & the sweeeeeetest dom caleb ever. he takes care of u when u cant do it urself 1.5k words

drabble (1) by yukinohiko

0.3k words, caleb faking his amnesia (hes so silly), reader/mc being a freak ofcourse and immediately taking advantage of it LOL but the dialogue is the most important part of this fic!!!, analogies of their love bla bla bla, gege & meimei use <3

drabble (2) by yukinohiko ♡

0.5k words, apple boy just loves you so much. it doesnt matter if u hate him or get angry hes so patient sobs, baby (reader) doesnt mean it!!!! she gets so sad when she realises what she did, gege usage, very sweet reader shes so cute in this...

the colonel's saint (part 2 of the colonel's keeper) by saintobio

9.8k words, im not even gonna sugarcoat it part one made me so uncomfy after reading it cause it was GUTWRENCHING in the best way possible!!!!!, the writing was superb but the entire situation made me feel so icky... i cant reread it like i usually do but i could w the second part!!! reader kinda gets her redemption, the last bits were so bittersweet im happy but also not

so fucking domestic by kutepik

1.2k words, hes so cuuuuteeee!!!!! theyre both cute icl, sex whenever and wherever in the house is soo domestic, just very adorbs im gonna eat them Both

[lads-ficrecs]

caleb

fics

whose? (fluff/smut/comfort, 1.4k)

forever boy (fluff to angst to fluff, 2.3k — fav)

punch (fluff, 659)

blushing bandit: part 2 (smut, 2.3k)

blushing bandit: part 1 (smut, 1.3k)

caught in a lie (smut, 3.9k)

i learned from you (comfort/fluff/light angst, 1.3k)

road trip (smut, 968)

i’m sorry for scaring you (suggestive angst, 1.7k)

drabbles

emergency medicine (fluff/angst)

mother gothel (angst/comfort?)

dog (angst)

science project (fluff)

i need you more than you need me (suggestive angst)

headcanons/imagines

caleb the white blood cell (analysis)

when you’re sensitive to noise (all lads LIs, fluff)

when you're hesitant to initiate kisses (all lads LIs, fluff)

colonel!caleb loses his speech pattern (angst to fluff)

caleb music headcanons (fluff)

[lads-ficrecs]

chapter three | the chariot

caleb x fem!reader

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving.” Caleb stalks towards you, his fingers sliding under your chin, tilting your head up. “You’re not leaving until you’re fucked full of my cum.” He dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “Understand, sweetheart?”

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, modern au, smut, fluff, kissing, oral sex, p in v, breeding kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, biting, bondage, vaginal fingering, handjob, dog tags, inappropriate photos, confessions

wc: 6.9k

a/n: this turned out to have a little more romance than i was expecting to write but i hope you enjoy! caleb is just soooo 🫦

also on ao3!

series masterlist | next up: the emperor

“Why are you wearing a scarf?”

You clear your throat, fingers tapping against the side of your glass of juice agitatedly. 

“It’s quite cold, isn’t it?” you supply lamely, fingers itching to reach up and tug the scarf tighter around your neck, desperately hoping that Caleb hadn’t taken notice of the marks that were now in full bloom.

“Cold?” he echoes, raising his brows. “We’re in the middle of spring. Are you feeling sick?”

You hardly hear his question because you’re too busy trying to tilt your head in a way that doesn’t look too suspicious. The stupid fabric was beginning to itch, and it was driving you crazy.

Xavier had offered to help when he’d found you in his kitchen in the morning, desperately twirling a whisk against your neck. It had hardly helped. You would’ve opted for a turtleneck, but there was a certain lack of them in your closet. Instead, you’d rummaged around, managing to fish out an oddly-patterned scarf from the depths.

“C’mon, are you sick?” Caleb prods, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer, the couch dipping under both your weights as you shift.

“No,” you mumble, silently wishing that this wasn’t happening right now. All you can manage is a pitiful excuse. “I just happen to really like scarves, Caleb.”

“Well, it looks ridiculous,” he says drily, nuzzling into your cheek. “You gonna take it off anytime soon?”

“It’s chic,” you correct, trying to squirm away from him. “And no, I’m still cold.”

Caleb huffs out a laugh, his lips pressing against your cheek fondly. You bite your lip when he picks you up, situating you on his lap, his chest warm against your back. Normally, it’d feel nice if you weren’t currently overheating and overwhelmed. 

You stiffen when Caleb rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you closer. His lips drag across your jaw in a fleeting kiss and you can feel your eyes sliding shut, lulled into a state of comfort by his thumbs gently rubbing circles into your stomach through your dress.

Out of everyone, Caleb was the one you’d known the longest. You’d grown up together, until he’d moved away for a couple of years before coming back, his demeanor a little more intense than you’d remembered. You still weren’t sure of the reason, but Caleb had gotten sterner over the years, less willing to let you go.

He’d been your first kiss back then, your lips clumsy and inexperienced when he’d kissed you and shy, fleeting glances exchanged between you when he’d walked you home, his hand grasping yours firmly.

You’d never quite gotten the chance to explore the possibility of something more… serious with him, not when Caleb was joining the military soon after. You’d hardly even seen him around until the past few months, his schedule freeing up while he awaited deployment. 

“I missed you,” Caleb murmurs, his nose nudging against the side of your head.

“I missed you too,” you mumble, playing with his fingers, your palm pressing against his a few moments later, hands locking together.

He smiles, and you hum when he squeezes your hand, wiggling on his lap happily. Caleb lets out a low noise, one his hands curling over your hip to stop you.

“Don’t do that,” he whispers, his eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re no fun.”

Caleb huffs out a breath, his face pressing into your neck with the intention of mouthing across your skin. He lets out an irritated noise when he’s met with a faceful of your woolly scarf, letting out an exasperated breath.

“Please take the damn thing off.”

“Can’t,” you reply, feigning innocence, “it’s too cold.”

Caleb narrows his eyes. “I can warm you up.”

You shake your head, jerking out of his grasp when he tries to tug your scarf free from around your neck. You’re at your wits end, squeaking when Caleb tries to lunge for you again.

“I want to have sex with the scarf on, Caleb!”

“Is that a new kink?” he laughs, his eyes lighting up, “c’mon baby, you gotta take it off.”

You squeal when he manages to catch you, your little dance around his coffee table coming to an end when he pulls you into his chest, his arms firm and unrelenting, preventing your escape.

“S- stop!” you yelp, trying to squirm out of his arms, shrieking when he hooks his fingers into the gap between your scarf and neck, pulling it free. “Caleb!”

Caleb catches your hand when you try to cover up your neck, his expression dropping when he sees the extent of damage Xavier had laid to your skin. You stare up at him, swallowing nervously, fingers itching at your side, desperately wanting to snatch the scarf back from him.

“What,” he sucks in a shaky breath, “what the fuck is that?”

“N- nothing!” you protest, trying to turn your back to him. “It’s- it’s probably just an allergic reaction to my scarf!” You manage to twist yourself, hand shooting out to grab your scarf, pretending to give the little tag a once-over. “Mhm, yep, definitely an allergic reaction. I- I am, in fact, allergic to wool.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Caleb scoffs, “I know you aren’t allergic to anything.”

“It happens with age,” you lie through your teeth, “ever heard of dermatitis?”

Caleb stares at you blankly, shaking his head incredulously after a moment. “You’ve been spending too much time with Zayne,” he mutters. You watch uneasily as he balls his hands up into fists before he unclenches them, his fingers spreading out in a strained gesture. “Who did it?”

“Xavier,” you mumble, playing with your fingers. 

“I’m going to missile strike his apartment.”

You’d laugh if you weren’t so on edge. “You can’t do that,” you reply exasperatedly, “I live in the same apartment complex, remember? Besides, wouldn’t that be like a crime?”

“That is a crime,” Caleb snaps, pointing at your neck accusingly, “I mean what the fuck did you do with him? He’s practically tried to devour you whole.”

You flush when you remember what you had done with Xavier. The teasing, the feeling of his mouth on your tits, you’d enjoyed it.

Caleb glares at you when he sees the faraway look in your eyes, his arms crossing over his chest. “You don’t have to look so satisfied.”

“Well, he did satisfy me,” you mutter under your breath, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

Caleb scrubs a hand over his face before running his fingers through his hair. His jaw clenches as he stares down at you, gaze fixated on the discolored splotches that cover your neck. There’s an uncomfortable tension in the air and you wring your hands together, averting your gaze from his.

“I can leave,” you offer quietly, “if that’s what you w-”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “You’re not leaving.” Caleb stalks towards you, his fingers sliding under your chin, tilting your head up. “You’re not leaving until you’re fucked full of my cum.” He dips his head, the tip of his nose grazing yours. “Understand, sweetheart?”

“What?” you ask breathlessly, somehow pinned in place by his darkened gaze and stern expression, holding none of the playful humor that you were accustomed to.

“You’re not leaving my apartment until I fuck you full of my cum,” Caleb repeats, tightening his grip on you. “Do you understand?”

“Well, I-” you sputter, cheeks hot, struggling to comprehend his words. 

He clicks his tongue in annoyance, spinning you around, his palm warm against your stomach. You bite back a whimper when he caresses your stomach, his hand pressing down firmly when you turn your head, eyes fluttering shut.

Caleb keeps his hand there, fingers splaying out, trying to encompass every inch of you that he can. His nose nudges against the side of your head, his breath hot against your skin. “Cat got your tongue, hm? You can go and sleep with those two pieces of shit but you can’t answer a simple question, huh?”

“Xavier’s not a piece of shit,” you shoot back agitatedly, eyes opening to send him an irritated look. “And neither is Rafayel. Grow up, Caleb.”

“I was right here,” he hisses, glaring down at you. “I was right fucking here and you decided you wanted to fuck four other men to have a fucking baby.”

“Yes, I did,” you retort sharply, turning in his arms, your finger pressing into his chest harshly. “If you can’t handle that, then maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this.”

Caleb’s eyes flash with anger, his grip on you loosening when you take a step back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I agreed first,” he snaps, “or did you forget about that little detail?”

“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” you say exasperatedly, throwing your arms up. “I’m here, in your fucking apartment, Caleb! And yes,” you snap harshly, blinded by your irritation, not quite paying attention to the words slipping out of your mouth, “I want to be fucked full of your cum!”

Caleb’s expression falters when he hears the latter part of your outburst, his eyes widening. Your chest heaves, a frustrated sound leaving you when you realize what you’ve said. You may as well have grabbed a shovel and started looking for a plot of land to bury yourself in.

Instead, you send him a glare that you hope is venomous enough, shoving past him to save face, storming into his bedroom.

“Hey, what are you-” Caleb begins, trailing after you awkwardly, his movements unsure. 

Still fuming, you unzip your dress, flinging the fabric at his stupidly handsome face, irritated by his bewildered expression. Caleb’s face disappears for a moment while he sputters, managing to ball your dress up before you throw your bra and panties in his face too. His cheeks flush at the sight of your panties, his fingers clenching around the lace.

“I’m ready,” you announce, well aware of the marks Xavier had left on your breasts and a few more that were hidden between your thighs. You gesture towards yourself. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Fuck me.”

“Uh-” Caleb clears his throat, taken aback by your sudden burst of determination, “maybe you should… calm down first?”

“You think I should calm down?” you retort sharply, “you’re the one that was throwing a temper tantrum!”

“For good reason!” he protests, setting your clothes down on top of his dresser before stepping towards you. “All someone needs to do is take one look at your neck and they’d understand where I’m coming from.”

“You started it with Xavier,” you hiss, finger prodding into his chest once again, “if you hadn’t riled him up, then maybe he wouldn’t have done this.” You gesture towards your neck agitatedly.

“Clearly it’s not just your neck, is it?” Caleb murmurs, his hand sliding up over your waist, his warm, calloused hand cupping your breast, squeezing gently. “All over your tits too.” He frowns at the sight, leaning back to watch your nipples harden at his ministrations, his eyes narrowing when he sees the splotchy marks left by Xavier. “You call that fair, sweetheart?”

All you can manage is a stubborn pout, averting your gaze. He sighs, and you shuffle forward, pressing your face into his chest. “He apologized,” you say, remembering the way Xavier had been on his knees. You let out a heavy breath. “Turns out he’s really good at apologizing.”

“I bet he is,” Caleb grumbles bitterly, his fingers pinching at your nipple absentmindedly.

You whimper, silently cursing yourself for being so weak. Caleb’s other hand comes up to cup your other breast, weighing it in his hand. The breath he lets out sounds a little too strained to be considered normal, your head tilting upwards to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he says finally, his thumbs stroking over your nipples, his expression turning slightly serious.

Caleb lowers his head, his nose brushing against yours. He doesn’t go any further, simply staring into your eyes. It’s a little unnerving until you realize what he wants from you. Fingers curling into his shirt, you bring him a little closer to you, eyes slipping shut as your lips meet his in a chaste kiss.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper against his lips, “for not being understanding of your um-” you pause, trying to think of the right word, “preferences?”

He hums, his hand sliding up over the side of your neck to cup your cheek. “Yeah,” Caleb murmurs, “I still don’t think you understand what you mean to me.”

You blink up at him, brows furrowing in confusion. Caleb’s eyes bore down into yours, his expression conflicted. You stare into his eyes searchingly when you think you spot a hint of wistfulness breaking through. “Caleb?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he whispers, both of his hands cupping your cheeks now. “I like you, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you say, the tension bleeding out from you. “I like you too, Caleb,” you chirp, a smile on your face, “you didn’t have to scare me like that.”

“What?”

“What?” you parrot back, confusion marring your expression yet again.

“No,” Caleb huffs out an irritated breath, “no, I like you.”

You give him a blank look. “...I know. You just said that.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath, “I like you as in romantically. As in I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my fucking life pining after you.”

What? Your mouth opens before you close it, stunned into silence. You always knew Caleb had a little thing for you, but fifteen years? 

“And you didn’t say anything earlier?” you manage out, “and you chose to confess now?” You gesture towards your bare body, cheeks flushing.

“The timing was never right,” he replies stubbornly, his eyes narrowing, “and yes.”

“I don’t think the timing is right now!” you protest, shaking your head.

“You don’t feel the same way.”

You shoot him an indignant look. “I didn’t say that, Caleb. It’s just… it’s complicated. You know it is.”

“Always is with you, isn’t it?” he murmurs, his jaw clenching.

“Are you serious?” you begin, feeling cornered, “if you had just said some-”

You’re cut off when Caleb dips his head, pressing a bruising kiss against your lips, one that steals the air from your lungs, leaving your vision blurry when he pulls back.

“It’s okay,” Caleb says, his arms sliding under your thighs to pick you up before he dumps you on his bed unceremoniously. “The baby’s going to be mine, and when it is, I’m going to put a pretty fucking ring on this finger.”

“Marriage?” you squeak out, your complaints muffled by his mouth when he crawls over you, his mouth working against yours hungrily.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, pecking your lips gentler this time, “‘m gonna marry you, sweetheart.”

You were fairly certain the constant high altitudes he was flying at had gotten to his brain. Zayne could help, you think belatedly, until that thought is brushed away when he kisses your cheek, his lips returning to yours soon after, his tongue licking into your mouth, 

“What if the baby’s not yours?” you ask him breathlessly, thighs spreading wider when he settles his hips between them.

Caleb frowns at you, his grip adjusting on your hip. “It’ll be mine,” he says self-assuredly, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You can’t be sure-”

“I’ll cum twice,” Caleb retorts.

“That’s- that’s against the rules!” you try to protest, a needy sigh slipping out of you when he mouths at your neck, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin as though trying to erase the marks laid there. “You- you all agreed to cum once ah- to- to make it fair!”

“Nothing fair about this whole thing, honey.”

Your toes curl when he calls you honey, an unbidden giggle slipping out of you. Caleb leans back to stare at your expression, a smile pulling at his lips when he sees you trying to hide away in the pillows, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, pressing soft kisses all over.

“You like that,” he laughs, his hand finding its way between your thighs.

“So- so what?” you ask breathlessly, moaning against his mouth when he slides his fingers between your puffy folds, your lips meeting his for a brief kiss, hips bucking when Caleb rubs your clit.

“So stop pretending like you don’t.”

You paw at his broad shoulders, fingers latching onto his biceps greedily. Caleb groans softly at your groping, his eyes going half-lidded, a pretty pink tinging his cheeks when you run your hands over his chest, squeezing his firm pecs.

“Take your shirt off,” you whisper, hands sliding under the hem of his shirt to feel his bare skin.

Caleb complies, sitting back on his knees. You watch as he pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion, the silver chain around his neck grabbing your attention, the metal of his dog tags clinking together. 

“You still wear these?” you muse as you sit up, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his dog tags, flipping one of them over to read his name stamped into the metal. “Even when you’re not deployed?”

“All the time,” he murmurs, his fingers encircling your wrist, lips brushing over your knuckles.

You shiver at the fleeting kiss, leaning forward, your hands pushing at his chest to get him to lie down. Swinging a leg over his hip, you settle down on his lap, watching the way his dog tags settle between his pecs.

“I suppose you are a big shot, Caleb,” you sigh, biting your lip, fingers skimming down his chest teasingly.

“Colonel,” he corrects, watching hazily as you squirm down to settle on his thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his sweats and boxers to pull them down.

Caleb’s cock slaps against his abdomen, hard and thick and somewhat imposing. You stare down at his arousal, cheeks flushing at the sight, watching as his cock twitches, pre-cum smearing across his skin.

“‘s nice,” you offer, hand wrapping around his cock, cunt throbbing when you feel the weight of him in your hand. “And- and big.”

“Bigger than theirs?” he asks, raising his brows, watching you closely as you begin to stroke his cock lazily.

Sylus’ was comparable, but you decide against telling him that, lest he throw another fit. Instead you nod, fighting the urge to roll your eyes when Caleb’s chest puffs out, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

His hand slides between your thighs and you shift, settling on top of it, grinding your hips across his calloused palm, wetness coating his skin. Caleb lets out a heavy breath and you whine, mouth opening and tongue lolling out to let spit drip from your mouth onto his cock. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, throwing an arm over his face to hide his flushed expression, “baby, you’re fucking insane.”

“You wanted to missile strike another man’s apartment,” you shoot back, trying to pry his arm away from his face, eager to see his expressions. “Wanna see, Caleb.”

“I never said the idea was off the table,” he grouses, tilting his head to the side to let you mouth at his neck, his hips bucking up into your touch, trying to fuck his cock into the confines of your hand. “He could be a security threat,” Caleb mutters, his hands groping at your ass, squeezing and kneading. “Remind me to do a background check.”

“You’re such a baby,” you sigh, peering down to watch his cock move through your hand, tightening your grip.

A glob of pre-cum pools from the tip of his cock and you squirm, trying and failing to shuffle down and take his cock into your mouth, glaring at him when he keeps you anchored against him, on his lap.

“Always hungry for cock, hm?” Caleb coos, drawing out a loud moan from you when he curls his fingers, sinking them into your clenching pussy. “My cock-hungry little slut.”

You stifle a whimper, hips rising and falling as you fuck yourself on his fingers. His cock throbs in your hand and you squeeze, watching as more globs of thick pre-cum bead at the tip, smearing across when you spit down on his cock again, your lustful gaze meeting his.

“What?” you mumble, pecking his lips gently, eyes fluttering shut.

“Nothing,” he breathes out against your lips, his fingers crooking further, your head tipping back when his fingers hit the sensitive spot inside of you, the feeling enough to have you crying out. “You’re just… pretty.”

You blink up at him, lower lip jutting out in a pout, heart lurching uncomfortably in your chest. You press your face into the crook of his neck, your wrist twisting at a faster pace, jerking him off more desperately.

“Ah-” Caleb moans, his hand on your hip tightening when you rock your hips faster, his eyes squeezing shut when he feels the clench of your pussy around his fingers. “Slow down, honey.”

“I wanna watch you cum,” you say, teeth scraping along his shoulder, thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smiling when you feel Caleb jolt and grunt.

“No-” he shakes his head, “no, shit- I can’t cum now, baby.”

You ignore him, hand stroking faster, your other hand drifting to cup his balls, massaging them gently. Caleb curses and you squeal when he slaps your ass, the view of his room changing suddenly when he grabs you by your hips and pins you down into the bed.

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you weren’t done stroking his cock, but you’re only met with the creak of Caleb’s bed as he gets off of it, disappearing through the door. Your brows furrow, the bed dipping as you crawl to the edge of the bed. “Caleb?” you call out, “are- are you coming back?”

Your confusion only grows when he returns with your scarf in hand. “I- I wasn’t serious,” you begin, feeling disoriented when he moves towards you, “I don’t actually want to have sex with the scarf on.”

Caleb smiles, his eyes glittering with mirth. “I thought it might help you keep your hands to yourself,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, making your face scrunch up. 

You stare up at him, head tilting in question. Caleb huffs out a laugh at your expression, nose nudging against yours to land a kiss to your lips this time. His hands slide under you, picking you up before placing you closer to the headboard of his bed. You squirm under him, watching as he straddles you.

While he’s too busy pinning your wrists together, you lean forward, mouth enveloping his cock. Caleb jerks at the sudden sensation, cursing loudly, his body hunching over as you lap at the head of the cock.

“Can you listen for once?” he asks exasperatedly, his eyes narrowing down to look at you as you try to crane your neck forward, trying to take him deeper into your mouth.

Caleb rolls his eyes when you don’t listen, his fingers sliding over your wrists, winding your woolly scarf around and around, effectively binding them together. You whine when his cock slips out of your mouth with a soft pop, trying to sit up only to find your movement restricted. Your head tilts back, a huff of air leaving you when you realize he’s tied your wrists to the railing of the headboard of his bed.

“I didn’t know you were into bondage, Caleb.”

“It’s not-” Caleb sputters for a moment, before he stares at you suspiciously, “how do you know what bondage is?”

You smile up at him sweetly. “I like to read.”

He decides against chastising you, instead making a mental note to pry into whatever it was that you were reading. Your eyes flutter shut when he strokes his hand over your hair, his lips slotting over yours. “Is this okay?” he asks, fingers trailing down your sides to grip your hips, “being tied up?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, pecking his lips gently, “it’s okay.”

You bite your lip as you watch him slink down your body, his lips leaving kisses as he moves. A soft sigh escapes you when he swirls his tongue around your nipple, his teeth biting down gently before he kisses your nipple, smiling against your skin when you twitch.

Caleb’s fingers slide over your stomach, his teeth scraping across your skin. You whimper when he settles between your thighs finally, trying to reach down to run your fingers through your hair only to be reminded of the fact that you’ve been tied up.

“Hands to yourself, honey,” he reminds you, his eyes twinkling with amusement when you pout.

“Jerk,” you murmur, head tipping back when his breath ghosts over your puffy folds, his fingers spreading you open.

“Think you like that about me,” Caleb mumbles, swallowing at the sight of your wet pussy, letting out a strained breath, “‘s pretty, baby. Really fucking pretty.”

You flush, pussy clenching when he licks over your clit, thighs twitching. Caleb’s fingers wrap around your thighs, placing them over his broad shoulders, his mouth opening wider. Tongue sliding through your folds, he laps at your cunt obscenely, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation. 

He thinks he could die a happy man when you squeeze your thighs around his head, his mouth wrapping around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against the swollen bud. 

Caleb’s name spills out of your mouth repeatedly in a pleading chant, tears pricking at your eyes when he digs his fingers into your thighs roughly. It all feels so good, his mouth on you, the tight grip he has on as though you might just disappear out from under you if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

You blink down at him when Caleb pulls away to lick his lips, his mouth and chin glistening with your slick and his spit, his gaze heady. A whimper leaves you when he bites your inner thigh, over the marks Xavier left, his teeth imprinted into your skin as you surrender yourself to him.

Caleb decides it’s not enough, pressing a kiss to your clit before he’s moving you to flip onto your back, your scarf twisting with you.

“Get on your knees, baby,” he rasps, tapping your hips.

You do your best, face shoved into the pillows as you squirm up onto your knees, feeling slightly mortified when Caleb spreads you apart, his hands kneading at your asscheeks. 

“Don’t- don’t do that,” you whine, body jerking forward when Caleb runs his tongue through your folds unexpectedly.

“You’re shy now?” he laughs softly, biting into the fat of your ass playfully.

You ignore him, too busy moaning into the pillows when Caleb rubs your clit, his face pressing between your thighs, nose pressing up against your pussy. A sharp gasp leaves you, hips rocking back, trying to grind against the bridge of his nose while his tongue joins his fingers, lapping over your swollen clit.

“Caleb,” you mewl, hands gripping onto the railing of his headboard, the wool of your scarf rubbing against your wrists, “nghhh- ah- you’re so-”

“Charming?” he offers.

You let out a strangled laugh, squeaking when his hand comes down on your ass. He spanks you again, and you make a noise in protest, trying to crawl away, except you have nowhere to go, the scarf fastened enough to prevent you. It’s all too much when his tongue presses into your aching cunt, a cry escaping you as Caleb fucks his tongue in and out of you.

He squeezes your thigh harshly and your movements grow more desperate, trying to sway your hips back when his mouth latches onto you clit again, the press of his nose too much to handle. 

“Gonna cum?” Caleb asks, his voice a low growl, “huh, baby? Gonna cum on my fucking tongue?”

“Y- yes!” you squeal, your knees giving out under you when he shoves his tongue back into your cunt, fucking it in and out of you. “Oh fuck, Caleb- oh fuck!”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he growls, his fingers rubbing at your clit fast and with just enough pressure that you give a trembling cry of his name, slumping down against the sheets as your thighs twitch uncontrollably, panting raggedly to try and catch your breath, toes curling in delirium. 

Caleb loosens the scarf binding your wrists when he sees you struggling to move, his cock smearing pre-cum across your thighs and stomach as he turns you over, lips slotting over yours in a desperate kiss. 

He’s picking you up soon after, chasing after your lips when you pull away to catch your breath, capturing them again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. Caleb’s kisses are messy, spit leaking out from the sides of your mouth as he settles you onto his lap, his hands running up and down your sides soothingly.

“Can’t- can’t breathe,” you complain, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Caleb grumbles his displeasure under his breath before his eyes catch sight of your reddened wrists. Letting out a sigh, he grabs one of them, fingers running over your wrist gently, lifting it up to his lips to press soft kisses.

“You okay?” he murmurs, reaching for your other wrist, repeating his ministrations. “Was it too much?”

“No,” you say quietly, kissing his jaw, “it was good. I- I um- enjoyed it.”

Caleb smiles when you meet his eyes, his lips pressing up against the pads of your fingers. You smile back, feeling a little shy despite everything. He tucks your messy hair behind your ear, his touch skimming down your throat fleetingly.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he confesses, letting out a heavy breath, his head tipping back to rest against the headboard.

“I’m here,” you whisper, feeling unsure about what else to say, your fingers playing with his dog tags, bringing them up towards you to kiss the small, metal plates.

Caleb’s expression softens as he watches you, his heart thudding in his chest.

“I’m yours, Caleb,” you continue, kissing him sweetly. “See?”

You reach out, fingers sliding under his silver chain to lift it up over his head before you place it around his neck. The metal chimes softly, his dog tags settling between your breasts.

Caleb nearly cums at the sight. You know exactly how to rile him up, know exactly what to do to make him feel like a lovesick fool. He stares down at you, his adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows, fingers flexing against your hips.

You look so sweet, so soft, perched atop his lap delicately. He doesn’t know what to say when you peer up at him, feeling short of breath when you lean forward to kiss his cheek gently. Caleb’s fingers reach out to graze his dog tags, the cool metal grounding him at least for a moment.

“I hate how you make me feel,” he murmurs finally, hands smoothing over your sides, dragging you closer, groaning softly when your breasts squish up against his chest.

“Sorry?” you offer meekly, biting your lip when he squeezes the fat of your ass.

“Don’t be,” Caleb sighs, his forehead pressing against yours.

He kisses you gently, lips smacking against yours in the quiet of his bedroom. You rock your hips, pussy sliding over the length of his cock. Caleb grunts into your mouth, lifting you up, his hands grasping you under your thighs while you mewl, hand grasping his cock to line him up against your entrance.

“Caleb,” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut when he sinks you down slowly onto his cock, nails scratching his pecs at the feeling of him stretching you out, his cock thick enough to have you feeling like you’re being split open.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he whispers, “doing so good for me. Taking my cock so well, yeah?”

You nod, still scrabbling at his chest, whining when he sinks you down onto the entire length of his cock, your pussy trying to accommodate his size. Caleb smiles against your cheek, kneading at your hips, muttering soft words of encouragement.

Your eyes meet his, hands sliding over his shoulders to let your arms wrap around his neck. Caleb leans back, resting against the headboard as you shuffle on his lap to get more comfortable, beginning to roll your hips.

“Good girl,” Caleb says hoarsely, “just like that, baby. Take your time.”

Spreading your legs to set a wider base, you rise up before dropping your hips back down, making Caleb groan when he feels you beginning to bounce on his cock, his eyes fluttering shut. You bite your lip at the sight, arms tightening around his neck, fucking yourself on his cock, gasping when you feel his cock twitch.

You think you might feel him in your stomach, his cock so fat and thick that it has your cunt clenching in quick succession in an attempt to readjust with every rise and fall of your hips. Caleb’s dog tags jingle with every bounce of you on his lap, his head dropping forward to rest against your shoulder, his teeth scraping across your shoulder.

“Wanna feel you fuck me full,” you mumble, nuzzling against his jaw, “please?”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, “you wanna be bred, sweetheart? Wanna have my baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod eagerly, sending him a drunken smile when he stares down at you.

Caleb’s fingers hook into the chain around your neck, tugging you closer until you’re moaning against his mouth, his darkened eyes watch the bounce and sway of your tits as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“Good fucking girl,” Caleb grunts, “ride my cock, sweetheart. Gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

His words are obscene, his teeth biting at your lower lip, fingers pinching at your nipples until you’re writhing on his lap. You squeak when he wraps his hands around your waist, letting out a sharp gasp when he picks you up as though you weigh nothing and slams you down onto the length of his cock.

“C- Caleb! ‘s too much!” you wail, nails scratching down his back, unable to meet his eyes properly, not when he’s using you, taking you like you’re nothing but a ragdoll.

“No,” Caleb snaps, “it’s not too much; fucking take it.”

You squeal when he bites your breast, hands flailing for purchase, trying to grab out for something, anything, but it’s hard when he’s fucking you onto his cock like this, your hands landing on his shoulders briefly. The clank of his dog tags is drowned out by the sounds of his balls slapping against you, the lewd noises of his cock thrusting in and out of your clenching pussy.

“Do you like me?”

“Wh- what?” you manage out, lashes fluttering rapidly as you try to blink clearly. 

“Do you like me?” Caleb asks, his voice hoarse and raspy, enough to have you clenching around his cock. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “Say yes,” he breathes out, pressing his chest more firmly against yours, as though trying to meld your bodies together. 

You feel lightheaded and short of breath when his fingers shift, pressing into your lower stomach. His voice turns into something softer, something more pleading. “Say yes, sweetheart.”

“Y- yes,” you hiccup, heart fluttering in your chest, “I- I like you Caleb.”

“Again,” he demands, nose brushing against yours, his lips hovering above yours.

“I like you,” you say breathlessly, kissing his jaw, “like you so much, Caleb. Wanna be bred, please- please cum inside.” You don’t exactly why you utter the next words, but you figure Caleb ought to be into that sort of thing, the power trip it gives him when he’s clinging to control. “Please, Colonel?”

“Oh my- fuck!” Caleb swears sharply, and you can feel his hips jerk, his grip on you faltering when you call him by his title. “You little minx- fucking crazy, you know that?”

“Sorry,” you whine, smiling against his mouth, pawing at his thick pecs, tongue licking over his lips. “‘m sorry, Colonel. Just- just wanna have your baby.”

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” Caleb groans loudly, fingers dimpling the flesh of your hips, “‘m gonna fill this pretty pussy up, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, feeling beyond fucked out, your head a swirl of Caleb, and Caleb only, unable to register anything other than the feeling of his cock snug inside your cunt, the cool metal of his dog tags against your skin, his mouth on yours.

“Ah-” Caleb whines, high and broken, the sound enough to make your back arch, nails digging into his chest.

He manages to fuck you on his cock a few more times, his hands pushing at your hips until your pussy hugs the entirety of his cock, your ass snug against his balls. Caleb moans into your ear, panting and whining as he cums, his cock twitching inside of you as hot spurts of cum spill out, filling you up.

You twitch atop him, the walls of your cunt fluttering around him, eyes squeezing shut as you feel your own orgasm wash over you.

Caleb clicks his tongue when you try to squirm off of him, rubbing his hands over your thighs when you complain about the ache settling in your muscles.

“Stay,” he whispers, kissing your temple, “gotta make sure it takes.”

A few minutes later, you curl up into his side when he lays you down gently, his hand rubbing over your side soothingly. Only the sounds of your breathing fill his room, Caleb’s fingers stroking across you gently. Your lips meet his when he lowers his head, sighing when he squeezes your thighs, massaging them gently.

“We don’t have to do it twice,” he whispers, “I was just- it was the heat of the moment.”

You stare at him, taking in the softness in his eyes, your head tilting to nuzzle into his palm when he strokes his thumb across your cheek. It’s against the rules, you remind yourself, and yet fifteen years… the number is enough to make your stomach flip.

“Did you mean it?” you ask quietly, your fingers tracing across his chest, over the ridges and dips of his muscles.

Caleb lets out a low sigh, his eyes fluttering shut. “Every word, sweetheart.”

There’s a long stretch of silence and Caleb presses his nose into your hair, his eyes opening when he hears the clink of metal. You give him a shy smile, leg swinging over his hip as you straddle him.

The man under you groans softly when you roll your hips, his eyes raptly watching the gentle sway of his dog tags between your breasts. The soft, sweet sentence that you utter next has Caleb closing his eyes in a silent prayer. You truly were going to drive him to madness.

“Better make up for lost time, Colonel.”

- 

Caleb has never seen you more disarmed than when you’re asleep.

He supposes it’s a bit creepy to stare at you while you’re sleeping, but he can’t help it, having been stirred awake by a cramp in his leg. His fingers ghost across the curve of your cheek, careful not to wake you, an uncomfortable ache piercing through his heart. 

If only he could keep you here with him.

But Caleb knows how stubborn you are, and he knows the rules of this little scheme that he agreed to, even if they are stupid and he’s already broken one of them. He stiffens when you stir, a smile pulling at his lips when drool slips out the side of your mouth, your body squirming as you roll over onto your back.

When he catches a glimpse of your marked neck, his irritation flares again, lips thinning. Caleb supposes he is driven by jealousy, there’s no point in denying it, not when the ugly head of envy rears his head and he finds his vision tinted with a hue of green that makes it difficult to think clearly.

His fingers are curling over your thigh gently, prying your legs apart carefully, his breath catching in his throat when he sees his cum smeared between your thighs and all over your pussy. Messy, he thinks, lowering his head to kiss your hip affectionately.

The flash of his phone camera isn’t bright enough to wake you up. Caleb stifles a groan at the picture, trying to will away the throb in his cock, his gaze entranced by the image of your messy pussy, covered and filled up with two loads of his cum. 

Just like how it should be, he thinks belatedly. Caleb would make it his lockscreen if it wasn’t so intimate. 

His fingers tap across his screen, finding Xavier’s number. There’s no need for unnecessary texts. The image is sent, Caleb’s lips pulling up into a sneer at the thought of the silver-haired man. 

Caleb tosses his phone onto his bedside table, wrapping his arms around, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead, humming softly as you curl up into his arms, snuggling closer as you seek out his warmth. The soft sounds of his clinking dog tags catch his attention.

Caleb decides he’ll need to get an extra one stamped. 

One with your name.

taglist >///<

@serenitymaria @kreishin @qyuin @wegottastayfocus @novthirty @syluslittlecrows @blorbohunter @luvleixo @crimsonmarabou @skylaryoung2002 @multisstuff @chirikoheina @supermissnkta @serenity-loves-red @shi-thats-kiera @froleineeeee @jaynawayna @schooki @minyoongi-pouts @mizienjoyer @isagistar @zaynesnowflake @athena-portgas @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @cutelittlesugarfairy @pookiei-bookie @dooopiee @rafshottestgf @thetimetravelernightmare @slytherin-min99 @envy-of-greed @paninisstuff @h0ngh0ngh0ng @nezuswritingdesk @teeheeheartless @flwerie @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @babyx91 @thisaintviolet69 @scoupsonlycherry @blubearxy @midiplier @young-adult-summer @daisys-mushroom-garden @sunsethw4 @lads-ficrecs @buffytheangelslayer @helios-eyre @browneyedgirl22 @straows @lennysnicket @actuallynarii

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My knight

Main Masterlist

.ᐟ pairing. ⤑ Knight!Sylus x Princess!Reader (no use of y/n).

.ᐟ synopsis. ⤑ He was always composed, always unreadable behind that stoic expression. But when the castle lights dimmed he found himself alone in his chambers, his cock in his hand and thoughts of you curling through his mind. That was when the composure crumbled.

You’d always been dangerous to him but tonight… tonight you pushed him too far. You didn’t even know it or maybe you did. Maybe that was what made it worse.

.ᐟ word count. ⤑ 16k posted on my ao3.

.ᐟ WARNINGS, mdni!!. ⤑ explicit sexual content, royalty au, very much shameless smut, reader is a brat, sylus is a brat tamer, loss of virginity, strip tease, female masturbation, forced orgasm, cock warming, knight x princess relationship, dirty talk/thoughts, finger sucking, hand kink if u look closely... praise kink, size kink, size difference, sylus is a bit of a tease, p in v sex, MESSYYYY (i mean messy) kissing, tongue sucking, bit of an open ending! (but i may revisit this.......)

.ᐟ A/N. this IS an open ending but if you keep sylus' personality in mind, you'll come up w a conclusion fitting to him :3 (i also might revisit this, no promises)

enjoy!

The perfect fucking princess.

Always so pristine, so untouchably elegant. Even in the quiet hours, when the castle fell into sleep and night draped itself over the stone walls you were never anything less than stunning. Soft skin that glowed in the candlelight, lips faintly tinted, hair braided like something out of a story. It was long, glossy and neat. Even the way you dressed, delicate silks covered in fine embroidery, each gown carefully chosen not just for its beauty, but for the way it curved around your body, the way it clung and fell.

You were meant to be looked at, admired. It was the duty of every person with royal blood.

And they did. Princes, dukes, noble sons from faraway kingdoms, they paraded into court with promises and jewelled offerings, all of them tripping over their own tongues just for a chance to impress you, to win you. The perfect prize, as if you were something to be won.

But they were never good enough, they never even came close.

Because what they wanted was the fantasy. What they saw was the surface, and none of them could handle what lived underneath it all. The sharp tongue, the clever wit, the way your eyes narrowed in defiance when something didn’t go your way. None of them could tame you.

Sylus knew that, he knew you.

Knew that behind your perfect smile was a mind that never yielded. That behind the firm posture you held and the poise way you spoke was a streak of bratty defiance you wielded constantly. You were stubborn, mouthy and impossible and you were never worse than you were with him.

You said things you had no right to say and things he had no right to hear. Your voice soft and curious, laced with amusement, your gaze lingering just a second too long. You let your fingers linger when you ghost touched his arm, leaned in when you spoke like you were telling him a secret, like the two of you shared something sacred. You smiled like you knew what you were doing to him. Like you could feel the way his jaw tensed, the way his hands twitched at his sides when you got too close.

And maybe you could, maybe you knew exactly what you were doing when you let your laughter spill over him, when you tilted your head and looked up at him through your lashes, when you ran your fingers slowly, so slowly along the edge of your wine glass and asked if your dress looked appropriate.

You were relentless, and he was only a man.

A man sworn to protect you. To guard you with his life, to keep his distance and uphold his title, his duty, his control. But you made it impossible. Every word out of your mouth made him ache, every passing glance, every accidental brush of your body against his in a corridor it all stirred something dangerous in him.

There were fleeting moments where he let his mind slip. Let it imagine your lips parted beneath his, your breath catching as he pressed you into your silk sheets, his name falling from your tongue. Moments where he let the idea of it sink its claws into him. Taking you slowly, ruining your innocence and leaving you ruined for anyone else.

Because he would ruin you.

He’d leave his mark on your skin, in your thoughts, deep in the part of you no one else would ever touch. He’d remind you with every kiss, every thrust, every whispered command that no one especially not one of those pretty little suitors could ever satisfy you the way he would. Because he knew you, all of you. The sweetness and the sharp edges, the princess and the brat and he wanted every goddamn inch of you.

You were his perfect fucking princess and he was going to break himself trying to stay away.

Every time you whined, every time you pouted, it was like a knife straight through his restraint. You knew what you were doing to him, you always knew and it was even worse when he knew you did it on purpose.

His thoughts spiralled back to that night just a week ago, when you'd stood in the centre of your room, arms folded across your chest like you were the queen of the world. Your night gown had shimmered in the moonlight but it wasn’t the silk he noticed, no it was the fire in your eyes. And your hardened nipples poking through the fabric. He saw the defiance, the way you would throw your chin up as if daring him to challenge.

"I’m not wearing this" you had said, practically sneering at the dress laid out for you to wear to some royal event.

And of course, Sylus had been the one tasked with convincing you, not that you made it easy. You had stood there, giving him that pout. The one that drove him to the edge every damn time, the same pout you used to coax everyone into bending to your will.

But not him. No, never him. He had tried to reason with you, his tone firm as always.

"Princess, the attire is fitting for the occasion. You have to—"

"I don’t care" you had interrupted, rolling your eyes and your voice dripping with that bratty edge he’d learned to loathe and love in equal measure "I’m not wearing it"

He remembered the sharp tug in his chest when you moved your fingers up to your neckline, imaging what the dress would look like on you. The softness, it put him in a trance and it made him realise how badly he wanted you. Every inch of him screamed to pull you into him, to kiss that defiance out of you. But he didn't, he definitely couldn’t.

Instead he’d stood there, rigid as stone with his jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

"Princess, I can't have this discussion again" He’d said it with as much control as he could muster. But in his head... his thoughts were anything but controlled.

He wanted to see you in that dress, wanted to see you squirm in it as he took his time pushing you to the edge of your composure like you did to him. He wanted to pull you close, to rip that dress off your body and to feel your soft skin under his hands and taste the sharpness of your stubbornness.

You had known, of course. You always knew. The way you'd smile, that damn smirk that said you were testing him again, pushing and waiting for him to snap.

"You’re no fun, Sylus" you’d say, voice so sweet but with a wicked edge "If you’re so good at keeping me in line, why don’t you show me how well you can do it?"

And it had been almost too much.

It wasn’t the first time. There had been countless moments like that, where you had acted like the perfect little princess, then flipped the switch and become the spoiled, bratty girl he knew you could be. But gods, he loved it.

Another time before that you were slouched in your seat at the royal dining hall, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you glared down at your plate. The meal in front of you, a spread of meats and cheeses and pastries was untouched. It was all for you and yet you were sat there with narrowed eyes and lips pressed together in a perfect pout.

Sylus, who was stood beside you as he always was, didn't miss a single detail. He knew very well the look you had when things didn't go your way, although he wasn't sure what it was now. It was infuriating and yet somehow, it was something that always twisted inside him. He hated that you did this but he couldn’t deny how much it got under his skin.

"Princess" he had said, his voice low and measured, betraying none of the emotions boiling beneath the surface "You’re not eating"

His gaze was cool, but you could feel the weight of his words in the way his eyes locked on you. His voice was firm, an order, like the way he spoke to the soldiers. 

You only sighed, letting the air rush from your chest as if the whole situation was beneath you. You raised your eyes slowly to meet his, barely glancing up before turning your gaze away again.

"I’m not hungry" you muttered, voice laced with that familiar bratty edge "The food’s not even good"

"You’ve eaten less than a bite"

You didn’t respond, merely pushing your plate further away from you. Your lip jutted out slightly as you resisted the urge to say anything else. So fucking cute.

Sylus didn't look away, his hands clasped behind his back in a firm stance. His silence was deliberate, not giving you the satisfaction of seeing him react to your childishness despite how much he wanted to.

"You can’t just decide not to eat because you don’t like something" he said, each word was deliberate "If you’re hungry, you’ll eat"

His words though stern, held a subtle weight and something in the pit of your stomach clenched. You knew he was right, but you hated that he was. You just liked the way he was firm with you.. you liked the way he commanded you.

You wanted to argue, to say that you didn’t care and that you would do whatever you wanted but you knew better than to take that route with him. There was a brief pause before you spoke again, your voice dripping with challenge.

"I don’t care" you said, and there was a slight whine creeping into your tone "It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want to eat it"

"You’re being stubborn" he said, his words blunt and final "And you’re acting like a child"

Your head snapped up, eyes meeting his, that defiant spark flaring in your eyes

"I’m not a child" you shot back. I'm 23, you wanted to scream in his face, I'm a grown fucking woman.

"No, you’re not" Sylus agreed, his voice colder than ice "But you're acting like one"

For a moment, you looked like you were going to argue again but the coldness in his voice made you pause. You knew that look... the one where he wouldn’t bend. The one where he wouldn’t indulge you, no matter how hard you tried.

"You will eat" Sylus continued, not raising his voice but carrying an unspoken weight of authority "and you will stop this childish behaviour, princess"

Finally you slumped in your seat, rolling your eyes as you grabbed your fork and stabbed a piece of meat. You watched him the whole time you did, as if to say fine, happy now? The act was an exaggerated display of defiance and it made Sylus' mouth twitch upward despite himself.

"Next time, princess" Sylus said, his voice was softer now as you ate with a roll of your eyes "don’t waste both of our time. You know I don’t tolerate disobedience"

He loved how you challenged him. Loved how you tested him in every way, always acting like you didn’t need anyone but knowing deep down that you wanted him and needed him to keep you in check.

You had no idea how much it tore him apart to watch you pretend like you didn’t care. To stand there so close and smile at him like you knew exactly what effect you were having. The way your lips curled with mischief, the way you knew the exact right words to say to push him to the brink. He knew it was wrong.

Knew it, he had sworn an oath to protect you, to be your knight not your lover. His duty was clear and no matter how hard he fought it he couldn’t let go of the responsibilities that came with his position. He couldn’t let himself be distracted.. but he already was.

The real danger lay in how you knew it. You knew how you made him feel. How you got under his skin, how just a single moment with you could unravel him completely. You were becoming more aware and that realisation made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’d fall.

He hated how you made him feel. He hated how your bratty attitude and sweet smiles made his resistant crack every time, but more than that…

He loved it.

Loved that you didn’t care, loved that you pushed. Loved how every word you whispered made his blood burn hotter and worse, he loved how despite everything, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t, he was constantly drawn to you.

It wasn’t just about the physical attraction. It wasn’t just about the way your body seemed to beg for his touch, or the way your voice could go from sweet to sharp in an instant no, it was more than that. It was about how you made him feel alive. Made him feel like something was at stake, like there was something real between you, even if it was never spoke it aloud.

You weren't the princess who expected him to be just a knight. No, you were different. You wanted him to be something more. To fight with you, to break the rules with you and fuck it drove him fucking insane.

He was always composed, always unreadable behind that stoic expression. But when the castle lights dimmed he found himself alone in his chambers, his cock in his hand and thoughts of you curling through his mind. That was when the composure crumbled.

You’d always been dangerous to him but tonight… tonight you pushed him too far. You didn’t even know it or maybe you did. Maybe that was what made it worse.

It was the night of your suitor ball.

It had been excruciating to watch. Watch you smile and twirl and entertain a line of unworthy men with soft words and sweet laughs, letting them touch your hands, your waist, pretend they had a chance at owning something they could never deserve or control. Your dress had clung to your figure like sin and every time one of them leaned in to whisper something meant to charm you, Sylus had to remind himself he couldn’t step forward and put an end to it, not without reason. Not without revealing what you did to him.

But your smiles had never reached your eyes. Not the way they did when you looked at him after you’d pushed all the right buttons. Not like the grin you gave when you knew you’d gotten under his skin. That was the worst part, knowing you were doing it on purpose.

After the ball, you dismissed your handmaidens with a single flick of your wrist, claiming you were too tired, too overstimulated and that their voices would only add to the ache in your head. You shut your door with an echoing thud and Sylus took his place outside like he always did. But underneath that armour his muscles were tense, jaw locked, fists tight at his sides. The image of your body in that dress haunted every blink.

Minutes passed, then an hour, maybe more.

He had started to think you’d fallen asleep until your door creaked open again. Candlelight spilled across the hall and there you stood, silhouetted by a golden glow, barefoot but still in your gown. You eyes were sleepy but sharp, lips pursed into a pout that had driven him to madness more times than he could count.

"Sylus.." you breathed, voice quiet "Can you help me untie my dress? The maids laced it too tightly and I’m straining my muscles trying to reach"

He should have said no. Should have turned, fetched a handmaiden, reminded you of boundaries neither of you were supposed to cross. But he didn’t, because when it came to you he never did.

His perfect fucking princess.

So he stepped inside without a word, closing the door behind him like it was second nature, like he’d done it a hundred times before. The air shifted the moment he entered and you moved ahead of him without hesitation, walking toward the centre of the room and turning your back to him with quiet confidence, your hair swept aside exposing the soft nape of your neck. The ties of your gown snaked down your spine begging to be undone.

He swallowed hard, eyes locked on your back and for a moment he didn’t move, he just looked. Looked at you standing there, bare feet on cold stone, breathing soft and trusting him in a way that made his chest ache and his cock twitch with heat he could no longer deny.

His hands lifted slowly, calloused and rough fingers brushing the fine fabric of your gown and the first tie slipped loose between his fingers. You didn’t flinch, nor did you speak. You just stood there, letting him undress you like it meant nothing at all but to him it meant everything.

The silence wrapped around you both, the only sounds the faint drag of fabric and the soft rush of your breathing and the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. His fingers moved with practiced care, undoing each ribbon like it might burn him, but he couldn’t stop. The moment he touched you, the thoughts he’d been holding back all night flooded forward, images of you beneath him, moaning his name, that mouth of yours parting in pleasure instead of sass.

The gown loosened with each tie undone, slowly peeling away from your body, revealing slivers of bare skin that made his self control stretch to its limit. The smooth line of your spine, the curve of your waist. He could see the goosebumps rise along your skin beneath his touch, feel the quiet shiver that ran through you.

You were warm, soft and so incredibly close.

His fingertips lingered just a second longer than they should have at the base of your back before he caught himself, withdrawing his hand with a sharp inhale through his nose. He should’ve stepped away, should’ve walked back to the door and pretended none of this ever happened.

But of course, your mouth had to open.

Words no princess should ever whisper to a knight. Words that should’ve sent him running from your chambers, begging for the gods to strike him down before he did something unforgivable. But this was you and Sylus should know better by now, of course you'd have to push him one last time.

"You can touch, you know.." you murmured, voice acting innocent.  Your head remained facing forward, posture perfect like you weren’t doing anything at all. But he didn’t need to see your face to know you were smirking. That bratty little smirk that meant you knew exactly what kind of chaos you’d just stirred in his chest "It’s right there in front of you... waiting"

And oh, how dangerous you were.

You knew what those words would do to him. You knew what kind of control he fought to keep in your presence, how tightly he held onto his honour, his duty, his fucking sanity. You knew your back was bare, your dress barely clinging to your hips and shoulders, your body glowing in the candlelight, tempting..

He didn’t speak, he couldn’t.

Your words hung between you, tugging at every thread of restraint he had left. He watched the soft line of your shoulders rise and fall with your breathing, watched the gentle sway of your hips as you shifted just a little backwards, it was barely a step but it was deliberate. An invitation he should never accept.

His hand lifted slowly, fingers hovering just above your skin, trembling with hesitation. He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t and yet.. he let his index finger fall. The contact was featherlight, just a single touch running down the nape of your neck, gliding along the dip of your spine. It was soft, too intimate and barely there. You shivered.

He felt it, the subtle twitch in your body, the way your skin pebbled beneath his touch, how your shoulders tensed just slightly before melting again under the weight of his hand. You hadn’t expected it to be so gentle and that made something ache in his chest.

He dragged his fingertip lower, tracing the curve of your back, his gaze drinking in every exposed inch of you, then he saw it. A tiny mole, no bigger than a freckle that rested in the centre of your spine, like a mark the gods had placed there just for him to find. His touch slowed, circling the spot with quiet curiosity. It was small, unimportant to anyone else but now that he’d seen it he knew he’d never forget it. It was yours, it was you and somehow it felt like his.

He pressed his palm more fully against your back, warm and steady, dragging it downward with purpose. His hand was large, nearly spanning your entire waist and as it moved he traced slow, deliberate paths across your skin. He didn’t rush, every motion was practiced  and controlled, each line drawn like he was trying to remember you with his hands.

You didn’t speak and you didn’t move.

He could hear the shift of your breath, see the slight rise in your shoulders when his thumb grazed the edge of your spine again following the delicate line of your body. You leaned into it, not much.. just a subtle arch of your back, barely noticeable but enough to make him dizzy. Enough to make his cock throb, strained and aching beneath the weight of his armour.

His jaw clenched, his throat was dry.

He moved slower still, drawing shapes into your skin. Circles, lines and swirls he didn’t even realize he was making. It was like a ritual, quiet and sacred, a worship he wasn’t meant to offer but he couldn’t stop. The candlelight danced across your skin, casting gold along your shoulders, the curve of your waist.

You were stunning.

And you were letting him touch you like this. Trusting him, letting him see you in a way no one else ever had. His hand stilled, resting low on your back and you still said nothing. You didn’t need to.

Your back remained to him, enjoyin his light touch despite how rough his skin was. The skin of a knight... how he could be so gentle with you? make goosebumps rise on your skin from how delicate he treated you. This was completely different to how rough he was when he spared with the other knights in front of you. It made you so fucking horny.

The silence was unbearable now. It was charged and it felt alive while his palm still rested on your spine not moving, like if he let go everything would snap, it would fall. Then your voice cut through the air. 

"If you want to see more" you murmured, soft and slow "you don’t have to ask"

There was a smile in your voice, he didn’t need to see your face to know your lips were pulled into that bratty little smirk, the one that drove him mad in the courtyard, at dinners, in passing glances when you leaned just a little too close.

He exhaled, slow and tight while his jaw locked, his hand still splayed against the middle of your back. Your words were taunting but they were an invitation.. he could hear the satisfaction in your tone, knew you wanted to hear how it affected him. You liked knowing he was fighting himself.

He could feel it in the way his hand ached to explore lower. In the twitch of his fingers as he imagined slipping your dress the rest of the way down your hips. In the way his cock throbbed painfully against the inside of his pants, pulsing with thoughts he wasn’t allowed to have. Would you be soaked? Just drenched by him only lightly touching you.. 

He didn’t know what possessed him.

Maybe it was the way you said it, that soft and taunting murmur. Maybe it was the way you didn’t flinch beneath his touch, the way you waited for him and invited him or maybe this was always meant to happen.

His hand lifted from your back and for a moment the air between you felt colder, but then his fingers found the delicate edge of your gown, right at your shoulder where the fabric clung. He slipped two fingers beneath the strap and dragged it down, slowly and carefully and he watched as it gave way. Your skin that was newly exposed glowed for him.

You didn’t stop him.

He repeated the motion on the other side, slipping the fabric from your shoulder with the same tenderness. It slid lower, brushing past the gentle slope of your arms and pooling in the crook of your elbows before the rest of it followed, bunching at your waist.

And fuck...if he turned you around he’d see everything.

His eyes lowered, following the silken fabric clinging to your hips, the way your skin disappeared beneath it and his fingers twitched at his sides. His heart and cock was pounding. You were standing in front of him, naked from the waist up and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever been allowed to witness.

His throat was dry and his restraint was thinner than ever. He knew that if you turned around now, if you looked at him, if you spoke his name in that voice he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

He told himself he wouldn’t go further. He had already crossed too many lines, already let his self control slip through his fingers but he couldn't stop letting his eyes drink in every soft curve now exposed to him, the way the candlelight kissed the bare skin of your back, the swell of your waist, the delicate slope of your arms.

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. His fingertips skimmed along the length of your upper arm, brushing upward until his palm settled on your shoulder and you were oh so warm beneath his touch. You wanted him to touch you.

He dragged his hand down from your shoulder, slipping along your side until his fingers curled lightly at your waist. There was nothing but his restraint stopping him from pushing you down and taking what was his. 

He caressed your waist with one hand, the other gliding back up your arm too slow for your liking. When he reached your shoulder again, he traced along the delicate line of your collarbone that he couldn't see, his touch like a feather. You shivered beneath it and he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to grip you, to take you.

He shouldn’t be doing this. You were a princess, he was your knight.

This.. whatever this was, whatever you were making it was dangerous. Forbidden and unforgivable and only something he found himself thinking of when he was alone in his chambers... but then you leaned back and your bare skin pressed into his palm. 

That quiet surrender was what undid him most.

His thumb dragged gently along the side of your waist, mapping the curve of you like it was something sacred. His other hand grazed the edge of your back again, not quite yet possessive but claiming in its own quiet way. He wanted to touch every part of you. Wanted to worship the skin he’d only dared imagine late at night, alone and shameful in his chambers.

His hands lingered for one moment too long and then he pulled away.

As if your skin had scalded him, as if touching you was the thing that would finally destroy whatever fragile control he had left. The sudden absence of him made the air feel cold. Your back, once warmed by his palm and his fingertips was now bare to the silence again. You didn’t need to look to know he’d taken a full step back, maybe even two.

Always so restrained. It annoyed you.

You turned around and his breath caught the moment your eyes met his. He looked away instantly, jaw tight, expression unreadable. You had seen the tension though, you had seen the guilt. His gaze had now dropped onto the floor below you, around the room just anywhere but you.

You stood before him now, bare from the waist up, your dress still bunched loosely at your hips. He kept his arms stiff at his sides, fists clenched like it was the only way to keep them from reaching for you again. He wasn’t breathing like he was supposed to anymore, he was breathing like he was on the edge of something.

You tilted your head, your voice soft and sweetly smug as you always were.

"You didn’t even get to the best part"

His head snapped up, eyes wide just to meet that infuriating taunting look on your face that he'd imagine wiping off and changing into one of pleasure. My bratty girl..

You stepped closer and he wanted to step away but there was a slight warning in your eyes. You could see his hesitation but there was no stopping you. That's when you lifted your hands and took his into your own, gentle as you always were with him.

You unfolded his fingers from their rigid state, one by one and feeling the slight tremble in his palms. His breath hitched when your thumbs brushed along his knuckles, guiding them forward and then gods... then you lifted them and placed his hands against your breasts.

The heat in his palms met the warmth of your skin and for a second he was frozen, like his body had short circuited. His fingers twitched instinctively but didn’t squeeze. You could see the way his lips parted, the way his chest rose and fell in tight shallow breaths. He was unravelling and you had him right where you wanted him.

He didn’t move, not at first. His hands were still unsure, like he didn’t know what to do with you but you felt it. The way his fingertips twitched, the way his hands were shaking slightly. Your body leaning into his as you felt him tense beneath your touch and you weren’t waiting for him to make the first move, you were the one moving.

Slowly almost teasingly you began to move. The soft pressure of his hands beneath your fingers felt like heaven and his large hands were big enough to fully cover each breast. It was hard to move him on your own, hard to make it feel good but you managed... massaging your breasts with his rough hands and he felt your nipples harden against his palm. His hands were still frozen, too afraid and too consumed by something he couldn’t understand but you weren’t giving up that easily.

Your head tipped back slightly and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet breathy sigh, fully aware of the way his gaze flickered to your face. Your lips parted as you felt yourself grow warmer, more alive each second drawing you closer to the edge.

His eyes were wide, pupils blown as he stared at your face at the way your lips softened the pleasure running through your body as you used him. The way you looked so lost in the moment, so completely consumed by the pleasure he was providing, even without a word or movement. His hands trembled just slightly, as if he couldn’t help it anymore. His breath quickened too, each exhale heavier than the last.

Finally he moved.

Cautiously, almost like he was afraid that if he moved too fast you’d vanish from him or that the moment would break. But there was no stopping it.  He let his fingers glide more confidently now, along the soft swell of your breasts, rubbing, massaging, testing. The sensation of your skin against his and the weight of you under his hands it made his pulse race, his heart thundering in his chest. Your hands fell to his wrists, holding on. Not to stop him, but to keep him there. 

His mind screamed at him to stop. That this was a line he shouldn’t cross, that once he crossed it, there’d be no going back but every time you moved, every time you breathed, every time your skin met his, the walls he’d built cracked more. When you let out another soft moan, he knew that the moment was slipping through his fingers.

You leaned into him, close enough now that the heat between your bodies was suffocating. Your lips were just inches from his ear and you whispered so quietly, so intimately that it felt like a secret between you two alone.

"If you want more Sylus... take it" The words were a quiet tease and you felt the way he flinched at the sound. You were driving him insane and you were loving every second of it. You always did.

You tilted your head back, letting your hair fall around your shoulders exposing the delicate curve of your neck. You kept your hands steady on his wrists, keeping him in place as your body shifted beneath his touch as he kept massaging, his thumbs ghosting over your nipples knowing exactly how to touch you.

Had he done this with other women? Fuck them all.

The thought made you arch your back, pushing your chest further into his hands making sure he could feel the softness of you, feel the way you reacted to his touch, to his tension. You moaned softly, a teasing sound that you knew would drive him wild. 

His hands twitched against you, his grip tightening involuntarily and for a moment, you almost felt like he was going to lose it right then... but he didn't. His entire body was stiff with restraint and your sexual frustration was only growing. Who else to touch you other than him?

He needed an extra push... and you knew how to push him, how to make him want you with every fibre of his being. Right now, you knew just what to do.

With the lightest touch you guided his hands lower, to the edge of your gown. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your dress, the silk pooling around your waist as you let him feel the coolness of your skin beneath. His fingers faltered for a moment, just barely grazing the edge of the dress but then he stilled.

You pulled his hands down just a little more, making sure he felt the weight of your body against his and with the smallest hint of a smirk on your lips, you moved his hands to the soft delicate fabric of your dress letting your fingers linger on his as he felt the way it clung to your skin. Yur gaze locked, your eyes pleading and your lips parted, breathless. You weren’t begging with words, it was in your eyes just like it always was. The way you tilted your head slightly, to show him the raw need in your expression. It worked every time and it seemed like tonight was no exception.

Who was he to deny his perfect princess?

Slowly, so slowly you felt him move. His hands shifted under your guidance and with a soft, quiet resistance he began to pull the dress down. The fabric of your gown slid over your skin, inch by inch as he helped you free yourself from its tight embrace. Hs fingers trembled as they tugged at the fabric, pulling it down from your hips and over your thighs.

You weren’t wearing anything beneath it. He realised that only when the gown slid down further until it pooled at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your own skin.

Fuck.

You took a shallow breath feeling the sudden exposure, the vulnerability of being completely naked in front of him but there was no shame in it. Not with Sylus.

For a moment it felt like the world had paused.. like there was nothing else but the two of you standing in this silence, the space between you both aching with what had been building for far too long. His hands didn’t move immediately. his fingers were still pressed against the smooth skin of your back but his eyes were fixed on you now, on every inch of you, the way you stood before him.

You gently laced your fingers through his, intertwining your hands with his and holding him in place. You could feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms, the way his hands were stiff.. even now as you stood naked in front of him, allowing him to know it was okay. That you wanted him, needed him.

Sylus didn’t say a word but you didn’t need him to. You could feel how badly he wanted to touch you, wanted to drag his hands across your body and feel every inch of you. He was fighting it. It was pissing you off.

Then you spoke, your voice low and soft but dripping with every ounce of tease you could muster. It was a challenge, an invitation and not really one that he could refuse.

"Now you have me, Sylus..." You allowed the words to hang in the air, your breath warm on his skin "Bare like a canvas... care to stain me?"

You were a fucking minx.

You could feel his hands tightening around yours, like your words had shocked him to his core, you knew exactly what you were doing. His grip on your hands was firm but the tremble in his fingers betrayed the battle going on inside of him. 

Especially, especially when you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in a successful smile knowing you had won this time. But the brat tamer he was, the one he learnt to be around you.. he refused your challenge.

"No"

What?

Your breath hitched.

That single word no struck you harder than a shove. It wasn’t just the sound of it, low and restrained, it was the weight behind it. You felt it like a chill across your bare skin, like the ghost of hands that had almost touched, almost dared and then pulled away.  You blinked up at him, lips parting and the smirk you wore slipping just slightly. Not gone, not quite but faltering under the weight of his refusal.

His eyes were dark, not cold and not unfeeling but they were burning and they were burning into you. Burning into your naked body as you stood and stared at him after he denied you, he didn’t move.

Not even when you did your usual whine, the sound  catching in your throat like it always did as you pulled him closer, willing and begging him to touch you. He was still firm though, frustratingly unmoving and you felt a sudden physical wall between your bodies. His jaw was clenched and his eyes dropped to your lips, then lower...but still nothing.

"Sylus.." you whispered, breath shaking. You shifted your weight, letting your chest press up against him and you pouted, lip jutting "You’re being mean...you want to touch me. I know you do"

His gaze flicked down slow and lazily, drinking you in but his mouth curled into an unfamiliar smirk.

"Wanting doesn’t mean I will" he said, his voice maddeningly calm "I think someone's gotten a little too used to getting her way"

Your stomach fluttered. Fucking traitor... because you knew that tone. That patronising, dangerous little tint that meant you weren’t getting what you wanted. Not easily, anyway. You tightened your grip on his hands, trying to press his palms back against your skin but he didn’t budge. Instead he let you try, let you strain until he shook you off completely.

You gasped half scandalised but half turned on, your hand slapping weakly at his chest with your now free hand.

"You’re being unfair!" 

He tilted his head slightly calm as ever, watching your tantrum with amused eyes.

"Brats don’t get rewards" was all he muttered and you narrowed your eyes at him "You think if you pout just right.. I’ll give you everything you ask for?"

"You always do" your pout was getting more prominent with every second passing.

"And that's the problem, princess..." his fingers reached you again, trailing back down over your stomach and stopping just above where you needed him the most "perhaps I've spoilt you too much.. perhaps I need to make you earn it"

A whimper crawled its way out of your throat before you could stop it. It was infuriating. He was infuriating.

There was a moment that passed, both of you staring at each other as his large body loomed over you as he fitted into his usual role of trying to control you, trying to tame you. Just when you thought you had the reigns, he stole them back from you. His finger stayed just below your bellybutton, the tip pressing into you gently as he refused to move it any further. 

So you moved. You stepped back from him slowly, dramatically your hands folding under your breasts to push them up just a little more and your glare could've cut steel but that sweet pout you always held betrayed your look of anger.

"Fine then" you sighed, and he raised an eyebrow at you "If you won't touch me.. I'll do it myself"

"Princess" he warned.

You spun on your heel and walked away.. no, not just walked, you strutted. Your hips swayed with the kind of overplayed effort that dared him to look and of course he looked. You felt his eyes on you. God you were irresistible.

You reached the bed and made a show of climbing onto it, ass full on display for him to see and he found his jaw twitching. You crawled up the centre then turned to face him before throwing yourself down dramatically, back hitting the plush bedding below you. Your thighs spread just enough to draw the eye and he saw it all.

Even from the middle of the room he saw the slick of your folds, the way you were utterly drenched just from him touching your back, your breasts and his words. He hadn't even touched you properly but there was strong evidence of you being so horny for him and he swore he stumbled in his place slightly.

You lay there, knees up and legs slightly open for him to see while your elbows held your upper body up so you could see him, watch him as he watched you. Your head tilted to the side, lips curved in a smirk as you met his gaze again, you were daring him to stop you.

He didn't.

You let your hand trail down your stomach, slow and sensual and it was a perfect performance. Your fingers danced lightly over your navel, down the soft dip of your pelvis.

"Since you’re being such a tease" you murmured, your breath as uneven as his "I guess I’ll just take care of it myself"

His jaw tightened at your words, you saw it. So without further warning you slid your hand lower.U

Your fingers dipped between your thighs and a sharp gasp left your lips, your body twitching slightly at the sudden rush of sensation. You threw your head back with a soft moan, spine arching ever so slightly. You let your fingers dance in the slick of your folds, collecting the essence on your fingertips knowing it was him who caused it.

You started to grow hot, not just under your skin but your whole body felt like it was on fire. You weren't unfamiliar with your own pleasure, you had explored it many time but it was different when the man you wanted the most was stood watching you. Your fingers ghosted your entrance, before they met that sensitive little bud you often rub a little too hard.

But today it felt perfect. Your slick gathered just right and you let out a small moan as you teased your clit gently, rubbing up and down with your fingertip before circling it slowly oh so slowly.

In the heat of your pleasure building up you glanced over to the man who it was all for. You flicked your gaze back toward him, eyes half lidded and breathless, sweat starting to kiss the hollow of your throat and his thoughts were filled of images of his tongue lapping up the sweat you produced before cleaning the slick between your legs.

"Still not gonna help me?" you whimpered, lips trembling "Even when I’m like this? For you?"

He was still rooted to the floor but now his fists were clenched at his sides his breathing ragged. He looked wrecked and you were glowing. So you let your head fall back again, your hips beginning to move in time with your fingers, your free hand gripping the sheets like it was all too much, like you were right on the edge already.

You heard it first, the broken noise that left his lips as you let out another moan, speeding up your fingers on your clit. 

A quiet and breathless "Shit"

You barely had time to catch your breath when you felt the shift in the air. Your fingers stilled between your thighs for a brief moment, chest rising and falling in uneven waves as Sylus finally, finally began to close the distance.

You felt a smirk ghost your lips once more as your eyes closed, continuing to circle that bundle of joy, speeding up and slowing down knowing exactly what would get you to finish. You didn’t dare look at him, not yet. Not with the way your body still trembled from the orgasm he refused to give you himself vut your pulse stuttered when you felt the bed dip.

His hands found you before his voice did. Large, warm palms skimming gently over the curve of your thighs, brushing against your skin like he was mapping it from memory. He dragged his knuckles up the outside of your leg then back down again, too slow. He was touching you, yes but not where you wanted it. Not where you needed it.

"Messy little thing" he murmured, his voice low and just the way you liked it when he let you get your own way "You made such a mess for me.. all by yourself"

You whimpered.. small and pathetic but yet it made him smile.

You opened your eyes and finally looked at him. He was knelt just in between your open legs but still not close enough, his large hands were wrapping around your thighs, rubbing and silently encouraging you to carry on. Still not touching you where you needed but he was here, watching you and talking to you.. that was enough.

"Feels good.." Your voice was barely there but he heard it.

"That what you needed, pretty girl? You needed me to watch you come?" His voice dropped lower, into that gravel soaked whisper that lived in your bones "You just love performing, don't you?"

You gasped as his one of his hand flattened against your belly, fingertips brushing over your twitching skin and he imagined what it would look like to see the outline of his cock buried inside you. 

"Fuck"

"You needed me to see how pretty you are when you fall apart" he continued, fingertips grazing up your sternum "You wanted me to hear those soft little moans, that desperate little cry you make when you’re right there"

You nodded quickly, too breathless to speak and your eyes fluttering closed as his hand ghosted back down to your ribs, over the swell of your breast. You squirmed under him, biting your lip hard enough to sting.

"Show me" he said, thumb brushing beneath your breast now "Touch yourself, sweetheart. Let me see how needy you still are"

"Sylus.." A sharp breath punched out of your lungs.

"Shhh" he crooned, soothing "You’re doing so good for me. So, so good. Don’t stop now, yeah?"

You shuddered at the praise but still he wouldn’t touch where you ached the most. His hands trailed everywhere else,like the gentlest of torments. His fingers explored your stomach, traced the edges of your ribs, brushed the inside of your thighs light a feather ghosting your skin and infuriatingly slow.

"Come on" he whispered, lips brushing against your knee that was still perched up. His voice had darkened now and he was teasing "You want me to help you? Then show me how badly you need it"

You whined, actually whined. Not a whine that he recognised to be your usual one when you wouldn't get your way, no this one sounded different and he couldn't decide which one he preferred. Your back arched against the bed, your fingers circling again and again chasing that edge he’d denied you.

And he watched, he watched with hungry eyes and a half maddened smile. He didn’t stop you, he encouraged you and fuck it was euphoric.

"That’s it" he murmured "Good girl.. keep going"

Your fingers moved faster spurred by his words by the low, primal sound of his voice. He pressed another kiss to your knee then moved along to your other one and repeated the action, still keeping his hands far from where you wanted them most. 

"You gonna cum for me?" he growled, teeth grazing the skin of your inner knee as he refused to move his mouth any closer as he stayed knelt between your legs but with a far distance "You gonna make a mess all over those pretty fingers while I just sit here and watch like a fucking animal?"

"Yes... Yes-fuck yes" 

"You’re so fucking gorgeous like this" he breathed, and he finally allowed you to feel him closer as he moved his body to hover over your own. One of his hands met your breast while his other wandered, rubbing your arm, your waist and his lips ghosted the shell of your ear "So messy, so perfect. All mine"

A strangled moan ripped from your throat. You were shaking, overstimulated and burning up under the weight of his words, his hands, the low heat of his praise. He still hadn’t touched you where it counted and still you were crumbling. Just the sound of his voice, the heat of his breath...

"I..I need—" You tried, voice breaking but he shushed you with a soft hum and a soft kiss to the side of your neck. The first kiss he had ever given you, and you both wished it was placed somewhere else.

"I know, baby. I know you do" His voice was a warm purr, dripping with affection that only made it worse "But you’ve already shown me how good you are at taking care of yourself"

"Sylus.. please.." That earned a soft chuckle, and another kiss on the neck.

"Mhmm not yet. You like being denied, don’t you? Like being told no"

"I don’t!" you whined, brattier now with frustration and how close you were to your release, your hips wriggled under him.

He slid his hand down just barely, fingers brushing the back of your wrist as you kept working yourself, so close to coming undone. So close...

"Go on" he said, low and firm "Show me. You gonna cum just from this? From my voice in your ear and nothing else?"

A soft, broken sob spilled from your lips. Your body jerked.

"Yes" you whimpered for him, one last time "Yes—fuck, I’m...I’m close"

"Good girl" he purred "Let me hear it..."

You shattered underneath him as you finally let go, your body shuddering with pleasure, your fingers working overtime with your release and Sylus’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching you with a mix of admiration and raw hunger, unable to look away as you came undone and your cunt clenched around nothing as if screaming for him to press into you.

He was breathless, his body aching with need but he stayed still, watching the way your body relaxed in the aftermath of your pleasure. He squeezed your breast tenderly and you twitched against him, body slowing down from your orgasm and fuck you felt the fire spread all over your body.

As you finally but shakily recovered from your orgasm beneath him, his breath stuttered. The air between you both was heavy, thick with the weight of his desire for you. His gaze was burning, tracing every delicate movement of your body, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

His eyes met yours and you smiled, your voice breaking the silence as you brought your slick covered fingers up between your faces.

"Do you want a taste? A taste of what you can have?"

Sylus froze.

His eyes widened for just a moment but the post orgasm look on your face.. soft, knowing and there was that slight smirk playing at the corner of your lips, it sent a rush of heat straight to his core. Every inch of his body screamed to give in.

His gaze was locked on yours, but it wasn’t the words that did it... it was the way you were looking at him, your fingers glistening, soaked from where you had touched yourself. He could hear the whisper of your breath, and the way it had hitched with every word you spoke.

His free hand that wasn't holding onto your breast trembled as he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. His heart was hammering in his chest as he took your fingers into his mouth. His lips wrapped around them, the taste of you still fresh on your skin. It was a mix of heat and sweetness, a sensation that made his entire body tense. He sucked on your fingers gently at first, tasting every inch of them and every drop of what you had left behind. The way you looked at him, the way your body was still trembling beneath the touch of his mouth it sent a shockwave of pleasure through him.

God, what the hell was he doing?

His own desire was a fire burning within him but he was losing control. Slowly, he pulled his mouth away from your fingers, a string of saliva (or maybe it was your slick) trailed behind and he still held them in his hand as he gazed at you. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

"You’ll be the death of me, princess"

His thumb gently traced over your fingers, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. His eyes flicked up to yours before he pressed your fingers to his lips once again, the heat between you both almost unbearable. Your fingers had barely left his lips when you moved again, closer this time and trapping him with your legs around his waist. He was still fully clothes, and you wanted to change that now before he changed his mind.

"We don't have to go all the way... just let me feel you there. I need to feel you, Sylus" his breath caught at your words.

He was already going too far. Seeing you bare, touching you the way he way he was, the way he watched you come undone on your own fingers, there were several oaths already broken but here you were.. allowing him to keep just a small part of his duty. 

You saw it first, the way his jaw clenched and the muscles in his arms flexing like he was trying to hold himself back from breaking even further. His eyes were darker now, almost pained. His control was slipping through his fingers and you knew it. Knew exactly what you were doing, what you were asking for.

And god, he wanted to give it to you.

"I need you" you whispered again, softer this time, your voice trembling as you guided his hand slowly down the line of your waist "Even if it’s not everything. Just... let me feel what it’s like"

His mind was screaming at him. This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be doing this. You were royalty, a princess and his charge. But you weren’t looking at him like a princess now. You looked at him like he was the only thing you wanted. Needed, like you’d fall apart if he denied you one more time.

His hand slipped just above the soft heat of you and he swore under his breath, his eyes fluttering shut at the feel of your skin. Your slick danced against his fingertips. He wasn’t even moving, but the intimacy of it.. skin to skin had him trembling. You were soaked, so incredibly soaked and his fingertips twitched at your folds.

Your breath hitched, your back arching ever so slightly as your thighs instinctively pressed together, holding him tightly to you and keeping his hand hostage. You whimpered, forehead pressing into his own and he felt it, he felt how badly your body craved his.

"You feel..." he muttered, the sentence dying on his tongue "You feel like heaven"

Your hips twitched, once then twice, grinding against the solid weight of his hand and Sylus nearly choked on his own breath. Fuck. His whisper ghosted over your skin and you did it again firmer this time, rubbing your soaked folds against the heel of his palm. He hadn’t even moved yet, you were doing all the work. You were using him, shamelessly and he let you.

"Please" you whispered, nuzzling into his neck as if to hide from your own need "Please, Sylus. Let me feel"

How could he say no?

He was quick in moving, stripping himself bare and you watched as the minutes passed. He fought with his clothes, his armour and he groaned in frustration as it fought against him. You helped him, feeling impatient as ever and it all clattered to the floor and then he was naked above you in all his glory and your bottom lip was pulled tightly between your teeth as you gazed down as his cock, red and rock hard.

Sylus.. well he was art. His body sculptured, with scars and small bruises from sparing but they were beautiful. His frame was lean but powerful, every muscle defined with a precision that spoke of control and his skin was painted delicately in the candlelight.

It was unfair how he could be so beautiful, so perfect but not yours.

He leant back down, staring into your eyes before his gaze moved to your perfectly parted lips. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, grazing the teeth marks that you had left and he wondered how so much defiance could spill from these small things. How much they tested his patience, how much they willed and begged him to act, to break. 

Sylus swallowed hard. His cock was throbbing, so hard it hurt and he shook his head, forehead pressing into yours as he cupped your cheek.

"You’re driving me insane" he gritted out and his voice was thick "You don’t even know what you’re doing to me"

You tilted your face up, your lips so close to his that he could taste your breath but neither of you closed that final distance. 

"I know exactly what I’m doing" you told him, and you did.

He gritted his teeth together once more before leaning away from you, but still close enough so you could hold onto him. He reached his hand down, grabbing his angry cock in his hand and he hissed at the contact. He shouldn't ruin you completely, he shouldn't take your innocence, it would only complicate things in the future for you when your future husband finds that you have already given yourself to another man.

The thought of someone else having you made him act quicker and he placed his free hand under your waist before nudging you up slightly and pulling you closer. His cock rubbed through your folds and you both sighed at the feeling, you more than him. To feel him bare, feel the pressure of his girth rub against you in this way, fuck you loved the feeling.

Sylus was losing himself slowly too. Just holding his cock there, resting it on your folds was enough to almost make him cum. Not yet, not before he properly had you.

He leant forwards again and you shut your eyes at the way he moved back and forth, too slow for your liking but it was enough to feel him there. He apparently wasn't going the full way, he would have done so by now, so you  let him continue.

His whole cock was covered in your slick after a few more thrusts and he was slowly losing composure. He ground down harder, the tip of his cock nudging your clit and your arms flew around his neck at the feeling. Fuck this was enough... he didn't need to sink himself inside you, it was enough to rub himself up and down your folds and listen to the sounds you made.

He bit the lobe of your ear and it sent shivers down your spine, he refused to stop moving, refused to pull away as the friction got warmer and warmer and you felt your release building up again with every brush of his tip against your clit. Your hole clenched around nothing, aching to feel him inside but you couldn't tell him to stop.

Sylus felt it, that moment your body gave in again. The tension in your thighs and the way your hips began to shake and rut without rhythm. He was moving faster, his cock practically glued to your folds as he thrusted and thrusted and couldn't bring himself to stop.

Not even when your hands gripped his hair tightly, or when his own gripped your hips and forced you to move up and down the length of his cock. One move differently and he would have sank inside you but this was too good... too good to stop, too good to change. His princess felt so good against him.

"You wanted to feel me?" he growled, breath ragged as he pushed and pushed "Is this good enough for you, princess?"

"Oh gods" you had gasped, head leaning back and further into your royal pillow "Inside.. Sylus please, inside"

He did a particular hard thrust which had you both groaning and you felt it brewing in your stomach, your second orgasm and you looked at him, dazed. Your lips were parted as you chased your breath and his eyes were so intensely set on yours everything stopped for a moment.

You wanted him inside you, you needed him to fill you but he was once again denying you.

"You’re mine to handle, understand? No one else will ever have you like I do" you whimpered at his words, his actions, the way he ignored your pleads and you were oh so close.. so close to that release that he was helping with.

"Y..Yes—yes, fuck, Sylus" 

"That's my girl.. that’s it, rub that sweet little cunt.. on my cock.. let me-let me feel how desperate you are" his breath and his words were hot against your ear and you found yourself burying yourself further into the plush bedding as pleasure filled you once again.

Sylus watched carefully as your stomach fluttered and he felt his cock twitch as you came for the second time that night. You let out a moan that stretched, your whole body twitching with pleasure as he rubbed and thrusted, riding out your high and his still hard cock nudged your clit that began to grow sensitive.

He watched carefully, intensely as your mouth gaped open and your eyes rolled back and it was almost enough to send him over the edge. He collapsed slightly onto you, kissing your collarbone and letting the moment pass. Allowing you both to catch your breath before the realisation of what you had just done sunk in.

Your inner thighs were a mess, covered in your own slick and you felt dirty.. but you loved it. You could barely breathe, feeling his large body covering yours and your sweat sunk into the sheets as you came down from your release, your chest heaving.

"You.." you whispered, eyes closed and he glanced at your face, anticipating your words "I want-I want you to cum"

How, in all of your bliss, you had realised that he hadn't finished was beyond him. He would have fought against your words but his cock was throbbing with need he knew he couldn't ignore it.

He swore under his breath and your eyes opened before locking onto his, wide and begging, your mouth parted in soft, breathy need. You shifted your hips slightly, brushing his length right where you needed him and Sylus growled.

He rutted against you again, harsher this time and he gripped you tightly, forgetting about the delicate way he had held you all night. You felt his desperate thrusts, his desperate groans as he chased his release. You were so fucking sensitive and your body was reeling from the overstimulation but you let him take, take, take...

Until he took too much, and it was with a guttural growl that escaped from deep in his chest that he slid all the way inside you without warning, his length breaching your insides. The stretch was sudden and full, your body gasping around him, clenching tight as you threw your head back with a cry.

Your cry echoed through the room when he filled you completely, raw and thick, deeper than anything you’d ever felt. It was a stretch that bordered on unbearable, your first time making your body fight the burn of him but Sylus... he wasn’t moving, as if he realised what he had done.

Your eyes wide as your body tried to stretch around him, accommodate the sheer size of him. He stilled, every muscle in his body tight with restraint, forehead pressed against yours, both of you frozen in that unbearable moment of joining.

"I’m sorry" he rasped, barely above a whisper "Fuck I’m so sorry, sweetheart.. I... Gods, you’re tight. I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have.."

His voice cracked, like it hurt to speak, like it hurt more to be inside you and not move. You had begged him to be inside you and he had denied, but now he had given you no warning, no preparation and he was nestled deep inside and despite the pain, you felt so full.

He was deep. Too deep. The kind of stretch that burned and throbbed and made tears well in your lashes from the pressure of it but still you clung to him, because this was what you wanted.

You had no more orgasms to share for the night but it would feel even better to feel him thrust inside you as he chased his own release. The thought made you whimper, tightening around him involuntarily and he cursed again, low and sharp like he’d been burned.

"Mo..Move" you gripped his shoulders, looking for any sort of stability to make the pain flutter away.

"I’ll stop" he breathed, feeling an immense amount of guilt from taking you this way when he had restrained all night "Tell me to stop, and I’ll—"

"No" you whispered, voice breaking and head shaking desperately "Please don’t"

That single plea shattered him.

He groaned, forehead slipping to your shoulder and his fingers moved to dig into your hips like he was anchoring himself there. He moved slowly, so slowly, just a roll of his hips backwards which was barely anything and you cried out, the sound soft and needy, your nails clawing into his shoulders like it was the only way to stay grounded.

"Shit, princess" he choked "You feel... fuck-you feel like everything I’ve ever wanted"

His hands were shaking where they held you. He was trying to be careful despite his release right there.. he was trying not to lose himself to the hunger clawing under his skin but the more you pulsed around him, the more your soft moans pushed past your lips, the more impossible it became.

"Sylus-"

"I’m hurting you, aren’t I?" he whispered, voice hoarse and still filled of guilt "You’re so small...fuck, I shouldn’t have-"

"You’re not" you breathed and reached up to cup his jaw "You’re not hurting me. You feel perfect, Sylus"

And it was the truth. Despite the dull pain that throbbed inside you he still felt perfect inside you and it was everything you dreamt of and more. Him here, above you and inside you, you couldn't wish for anything more. He was about to ruin you for your future husband and you'd deal with the consequences when the time came.

"You are perfect" he said as a strangled groan left his throat "My perfect, bratty princess. This cunt.. this fucking body it was made for me. You were made for me"

He knew if he didn't move now, he'd cum before he could and he knew that this would never happen again. So he moved, slowly and carefully he dragged his cock out to the tip before pushing back inside with a groan. You whimpered beneath him again, his grip on you tightening and his hips rolling into you.

Each thrust was slow, controlled, yet thick with need and the more you moaned and whimpered, the more your legs trembled, the more you whispered his name the more his control frayed. A single stray tear fell from your eye and he wiped it away, whispering that he'd be quick but he didn't know that the tear was from pure pleasure and nothing from pain.

You were so drunk on his cock you couldn't feel anything but him.

"Fuck.."

"You're so spent but still.. giving to me" his mouth was by your ear again, his thrusts picking up pace and the sound of his hips hitting yours echoed through the room "Letting me take you like this.. crying around my cock like it’s the only thing you need. No man could ever deserve you, princess"

You whined at that, tightening around him while your arms clung around his neck, face buried into his shoulder. He held you like he’d never let go, panting hard against your skin, sweat drenched and trembling. He was seconds away, just seconds away from letting go.

You could barely speak, barely breathe, fingers clutching at him like he was the only thing holding you to the world. His pace was relentless now. Needy, hungry, almost furious from how close his release was. Every thrust was a claim, every snap of his hips a promise that no other man would ever get to see you like this. Touch you like this.

Even if it wasn't true, he could still pretend.

He angled his hips and suddenly you were seeing stars.

"Oh—Sylus!"

His rhythm stuttered at your voice and he groaned, like hearing his name fall from your lips was the final nail in the coffin. He cursed violently, lost in the feel of you clenching around him and with a final, brutal thrust he buried himself deep and came. Hot and thick, twitching inside you as he groaned your name.

His body shook as he pressed you hard against the bed, holding you through the aftershocks, breathing ragged and heavy. You had let him use you to find his own pleasure and fuck he was so addicted to you that this moment right here would ruin him forever.

He hadn’t moved, he couldn’t. Not with how perfectly your body still cradled him, wrapped tight and warm around him even after you'd both come undone. His arms trembled where they were now braced beside your head, his chest brushing yours with each uneven breath.

And still, his eyes were locked lower.

Where you were still connected. Where his cock remained buried deep inside you, twitching every now and then from the aftershocks, from the memory of how your walls had squeezed around him, despite not orgasming alongside him. The memory of you milking him like your body knew he was made for you. His seed was already leaking out, slicking your thighs and his own, glistening in the candlelight.

A mess. His mess.

His jaw clenched as something raw and possessive roared tightly in his gut. He slid his hand down your stomach, fingers tracing the swell of your lower belly like he was trying to feel how deeply he’d reached, how much of him he’d given you.

You’re mine now, he wanted to say again but it was already written all over your body.

You stirred beneath him, a small sigh spilling from your lips as your arms slipped down onto the bed from his shoulders. Your thighs shifted, hips twitching at the overstimulation of him still inside but you didn’t ask him to pull away. 

"You’re staring" you murmured, voice laced with sleep and satisfaction.

"Can’t help it" His throat was dry, his voice rough. You gave a quiet hum, your fingers moving to gently brush the nape of his neck.

"Still think I’m too much trouble?"

He let out a low, wrecked laugh at your question. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in close, his forehead pressing to yours.

"You’ll always be trouble" he said "but I'd never change that"

And he meant it, every word. There was no going back from this.

He shifted slightly and you whimpered at the movement. His cock still nestled deep, still twitching, like he couldn’t bear to leave your warmth just yet. He kissed your temple, then your cheek but still avoided those pretty lips. Each press of his mouth more tender than the last, like he was trying to make up for how hard he'd taken you, for how desperate he'd become.

"Look at what you do to me.." His voice broke on the words, hand sliding down to cradle your hip, fingers splaying wide to hold you in place as he gave the faintest, lazy thrust, just enough to feel you clench again.

You shivered, still sensitive and still twitching and fuck he loved it.

He shouldn’t still be moving. Not when you were both spent, drenched in sweat and breathing like you'd run across the entire kingdom but he couldn’t stop himself. Not with how warm and wet and soft you felt around him.

His cock, soft as ever now, slipped deeper as he rolled his hips once more.. slow and lazy, just enough to make you gasp and cling tighter to his arms.

"Still so perfect" he murmured against your ear, the heat of his breath making you shiver "You’re holding onto me like you don’t want to let go"

Your hands were in his hair, fingertips lazily toying with the strands. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted as your thighs tightened slightly around his waist, instinctively pulling him closer, keeping him buried.

"Don’t want to" you whispered in return, voice dazed "Feels too good like this"

He exhaled through his nose, jaw clenched at the way your words crawled down his spine. It was shameless, shameless how much you affected him.

"Still greedy" his voice was low and rough but filled with nothing but affection "Still bratty, even now"

You giggled softly and fuck, he loved that sound. Loved the way you looked beneath him, skin flushed, hair wild, glowing from the inside out. 

"Maybe you should keep ruining me then" you said softly, playfully. Not bratty playfully, it was genuine and he couldn't get enough of it "until I forget anyone else ever existed"

You felt his breath slow and steady, brushing the side of your neck and then his voice once more.

"You can give me one more... can’t you?" Hadn't you given him enough?

You shook your head, closing your eyes and leaning back into the soft pillows beneath you and you let a soft, sleepy whimper leave your lips, tightening your hold on him.

"I'm tired.."

You felt him smirk against your shoulder. His hand slid up your side, large and calloused and slow, grazing your sensitive skin.

"Stubborn as ever" he muttered. His hips shifted, only slightly and the stretch of him inside you was enough to make your toes curl. You whined weakly, breath catching but your hips tilted without you meaning to, like your body wanted to obey him even if your mind was too tired to try "You’ll give it to me.. you always do"

"Sylus.." you breathed, barely a sound. His palm slid down your belly and his lips kissed your neck once more.

"Let me have it" he said "Just one more. You can do that for me, princess"

He began to move, gentle thrusts, more intimate than before. Not about frenzy now but about drawing every last drop of pleasure from you, about owning your body even in the softest moments. His hand dipped lower, brushing where you were joined and onto your clit. You whimpered, your walls fluttering weakly around him and he felt it, knew your body was already giving in even if your words hadn’t.

"That’s it" he breathed against you "Just one more.. one more for me"

His fingers pressed more firmly, circling slow perfect patterns as his thrusts stayed deep and dragging. You arched against him, helpless and sensitive, every inch of your skin buzzing with overstimulation.

"Come on, sweet girl" he had coaxed, voice melting into a quiet groan "Let me feel you finish again. My perfect princess..."

With his voice in your ear and his body moving inside yours, there was no point fighting. Your body locked up again, pleasure crashing through you as you came for the third time, your cry swallowed into the sheets. Sylus held you tighter, hips rocking you through it as you shook in his arms, whining his name like a song.

He didn’t stop until you were trembling and limp, gasping for breath and boneless all over again, only then did he still.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, though you couldn’t explain why.. maybe it was just the sheer overwhelming sensation of everything he’d taken you through, his touch was both a comfort and a reminder that you were completely his. 

He felt the tremor in your body before you could even let it show. His hand slid over your skin like he was memorizing every curve, every inch of you. His thumb brushed under your eye, wiping away the wetness you hadn’t even known had fallen.

Sylus slowly began to pull away from you, his movements careful as he reached to gently pull out but as he shifted to pull away and clean you up, he felt the familiar comforting pressure of your pull. You didn’t want that. You didn’t want him to leave you just yet.

"No..." you whispered, voice shaky from the aftershocks of your pleasure.

His body froze for a moment and he stared down at you, brows furrowed. His chest was still rising and falling rapidly, his pulse hammering in his ears. He knew this was dangerous, knew he should pull away as he had broken enough boundaries already. But there you were, looking up at him with your eyes wide and needy, asking him to stay.

"Princess" he murmured. His hands hovered near your hips, unsure "yOu’ve had enough. I need to clean you up...you don’t want-"

"I want you to stay" You cut him off, your fingers gripping his wrist, pulling his hand back to your body, holding him there like you didn’t want him to leave "I feel good... feel full. Don’t go yet, Sylus. Please"

He cursed softly under his breath. He had really done it now.

"You really want me to stay?"

"Yes... just a little longer"

Who was he to deny your needy whimper, your pleading eyes and your clenching cunt? still wrapped so tightly around him, he also didn't want this moment to end. His eyes were half lidded, his chest rising and falling gently as he watched you, as though taking in every inch of you. He couldn’t find the words to say, so he simply stared at you. You felt his breath warm against your cheek as you held his gaze. 

Your lips parted slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. The exhaustion was heavy on you now but there was still something in you.. a flicker of need, a need for something that hadn't been done. You tilted your head towards him, the tiredness fighting against you.

Slowly, your lips found his. You held them there for a moment, not moving just pressing your lips against his as you took a deep breath in through your nose. He had fucked you into the bed without even touching your lips and the thought of him being the first to be inside you and now to kiss you, there was no denying your body and soul belonged to him.

He pulled away, gazing at how your lips gained their colour again and were free from the pressure of his own before he was kissing you again with a deep breath and you sighed happily underneath him.

He pressed deeper and you had no idea what you were doing. It was clear to him that you had never kissed before, knowing that none of those suitors even came close to having you like this, so he gave you the control, let you experiment and practice. He let you explore his mouth, let you make mistakes, because there was something undeniably intoxicating about how raw and real it felt. As you moved your lips against him, your bodies shifted and you both landed on your sides but this was much easier for you to reach as you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him to your body. 

You mourned the loss of his cock as it slipped out of you but worshipped his lips as a distraction. Sylus groaned into your mouth as your lips worked against his, your hands pulling him closer, feeling him pressed against you with a desperation that matched your own. 

The kiss was messy, slick, with the heat of your mouths colliding, lips moving desperately against each other. Saliva mixed, coating your lips, dripping down your chin but neither of you cared. It was sloppy, too much but just right. He tugged at your hair, pulling you closer, his tongue pushing past your lips, swirling and tasting you. There was nothing graceful about it, just the frantic need for each other.

Sylus’ hands gripped your waist tightly, as though he needed to anchor himself, his fingers digging into your skin as he tried to fight the urge to take over but fuck it was hot how you kissed him so freely .Every time you shifted, he could feel your inexperience but it only fuelled him.

It was when your smaller mouth took his tongue in that you really made him lose his grip on control. Your lips curled around the muscle, sucking it into your mouth and you weren't gentle about it, you were hungry and so demanding. You sucked him into your mouth, pulling on his tongue as if you couldn't get enough, bobbing your head once then twice and savouring the way he groaned at the pressure of your lips around him.

Sylus groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest. His hand slid to the back of your head, holding you in place as he felt your mouth envelop him, your tongue working over his with a kind of neediness that drove him insane. The way you moved, how you sucked on his tongue, it was maddening. It was unpractised and nothing that screamed of experience but he...he lost himself in the feeling of it.

He pulled away for a moment, eyes dark with lust but his voice was shaky.

"Fuck, that’s...god, that’s so fucking hot" His gaze was wild and his chest heaving as he watched you, his perfect fucking princess devour him.

You didn’t let him pull away for long. Not when you felt that hunger in your bones, not when you craved more of him, more of his lips, his touch. You pulled him back, this time with a force that made him groan again and you kissed him harder. He was lost in the feeling of you, the heat of your body against his, the mess of your kiss like you needed him, like you needed this.

And you didn't stop, not until you could hear the ragged way his breath was coming, how he was almost at his breaking point once again. You felt him twitch against your tongue, heard the way he groaned louder when you gently pulled him deeper, taking him in further.

Finally, when he thought he couldn’t take much more, he pulled you away. This time, it was with a tremble that let you know just how deep you had gotten under his skin.

────────

The morning light had slipped past your heavy curtains and you were awake before your handmaidens arrived. Perhaps it was good that you did... you could control whatever situation had happened last night before they arrived and caught you tangled up with a man that was not your future husband. You stirred slowly, the remnants of sleep still clinging to your lashes, your body heavy with the kind of ache that only came from him. 

You reached out lazily, fingers seeking warmth in the dip beside you expecting the brush of his skin, his hand on your waist pulling you back in but there was nothing. Just a cool sheet that was already void of his warmth.

Your brows knit faintly, confusion barely nudging at your mind. You rolled onto your back instead, the light catching the curve of your bare collarbone, your hair spilling across the pillow in a mess he’d made last night.

Clearly he had taken the first initiative, as always keeping you in place and in check.

Knowing you wouldn't have to worry about being caught you let yourself indulge for a moment. Your hand lifted slowly and your soft fingertips ghosted over your inner knee, where his lips had touched. Your fingers trailed further, up your ribs where his hands had held you too tight. Over your breasts, where his fingers had gripped and pulled. Then to your lips, still kiss bitten and swollen. You exhaled a shaky little laugh, one that trembled with sweetness and disbelief.

You had never known you could feel like this, never known someone could make you feel like this.

"Gods, Sylus..." you whispered, voice breathy with adoration, almost like you expected him to answer "What did you do to me?"

You sat up slowly, the sheet slipping down your bare chest but you didn’t reach for a robe just yet. You just sat there for a moment, fingertips still brushing your lips as you replayed the night. His voice, his weight, his breath against your ear. Him.

You dressed slowly, still smiling. The soreness in your legs made you wince, but it only added to the heat blooming in your chest. You bathed in the excitement of seeing him again. Of teasing him like you always did, willing him to put you in your place. Maybe you'd kiss him in secret again, in the gardens as you walked around to "clear your head". You wondered if he'd touch you again the way he did last night...

You were glowing as you made your way through the palace halls, hair still a little messy, steps light. The guards bowed, the servants offered polite nods but you barely noticed. You were looking for him.

You checked the gardens first. The spot beneath the tall oak tree where Sylus often stood guard, posture straight, hands behind his back. He wasn't there, only the breeze. 

You peeked into the sparring courtyard next. The sound of steel was always a constant as trainings never stopped, not even for bad weather or royal dinners. But today, the air was still. Not even the usual grunts and barks of practice.

You slowed your steps when you passed the kitchens, hoping and knowing that Sylus would be in the side corridor that led toward the servant quarters. He was always patrolling the quiet edges, watching without being seen.

But again, there was nothing.

He wasn’t at the stables, and his horse was gone.

Your stomach twisted as you stood in the empty stable, your fingers brushing over the reins he always used. They were slightly worn, frayed at the ends and you held them for a moment, like they might give you an answer. They didn’t.

The palace felt too quiet.

Panic hadn’t quite bloomed yet, but the ache in your chest was growing sharper with every hallway you passed, every turn that didn’t reveal his tall frame leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes watching you like he always did.

Eventually, you ended up where you hadn’t wanted to go yet, the throne room.

Your father was seated in quiet conversation with one of his stewards. Calm as always, in the way only rulers were taught to be. You stepped into the room with less grace than usual, panic twisting in your gut as the hem of your robe swishing against your ankles. 

"Father" you said, voice tight but trying to stay steady. He looked up at once, a softness in his expression that only came out when he saw you upset.

"Sweetheart. What troubles you?" His voice was calm and reassuring, everything you needed in this moment but there was a sea of concern. Your hands were trembling, so you clenched them behind your back.

"Where’s Sylus?" The question fell from your lips before you could stop it, an urgency to your tone that you hadn't planned. His brow furrowed slightly in confusion, blinking at you once, then twice before his gaze shifted to the steward beside him and the two exchanged a brief, puzzled glance.

"I thought he’d be with you"

"Well, he’s not, clearly" you said quickly, knowing that your tone of voice would have Sylus' sharp eyes on you as a warning "I’ve checked the grounds, the courtyard, even the stables. He’s not anywhere.. did you send him somewhere?"

Your father hesitated, a long pause stretching between you, his quill hovering in mid air as if it could help him find the right answer. He uttered your name gently and you swallowed nervously.

"Sweetheart.." he began and your heart clenched slightly "No, I didn't. He came to me early this morning... asked to be relieved of his duties. Said he’d fulfilled what was asked of him, I assumed that he would spend the rest of his day with you"

You stared at him, the world suddenly feeling like it was spinning far too fast. Your breath caught in your throat and a strange, dizzying silence filled your ears.

"What?" you asked, your was voice small and uncertain "No, that’s... he didn’t tell me that"

"He said he did. That you spoke last night and that you understood" Your father’s expression shifted, the pity in his eyes crushing you more than you could have anticipated.

You took a step back, stunned.

"He said he told me?" the words felt foreign as they fell from your lips.

"Yes" the king said gently "That you were both in agreement. He assured me it wasn’t a sudden decision, that you knew"

But you didn’t.

You remembered every second of last night.. every sigh, every kiss, the way his hands worshipped you like you were sacred. You remembered the soft way he whispered your name, the tremble in his voice when he said you’re mine. You remembered all of it but he never said goodbye.

He never even hinted. Did he? You shook your head slowly, trying to breathe.

Your hands fell to your sides, the trembling no longer something you could hide. It wasn’t just that you hadn’t been prepared, it was that he hadn't prepared you at all.  There had been no warning, no promise, nothing. Just the feeling of him pressing his lips to yours, of him moving inside you like he belonged there, inside your heart.

"He didn’t tell me.." you said, barely a whisper. Your father stood, concern in his eyes now.

"My darling, are you sure?"  his voice carried the weight of a father’s love, but it wasn’t enough.

"I would've remembered!" you said firmly, suddenly. 

The silence that followed was heavy, you could feel it settle in your lungs. The weight of it pressed on your chest, suffocating you. You couldn’t understand... Sylus had been so tender, so consumed with you but now nothing remained. He had just.. left?

Why would he leave without a word? 

"I need to go" you whispered, the floor suddenly feeling too open.

Without waiting for a reply you turned on your heel, your mind racing faster than your body could keep up. Your feet carried you swiftly as you backed out of the room, unable to face your father’s worried gaze any longer.

This time you didn’t stop when the ache reached your knees. You didn’t stop when the tears welled in your eyes. You only stopped when you reached your chambers and the door closed behind you, muffling the weight of a truth you hadn’t been ready for.

He left, and he had let you believe that he wouldn't.

That night your hand curled into a fist by the window, your nails digging into your skin as if that might ease the tension coiling in your chest. You hated feeling like this. You hated how restless you had become in the silence, how empty the room felt without him. You’d always prided yourself on getting your way, on knowing how to make him cave, how to make him break under your teasing.

But this? This was different. 

Around this time last night he was claiming you as his, smothering you in love and obsession, staining you and ruining you like you had wanted him to.

Sylus hadn’t been here all morning. He hadn’t said goodbye, hadn’t even warned you that he’d be leaving and that ache in your chest... it wasn’t the ache that you usually got from the games you played, from the ways you’d tried to rile him up. No, this was deeper and colder, and it gnawed at you making you feel small and exposed.

You let out a frustrated sigh, pacing to the edge of the bed, your fingers brushing the sheets where you had shared last night. The sheets still held the faintest trace of his scent but he was gone. You could almost feel him there, the warmth of his body, the quiet strength of his presence but he wasn’t here. Not anymore.

You should be angry, you should be frustrated but instead, you just felt... lost. You missed the way he’d handled you, the way he could always read you, always keep you in check without a word and now, there was no one to remind you of your place. 

Had you really pushed him too far this time? The thought unsettled you in a way you weren’t used to.

You were the one who usually did the breaking, who teased and challenged him at every turn but now, you were the one left broken, wondering where he had gone, wondering why he hadn’t said goodbye.

[lads-ficrecs]

Luke & Kieran's Bakery Attack(s) - 1

Running around the N109 zone takes energy and what is the best way to deal with that? Buying pastries and paying for them later, of course! (They are not stealing if you plan to pay.)

Yet, that is only half the fun because what they really come for in that little bakery is that cute sheep hybrid who holds a grudge on them till kingdom come.

A Sheep Hybrid! Reader x Wolf Hybrid! Luke & Kieran

Tags: Luke x Reader, Kieran x Reader, Fluff, Banter, Predator/Prey

Chapter Summary: In which Luke and Kieran checks on their favorite sheep hybrid for free pastries.

Author's Note: To the people who is currently reading 'Take Your Time, Miss Deer', yes I did actually end up writing this little fic and I may or may not write more but as separate fics of our boys and their favorite baker.

To the people who just come across this: I just wanted to show appreciation to the best twins in the game.

The Reader here is the same age as them (18 years old) and around last year of high school.

To everyone, have fun reading!

AO3

1 / 2 / 3

If you want to read the main series: Take Your Time, Miss Deer

Attack # 1: A Five Minus One Review

“Simon, they’re here again-”

“Oh no you don’t!”, Luke said, immediately covering your mouth and muffling the string of curses purely directed towards these two wolf boys who always sneak inside the bakery you are working in.

“You have such a filthy mouth, miss,” Kieran pointed out, poking your cheek while you shoot him a glare, “It is not like we are stealing your family’s pastries.”

They certainly are stealing your family’s pastries and not only that but they also come here to annoy you because apparently, being just Mr. Sylus’ errand boys is not enough to make them busy.

“Let go, Luke, or I will ram my horns at you!”, you snapped at the boy who is holding you tight against him and he only laughed when you tried to bite his hand.

It hurts. Slightly.

“I didn’t know this is how you treat your customers, cream puff,” Luke sighed dramatically but he loosened his hold to you anyways and that earned him (and Kieran by extension), another slightly painful headbutt from you right in the stomach.

It is hard to discern from your red face if you are blushing, angry or both at them but they know it is so easy to make you flustered by calling you cute nicknames because after all, you are a cute sheep hybrid.

Only reaching them by the chest, the heavens must have decided to convert your supposed additional height into pure anger instead because you are always pissed when you see them but it is just so difficult to take you seriously, not with those fluffy ears and tail. Even your horns do not make you scary at all, in fact, it just adds to the charm.

You are the perfect trial stage for all the pranks they have in mind.

“Customers don’t go at the back and disturb the baker.”

“Baker’s assistant -”

“Shut up, Luke, do you see my mama and papa here right now?”, you answered, shoving (and failing miserably because they are heavy so you just had to squeeze between them) out of the way to go get the croissants out of the oven.

Kieran nudged his brother who nodded, both of their eyes trained at your tail lazily swishing not only because it is fluffy but because you somehow have a sixth sense to notice if someone is staring at any part of your body.

Initially, they both debated if you are like like them, that you also escaped from one of the laboratories and just managed to land yourself a loving family. Somehow.

But then, the more time they spent here with you, they realized it might be because even if you have inherited your mother’s physical traits, you certainly are more like your father.

Not just a canine hybrid. A sheepdog hybrid.

“Go look at your own tails!”, you barked at them, and they just snickered as they made their way on both your sides, hovering over you as if they were your bosses.

You already know what they are about to say next.

“Can we have one?”, Kieran asked, his tail wagging at the sight of the croissants being dipped into chocolate by you beside the tray of croissants you pulled out of the oven.

“You mean two because I know both of you don’t share,” you replied, focused on the task at hand even when the two of them are preoccupied pinching and poking your cheeks until you finally relent. These two are so going to get it once you are done working on this batch.

What do you mean they don’t? They do share. There are simply things in the world that you cannot split in half. A needle. Their blade. And-

You.

If they do, well, that isn’t a good image to have in mind now, is it?

“Come on, we actually do pay, right, Kieran?”

“That’s correct. Since when did we run off?”

“Several times. Both of you ran off several times,” you corrected them, setting aside the tray of chocolate croissants on the side. 

Well, technically they did but it isn’t their fault that the targets the boss tasked them to track always tend to pass by your family’s bakery but they know they won’t be able to clear their names (At least to you) because you are just so judgmental.

And also, so brave because there was a time you called the boss himself (Via his work number, of course.) or more like, left a polite voicemail ratting them out that it thoroughly amused him that a highschooler has the guts to lay all the crimes they did.

They got many privileges revoked temporarily for two weeks because of that which includes:

Visiting Miss Deer.

Video games.

Access to the workshop.

Visiting you.

“We still pay after,” Luke protested, “Come on, is there no way for us to redeem ourselves to you, our holiest sheep?”

“If you want, we can get the test key for your exams,” Kieran suggested.

You don’t hate them. More of, they are just super annoying and you won’t say it out loud but you do see them as friends. A very unlikely friendship. Being friends with one wolf hybrid is bad enough but two? Yes, that spells trouble.

“Never mind,” you sighed then grabbed two croissants and put them in separate bags, “Here. On the house.”

“Did the test key make you say yes, marshmallow?”, Kieran asked, tucking in the bread you gave him in his coat.

They both chuckled when you blushed heavily.

“What- No! I don’t need your help!”, you shook your head and then pushed them towards the exit, “Now go, I still have lots to do before mama and papa comes back.”

“But we just got here.”

“This is bad for business. We will each leave four stars. The one is missing because the baker’s assistant is so rude.”

They did not let you have the last word this time, giving you a mock salute as they finally exited the back door because their pointed ears picked up the familiar gait of your older brother who will totally kick their asses if he sees them.

Dumb dog. Getting in the way of sheep-wolf bonding time.

“They were here, weren’t they?”, your older brother asked, huffing and picking up the scent of the two wolf boys who had taken up on pestering you.

“Yeah but they’re gone now,” you answered, focusing on making sure all the macarons are displayed nicely on the tray. “Need to tell mama to get four bucks from my allowance again.”

“I am starting to think you like them.”

“I am starting to think I am going broke.”

You both laughed and he grabbed an apron to help you out, fully aware that your little family may actually have taken a liking to those two rowdy boys.

And you? Maybe more than just a like but no one needs to know that.

────────────────────

Author's Note: Will I make more? Yeah, I think. I think I should.

AO3

1 / 2 / 3

[lads-ficrecs]

Fang and Flame

Main Masterlist

.ᐟ pairing. ⤑ Prince!Rafayel x Vampire/Bodyguard!Reader (no use of y/n).

.ᐟ synopsis. ⤑ Rafayel, a Prince soon to be King, corrupts his perfect bodyguard.

.ᐟ word count. ⤑ 30k (she's a long one) posted on my ao3. READER'S BACKSTORY IS NOT IN THE TUMBLR VERSION.

.ᐟ WARNINGS, mdni!!. ⤑ explicit sexual content, it's a lil filthy, rafayel is in his god of tides outfit!! LOTTT of sexual tension, male masturbation, blood drinking, praise kink (phew), includes a brothel, finger sucking, forced orgasm, p in v sex, vampire biting, possessive rafayel, drug use sorta, neck kissing, human/vampire relationship, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, hand kink if you look hard enough, fantasy au, rafayel is a bit of a lil shit... its just filth idk what else to say

.ᐟ A/N. i'm so down bad for god of tides rafayel my GAWDD. this is a lil shot at me tryna make my own universe..it might be a bit confusing but hey. i TRIED. this is also my first LADS fic. so enjoy ^.^

On the ao3 version, there is a backstory to the reader and how she became a vampire!

Timeline aid: AF = Age of Fire

525 AF

   The grand courtyard of the palace was lined with mourners and the air thick with the weight of loss.

The king was dead.

It had been days since the news reached every corner of the Whalefall city but today, the reality of it settled into the palace. The funeral was an event unlike any other, with royal beings from different kingdoms and common folk alike arriving to pay their respects. The sheer size of the gathering was overwhelming, an endless sea of faces each one draped in black, all of them here for a man they either feared or respected.

You stood at the edge of the procession, just a few paces behind the prince. His presence alone demanded attention, even without the crown on his head. His black attire blended seamlessly with the mourners but there was something about him that set him apart. Perhaps it was the way he stood, his back straight and eyes forward yet there was a distance to him. An air of control, of calculation that seemed unnatural for someone attending his father’s funeral.

You had been by his side for nearly three years now, watching him as his bodyguard, his protector, his knight, his shield. But despite all that time you still couldn’t fully decipher him. You had never been able to understand the prince’s true desires. At times he acted carefree, as though the throne meant nothing to him. Yet there were moments when a darker hunger flared in his eyes, moments that made you wonder if he truly desired power, if he thought only of the throne.

You had learned long ago that in the midst of death and mourning, a vampire (let alone one like you) did not belong. Your presence here was more a quiet formality than an act of respect. For five centuries death had been something you lived with, yet never truly embraced. But it wasn't just the death that hung in the air, it was the tension. The kingdom was in transition and Rafayel was at the centre of it all. 

You stood beside him alert, watching the gathered nobles and sensing every shift in the air. But you couldn’t ignore the fact that something was different now. He was different.

The moment his father’s body had been laid to rest, the kingdom’s attention turned to him. You could feel the subtle change in the air, the tightening of the strings around his future. His face was unreadable, his eyes cold. Even his posture betrayed nothing of the grief or anger you might have expected from a son at his father’s funeral.

It was as though he were some distant observer, a prince watching from the outside as the kingdom mourned it's fallen ruler. Every word he spoke to the court was measured, careful. It was as though the weight of his father’s death had forced him to mask everything else beneath a cold exterior. Was he grieving? Did he even care?

You didn’t know. It made you uneasy.

As the ceremony continued you couldn’t help but observe the subtle shifts in the crowd.

Glances, whispers and the occasional noble eyeing you with suspicion. The queen’s gaze never strayed far from you. Her eyes flicked between him and you, sharp and resentful. Even after all these years, even with the kingdom on the brink of trouble she still loathed your very existence.

Her eyes filled with hatred found their mark every time, but there was nothing she could do about it. Soon enough, Rafayel would be crowned king and your position as his bodyguard would be solidified.

You'd no longer be the prince's bodyguard, but the king's.

As the funeral came to a close the crowd began to disperse, many retreating to the warmth of the palace halls. Rafayel did not move. He remained, as still as the stone at his feet. You watched him closely, stepping closer to his side, your presence near him not a protection this time but a force of habit. 

"You look uneasy" he said his voice low, just loud enough for you to hear.

His words weren’t exactly a question but more like an observation. He didn’t turn to face you but the weight of his presence beside you was undeniable. 

"I’m fine, my prince" you replied your voice even, though the words felt like a lie as they left your mouth. 

Rafayel hummed, as if unconvinced.

"You always say that"

His lips curled slightly in what might’ve been a smirk though you couldn’t be sure. He wasn’t often so observant, so quick to speak up about things. But today something about him was different. 

"I’m not as blind as you might think" he said, his voice steady but there was a hint of something sharper in his tone now "You’ve been on edge ever since we arrived. You’re always watching. The funeral’s over but I can feel your attention on me like a hawk circling prey"

"Forgive me" you murmured, your gaze lowering "I’m simply ensuring your safety, as always"

There was a slight pause before Rafayel spoke again, his voice lower now as if drawing you into the space between you.

"As always... You’re always watching, aren’t you?" he echoed, his smirk deepening. Then, in a quieter tone "Do you think this will ever end?"

Your brows furrowed slightly.

"End, my prince?"

His lips tightened.

"The watching, the waiting. The eyes on me. Every time I step outside... the kingdom is watching, waiting for me to become my father. They want another king. Another ruler to kneel before but I am not him. I will never be what they expect"

You hesitated.

Rafayel was more complex than any crown he would wear. Although you had only been under his wing for three years, he had been the only one in that hall to vouch for you that day his guards captured you. Vouch for what you could be. It didn't settle well with you, as he had only saw you as a weapon but he had trained you, given you a bed, given you food (that you never ate) and despite the Queen's coldness towards you, he himself was never cruel. 

"You can’t be your father" you said quietly, watching his profile "But you can be king"

Rafayel glanced at you then, his eyes narrowing slightly. His gaze lingered on you for a fraction too long, his expression unreadable. Then, in typical fashion, he let out a quiet scoff, shaking his head.

"That’s a rather dull answer" he mused, his tone light but there was something underneath it "You sound like one of my advisors. Or worse... my mother"

"If you find my answer dull my prince, you are free to disregard it" You were nothing like his mother. You were not cruel.

Rafayel had always been hard to read. A prince who carried himself with effortless ease but never let anyone see him bleed. He had always spoken of the throne with indifference, as though it were an inconvenience. But now standing at the edge of his father’s grave, something about him was different.

His fingers twitched at his side. 

"You said I can be king" he continued, quieter now "but what if I don’t want to be?"

You blinked. The question shouldn’t have surprised you but it did. He had never voiced such doubts before, not to you.

"You know as well as I do, my prince" you continued, your eyes flicking briefly to him "that whether you want it or not, the throne is your burden now. There’s no walking away from it"

There was a brief silence, the sound of wind brushing past the towering stone walls of the courtyard seeming to grow louder in the quiet space between you two. Rafayel shifted slightly, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his cloak, the fabric rippling beneath his touch. He leaned just a fraction closer, not enough to close the distance but enough for you to feel the change in the air.

"My burden..." His voice was low now, almost too quiet. Had you said the wrong thing? Even if you had, his lips still curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile, more like amusement "I'm glad you see it that way also"

Before you had the chance to ask him if he was ready to head inside, he spoke again.

"And what about you?" he asked, arching a brow "What do you expect of me?"

"I expect you to survive" you said, your tone steady but sharp "The kingdom needs a king, my prince. Whether you want to be one or not it’s your duty"

"You’re as cold as ever" he murmured "You’d think after all these years... I’d have earned something more than the stone wall you put up. Or maybe some sympathy after my fathers death?"

The hint of amusement was there but you weren’t sure whether it was sincere or meant to provoke.

His posture remained deceptively relaxed but there was a tension in his shoulders. He was waiting for your response, his eyes narrowing slightly as he waited for you to reply.

The weight of his words settled into your chest and for the first time in years, you found yourself unsure of how to respond. 

"Forgive me, my prince" you said, your voice steady though your words felt strangely empty. It was the only thing you could think to say, the only apology you could offer.

Rafayel didn’t respond immediately. He let the silence stretch between you, both of you alone in your thoughts surrounded only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. It felt like a moment suspended in time.

Finally his lips parted again, his tone lighter this time though there was still an edge to it as if he couldn’t quite let go of the rawness in his voice.

"Stone wall or not" he said softly "you’re the only one I can trust right now"

"I don’t know why you trust me, my prince" you said quietly, your voice steady "I’ve never really given you a reason to"

"Is protecting my life not enough to gain trust?" 

The question was pointed, carrying the same quiet edge as his earlier words. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with a gaze that lingered just a little too long, as if trying to reveal something buried beneath the surface. You didn’t break the stare, your expression unchanged but inside, his question hit a little harder than you expected. 

"Protecting you is my duty" you said, the words coming out like a practiced response as they always did "It’s not about trust. It’s about keeping you alive"

Rafayel didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. He knew. 

Then like a switch, he changed.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling his shoulders as if the weight of the conversation itself bored him. As if he was bored of the funeral. His posture shifted, the tension melting away as he stretched, a lazy motion that somehow looked effortless. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with a casual air that only someone like him could pull off in such a moment.

"Really, is that all you have to say? No words of wisdom? No grave warnings about how I should rule?" He hummed, amused "How tragic. My own bodyguard refuses to entertain me"

You resisted the urge to sigh. He danced around the weight of his father’s death like it was a game.

"You claimed me to be a knight, not a jester" Was all you responded. 

"Well" he said, his voice returning to it's usual playful tone "I’m glad I’m not the only one trapped in duty then"

His words hung heavy in the air and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of them too. The statement hung in the air between you and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of frustration. He refused to acknowledge what was really at stake. For once, you wished he would take things seriously even if just for a moment.

"We should head inside" you said, finally breaking the silence. It wasn’t a suggestion. The funeral had been long enough, the night growing darker. The air was heavy with more than just the weight of his father’s death now.

"Lead the way miss bodyguard"

────────

The heavy atmosphere of the past few days weighed on the kingdom but the preparations for Rafayel’s coronation continued without pause. 

You stood in your usual position, just a few steps behind Rafayel, watching as the prince surveyed the map of the kingdom’s territories that was spread out before him. Rafayel’s gaze flicked across the map but his attention seemed distant. The coronation was only a few weeks away but the weight of his father’s death still seemed to hang over him. Even now he didn’t look ready to step into the role that was thrust upon him but then again, you doubted he ever would be.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Rafayel sighed and the sound made you glance up. His fingers tapped restlessly on the map.

"Do you think they’ll listen to me?"

"They’ll have to" you replied simply, your voice even "Your bloodline demands it"

Rafayel’s eyes flicked to you but he didn’t respond right away. The flicker of doubt that had crossed his features was quickly masked.

"And what of the advisors?" He motioned toward the scrolls and letters on the table before him, all filled with counsel and directions for his reign "Do you think they’ll accept me?"

You stepped closer, positioning yourself in a way that placed you between him and the open window, blocking the breeze from ruffling the papers.

"They will fall in line. They may try to test you at first but your position is strong, my prince"

Rafayel hummed in response, though his face didn’t betray much. He didn’t appear comforted by your words but you knew it was what he needed to hear. There was nothing more to say, his power was already set in motion. The kingdom would follow, whether they liked it or not. Rafayel leaned back slightly, staring at the map again but now with a deeper tension in his posture. 

"I never wanted this..."

There was a long pause, his gaze not leaving the map in front of him. You could almost see the battle within him, the hesitation between embracing his new role or rejecting it entirely. But you weren’t there to play a part in that internal conflict, your job was to ensure that he didn't falter when it mattered most.

Rafayel exhaled as if steering himself before he turned to leave, with you hot on his heels.

The walk to the council chamber felt like it took hours. You’d spent the past few days watching him wrestle with the weight of his father’s death. The funeral was over, the kingdom was still and yet the true battle had only just begun. Rafayel’s first council meeting as the upcoming king was underway and despite his resolve there was an undeniable tension.

Rafayel no longer had his father to hide behind, he was to be the one to lead them now.

The council room was enormous, the marble walls rising high above, decorated with the Lemurian banners. Rafayel stepped in first, his gaze sweeping over the council with a quiet but unmistakable authority. You stayed a few paces behind him, vigilant as always, your eyes scanning the room for potential threats. You were always alert, even when no immediate danger was present.

You noticed the Queen and the way she was sat, poised at the far end of the table, her eyes never leaving her son. She was still dressed in mourning black, a reminder of the King's passing. But there was something colder behind her gaze now... a sharpness that seemed directed at both Rafayel and you.

Whispers rippled through the air, a mix of curiosity and unease. The room was thick with tension and power and it seemed to hold its breath at the sight of you. You were a woman yes but that wasn’t why they stared. It was because you were a mystery, a being who wasn’t quite human, a "monster" in their eyes and yet somehow, Rafayel had chosen you as his shield. 

After three years in the palace, the stares and whispers were a normality to you.

Rafayel sat at the head of the table, looking every bit the king he was meant to be, though there was a flicker of unease in his gaze. 

"Now that we are gathered" Rafayel’s voice broke through the room, clear but with an edge of authority that hadn’t been there before "We’ll begin with the state of the kingdom. First, the reports on the southern border"

The council members shifted in their seats, the sound of parchment shuffling filled the air as one of the advisors rose to speak.

"There has been unrest in the southern territories, my prince. There are rumours of rebellion brewing in some of the smaller cities... we recommend a larger military presence to ensure the peace"

"And what of the rest of the kingdom?" Rafayel asked, his voice colder now "Any threats closer to home?"

The advisor faltered for a moment before responding.

"My-My prince... we’ve received word from the capital city that tensions are rising. The nobles are eager to know your plans regarding your coronation and your intentions for the throne"

At the mention of the coronation, the room fell silent.

All eyes shifted to Rafayel, each pair seemingly waiting for his response, anticipating how the new king would handle his responsibilities. Rafayel didn’t immediately speak, his fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair. The Queen, seated at the far end of the room studied him with an unreadable expression, her gaze flickering toward you before returning to her son.

"The coronation will proceed as planned but we will not let ceremonial titles be our sole focus. The Whalefall city and its wellbeing is far more urgent" Rafayel spoke. You heard his heart jump a beat. 

A murmur rippled through the room, some council members exchanging uneasy glances. It was clear that Rafayel’s priorities were not aligned with their expectations.

"And what of the nobles, my prince?" one advisor interjected, his tone full of concern "They expect more than just... your presence. The throne requires a union. A queen, heirs, surely you’ve considered your options"

"I have no interest in rushing into such decisions" Rafayel’s eyes flickered toward his mother and then back to the council. The Queen cleared her throat, a sharp sound that pierced the tension.

"You must consider this carefully, Rafayel" she said "The kingdom expects stability and that includes your future as king. We must discuss the issue of your marriage"

Rafayel’s jaw tightened slightly. 

"I’ve heard this already, Mother" Rafayel said quietly but firmly "The matter of my marriage is not one I intend to rush into simply because the throne is vacant"

The council members exchanged uneasy glances. Some looked at Rafayel with doubt, clearly uncomfortable with the obvious difference in his approach compared to his father’s. The late king had been decisive, quick in his decisions whereas Rafayel was… different. Though he had the same resolve his solutions were new and unfamiliar to those who had been used to the old ways.

"You may not wish to rush, Rafayel" the Queen pressed, her voice softer but still sharp "You know as well as I do that marriage to the right house will secure the kingdom’s future. A union with the right bloodline could mean the difference between peace and war"

There was a subtle shift in the room, as if the council members were holding their breath waiting for Rafayel to respond. Some of them looked to the Queen for guidance, as if unsure whether to side with the new king or his mother’s expectations.

Rafayel’s eyes flicked to you for a split second, a momentary glance that you knew was more for reassurance than anything else. You had hoped he didn't expect you to speak up. He turned back to the Queen, his voice unwavering. 

"I am aware, but I will not marry for the sake of political strategy alone. I won’t allow this kingdom to be just a chess piece"

The Queen’s lips curled into a thin, almost imperceptible smile.

"You are still a young man, Rafayel" she said, her voice softening in a way that felt almost patronizing "You may think you understand the weight of the throne but it’s not only power that matters. It’s legacy, family. Heirs"

There was a tense silence as everyone around the table waited for Rafayel to respond and for the first time, you saw something in his eyes... a flicker of uncertainty. 

"I’ll marry when I find the right person" Rafayel said, his voice a little colder than before "Not before"

As the room shifted with murmurs of approval and disapproval, your thoughts drifted momentarily.

In a new world like this, where women were expected to marry for the kingdom’s benefit and to secure alliances, to bear heirs... the idea of waiting for the right person was a privilege few women could afford. A woman’s desires would be ignored in favour of duty. She wouldn’t have the luxury of choice and yet, Rafayel could make that decision.

His freedom was palpable. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy, even if you knew that his path was hardly an easy one.

You let the thought slip away, focusing instead on duty. After all, your place was behind him. Your duty was to keep him safe and though your thoughts lingered on the differences between the two of you you knew one thing for certain, there was no room for your personal desires here.

Not for you. Not ever.

The room seemed to relax slightly but the Queen’s gaze remained fixed on her son.

"Very well but do not delay too long, Rafayel. You know the pressure the kingdom faces"

The meeting continued with various reports on trade, military and the status of neighboring kingdoms but you could see the weight of it all on Rafayel. He was standing at the edge of something terrifying. As the meeting drew to a close Rafayel stood and turned to the council.

"We’ll continue this tomorrow" he said, his tone firm but you could hear the weariness behind it.

The council members stood and began to leave. When the room finally cleared, Rafayel sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. You stepped forward but before you could speak he cut you off.

"Let’s go for a walk" he said quietly, his voice low but carrying an unspoken weight.

You knew better than to question him.

"Of course, my prince"

The marble floors beneath your boots echoed softly as you walked beside Rafayel. The air in the palace was still heavy, the silence only broken by the faint hum of distant voices and the occasional flicker of torches. The palace felt emptier now, as if the loss of the king had shook through every inch of the walls.

You both walked in silence for a while, the weight of the council meeting still lingering in the air. You didn’t need to speak to know what was on his mind. It was in the subtle way he clenched his jaw, the way his fingers tightened into a sharp grip and in the occasional glance he threw toward the shadows of the hall.

Finally he spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.

"I’m not sure I’m cut out for this"

You raised an eyebrow, matching his pace but not yet responding.

"Not cut out for being king?" you asked, the question harsher than you intended and your voice still as detached as ever "You’ve been training for this your whole life"

Rafayel let out a bitter laugh, the sound dry and devoid of humor.

"Training, yes. But I’m not my father am I? They expect me to step into his shoes, to rule with the same iron fist he did. But I can’t.. I won’t do it the way he did. Not just for the sake of tradition" The frustration in his voice was subtle but you heard it "And the Queen… She only wants me to follow in his footsteps. To marry for power and I just want to fucking live"

"You don’t have to be like your father" you said, your voice steady "You can rule in your own way. You’ll find your own path, you don’t have to follow the footsteps of those who came before you"

Rafayel stopped walking and you did the same, your eyes meeting his. His expression was conflicted, as though he wanted to argue, to protest but instead he just stood there. For a long momentyou both stood in silence, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Then he gave a small nod.

"that’s easy for you to say" he muttered but there was a trace of bitterness in his words "I’m supposed to be the king, aren’t I? The one who makes the decisions but they don’t trust me.."

"They don't have to. It isn't their choice"

"We’ll see" he murmured 

You both resumed walking, the sounds of your footsteps echoing through the long hallway. The further you went the more the palace seemed to fall away into silence and the world outside seemed closer, more alive.

When you reached a large balcony overlooking Whalefall city, Rafayel leaned against the railing, gazing out at the moonlit expanse. His profile was sharp against the pale light of the night and for a brief moment, you saw him as something other than a prince or a leader. Just a man, standing at the edge of everything.

"I used to come out here with my father" Rafayel said quietly, his gaze still distant "Before all of this. He’d always stand there and look out over the kingdom, like he could see everything from here. I used to ask him what he saw... he said he saw strength. He saw a kingdom that would never fall"

You didn’t answer, merely standing by his side watching the city below. Your gaze was fixed on the streets far below, the flickering torches of the night.

"And what do you see?" you asked finally, your voice low and steady. Rafayel was quiet for a moment then he shrugged, the smirk returning to his face.

"I see a kingdom that’s going to change. Starting with me"

────────

The next few days Rafayel changed completely.

A smirk that lingered too long and a laugh that held a sharper edge. The way Rafayel carried himself with an air of carelessness that felt just a little too deliberate. At the council meetings he was still decisive. Still sharp and unwilling to bend but outside of them something shifted. He moved with a careless confidence, his words laced with even more amusement and he toyed with conversation like it was a game and brushed off concerns with a wave of his hand.

If he was tense before, it had unravelled into something looser.

You notic-ed it in the way he moved. Graceful but almost lazy and the tension in his shoulders was gone, replaced by a practiced ease that felt unnatural after weeks of weight pressing down on him. 

At dinners he leaned back in his chair, swirling a goblet of wine between his fingers with idle amusement, letting the nobles talk over one another while he watched them like a bored god.

Even in the training yard where his movements were usually precise and calculated there was a new recklessness to him. A tendency to take unnecessary risks in spars, grinning through every near miss like he was chasing the thrill of being caught off guard.

His eyes glinted with a kind of mischief, a gleam that only deepened as the days went on. At times it almost seemed like he was deliberately trying to annoy you, throwing in sarcastic remarks when you least expected them, teasing you with an ease that didn’t quite belong in a prince.

Then, you heard the whispers.

At first they were just that. A murmur behind closed doors, the half glances exchanged between courtiers when he arrived at council meetings later than usual. You had always heard murmurs in the corridors and hidden corners of the palace but now they seemed to follow Rafayel everywhere he went.

Whispers that he had been slipping out at night, sneaking away from the watchful eyes of the royal guards and disappearing into the darkness.

At first you ignored them but as the rumours began to circulate more frequently your unease grew. His usual routine had shifted and though he remained as charming as ever, there was something unsettling about it all.

And then, it wasn’t just his demeanour that had changed.

You had seen him leave more than once after the usual evening meal, his form slipping through the doors and disappearing into the darkness and ordering you not to follow him. He was always gone by the time the moon rose high and when you saw him again at dawn, there were always subtle signs that he’d returned from somewhere.

His Lemurian clothes were hastily thrown on, wrinkled in all the wrong places as if he hadn’t bothered to care about his appearance in the rush to get back and his hands often grazed the edges of his clothes as though he were still trying to adjust to some part of the night that lingered on him. 

You noticed the faint scratch marks on his neck and forearms, even on his back. At first, they were easy to ignore... small, almost not noticeable. But they began to appear more frequently, scattered across his skin like evidence he didn’t try to hide. Due to the amount of exposed skin his clothes showed, you were surprised that no one else had picked up on them. Or maybe they did and they chose to ignore it, or minimised it down to him sparing too much.

They were not from sparing or training. No, these marks were more intimate.

He’s sneaking out at night. Slipping past the guards. Some say he disappears into the the Silk Streets.

That name carried weight. A place where nobility lost their dignity and gold in equal measure. A labyrinth of brothels, gambling dens and places that existed purely for indulgence. A place that thrived in the shadows, where reputations were ruined and secrets were bought with a handful of coins.

A place not fit for the new Lemurian king.

You didn't know why he was walking straight into it, if the rumours were true. 

Maybe it was grief, maybe it was defiance. Maybe he just wanted to feel something different. Something far from the suffocating expectations of the palace. He was the future king and the moment the wrong people took notice, the moment they realized his recklessness, his carelessness would become a weapon in someone else’s hands.

And then there was you.

People already started to doubt your ability to protect so if he was slipping past you unnoticed, what did that say about you? About your duty? If someone else caught him before you did, if word spread beyond the whispers in the palace, what would that mean for you? You had no doubt that The Queen would have something to say.

You would find out where he was going.

That night, long after the palace had settled into a quiet stillness you stood by the door to Rafayel’s chambers. You were supposed to be on duty, keeping watch but a strange sense of unrest kept you from your usual place. Something drew you to his door, something you couldn’t quite place.

It was then that you saw it.

The faintest movement through the slightly ajar window in his chamber. A flicker of shadow, a small look at his shadow slipping away from the palace walls. He was leaving and without thinking, you followed.

You crept down the hallway, keeping to the shadows as your footsteps were swallowed by the marble floor. There was no turning back now. You had to know, you had to see for yourself where he was going, what he was doing in the dead of night when no one was watching.

The cold night air met you as you stepped outside, if your heart could beat, it would be pounding in your chest. You moved swiftly, staying a few paces behind Rafayel as he walked through the gardens, his figure barely visible in the pale moonlight. He moved like he was used to this, like he had done it a hundred times before. He didn’t turn back, not once and as you followed, you began to wonder if he even knew you were there or if he simply didn’t care.

He passed through the side gates of the palace, his movements fluid and confident. You knew where he was headed before he even reached the main road. The Silk Streets.

The rumours were true.

He was dressed in a dark cloak, the fabric heavy and concealing, draping over him like a shadow. The hood of the cloak was drawn low, covering most of his face and the rest of his features were hidden beneath the folds of the fabric. From a distance, he could have been anyone. His usually regal posture was gone, replaced by the subtle movements of someone trying to go unnoticed.

Now, he was trying to hide. Trying to blend in with the crowds of the Silk Streets, with the people who lived in the shadows.

The moonlight barely touched the narrow alleys of the streets. It thrummed with an energy that felt alive, whispers of soft laughter, muffled music and the clink of coins and goblets.

He moved through the night with an ease that made you feel out of place, his body relaxed, his steps confident as if this dark part of the city were a second home to him. He barely glanced around, unfazed by the lewd whispers that followed him, the women in doorways flashing smiles that spoke of things better left unspoken. You kept your distance, keeping your gaze forward, trying to ignore the way the scent of incense and perfume clung to the air, thick and almost intoxicating.

You, on the other hand, felt the weight of every step. Every brush of a stranger’s arm, every faint whisper that danced through the air like smoke, reminded you that you didn’t belong here.

You wanted to remain unseen, unnoticed but the air here was thick with something else... The smell of the street mixed with the distant scent of sweat and alcohol, weaving into a heavy blanket of scent that nearly overwhelmed your senses. It was intoxicating and the longer you walked the harder it became to ignore the heady warmth that filled the air.

But then the sensation turned into something else entirely. The heat, the press of so many bodies brushing against yours, the constant hum of life in every corner... suddenly it felt too much. Too many people. Too much stimulation. You stumbled slightly, your senses overwhelmed by the presence of so many and for a fleeting moment the hunger crept up on you.

You were surrounded by so much warmth, so many living breathing bodies and the hunger within you was no longer something you could easily control. It was always there, lurking beneath the surface but tonight, it seemed louder. Stronger. You felt the sharp tug of desire and the familiar hunger that always came with being so close to so much life.

You lost sight of Rafayel and for a brief moment, it was almost a relief. He was safer without you. The thought flitted through your mind as you turned your gaze away from the large number of people, focusing instead on keeping your breath steady. It was easier this way, you told yourself. He was safer away from you, far from the monster you carried inside.

You fought the urge. You had to.

The hunger clawed at your insides, sharp and insistent, but you pushed it back, burying the need. The sensation of so much warmth, so many heartbeats pressing against your own cold skin, made the hunger feel alive, tangible. You could almost taste it. Feel it on the tip of your tongue. It was supposed to be manageable.. the witch had promised you that. You hadn't felt this burning need to feed in 500 years, so why now?

You took a step back, your breath shallow as you struggled to regain control. You didn’t belong in this place  and yu couldn’t let yourself lose control. Not here, not now.

But with each passing second the pull grew stronger and the longer you stayed in the middle of the crowd the harder it became to resist. Every brush of skin, every whisper in the night seemed to feed the fire inside you. The streets twisted before you, the scent of perfume and incense growing thicker as you walked deeper into the streets. Rafayel. You had to find him and get out of here. 

You could hear the laughter from behind closed doors, the shuffling of feet, the creaking of wooden steps but the most intoxicating sound of all? Rafayel’s voice. Faint but unmistakable.

The realization hit you like a brick to the chest.

You should leave. You should walk away.

But the hunger gnawed at you and you knew that if you didn’t move now, it would consume you. In a heartbeat your mind made the decision for you. You stormed through the crowded streets, ignoring the lewd stares, pushing past those who walked too slow in front of you. Rafayel’s scent, it was distinct, almost intoxicating but it pulled you further down the winding alleys, toward the brothel.

The building loomed ahead, its doors open wide promising warmth and sin. The voices and sounds grew louder as you approached, a mix of anger and the need to confront him.

As you stepped inside, the dim light was almost suffocating. The air was thick with the musk of bodies, the sweet smell of alcohol mingling with the pungent scent of jasmine and rose that seemed to pour out of every corner. You forced yourself to breathe slowly but each inhale was heavy.

And then you heard it. a moan. Soft, laced with pleasure and the sound cut through the noise of the brothel and you didn’t have to look far to know where it came from.

You found him quickly, in one of the private rooms at the far end of the building. He was sprawled across a small bed, his usual casual grace replaced with an ease that could only come from having done this many times before. His hands were tangled in the sheets, his bare chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. A woman, pale and completely naked straddled his waist, her face flushed with pleasure.

You didn’t flinch at the sight, not even a hint of hesitation. The hunger in your chest was stronger than any sense of discomfort you might have had. It was the hunger that you focused on now.

Without a word you walked deeper into the room, your gaze locked on the woman. The sound of her soft moans stopped when she noticed you standing there, the air suddenly turning thick with tension. Her eyes darted between you and Rafayel uncertain but you didn’t give her a chance to question.

"Leave" you said coldly, your voice cutting through the room like a blade.

The woman didn’t protest, her eyes flicking to Rafayel but he simply gave her a lazy wave of his hand, not at all concerned by your presence. She reluctantly climbed off him and gathered her clothes, throwing one last glance at the two of you before slipping out the door. Rafayel didn’t move, still stretched across the bed, his body still bare not even a hint of shame in his posture. He looked almost amused but there was a glint in his eyes, a spark of mischief that made your jaw tighten.

"Didn't think you’d follow me in here" he said casually, his lips curling into that irritating smirk "But then again, you always have a way of showing up at the wrong time"

He knew you were following him.

"This place isn't fit for a prince" Was all you found yourself replying. The hunger was growing and you needed to feed but getting Rafayel away from here was your main priority.

But of course, he was being difficult. He chuckled, a mocking sound that filled the room.

"Maybe not but it’s comfortable. No one expects anything from me here, you know? No royal duties, no heavy decisions weighing me down. Just... freedom" He stretched lazily, as if the whole scene were nothing more than a casual affair.

"You shouldn’t be here" you said bluntly, your voice still flat "You’re due to be the king and yet you're playing around in filth"

Rafayel rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered.

"Always so serious. Can’t you just relax a little? The world’s not always as black and white as you make it out to be. Here, I’m just Rafayel. No title, no expectations. Just... me"

You ignored the underlying challenge in his tone, your gaze cool and unwavering.

"You’re wasting your time" He raised an eyebrow at your response.

"Am I? Or am I just taking a break from being who everyone else wants me to be? Maybe I like being... something else for a while. Not some puppet prince everyone pulls at" You’d seen him be reckless before but this? This felt like he was trying to prove something. Or maybe it was just his way of avoiding the weight of the crown that loomed over him.

"You’re still a prince" you said, your voice like ice "No matter where you go. No matter who you bed"

Rafayel’s smirk widened, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes as he sat up and exposed more of his naked body, moving with a slow grace that made your stomach twist with frustration.

"You know" he said softly, his voice a little more teasing now "I always thought you'd be more... possessive. Aren’t you the least bit jealous?"

You didn’t flinch.

"Jealousy is a waste of time”

His expression flickered then that mischievous grin returned.

"My miss bodyguard, so cold as always. I wonder what would happen if I pushed you a little harder"

You held his gaze, unwavering, your breath steady despite the tension building between you.

"Leave. Now"

With another sigh he stood from where he was lying to pick up his clothes. He even left the palace and came here in his Lemurian outfit... he was truly being reckless. Did he really not care what others thought? His movements fluid as he slung the silk of his palace outfit over his shoulder with deliberate slowness.

"Alright, alright. No need to get all worked up. But next time, maybe join the fun, hmm?" He said to you as he picked up his cloak that once kept him hidden. You turned and walked toward the door but before you left, you glanced over your shoulder at him, your gaze as cold as the walls around you.

"Next time, I won’t be so forgiving"

Rafayel simply shrugged, as if he wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

"I’ll keep that in mind"

The door clicked shut behind you but the hunger still burned inside, stronger now with the close proximity of Rafayel’s scent lingering in the air. You had more to deal with than just him.

The cool air of the palace felt strangely suffocating as you returned with Rafayel, the hunger clawing at your insides, gnawing at you with each step. Your mind was distant, the pull of your thirst overpowering everything else. You barely noticed as you walked through the halls, your senses heightened, fixating on the sharp scent of blood that lingered in the corridors.

Once you had returned Rafayel safely to his chambers, you focused on your own needs.

It was a feeling you knew too well... but this time, it felt worse. It felt like you were losing control.

As you passed a group of servants your gaze flicked to one of them. No one in the palace cared about them.. She smiled hesitantly at you, completely unaware of the danger she was in. Your body moved of its own accord before you could even think and she never had a chance to react.

You slammed her back against the cold marble of the wall, your hand gripping her wrist tightly, your other hand curling around her chin. The world around you faded into a blur. The sound of your own breath, the pulse beneath her skin and the scent of her blood overwhelming every other sense. The hunger that had been gnawing at you all night surged up.

Your fangs appeared, sharp and deadly and before you could think better of it you sank them into her neck.

The moment your fangs pierced her skin, the taste of blood hit you... rich, warm, intoxicating. It consumed you. You couldn’t stop. It had been so long since you fed like this, without hesitation, without restraint. You drank, hard and fast, the pulsing rhythm of her heart slowing as the minutes passed.

But then something hit you. A sharp wave of panic rose within you, unexpected. This was not like the control you had always maintained, not like the careful, calculated feeds you’d taken before. You hadn’t done this in years.

The memories surged back.

The last time you had lost control, when you had slaughtered the last survivor of your village. You hadn’t cared then but now... 

You broke away, your breath coming in short, harsh gasps. The woman sagged against the wall, her body limp in your grasp. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at her and at what you'd done. She was still alive, barely but her pulse was faint. You could feel it.

And yet, all you wanted was to run, to escape the guilt that rose in your throat like bile. You didn’t want to look at her. You didn’t want to face the reality of what you'd just done.

With shaking hands, you gently laid her down on the floor, as if trying to pretend that this had been nothing, just another fleeting moment. But the guilt gnawed at you, sharp and relentless.

You couldn’t stay there, not with her, not with the memory of the last time you’d lost control. So, you left. 

But still even after feeding and even after wiping away the last bit of evidence away from your face, you still weren't fully satisfied. You needed more.

────────

The days since you’d first caught Rafayel sneaking out had passed in a blur. He still slipped away though not as often, as though his reckless streak had been tempered slightly by something. He came back to the palace each morning with a quiet defiance in his eyes, as if daring the world to ask him about his actions.

But it wasn’t until the council meeting that his habits were mentioned, spoken of in hushed tones by the others, then brought up publicly by the Queen who seemed increasingly angered with her son’s antics.

"You must explain yourself, Rafayel" the Queen had demanded, her voice tight with controlled irritation "Rumors are circulating. They say you’re sneaking off at night. If this continues, I will not tolerate it"

The room had grown silent, save for the soft shuffle of papers as the council members nervously awaited his response. You had kept your head down, knowing better than to intrude on council matters, especially when the Queen was involved.

The door to the council chamber closed softly behind you, the quiet thud of the wood sounding louder than it should in the empty hall. You could feel his frustration, even though he hadn’t said a word yet. His body language was full of tension and the subtle shake of his shoulders betrayed a layer of anger he wasn’t yet ready to show.

As you walked down the hallway the silence stretched between you both. The distant sounds of the palace servants bustling in the background seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of your own footsteps. Finally, Rafayel broke the silence.

"I’m not a child, you know" he muttered, his tone heavy with an edge. His gaze was dark, fixed straight ahead but the tension in his posture was hard to ignore "You don’t have to stand there and let her throw stones at me. You could’ve said something"

What were you to say? The Queen already disliked you, despised your presence, why should you get involved in family matters? You weren't an advisor or part of the council, just a monster there to ensure he is safe at all times. 

"it isn’t my place to speak on matters that don’t concern me"

The words left your mouth and you almost almost regretted them the moment they passed your lips. But it was true. You were the bodyguard, not the family member. 

But then there was a bitter chuckle. 

"Right. As always, the perfect little soldier" He shook his head, his movements sharp and jerky as if he were trying to shake off the frustration that was still gnawing at him. There was a note of sarcasm in his voice but it didn’t feel entirely mocking "I'm not a fucking puppet"

He turned to face you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge your reaction.

It was the way he said it, as if he were daring you to call him out, daring you to challenge him. You didn’t respond right away. You stood there, watching him. His eyes were still locked on you, searching, waiting for something... maybe an answer, maybe just someone to acknowledge what he was going through.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you spoke.

"I never said you were a puppet" you replied quietly, your tone still sharp "I just know my place, my prince"

"And what exactly is your place, then?" His voice was low, almost a whisper but there was a challenge in it "To stand by and watch? Watch me make a fool of myself while everyone around me whispers and judges?"

There was something different in his voice now. It wasn’t just about the council meeting anymore. It wasn’t just about his mother’s words. You didn’t have an answer for him, at least not the kind he wanted.

"My place is where you need me to be, my prince" you replied, keeping your voice steady "That’s the only thing I know for sure"

Rafayel studied you for a moment longer, then finally exhaled a frustrated breath. He ran a hand through his hair, looking away from you for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"Then I know where I need you to be tonight" He told you, and for once, the shock was evident in your face "I'm sneaking out again. It would be a shame if my sworn protector were to follow me"

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You should have responded, should have put an end to his recklessness but something in his tone, in the sharp glint of his gaze, told you it would be useless.

He had already made his decision. He stood beside you for a moment longer and then without another word he turned on his heel and walked away. His stride was effortless, it was as if he didn't believe that you'd deny his command. You should have ignored it. You should have reported it but you knew that no matter what you did Rafayel would still leave tonight and if he was going to put himself in danger, then you had no choice but to be there when it happened.

By the time the sun had set and the palace corridors had emptied you were already waiting. It wasn’t long before you caught the familiar flicker of movement. Rafayel, slipping past the guards with practiced ease, his cloak draped loosely around him and the hood pulled up just enough to obscure his features.

Reckless, careless, stupid.

You moved before you could think better of it, slipping into the night after him. The city stretched before you, pulsing with life even under the weight of darkness and he didn’t look back, but you knew he could feel you there. You hated this place, the way it pulsed with the things you had long since forgotten. 

But as Rafayel moved deeper into it's embrace you lost sight of him not long after, only this time there was no panic.

You felt the array of bodies surrounding you again, the hunger, the need. Everything was intimate, it was intense and you closed your eyes for a moment. The moment your eyes shut, the world sharpened in a different way. The warmth of bodies brushing past, the pulse of laughter and whispered secrets, the scent of skin heated from too much drink. It was intoxicating in a way that had nothing to do with blood.

It had been centuries since you had been surrounded like this. Engulfed in something so human, so alive. This wasn’t just hunger for blood. 

There was a brush of air and a warm gust of wind on the back of your neck before a small voice appeared at the side of you. 

"Don't get lost" He visibly smirked at the way you flinched, the first physical reaction he had ever gotten of you from the three years you were with him "Stay with me.. and relax"

He was behind you somehow, the front of his body only an inch away from the back of your own. His lips close to your ear as he spoke but he still kept to himself. You shuddered for a moment before nodding, like you didn't have a mind of your own, like the street and he himself had put a spell on you.

A spell to obey, which a monster like you should always do.

You could feel him, every inch of him so close but not touching it made your breath falter. A sharp contrast to the steady control you prided yourself on. His skin wasn't against yours but the warmth of him seeped into your skin, into your bones and into that part of you that had been frozen for centuries. His breath ghosted along your jaw, his voice low, deliberate.

"You’re always so tense"

A quiet chuckle rumbled from him and you felt it against your back more than you heard it. He leaned in closer, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear, as if testing the waters.

"Is it this place?" he mused, voice silk and sin "Or is it me?"

You swallowed but the street had stolen your words, stolen your thoughts leaving you exposed. A pair of bodies stumbled past, tangled in each other, laughing breathlessly. Another pair further down, pressed against a wall and lost in the heat of their own indulgence. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, wine, desire. The world here moved differently as if the very street was alive and it had chosen you as its prey.

And Rafayel... Rafayel was watching.

"You feel it, don’t you?" he murmured, his voice dipping into something dangerously smooth "The way it pulls at you, the way it calls"

Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. You couldn’t let this place get to you. 

"So miss bodyguard... will you indulge with me?"

You should have said no. You should have turned away, should have pulled back, should have reminded him of the line that stood between you, the one that had kept you at a distance for three years. instead, your body betrayed you. A slow shaky exhale slipped from your lips before you could stop it. It was lost in the midst of the Silk Street but not to him. Never to him. Rafayel smirked, his head tilted slightly, his gaze flickering over your face drinking in every minute shift in your expression.

"Indulge?" Your voice was quieter than you meant it to be, your throat drier than it should have been "And what exactly do you mean by that, my prince?"

"Whatever you want it to mean" he murmured "But first... let me show you around"

Rafayel stepped past you, the faintest brush of his cloak against your arm as he did. His smirk deepened when your eyes never left his figure. And then without looking back, he walked into the depths of the street.

Will you indulge with me?

Your feet moved before you had the chance to think. The further you walked down, the more suffocating the atmosphere grew. The flickering lanterns cast shadows on the cobblestones and as you followed Rafayel, every step felt heavier. He moved through the night with an ease that made you feel out of place, his body relaxed and his steps confident as if this dark part of the city were a second home to him. It was.

He barely glanced around, unfazed by the whispers that followed him. You kept your distance, keeping your gaze forward trying to ignore the way the your senses were filled with different fragrances. But you couldn't ignore him. A part of you wanted to turn away, to remind yourself of your place. Of your duty to him but you couldn’t shake the sense of awe that crept in. These people weren’t bound by titles. They were free, in ways you hadn’t been in over five centuries. It almost felt like a distant memory.

It wasn’t that you were jealous of these people but there was something about their freedom, their ability to live without restraint that made you feel… small. Small and trapped in a way you hadn’t let yourself admit. You didn't know why it bothered you.

As Rafayel slowed, leading you into an alleyway between two crumbling buildings, you caught sight of the brothel ahead. It was the same brothel where you had found him the other night. A place drenched in everything that should have repulsed you.

But it didn’t.

Rafayel pushed open the heavy wooden door without hesitation, stepping inside as though he belonged here and maybe in some way, he did. The moment he crossed the door, he was no longer the prince, no longer the heir to a kingdom burdened by duty and expectations. He was just a man, another figure in the haze of warmth and pleasure.

You hesitated.

Standing there just outside, you felt the weight of the past pressing against you. Five hundred years of restraint, five hundred years of existing but never truly living and yet you followed him inside. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. People leaned into one another, hands lingering, lips brushing, eyes half lidded with the haze of drink and desire. There were no rules here, no boundaries. Rafayel turned his head slightly, just enough to see you lingering at the door, your hesitation laid bare.

"You don’t have to be afraid" he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear "No one will look at you as they do in the palace. No one will whisper"

It was a taunt, wrapped in something gentler.

You reached the counter where a number of drinks were laid out, free to take. He reached for a bottle, something dark and rich smelling, the scent of honey and spice clinging to the rim. Without breaking eye contact with you he lifted it to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate sip before extending it toward you.

"Drink"

You stared at him, silent.

"It won't-"

"Affect you I know.." he reminded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips "Humour me miss bodyguard. Just this once"

His eyes gleamed, watching and waiting. It wasn’t the drink that made your fingers curl around the bottle, it was him. You lifted the bottle to your lips, letting the liquid slide over your tongue. It was warm, rich, deceptively smooth but beneath the honeyed spice, beneath the slow burning heat, there was something else. Something unmistakable and your throat tightened.

Blood.

Not much, not enough for a human to notice but you weren’t human. The taste, the feel of it. It bloomed across your tongue, curling into your senses, awakening something deep inside you. Your grip on the bottle faltered for just a moment, the glass clinking softly as you set it down. A pang of hunger tightened in your chest and your body reacted almost before your mind could catch up.

"You…" The question was barely a breath, barely a whisper but Rafayel heard it.

And he smirked.

"You were about to ask, weren’t you?" His voice was velvet and amusement. He leaned in, elbow propped lazily on the counter, his eyes flickering in the dim light "If it’s blood? Yes"

He finished the thought for you.

Did he... know?

Your body screamed at you to stay still, to keep your expression neutral but the way Rafayel was watching you, studying you made it impossible. He was enjoying this.

"Relax" he mused, his voice almost soothing and mocking "It's not human. If that's what you're worried about"

You felt like breathing a sigh of relief. He didn't know. Your throat constricted, the taste still lingering on your tongue.

"Why?" You asked, though the question didn’t quite escape with the urgency you expected it to. You couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away from the bottle, nor the way his lips curved into a faint smirk.

"Why not?" Rafayel responded, leaning back up "It’s part of the street's… charm. It’s an old indulgence. Mixed with herbs it’s meant to lift you, free you in a way. It stirs something inside, doesn’t it?"

"Does it?" you murmured, your voice lacked it's usual steel and Rafayel knew it.

His smirk deepened like a hunter playing with it's prey. He tilted his head studying you, before his fingers tapped idly against the counter’s surface. He pulled the hood from his cloak down and your gaze flickered over him, taking in the way the dim, flickering light cast shifting shadows over his face.

"It does" His voice was quiet "Even if you won’t admit it"

His gaze flickered downward just for a second, toward the subtle rise and fall of your chest. Rafayel always carried an air of carelessness, of reckless confidence that made it seem as though the world bent to his rules. But here, in the golden glow of the brothel’s lanterns, draped in his regal clothes hidden by a cloak too large for him he was something else entirely. 

The silk of his robes was dark, the colour of deep ocean tides beneath a moonlit sky. The embroidery shimmered as he moved, silver waves curling along the fabric shifting like they were alive, and then there was the jewellery. Silver rings, oceanic stones, the delicate chains that glinted against his wrists. An ornamental ear cuff, shaped like a cresting wave adorned one ear, catching the light whenever he tilted his head.

It was unfair how beautiful he was.

Rafayel was beautiful in a way that demanded attention, in a way that made it impossible to ignore him, no matter how hard you tried and right now, he was watching you. You forced your eyes away from him but not before you caught the slight tilt of his lips, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

You thought he'd tease you, thought he'd mention how he caught you staring, truly looking at him like you've never done before but it never came and you were thankful. You took a moment to glance around the room and you noticed there were multiple pairs of eyes on you. You swallowed for a moment, you were used to the stares in the palace.. but in this place? It felt like you were a prize that people didn't want to stop admiring.

"Do they always stare?" you muttered, feeling your skin prickle. Rafayel's laugh was soft, a low sound that held a trace of amusement.

"They don't care about you" he said, his voice casual "It's me they want"

You turned sharply, meeting his gaze. His smile had faded into something more... knowing, like he enjoyed watching you squirm.

"You shouldn't come here" you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

"Why?" he asked, cocking his head to the side "Are you afraid of what you'll see? Or maybe afraid of the kind of person you might become if you stay?"

Your throat tightened and you could feel the flush creeping up your neck. The idea that you could be like the people in this place, slipping into a world of indulgence and desire... It sickened you. But there was no denying the way you felt slightly attracted to the dangerous allure of it all.

"I’m not like them" you whispered, your own voice betraying you.

"You are not like anyone and that is exactly why I brought you here" He told you and for the briefest second his expression shifted. Your head began to spin "My miss bodyguard is one of a kind"

"I-" 

Rafayel took a slow step toward you, his presence suddenly overwhelming. He tilted his head, studying you with those sharp eyes that seemed to see through everything, through you. His presence surrounded you, a warmth pressing into your skin without even touching you. 

"You're starting to feel it aren't you?" He questioned, his voice quiet. You looked down, eyes settling on the counter, the bottle, the blood.

Yes.

He was right. Whatever herbs were mixed in were beginning to affect you-he was winning. It was affecting you in ways you couldn’t control. Your breath felt heavier in your chest and you subtly gripped the counter again, fingers pressing into the wood as if grounding yourself. You wanted more. More of what, you weren’t sure. It was unlike anything you’d felt in centuries. Not hunger or thirst, it was almost worse. A yearning with no name.

Like you were floating almost and the feeling was exotic. Five centuries you had been nothing but a shell of a monster but now, you felt human. You felt alive, you felt like you could feel the blood that was once drained all those years ago flow into your empty veins.  You forced yourself to stand straighter, to regain some semblance of composure but the heat in your chest remained.

"We should.." Go. You should go. Back to the palace, back to being a monster that people feared. Back to doing your duty because any upstanding bodyguard and knight wouldn't be in a place like this possibly endangering the person they were supposed to protect.

Rafayel inhaled sharply, stumbling back a step, his fingers pressing briefly against his temple before dropping back to his side. He wasn’t entirely unaffected either. His breathing had deepened and his lips parted slightly. Then he tilted his head smirking again, eyes half lidded and unreadable. He beckoned you with just a look.

And you followed.

Further into the brothel, further into pleasure and forbidden whispers. The further you followed him the more you felt it and you wanted to smile. The feeling creeping into your body. The intoxication, the warmth, the dizziness-it was unlike anything you’d felt in centuries. It wasn’t hunger but it was almost worse. It was a kind of desire, a yearning but for what you couldn’t say. You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have followed him.

And yet, you did.

He led you to a cloak covered doorway and you followed him through it like he had you on a leash and was pulling you along. The air changed the moment you stepped through the veil of heavy fabric. The room was dimly lit and you had to really focus on the sight around you, your vision blurring slightly before you saw it.

Bodies moved in slow rhythms, tangled together in ways that left nothing to the imagination. The sounds.. soft gasps, breathless laughter, sinful moans and words whispered that you had never had whispered to you before. It all pressed in from every side, drowning out the world beyond these walls. There was no space untouched, no corner left unclaimed by the weight of indulgence. No one here was alone.

Except for you and him.

Rafayel stood just a step ahead, his cloak falling down his body and exposing bare back where his royal outfit lacked clothing for his top half. You were seeing him now, really seeing him. The details on his body, the faded scratch marks and the tattoos that made your fingers twitch slightly. He turned slightly, gaze flicking back to you. The chaos around him didn’t seem to touch him, like he was used to it.

You wanted to move. You needed to. The walls felt closer now, the press of bodies suffocating, the sheer intimacy of it all almost too much to bear. But your feet wouldn’t move.

You were rooted in place.

There were couples, there were beds filled with three people, there were men and women on their own bringing themselves to a climax... and you stood and watched. Lips parted, almost dried and screaming for something. The drink still burned in your throat, your skin hot, your thoughts slow and unfocused. It was intoxicating the way that the room felt alive, the way every breath you took carried the weight of something. 

Rafayel took a slow step toward you, his expression unreadable beneath the dim lantern light.

"Tell me" he murmured, voice low and teasing but edged with something more "Does it tempt you?"

You couldn’t answer immediately.  It was like the world had narrowed to just him and you.

He didn’t move any closer, he didn’t need to. His gaze held you in place, as if every moment you stood there was a game in itself. Your body felt like it belonged to someone else, your senses sharp and dulled at the same time and you couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was truly you. How much of it was the drink, the atmosphere or the quiet pull of his influence.

Rafayel’s eyes flickered down to your clenched hands then back up to your face. He saw it, the conflict in you.

"I..." The words faltered.

"You don’t have to stay" he said, his voice a low murmur, almost a promise as he reached out with his finger to gently tilt your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze "But do you really want to leave?"

You swallowed, trying to bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts. Your mind was a swirl of thoughts and confusion and though you knew you should distance yourself, you couldn’t seem to pull away from him.

"I should never have come" you murmured, almost to yourself but Rafayel heard. 

Rafayel watched you carefully and for once, the smirk didn’t return. His expression softened, just slightly and you saw it. He took another step toward you, closing the distance, his free hand resting lightly on your arm just enough to feel the weight of it.

"I know you feel it. You're not immune to this" He said it with quiet certainty like he already knew everything you were trying to deny. Your pulse quickened and the rest of the room seemed to blur.

The bodies around you didn’t matter. The sounds faded away and Rafayel was all you could see, all you could feel. Despite everything, despite the rules, despite the duty that tied you to him there was a part of you that didn’t want to leave. Not yet, not now.

"My prince..." The title in this scenario felt wrong, utterly and disgustingly wrong. So wrong it made your stomach twist in unease.

This wasn’t the palace. This wasn’t duty or responsibility. This wasn’t the prince who carried the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders. This wasn’t the future king poised to take his throne. Why were you here, in a brothel surrounded by pleasure with the prince... 

Your words seemed to have affected him slightly as a subtle shift passed through his face. His breath caught, a slight tremor running through him and you saw something deeper in his eyes that never left your own. His cheeks flushed, the red creeping up his neck and warming his skin in a way you hadn’t seen before. A stark contrast to the smooth controlled prince you were used to. The blush spread like fire, burning his skin red where it met the soft pink of his ears.

He was human after all. A man, with desires and fears and weaknesses, just like everyone else.

"I think you need to relax, just once" he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing "You’re wound too tight. It’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe... just let go. Let go for me, your prince, your king"

The way he said it so effortlessly made you want to listen, to surrender. And then, before you could think of a way to pull yourself together, he leaned in.

His lips brushed your temple, the gentleness sending a shiver down your spine. Then, they drifted to the edge of your cheek, soft and slow. The warmth of his touch lingered even as he moved, trailing over the curve of your jaw. Each kiss was light, teasing, as if he was savouring the sensation of your skin beneath his lips. He kissed you as though he had all the time in the world but you could feel the deliberate intensity in the way he moved, he was gentle yet demanding. You hadn’t realized how starved you were for touch until this moment.

Rafayel’s lips brushed the soft skin beneath your ear and the sensation sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. He paused there and for a moment you thought he might pull away but instead he pressed his lips ever so gently against the sensitive spot, just long enough to make your chest tighten. His lips moved down toward your throat and you couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder that coursed through you. You were half frozen, half on fire, the intensity of it leaving you breathless. His mouth was everywhere but where you wanted him most.

And then he hovered. His lips a centimetre away from yours, so close you could feel the heat of his breath against your mouth. You had wanted him to kiss you, so badly that the ache inside you had become unbearable. But when he moved closer, you felt a sense of unease you couldn’t explain, as if you were both too close and too far.

He pulled back at the last moment, just as you thought his lips were finally going to meet yours and there it was again... the smug, cocky smile that curled at the corners of his mouth. He looked at you with that knowing gaze, like he had seen right through you. His smile was infuriating but also undeniably captivating. There was something about the way he looked at you, that arrogant confident glint in his eyes as if he had won the battle before it even began. 

"You’re teasing me" you muttered, your voice strained. You hated how it sounded. How weak it made you feel.

Rafayel’s eyes darkened just a shade before his smirk widened. His hand around your arm tightened slightly and his thumb on your chin smoothed your skin. His gaze dropped to your lips for a moment before meeting your eyes again.

"Teasing?" His voice dropped to a low murmur "No, my dear bodyguard. I’m simply letting you see what it feels like to want... and I know you want this"

The air between you thickened, the tension nearly suffocating but still he didn’t touch you in the way you craved. He stood just at that edge, where you couldn’t quite reach him, couldn’t quite escape. Your body was alive, aching for him, but the rational part of you screamed for control, screamed for distance.

You swallowed thickly, fighting the rising panic in your chest. You wanted to push him away, to tell him to stop but the words died on your tongue. Instead you stood there frozen, caught between wanting to run and wanting to give in completely.

"You told me to let go" You found yourself unexpectedly saying, hoping and willing that he would pull you closer and give you what you wanted "How... how can I let go?"

He smiled, truly smiled, like you had said something he had always wanted to hear and he had. Three years you had been under his wing, in his palace and by his side but you were always so cold. So distant and blunt but now, for the first time since he claimed you, he was finally seeing what he needed to see from you.

"Let me show you"

He stepped away and you hadn't realised how his proximity drowned out everything around you. It felt like it was just you and him in this room but it wasn't. The air seemed heavier now, the room felt fuller, like everything around you rushed back into focus. The mass of bodies reminded you of where you were and what was happening around you, and the sensation of the noises that echoed around the room has your knees weak.

Or maybe it was just Rafayel.

You couldn’t tear your gaze away from him as he moved through the haze of bodies, stepping back toward the far corner of the room. You didn’t even know why you moved, but the pull of him was magnetic. Your feet carried you forward, each step slow and heavy as you approached the small and secluded bed in the corner, barely noticeable to the rest of the crowd.

What was he.. doing?

Rafayel sank onto the plush bedding, his form reclining with the ease of someone who had nothing to prove. He glanced over at you, his eyes dark. He leant back, propping himself up on his elbows as his eyes traced over you like he was memorizing every detail, every shiver that ran down your spine, every breath you took.

He moved like he was already in control, like everything was part of his plan.

You moved closer, your knees hitting the bedding. The soft fabric shifted beneath you as you hesitated for just a moment before lying down next to him. The proximity was almost too much to bear, your body feeling the warmth of his, the scent of his skin. He didn’t break his gaze. In fact, he watched you more closely now. He shifted his body as you rested your own on the bed and now you were both lay on your sides, gazing at each other.

His hand shifted just slightly, close enough to you that you could feel his warmth but he didn’t touch you. His fingers brushed the bedding, tracing the fabric lazily as if he had all the time in world. You watched his fingers carefully, the black ink that wrapped itself around his fingers put you in a trance and you watched and watched and watched...

Until his hand drifted lower down the bed and closer to his body, his thumb teasing the waistband of his royal trousers. Your breath hitched, the sight of his abs covered in goosebumps as he teased the skin on his waistband was enough to have your chest rising heavily, as if you still had a heart-as if there was blood pumping through your veins.

His hand slid further down and you met his eyes in a panic. He was watching you carefully, gauging your reaction. He watched you bite your lip, he watched your eyes flicker between his own iris' and his lips as if you didn't know where to look. He watched you shuffle forwards ever so slightly, a movement that he would have missed if he wasn't truly staring at you.

Then his hand disappeared into his trousers and he found himself gasping slightly as he gripped his cock in his hand. Your own hand twitched... were you supposed to touch him? Help him? Touch yourself? You didn't know... you didn't know anything right now, your mind was clouded with nothing but desire.

"I don’t... don't know what you want from me" you managed to say, the vulnerability creeping into your voice. Your voice was breathless and it made his cock twitch to see how affected you were.

"Just keep your eyes on me" He told you, his voice close to a moan as you watched him carefully "Just-fuck just don't stop watching"

And you listened.

You watched his trousers strain against his hand as he moved, his strokes going from fast to slow to fast to slow and you were hypnotised. You were enjoying it. Enjoying it to the point of your own thighs clenching together, a feeling you have ever felt before. You were warm, warm everywhere and your teeth refused to let go of your bottom lip.

His thumb rubbed against the head of his cock and he gave you a blissful smile as his eyes closed. He let out a moan and fuck it might have been the hottest thing you have ever heard. He couldn't control himself now, and he only stroked faster and faster until the front of his trousers lowered far enough for you to see what he was doing.

His stomach tightened as he lost himself in the pleasure and you could do nothing but watch. You might have asked him to try yourself, to use your own hand to bring him pleasure but you wouldn't know how. You had never been in a situation like this before... almost five centuries of living and you had never pleasured anyone or been pleasured before.

Rafayel could barely breathe and he found himself opening his eyes again to look at you. Truly look at you.

He moaned again when he saw the way you were staring at his hand, so tranced and fixed on the way he was stroking himself. Fuck should he ask you to touch him? Ask you... for something? He doesn't know, he didn't care, he was too overcome by pleasure and the way you were watching him with your bottom lip between your teeth and your legs shut tightly together.

"I-" You whispered, a single word but it put Rafayel on the edge as you moved closer. Any second now you'd be pressed up against him, body warm against his own and he swore if you touched him he might burst any second now.

"What is it pretty girl? Hm?" He whimpered. He actually whimpered, and you found yourself letting out a small sigh of your own.

"Don't stop"

Gods there was no way he'd ever deny you of that. He chuckled, low and deep and it faded into the room and blended with the moans from the others that surrounded you in the room. He did as you wished, gripping and tugging at his cock as you moved closer to him, or maybe he moved closer to you, neither of you could tell.

You were closer now to the point where his knuckles were brushing against your clothes. Your forehead touched his own and your fists clenched, twitching with the need to hold something, anything. So you gripped at your chest, palming your breast through your shirt and found yourself letting out a moan.

Rafayel lost it. The sound you made brushed his ruby coloured ears and he listened as you made another sound, a whine this time and he couldn't help but thrust his hips forward and further into his hand.

He watched you palm your chest through your clothes and in his mind he was begging you to rip every piece of fabric off your body so he could see, so he could touch. But the pleasure clouded his mind and he could only only let out his own moans as your eyes met his.

"Can you indulge in this with me, miss bodyguard?" He questioned, his voice breathless and your throat turned dry.

You opened your mouth to agree but the words didn’t come. Instead, you found yourself staring at him, at the way his lips parted slightly, at the soft curve of his jaw, the sweat that started to form on his forehead and the muscles on his bicep contracting as he moved his hand faster and faster...

The silence between you stretched, thick and heavy and for the first time, you realized that you were no longer thinking of the palace, of duty, of the cold distance that had always defined you. You were here. With him. And nothing had ever felt more real.

"Show me..." You whispered, your lips less than a few centimetres from his "Show me what pleasure is, my prince"

And with your words, Rafayel found himself finishing into his palm, a low desperate moan following shortly behind. His body twitched and bumped into your own, hips thrusting as if they were begging you to rub your stomach against his cock to milk him dry. The head of his cock slightly rubbed against the fabric that you were wearing and Rafayel groaned deeply.

Your eyes were glossy and there was a throbbing sensation between your legs but you felt nothing but satisfaction. There was no doubt that the remains of his pleasure covered your own clothes but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The sight of your very own prince whining in overstimulation as he continued to stroke his now softening cock was enough to make you forget about all your worries and about your duty.

Because now, more than ever, you felt human.

────────

It was as if nothing had happened.

No words had been exchanged on the way back to the palace. No stolen glances, no lingering touches. Just silence.

You had ensured Rafayel made it safely to his chamber before slipping away into the shadows, retreating to the quietness of your own space. You had washed the scent of the brothel from your skin, scrubbed away the lingering warmth of his touch and convinced yourself that you could forget. That it hadn’t mattered.

And now, you fell back into routine. You were his bodyguard. His soldier.

But Rafayel wasn’t blind.

You knew he had noticed the shift when you escorted him to breakfast that morning. You stood at attention, back straight and hands tight and still at your sides, eyes fixed ahead in unwavering focus. You didn’t acknowledge him unless necessary. You spoke only when spoken to. You were perfect again.

It was insulting how easily you fell into place.

And Rafayel, who had always been too observant for his own good, did not miss a thing. At first, he said nothing. His gaze was heavier than usual, lingering on you for moments longer than necessary, as if waiting for you to do or say something. He let the silence stretch, testing you, waiting to see if you would shift under his gaze. You didn’t. You remained standing at his side, as you always did. The same as before.

Almost.

His fingers drummed lazily against the wooden table, the rings on his hand catching the morning light. He leaned back in his chair, an elbow propped up as he studied you beneath heavy lashes. Still, you did not look at him and then, after what felt like an eternity, Rafayel spoke.

"You're quiet today" Weren't you always? It was a simple observation, nothing more. But the way he said it, the weight behind it, it was definitely not a compliment.

"My duty does not require me to make conversation, my prince" You replied, the way you addressed him held a heavy difference compared to last night.

"No, I suppose it doesn't" Rafayel let out a low hum, dragging the tip of his finger around the rim of his goblet.

There was something almost amused in his voice, but you didn’t bite. You kept your breathing steady, your face blank, refusing to let him drag you into whatever game he was playing. Because you knew him. You knew Rafayel. He wanted a reaction. He wanted to see if the woman from the night before was still inside you. But you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. Moments stretched between you and then, just as he lifted his goblet to his lips, he spoke again.

"Shame.." Your fingers twitched.

"Excuse me?"

Rafayel took a slow sip, swallowing the dark liquid before setting the goblet down with an infuriating amount of ease. He turned his head slightly, not quite looking at you but you could feel his gaze, burning at the edges of your composure.

"Nothing" he murmured, tilting his head back as if he had already grown bored of the exchange "Just thinking aloud"

Liar.

You inhaled slowly, silently steadying yourself. He was testing you... pushing, prodding, trying to make you slip. You forced yourself to remain still, to remain calm. Because if you let your mind wander, if you let yourself remember the way his lips had felt against your skin, the way his voice had sounded in the dark, the way his hand had gripped his cock in front of you, then you would lose. And you refused to lose, so you said nothing. 

You remained at his side, cold and unyielding, the way you had always been and the way he always knew you to be. And Rafayel? He only smiled to himself, as if he knew. As if he had already won.

Later that evening, as the sun disappeared below the horizon and bathed the palace in a golden hue, you found yourself trailing behind Rafayel through the winding halls. His council meeting was soon, but he insisted on taking a walk to clear his mind before he was bombarded with the worries and demands of his advisors and the nobles.

You had escorted him through the palace grounds, through the vast corridors lined with tapestries and torches, your footsteps always a steady rhythm behind him. But yet, despite the physical distance you kept, you felt suffocated because you knew Rafayel was enjoying this. Every time your gaze so much as flickered toward him, he was already watching you. Every time you turned away, you could feel the weight of his amusement pressing into your skin.

Finally, he came to a stop near one of the palace balconies, where the air was crisp and cool carrying the scent of the sea. The distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs filled the silence between you. Rafayel exhaled slowly, bracing his hands against the railing, his fingers curling around the edge. 

"Are you going to keep pretending forever?" he asked, his voice was quiet.

"I don't know what you mean, my prince" 

"You know exactly what I mean" he murmured, finally turning his head to look at you fully. The last streaks of sunlight painted his features, defining the sharp line of his jaw and the fullness of his lips.

The lips he denied you of kissing.

"Your safety is my only concern" He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

"And yet, last night safety was the last thing on your mind"

Your throat tightened but you didn’t react. Rafayel shifted, stepping closer.

"Tell me, soldier" he murmured, his voice almost teasing "How long do you think you can keep up this charade?"

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

"As long as I have to, my prince" Silence.

And then, he smiled. Did his perfect little bodyguard just... tease him?

And you did, because two could play that game. But Rafayel... Rafayel never played fair. He took a step forward, his sandals barely making a sound against the marble floor. 

"You must be exhausted" he mused "Keeping up the performance. Playing the role of my loyal bodyguard, my watchful shadow. Does it ever get tiring?"

You didn’t react, didn’t move but you knew he could feel it. The subtle shift in the air, the way your body tensed for just a fraction of a second too long.

"I wouldn’t know" you said flatly. He hummed, the sound low and amused.

"No, I suppose you wouldn’t" Another step closer. You could feel the warmth of him now "You don’t sleep, do you?"

A pause.

"You don’t eat"

Another step.

"And yet, you don’t wither. You don’t break. You don’t bleed the way you should"

His voice was velvet and steel, wrapping around you, tightening with every word. He was circling you now, slow and deliberate, like a predator toying with it's prey. The teasing tone in his voice had faded into something else. 

"You know that they call you a monster in the palace halls" he continued, his voice dipping lower "A ghost. Some say you're a failed experiment, a creature torn from a nightmare"

The words should have stung. They didn’t, yu had heard them all before. But then...

"But I" he exhaled a soft laugh "I think the truth is far simpler than that"

Your throat tightened. You willed yourself to stay still, to not let him see the way your shoulders locked, the way the cold settled deep into your stomach like a stone.

"And what truth is that?" you asked, your voice steady. Challenging. His smirk deepened. 

"I think you were about to ask, weren’t you?" he murmured, echoing your own words from that night at the brothel "If it was blood in the bottle?"

Your stomach twisted. The realization hit you all at once, but Rafayel was still watching, drinking in every flicker of emotion you failed to smother, the way your breathing had slowed.

"You already knew the answer before I said it" he continued, his voice deceptively soft. His gaze flickered down just briefly to your lips. Like he was remembering the way the bottle had lingered there, the way you had tasted before you knew "And that was all I needed"

"So say it..." You told him, your voice barely a whisper. Another smirk, the world seemed to still.

He knew.

"You're a vampire"

The words were simple, yet they hit you like a train, your breath catching in your throat.

You opened your mouth but no words came. Your thoughts scattered, trying to grasp at the edges of something you had always hidden so carefully. The cold dread in your chest made it hard to breathe but Rafayel didn’t move. He stood there, watching you with... curiosity? For a moment, you just stared at him, then instinct took over.

"Do you want me to be afraid?" you asked voice low, but somehow still steady.

Should you be afraid? Would he tell them, tell the Queen? That his bodyguard is a vampire, one of the last to ever exist, and she's here she is real, hiding in plain sight for three years.

"You don't deny it" he murmured, tilting his head. His hair, caught in the melting sunlight, making him look ethereal and yet here he was, staring at you like he had just unravelled a mystery that had haunted him for far too long.

"I don't owe you confirmation" you said voice almost fearful "It changes nothing"

He laughed. Soft, delighted.

"Oh, but I think it changes everything" Another step. You should have backed away again, should have put distance between you but you refused "You’re a creature of the night. Vampires, witches... They always intrigued me. The power, the mystery. Those monsters that existed centuries ago, and one of them is my very own bodyguard”

"How long have you known?"

"Too long" he admitted, his eyes darkening "But I wanted to be sure. You think I didn’t see it? The way you watched me, studied me the same way I studied you? You act like you don’t care but I know better"

"And yet you kept me by your side... why?"

"Because you intrigued me" he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours as he spoke. 

And then before you could react, he reached up. Swift and deliberate, and brushed his fingers against the side of your throat. Right over where a human pulse should have been. Nothing. Excluding last night this was the first time he was touching you since he claimed you three years ago. His eyes flickered, unreadable, unreadable, unreadable...

For a moment, you thought he might say something else. That he might press further, push you and push you. But he didn’t. He simply let his fingers rest there, against the hollow of your throat where there was no reassuring thump of life beneath his touch. His fingers didn’t tremble. There was no hesitation, no fear.

"How long have you been hungry?" his words settled between you and your breath faltered, caught between a scoff and panic.

"You think I’m starving?" you asked, forcing a sharpness into your voice "You think I’m going to sink my teeth into your throat?"

His smirk returned, slow and knowing.

"Would you? I imagine it would be intoxicating"

"You’re playing a dangerous game, my prince"

"You’d never hurt me" The certainty in his voice sent a jolt through your chest and you hated how easily he used it.

"And how are you so sure?" you whispered.

"Because if you wanted to" he murmured leaning in just slightly, the warmth of his breath brushing your jaw "you already would have"

Your stomach twisted. He was right. You had stood guard outside his chamber for three years, had been close enough to touch him, to kill him, to take from him every single day. You had never once indulged. And yet, his pulse was so close now, beneath golden skin steady and warm. His scent was clean, the heat of him was something you tried not to focus on.

"You’re not afraid of me.." you said, because you needed to hear it. His expression softened, just slightly.

"No" he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world "I never was"

The realization unsettled you more than it should have. You swallowed, shifting your weight ever so slightly but it didn’t help. His presence was everywhere. His scent, his warmth, the undeniable way he was looking at you. And then, before you could stop yourself, the words slipped past your lips, quieter than you intended.

"That makes one of us"

A breath of silence.

Rafayel didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. But his smirk faded, replaced by something softer and unreadable. His lashes lowered just slightly, his fingers on your throat twitching. You hated how exposed you felt. For three years you had perfected the art of silence. The art of indifference and yet here you stood, confessing more in five words than you had in centuries of your existence.

"I'm not going to tell anyone" His voice when it came was low and steady, before he shifted slightly "And in exchange, you can help me satisfy my curiosity"

"Curiosity?"

"I want to see them" was he asking what you think he was? "I'd be a fool not to take the opportunity would I not? Last of your kind and you're here in front of me. I've heard myths and legends about the sharpness but I can imagine it's different to see in person"

He wanted to see your fangs.

You wanted to push him away, to tell him to stop, to retreat into the silence you had so carefully constructed but something inside you trembled, something you hadn’t felt in years. Fear. You swallowed hard, your throat dry.

"It’s not a show, my prince" you said barely above a whisper, the words tasting foreign on your tongue "I don't... I don't trust you and I don’t know if I can trust you not to use it against me"

His lips twitched and for a moment there was something like sadness in his eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced once more by that steady gaze. For a while, there was silence. Every part of you screamed to keep the secret, to hide, to escape the moment. But the strange pull of him, of the trust you didn’t want to give was overwhelming.

You parted your lips, hesitating only for a heartbeat, before allowing him to see the fangs you’d hidden for so long. You could feel the sharpness of them as your canines lengthened. Dangerous, lethal, but in that moment they were exposed. There was no turning back.

Rafayel didn’t immediately speak. His gaze traced the sharp lines of your teeth, lingering as though admiring something rare, something exquisite. His eyes darkened and before you could even think to pull away, his fingers reached out, brushing against the sharp point of one of your fangs. 

His thumb then trailed lower, brushing across your lips with a teasing, deliberate motion. The sensation was too intimate, too personal and yet you found yourself frozen and unable to move. You stiffened, but his touch didn’t waver. It was soft yet it carried an intensity, a command that made your pulse quicken. The faintest flicker of heat spread through you but you couldn’t let him see it.

"You're beautiful" he murmured, his voice like a soft siren song, as if he were in awe of what he saw. His finger traced the sharpness of your fang "So much more than I imagined"

His gaze locked with yours and in that moment, everything seemed to slow. His presence was suffocating, consuming. His fingers didn’t pull away. They remained, pressing just a little harder against your fang... a possessive teasing pressure. You flinched at the added pressure, a shiver running down your spine. The touch was sharp now intentional. You didn’t know whether to step back or lean closer, your body betraying you in the face of such intimacy.

And then a sharp sting. 

His thumb pressed into your fang with just enough force to break the delicate skin at the tip. You didn’t have to look to know what had happened. The copper scent filled the air before you could fully process it, the bead of blood forming slowly on his skin.

The temptation was overwhelming. You felt it... a primal hunger rising in your chest, the need to sink your teeth into his flesh, to taste him, to take. Your eyes flickered downward to the drop of blood and the crimson bead that now stained his skin. The hunger surged. His voice, now soft and almost hypnotic broke through your haze.

"Open your mouth" he commanded, the order simple.

Your body obeyed before your mind could process it and without thought, your lips parted further. His thumb dipped lower, pressing against your bottom lip. A drop of his blood fell, warm and rich, onto your tongue. You tasted it before you could stop yourself. Just a brush of it and your senses exploded.

His blood was intoxicating. It slid down your throat like liquid fire, lighting every nerve in your body. It was like nothing you had ever tasted before, sweet and powerful and yet... you wanted more. Much more.

And he gave you exactly that. Before you knew it, he was placing his thumb in your mouth and on top of your tongue before pressing down, holding you there. His breath was on your face, uneven and heavy.

Without thinking, you sucked on his thumb, closing your mouth around it and pulling him closer, your body responding to the need gnawing at your insides. His blood was all you could focus on, it's heat mingling with the hunger that surged through your veins. You pulled him in, your hands gripping his wrist with a desperation you didn’t even recognize.

Rafayel didn’t pull away. Instead, his free hand cupped your cheek with a possessiveness you didn’t expect. His thumb remained in your mouth, guiding you, pulling you closer as the sensation of him, of his touch spiralled through you.

"Fuck.." he mumbled to himself.

His eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place, watching you with an intensity that set your skin on fire. You didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop. Every fibre of your being screamed for more as your lips bobbed around his thumb.

A singular moan, whether it was from him or you, you didn't know.

But it was enough to make you realise what was happening. 

You jerked back, panic flooding your senses. You hadn’t meant to go this far. You let go of his wrist and his thumb slipped from your mouth with a soft, almost regretful sound. You gasped for air, your lips still tingling with the taste of him, your body aching with something you couldn't quite name. Rafayel didn’t retreat though. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you back toward him with a steady, unyielding grip. His touch was firm, possessive but gentle as if he were holding you together when you were falling apart. His eyes didn’t leave yours and in them, you saw something darker now.

"That..." Rafayel said softly, his voice almost too casual "is why I can never have a wife... that alone brought me more pleasure than any other woman could" 

His words hit you harder than you expected. You stiffened, shocked by the bluntness, by the rawness of what he’d just said. The casualness with which he spoke of such an intimate moment made you flustered, your cheeks warming. How could he say something like that so easily, so carelessly?

His hand tightened at your waist, fingers curling against the fabric of your clothes. A silent stay. His body loomed over yours, close enough that you could feel the rise and fall of his breath, the steady thrum of his heart. So human. You wanted to pull away, to regain control but your own body was betraying you, pulling you into the moment instead. His proximity felt suffocating. You should have pushed him away, you should have said something.

Instead, your silence gave him permission. His fingers slid up, tracing the line of your jaw before threading into your hair, pulling.

You gasped, the sharp tug sending a thrill down your spine and just like that, your neck was bared to him, your throat exposed in a way that made your instincts scream danger.. and yet, your body refused to move. His lips ghosted over your skin, a slow, deliberate tease. Not a kiss not yet, just a whisper of warmth.

Then, pressure.

His mouth brushed against your pulse point, lips parting just slightly. The warmth of his breath sent a shudder through you. Then, a graze of teeth. Blunt. Human. 

He was toying with you.

His mouth pressed deeper, lingering in a way that would have made your heart quicken. Then a bite. Not enough to break skin, not enough to hurt or leave a mark but enough. Enough to make your breath stutter. There was a dangerous draw to him, a magnetic pull that threatened to drown you in it. His lips moved against your skin again slower this time, deliberate and hungry. Not just kissing but nibbling. Small sharp bites, the kind only a vampire would know how to deliver. The kind meant to unravel, to seduce. His breathing was heavier now, his restraint slipping, his hunger mingling with yours in a way that made your stomach twist.

The second time he deprived you.

The first being in the brothel just 24 hours ago. He had kissed every inch of your face and jaw but avoided your lips at all cost and you wondered why, why? Was that too intimate for him? Did he consider that too vulnerable?

But you.. you had shown him your fangs. The way you kill. That was vulnerability for you but he couldn't share his own? Selfish. Too selfish, depriving you of what you wanted and needed. You shuddered as his eyes lifted to meet yours, dark and intense. The air between you was thick with tension, with need and then, as if some invisible line had been crossed, Rafayel's lips parted just enough to whisper.

"Show me more"

You found yourself leaning in. Unconsciously, desperately, your body reacting to the rush of emotions coursing through you, your mind clouded with desire and the taste of his blood. You were intoxicated by him, by what had just happened between you two. You moved closer hesitantly but you didn’t stop. You wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him. Your lips hovered near his, breath mingling between you and for the first time, you were the one making the move.

But before you could close the gap, Rafayel pulled back slightly, just enough to deny you, just enough to taunt. His regular smirk curling at the corners of his mouth and his eyes gleamed with amusement. You studied him for a moment before you reached for him again, this time with more urgency. But once again, Rafayel evaded you. What the fuck.

He was enjoying this. You wanted to slap him, you wanted to ruin him... you wanted to taste him. You held his wrist again, your nails pressed into his skin but just as quickly as the moment had escalated, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The rhythm of boots against marble echoed through the hallway.

You jerked back, the speed with which you moved nothing short of lightning. The blur of motion left Rafayel blinking, slightly stunned before his gaze followed you, taking in the unnatural speed at which you’d retreated

Before he could speak, a palace guard rounded the corner and his gaze shifted between you both before focusing on Rafayel, eyes respectful but sharp.

"My prince" the guard said with a slight bow "The Queen sent me to find you. You’re late for the council meeting"

Rafayel, still too composed, didn’t spare a glance at you. Instead he straightened, regaining his regal posture in an instant.

"Thank you" he said, his voice calm and composed, betraying none of the intensity from just moments ago "I’ll be there shortly"

The guard nodded and quickly retreated, disappearing down the hallway. You stood still for a moment, the heat of the moment hadn’t disappeared and you could still feel the lingering burn of Rafayel’s touch on your skin. Rafayel however didn’t turn back to look at you as he began walking toward the council chamber. His back was to you now but you could feel the weight of his presence in the air.

The council chamber was far too cold for your liking, the air thick with formality and politics. The long table gleamed under the flickering torchlight, the creak of chairs and the soft rustle of papers filling the room as the advisors spoke in low, business like tones. Rafayel sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed, almost as if he had not a care in the world. His voice cut through the air, smooth and confident, effortlessly commanding the attention of every person in the room.

But it wasn’t his words that held your focus. It was the memory of his touch, his blood still fresh on your tongue, the heat of the moment still searing beneath your skin. You could feel his presence, even though he was across the room. The way he moved, the subtle glint of amusement in his eyes whenever they flicked toward you, it was all too much.

Your mind kept replaying the way he’d smiled at you, the way his thumb had pressed against your lips, his breath just inches from yours. And now here he was, speaking with his advisors as though nothing had happened between you two. He was calm collected and in control. He looked every bit the prince, the future king and yet somehow the casual way he dismissed their concerns made your stomach twist. He had walked away from you without a second thought, without acknowledging the charge between you two.

But you couldn’t forget it. You couldn’t shake it.

"Rafayel" the Queen’s voice sliced through the silence, drawing your attention back to the matter at hand "Have you given any thought to finding a suitable wife? The kingdom will need a queen soon, especially with all that’s going on"

At the mention of a wife, something inside you clenched. A primal, unexpected feeling burned deep in your chest. Anger, frustration, possessiveness? something you had no name for but it was there, an edge twisting in your gut. The thought of another woman standing at his side, of him having someone else... it made your blood run cold. You didn’t want to think about it. 

But the thought of him with someone else stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated and you didn’t know how to deal with it. Why did it matter? Why did his future wife matter to you?

Rafayel didn’t seem to notice your internal struggle, his gaze never shifted toward you. He kept his eyes trained on the documents in front of him, his hand lazily drawing patterns on the edge of the table as he listened to his advisors. When he finally spoke, it was with the same casual ease as before as though he had no care in the world.

"I’ve thought about it, Mother" he replied smoothly "But a wife is the least of my concerns at the moment"

"Rafayel" the Queen warned, her voice rising just enough to command his full attention "You’re not a child anymore. The people need stability and you’ll need a queen to secure that. You cannot keep putting this off"

Rafayel didn’t flinch. His gaze flicked toward his advisors, then lazily scanned the room. As his voice rang out again, there was the famous subtle smirk on his lips that never quite reached his eyes.

"Perhaps Princess Tara of Linkon might be a good match" he said casually, mentioning the name of a royal from a neighbouring kingdom "But I’m not sure yet. It’s too soon to decide"

The moment he said her name, a violent knot of possessiveness twisted in your stomach, tightening with each word. Princess Tara. Her name alone made something claw at your chest and the rage you didn’t know you had bubbled up, raw and uncontrollable. She was everything you were not, everything you could never be and the idea of her by his side, holding his hand, being crowned as his queen... it shattered something inside you.

You tried to stay calm, tried to steady your breathing but the anger was there, simmering just beneath the surface and it was only getting harder to contain.

"You must take this seriously, son. The kingdom needs a queen and you need a wife" the Queen pressed, her voice cutting through the tension.

He merely nodded, his posture still relaxed, unaffected by his mother’s words. His gaze flicked briefly to you but it was fleeting, just a casual glance before he returned his attention to the documents before him, unaware of the turmoil churning inside you.

"I’ll make my decision when the time comes"

And with that, the conversation moved on, the Queen’s inquiries dismissed with a flick of his hand.

But as the meeting continued, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being consumed by the anger that was burning inside of you. 

You thought of the Silk Street. The brothels. Rafayel had moved through the alleyways with ease, as though he belonged there... because of course, he did. You had come to realise that he loved the danger, the chase. It's why he was there so often, it's why he pleaded to see your fangs and why he had not told everyone of your true nature. Why he had fed you his blood not knowing if you would stop or not. Why he toyed with you.

He liked the thrill of it all.

You couldn't deny that he was a regular in the brothels, that he had spent time in those places more than once. The women there, their laughter, their soft touches, their body language so familiar with him. He had kissed them, touched them, shared intimate moments with them, moments that he hadn't shared with you apart from the one time where he brought himself pleasure right in front of your very own eyes.

You couldn’t escape the image of him in their arms, their voices calling his name, claiming him in ways you hadn’t been able to and somewhere deep within, a dangerous, forbidden thought flickered to life. The sharp instinct of a predator.

What if I could kill them all?

The thought was foreign, unsettling. You immediately tried to push it down but it lingered. What if you wiped away every woman who had ever touched him?

It was an irrational thought, an outburst of jealousy you couldn’t control. But it was there and it burned through you with a fierce intensity. The jealousy clawed at your insides, wrapped around your non-existent heart and it tightened in a way that felt too consuming. 

A sickening knot twisted in your stomach. Those women. They had had him. He had kissed them, touched them, taken them in ways you hadn’t been. You could still hear the sounds of the brothels, the murmurs of voices calling his name. You hated them. You hated the way they had claimed him. You hadn’t even realized how far your thoughts had taken you until your fingers curled into fists by your side. Why did it matter so much?

Rafayel's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, but his words were like a needle to your wound. He was speaking again, just as casually as before mentioning Princess Tara. The jealousy returned and you clenched your jaw so tightly it almost hurt. Another woman. Another fucking woman.

He was due to be king, a man of power and it only made sense that he would have his share of women. But somehow, you couldn’t bear the thought of him with anyone else. 

You tried to focus on the Queen’s words, on the conversation, but it was impossible to ignore the storm building inside of you. You were angry. Angry at Rafayel for being so casual about something that meant so much to you, angry at the world for making him someone who belonged to others. But most of all, you were angry at yourself for caring so much.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You did care. You didn’t know when it had happened, when the wall you had built had started to crack, but now there was no turning back. The more you thought about it the more you realised you didn't want to share him. You didn't want him to belong to anyone but you.

As the meeting dragged on so did your thoughts. You tried to convince yourself that it was because you had tasted his blood before the meeting, the heat still lingered in your mouth and the taste of him on your tongue. It was too much. Now you knew, you wanted him. Not just for fleeting moments, you wanted him for yourself. Every piece of him, every inch of his attention you wanted to be the one to stand by his side, to be the one who he chose, the one who could claim him.

You would never be the one he chose. You weren’t fit for that not in his eyes, you had always known that. You had been with him in his life but you were never his and now you were mad with it. Mad with wanting him, mad with the knowledge that no matter how much you longed for him, no matter how deeply you desired him to be yours, it would never happen.

────────

After the council meeting, the air between you and Rafayel had changed, at least from your side.

You tried to convince yourself that it was nothing. Just the aftereffects of tasting his blood, of feeling the heat of the moment lingering but no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, the pull between you and him had shifted. The possessiveness had taken root and with it, something you couldn’t control.

You became distant and cold. The walls you had built once again crept back into place just like they did after the night you shared in the brothel. You stopped seeking him out. You no longer waited for him in the hallways after meetings or followed him when he sneaked out at night. Your eyes barely met his anymore.

You convinced yourself it was for the best. This was how it should be. After all, he would never see you the way you wanted him to. Plus, he would soon be king and with it he would need a wife. 

He could never be yours. 

Not when his future was filled with other women, with the politics of the kingdom. You would always be nothing more than his bodyguard, a shadow in the background and that was fine you could live with that. But it was getting harder. Every day the ache grew and Rafayel, perceptive as always began to notice.

It was a slight thing at first, his gaze lingering just a fraction longer than usual whenever your eyes met, his voice just a little softer but he said nothing. He just watched and waited but as the days passed, it became too much. It built up like a storm, the tension between you two thick and suffocating and then it exploded. The silence in the chambers was suffocating, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as you moved. You checked every corner, every shadow, your senses heightened. Alert and vigilant as you always were. It was your duty to protect him after all and yet tonight, your mind refused to focus.

His coronation was tomorrow so his safety was at higher risk now more than ever.

As you moved across the room, you could feel his presence like a shadow, the weight of his gaze on you even though you refused to meet it. He was sitting on his bed, his posture relaxed but his expression unreadable. You had barely spoken to him since that night.

You tried to ignore him. You had to focus. He was a prince and you were his bodyguard, nothing more. But even the thought of it, nothing more, sickened you.

You had no right to feel this way. He had no reason to notice you. The other women, the brothels they were his to claim not you. You were just a monster, just a tool for his protection. You couldn't give him what those other women could, you couldn't give him what any other woman could. You hated yourself for feeling this way.

Your thoughts were impossible  to ignore.

But when Rafayel’s voice cut through the room, pulling you from your thoughts, you nearly jumped. His tone was sharp, frustrated. 

"You’re not saying anything" he said, his voice laced with irritation "You’re too quiet. Why are you so... distant? You've been acting like this for days now what is it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure. You couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see the questioning look in his eyes. Your pulse quickened with each step he took toward you. He was just a few feet away now. 

"I’m doing my job" you said curtly, your voice cold. Perhaps colder than you intended.

"Your job?" He scoffed, clearly not buying it "You’ve been avoiding me. Avoiding me like I'm some stranger and not your prince. Not your fucking king"

You could hear the hunger in his voice now, the desperation. He was starving for something... answers, maybe? Or just you.

But you couldn't give him the answer he was looking for. You didn’t even know what it was, the words caught in your throat as you turned around to face him.

"I don’t know what you want from me" you whispered, your voice trembling "I’m just your bodyguard. I’m just here to protect you" 

At those words, Rafayel’s expression shifted, his face hardening with a mix of anger and disbelief. He took a step forward, his movements slow. His hand shot out, grabbing your waist in a grip that was almost painfully tight, pulling you flush against him. You gasped, your breath caught in your throat as his presence overwhelmed you.

"This act is pathetic" he told you, gripping you just a little tighter.

"You don’t get to act like this, my prince" you whispered, though your voice quivered under the weight of the emotion you were trying to hide "You don’t get to expect this from me. I’m not some... I’m not your lover. I’m just a tool. A thing. You don’t need to care about how I feel, how I-"

"Stop" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His free hand gripped your cheeks, squishing your flesh and making your lips pucker "Stop pretending you don’t feel this. Stop pretending you don’t want me, you’ve been lying to yourself for far too long"

You shivered, trembling beneath the weight of his words. Your chest tightened with the realization that you couldn’t keep lying to yourself anymore. You did want him.

"I told you" you said weakly, but even to your own ears, it didn’t sound convincing "I’m just your bodyguard"

"You think I haven’t been thinking about it?"  he asked, his voice dripping with cocky amusement now "That night. You think I haven’t been thinking about the way you tried to kiss me? Twice? You think I didn’t notice? now you act like you’ve never thought about it, like it was nothing"

The words hit you like a physical blow. 

"Because it is nothing" you whispered, but the words felt empty.

"Stop lying to me" he snapped, his voice now filled with authority. The voice of a prince, of a king "It meant something to you. I can see it in your eyes"

"My prince-"

"I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about it. And now, you’re acting like it never happened" He leaned in closer, his fingers unclenching slightly but still holding you close "It matters to me. And it matters to you... I can feel it. I can feel the way you want me. I can feel the way you’ve been pulling away, terrified of what you really feel"

"I... I can’t..." You trembled under his touch, but you still tried to pull away.

"You don’t get to walk away from this, from me" His voice was ragged now, thick with need. He was almost pleading, and it broke something inside you "Say it"

His words were a command and you hated how you felt it in your body, your core. You were hot with need, with desire and you wanted nothing else but the man in front of you. You needed him more than you needed blood to survive.  Your could feel the words stuck in your throat, the truth you were too scared to admit, to confront but he wasn’t letting you hide anymore.

"Say it, tell me" Rafayel commanded once again and you swear your knees buckled slightly under his gaze, his words, his touch "Tell your king how much you need him, how much you desire him..."

You froze, your breath hitching in your throat as a mixture of fear, desire and guilt churned inside you. Fuck you were so turned on you could barely function a thought never mind a sentence.

A man should never have this much power over you.

You could feel it now, the deep, uncontrollable need burning inside of you. You did want him, you had wanted him for so long, but you couldn’t admit it. Not like this.

He pulled you closer, his lips grazing against your ear.

"Say it, and I will make you forget every damn thought you ever had about being nothing but mine"

It broke. It broke inside you like a balloon being popped or a fire being ignited. Everything you denied yourself of melted away and all that mattered was the way he held you, body against his own, arm around your waist keeping you in place while his other hand held your face a centimetre away from his.

"I... I hate it" you whispered, barely audible "I hate it. I hate the thought of any other woman touching you. I hate it. I can’t... I can’t stand it. I want it to be me, it should be me. But I... I'm a monster not a lover. You deserve a heart, you deserve love, you deserve better than this"

He cupped your face in both hands then, gentle and his gaze was nothing you've ever seen before. It was genuine, it was hopeful and it was something you needed to see in this moment. It made you yearn for him more.

No one, in five centuries, had been gentle with you the way Rafayel was.

He had never cuffed you. Never mistreated you or struck you. Never spoke ill about you or laughed at you like the others. Never feared you and never doubted you. He had held you like you were piece of glass, gentle and kind, like you mattered. Like you weren't some blood sucking demon who would rip him apart the second she was given a chance.

He made you human. 

You didn't deserve him.

"Say it" He pleaded, and your lips quivered slightly "Give me permission. I need your permission to act. I need your permission to show you how good I want and can make you feel"

"I... I shouldn’t" The words were weak, empty. You knew it, so did he.

His hands slid lower, trailing down the column of your throat, over your shoulders, down your arms until his fingers ghosted over your waist once more.

"Then tell me to stop" His voice was barely above a whisper, his lips so close, they almost brushed against yours "Tell me to stop and I swear, I will never touch you again"

You squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body trembling beneath his touch. But you didn't tell him to stop, because you didn't want him to.

"Rafayel" you breathed, barely a whisper.

You had never whispered his name before. Never spoke it out loud, always referring to him as my prince. But in this moment, it felt right. It felt like he was just Rafayel, and you weren't a bodyguard nor a vampire, but you.

No rules, no titles. Just two lovers.

"That’s not what I asked for" his lips moving to your jaw, kissing a path down to your neck. His teeth scraped against your skin with pressure, not enough to hurt but enough to ache. 

Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping desperately, trying to ground yourself.

"I need you" you finally whispered, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them "I need you, I hate how much I fucking need you"

He lifted his head up, exhaling softly, his breath warm against your lips and it was maddening. But then his lips brushed yours, just the faintest touch, light as air and testing the waters. Your breath hitched, your hands fisting tighter into his hair.

And that was all it took.

Everything around you seemed to vanish. The room, the distant sound of the night outside, even the air itself  it all ceased to exist and there was only him.

His lips slammed into yours before you could even process the shift, the urgency in his kiss pulling you closer as though he wanted to drown in you. It was nothing like the soft, hesitant touches from before. No, this was desperate and hungry, as if he couldn’t wait any longer couldn’t hold back another second.

You gasped into the kiss but it only fuelled him more. His demanding tongue slipped past your lips forcing its way deeper into your mouth with an animalistic rhythm. His hands were everywhere gripping your waist so tightly it was almost painful, pulling you against him until there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you.

Your fingers clawed at his bare chest struggling to find something to hold onto as your world spun out of control. His kiss was messy as if he was trying to consume you, take you in all at once. His lips were bruising, hot and demanding against yours and the way his teeth grazed your lower lip made your heart race faster.

He growled, the sound vibrating through your body. His hands slid up to your neck, his fingers tightening around the delicate skin there as he tilted your head back, forcing your mouth open wider for him. There was no gentleness now. Only a raw and desperate need, hunger that clawed at both of you.

"You’re mine" he muttered between kisses, his voice thick with desire "Say it again. Say you want me"

You couldn’t think, couldn’t process his words through the haze of pleasure and frustration swirling in your mind. You could only feel. Feel the hot press of his chest against yours, feel the way his body moulded against yours, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. It felt like the human part of you had been awakened.

His hand slid down to your hips, gripping the curve of your waist as he pulled you even closer, if that was even possible. His erection pressed against your stomach, hot and demanding, and the sensation sent a bolt of heat straight to your core. You moaned against his mouth, a sound of frustration and want that you couldn’t stop.

He pulled away again, just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged and uneven.

His lips were swollen, slick with your kiss and the last thing that held you together in that moment was the string of saliva that was evidence of your greed.

You felt dizzy, drunk on the sensation of him, but the more he kissed you, the more you wanted it. Wanted him.

"You feel that?" His voice was a low rasp, a whispered command "That’s me, doing this to you. You feel your pulse, don’t you? That thumping in your chest. You feel it in your veins... your blood rushing, just like you’re human again"

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel any of it, that you were a vampire, untouchable, above all these emotions. But the truth was, you couldn’t. You were trembling in his arms, your body betraying you with every second he touched you. You could feel your heart beating hard in your chest, could feel the heat surging through you like it was alive and yet, you were the monster, weren’t you?

"I'm-" You tried to pull back, to speak, but your words were swallowed by his lips. His kiss deepened once more, almost like he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t satisfy this hunger inside him that seemed to grow with every second.

The force of it made you stumble back, hitting the wall of his chambers but Rafayel didn't stop. No, he took it as a sign to push further, his hands grabbing you tighter, holding you so you were pressed against him fully.

"You’re mine" he repeated, voice thick with possession, as if this kiss, this moment, was the only thing that mattered in the world. His hands roamed again, sliding beneath your clothes, the roughness of his touch touching the bare skin of your back, your sides, as if he needed to feel every inch of you "You’ve been mine from the moment I laid eyes on you you just didn’t realize it"

"I want you" you managed to get out, your voice breaking with raw emotion, with a desperation you couldn’t hide anymore "I want you, my prince"

A low growl rumbled from deep in his chest and before you could even brace yourself his lips were back on yours for a fleeting moment, more desperate than ever.

His hands gripped your own hair, tugging your head back as his mouth trailed down the column of your neck, leaving bruises in it's wake. His teeth scraped over your skin, marking you, claiming you and you couldn’t stop the gasps that left your mouth, couldn’t stop the way your body arched into his touch, begging for more.

Your gasp filled the room as Rafayel’s lips trailed lower, leaving a burning path of possession in their wake. His mouth was hot against your skin, the scrape of his teeth against your throat sending another violent tremor down your spine. The wall was cold against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed against yours.

Your hands were desperate. Clawing at his back, his shoulders and gripping the fabric that rested on his waist, you thanked the gods for his regal robes only covering half of his body. You wanted it gone, you wanted nothing between you but before you could move, his hands were already on you, yanking at your clothes with a ferocity that sent heat flooding through your veins.

His fingers trailed down your spine slow and deliberate, igniting every nerve in your body. His touch was fire, and he cursed under his breath as he uncovered more and more of your flesh, the clothes you were once wearing finding themselves on the floor of his chambers. Your top half matched his own, bare and exposed for his eyes to see while your bottom half, the part of you that demanded more attention remained covered.

You shuddered beneath his touch, your hands tangled in his hair and your lips aching from his kisses.

"You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about this" Rafayel whispered "How many nights I’ve dreamed about you, how many times I’ve woken up cursing myself for wanting something I shouldn’t have"

"You shouldn’t want me" you breathed, but the words were a lie even as they left your lips. You knew it, he knew it and yet the way his hands slid down your sides, the way he pressed his body flush against yours, made it clear that he didn’t care.

"But I do" he growled, his lips were continuous on your neck and you gasped at the sensation, at the way your body betrayed every ounce of logic you had left "And I’m done pretending otherwise"

He kissed you again, slow this time and more deliberate. He wanted you to feel him, to understand just how deep this went. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing them open and you let him in without hesitation. The taste of him was intoxicating. 

He made a low sound in the back of his throat before his hands slid lower, gripping the back of your thighs. In one swift movement he lifted you, pressing you harder against the wall, caging you in completely.

You gasped, your arms wrapping around his neck as your legs instinctively locked around his waist. You could feel everything now, every inch of him pressed against you, every sharp inhale, every tremor that ran through his muscles as he held you like you weighed nothing at all.

His breath was still ragged, his forehead resting against yours as he held you there.

"I want..." he began, and you watched him carefully "Drink from me"

Your fingers twitched, grip tightening around him as a wave of hunger clawed at your insides and the taste of him lingered in your memory. You had tasted him once before, just a drop, just enough to know that nothing compared to him and gods, you wanted it again.

But you shook your head, unwrapping your arms and pressing your hands flat against his chest.

"No" you said, even though your body screamed at you to say something else entirely "I don't want to"

His hands slid to your waist once again, fingers pressing into your skin, firm but not demanding. He could feel your hesitation, could see it in the way your lips parted slightly and in the way your breath came faster, in the way your pupils dilated as your instincts fought against your will.

"Liar..." he murmured. A small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You clenched your jaw as he pecked your lips with his own, the smirk not leaving his face. Your nipples grew hard from the cold air and he could feel it against his chest as he held you tighter. You needed to get out of this room, away from the scent of him and away from the temptation burning it's way through your veins.

But then he tilted his head, exposing the side of his throat to you. Inviting you.

Your fangs ached.

"My prince..."

"I remember" Rafayel interrupted, his voice low and teasing "I remember how you looked when you tasted me"

Your breath caught in your throat.

"You looked drunk on it" His hands slid up your arms "Like it was the best thing you’d ever had. Like you wanted more"

You did. You did want more. But you couldn’t.

"You don’t understand" you whispered trying to ignore how close he was, how warm his skin felt beneath your touch "It’s not just... it’s not just feeding, Rafayel. It’s—"

"I do understand" he cut you off, his voice dark and hypnotic "And I don’t care"

Before you could even catch your breath he was walking, his body pressing you tight against his chest, each step slow and purposeful. You knew where he was taking you and you didn’t stop him. Your arms wrapped around his neck when he moved you from the wall, fingers curling into his hair your lips so close to his, his breath hot against your mouth.

"Stop..." you whispered, but it sounded weak even to your own ears.

"You need me" he whispered in return, voice like velvet as he lowered you onto the bed, your back sinking into the softness beneath you. Your breath shuddered out of you as his fingers tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze "Are you afraid?"

"I’m afraid of hurting you" you admitted. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat, his breath warm against your skin.

"But you still want it, don’t you?" His scent wrapped around you and you were now hyperaware of everything. How you could practically hear the way his blood was pumping through his veins.

You shouldn't.

You shouldn’t.

Your fingers curled against his shoulders, your breath shaking as you hovered over his throat, every inch of your body pulled taut with the ache of resisting him. Your fangs throbbed with need, your mouth parted, hovering just close enough for him to feel it.

And still, Rafayel didn’t move away.

You swallowed hard, your lips brushing the column of his throat as you forced yourself to stay still.

"I…"

"I remember how you looked that night" he whispered, kissing you gently on your neck while he bared his for you "You were starving for it..."

"Rafayel-"

"You moaned for me" He interrupted, his voice was seduction and you couldn't help but pull him further down with your legs "If only you knew how good it felt, to watch you take from me..."

You trembled and his grip tightened.

"You don’t understand" you rasped, your voice trembling "If I do this, I might not be able to stop"

You were surprised to feel the way he shuddered against you from your words. 

"Then don’t" he told you, chuckling against your neck before giving a small bite of his own "I want this, and I want you. All of you. Every dark and twisted monstrous part of you I want to feel what it’s like when you stop holding back"

No one had ever spoken those words to you before and for the first time in your whole monstrous life you felt seen. You felt like you mattered, like you being a vampire, a monster didn't matter at all and that this was the only place where you wouldn't be judged or feared.

Before you could deny him again he lifted his head up, staring into your eyes before giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose. Too endearing, too intimate..

Somehow the soft way that he was looking at you felt more intimate than the way your top half was completely bare underneath him.

"I meant it when I said I hadn't stopped thinking about it.. about you" he told you, eyes not leaving yours and deep down you so desperately wanted him to just shut up and kiss you until the night ended "You think I wasn’t dying to feel it again? That I haven’t imagined what you’d look like on top of me, taking what you need—"

His sentence trailed off as you flipped your body around, causing his back to hit the bed where you once lay. You were growing frustrated now, you needed him everywhere and he wasn't giving it to you. His words were affecting you too much and all this talk about feeding from him made your fangs ache.

He was beneath you now and he could see the way you hid the sharp canines away from him, desperate to hide your need so he wouldn't continue to offer himself to you this way. It's not that you didn't want it, because gods you most definitely did, but from the small taste of him you remember having he was exquisite... you've never tasted anything so rich before.

Your thighs clenched around him involuntarily, your hands pressing against his chest as you hovered over him. His heart was pounding in his chest for you. There wasn't any fear, it was just want and devotion.

He tilted his head just enough to bare his throat to you once more and his pulse jumped, you grew more tempted as the seconds flew past... his skin looked so inviting.

"You should be afraid" you whispered, almost desperate to hear the tremor of fear in his voice and to find a reason to stop.

But he just smiled.

"Afraid?" His voice was teasing as he traced his hands up your sides in a slow and worshipful pace "Of you?"

He shifted just right beneath you, pressing himself against your core which was enough to pull a strangled moan from your lips. You could feel him, he was rock hard against you but he wasn’t demanding. Instead he was giving, practically offering himself up like he was made for you to take.

Your breath hitched.

"If I’m afraid of anything…" he continued, his fingers trailing up your spine "It’s that you’ll deny me"

A growl ripped from your throat that was low and dangerous and Rafayel actually moaned... like he had been waiting for that exact sound. You grabbed his hands from your body before pinning them above his head, denying him of touching your bare skin. Your breasts grazed his chest and he bit his lip at the feeling, enjoying the way he was slowly pushing your limits. His fingers flexed in your hold, testing you almost but he thankfully wasn't fighting you.

"Stop talking" you warned, because if he kept speaking like that you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

But Rafayel only exhaled a breathy, shuddering laugh.

"Then give me what I want" he replied, eyes glancing from yours to your lips, your fangs now fully on display the more frustrated you got. Gods you were beautiful.

He shifted beneath you again, grinding his hips up into yours and your eyes closed for a moment as he rubbed you in the right place. Your grip had loosened thanks to his movements and he made the most of it, trailing his fingers softly up your arm before reaching your jaw and grazing his thumb against your bottom lip like he had done a few nights ago when you first tasted his blood.

When he spoke again, you felt whatever control you had left slip from your fingers, announcing him as the winner.

"Obey your King.."

The words were sharp and possessive, more possessive than he had been all night and it was truly the last string that snapped inside you. His tone wasn't an invitation, it was a command and you had no choice but to surrender. Your body was already his, you just needed to let the final part of yourself go.

The hunger inside you flared like a fire, and you didn't fight it. You released his hands and shifted your mouth above his throat again, feeling the heat of his body and the inviting sound of his pulse screaming at you and that was all it took before you finally sank your fangs into him.

You felt the familiar rush at first, the thick blood latching onto your canines before spreading in your mouth and you groaned at the taste. It was everything you remembered but better, sweeter than anything you have ever tasted and more intoxicating that ever. It was rich, definitely the blood of a prince and you felt utterly euphoric.

Rafayel tensed beneath you and it was the first time that he was quiet since this whole ordeal. His body however fought against his silence, hands flying to your waist and gripping the skin there as you drank. He let out a shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling faster with every pull of your mouth.

He was still, not moving an inch or making a sound and you were worried that maybe you had scared him, maybe that he finally realised what he was getting himself into as you lay on top of him tasting him.

But you couldn't stop.

Your grip tightened on his arms, pushing your face deeper into his neck and your fangs further into his skin. The blood on your tongue was consuming every part of your mind and you never wanted to stop, you wanted to suck him dry.

As quick as the thought entered your mind you pulled away with a gasp, meeting his gaze and he watched as a drop of his blood fell from your lip and onto his chest. You swallowed, wondering if you had took it a step too far when he didn't move but his eyes burned into yours, an animalistic look as his chest continued to heave.

He was enjoying it.

"Such a good girl..." he whispered and fuck you felt the praise run through your body "Take what you need.. I'm yours as much as you're mine"

Before you could pull away he shifted again, his hips pressing up into you firmly and his clothed cock rubbed perfectly against your clit and gripped him even tighter. 

"Fuck-"

"Mm you feel so fucking good" he groaned. His whole body was screaming at him to flip you back over, take control and take what was his but fuck he wanted to feel you this way for a little while.

He pulled his knees up and trapped your body in place, making sure you stayed just above where he was throbbing with need.

He didn't need to say much more. With the way he was looking at you combined with how his body was responding on top of the taste of his blood you couldn't form any thoughts that weren't filled with him. 

And with that, you sank your fangs back into his skin.

His back arched beneath you and when he grounded into you this time, it was reckless. The feeling of it was something you've never experience before and feeling his body tremble below you as he gave into his own pleasure drove you insane. 

A minute passed before you were pulling away from him again, mouth still tingling from the blood and his neck was stained red. The pleasure was too much, too overwhelming but you couldn't find it in you to stop. You felt alive and everything felt just right...

Your fingers curled into the sheets beside his head as your chest rose and fell quickly while he groaned and moaned beneath you. Every little movement you made was intense and you felt like someone was in control of your hips from the way they moved.

But just as the haze began you were suddenly shifted. Rafayel moving quickly before you found yourself below him again and you didn't have time to adjust before his lips were diving onto yours again, tongue swirling in your mouth mixing blood and saliva together.

You felt the weight of him on top of you, his body warm and the heat between your legs only rose and ached with pure need. With his chest pressed tightly against yours and his covered cock rubbing against your clit you realised just how much of him you craved. 

The kiss deepened, each press of his lips against yours sending a shockwave of heat through your body. His hands moved all over you as if he was memorizing and admiring everything about you, like you were painting and he was the artist.

His eyes found yours and for a brief second you could feel nothing but the weight of his gaze. He didn't move for a moment, just hovered over you while his lips parted with a quiet needy sound.

"You're perfect.." he murmured and you felt embarrassed under his eyes "Every part of you. Gods I want to feel you like this forever"

His hands slid down your sides and you could have sworn he did it in a way that was worshipping. His fingertips traced every curve of you, over the goosebumps on your breasts before pinching your nipples gently. You could feel him losing control second by second as he grinded his hips down into yours, his arousal pressing into you.

"How good does it feel, hm?" his voice dropped to a commanding whisper, his lips trailing along your neck and brushing over where your pulse once was "Tell me you feel it too"

His hips shifted again pressing against you just right. It sent a wave through your body and you couldn't help but whimper at the feeling before pulling him closer, needing more.

"Yes.." you gasped, surprised at yourself for answering. Your hips lifted, seeking more friction and more of him "I feel it.. so much.."

Rafayel groaned as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as yours once did his. His hands had moved further down your body to grip your thighs tightly, pulling your legs further around his waist which only forced you deeper into his warmth.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this... so perfect for me" he whispered, his praise sounding more like a prayer "I want to ruin you"

The small and possessive growl that escaped him made you shiver. You couldn't help yourself anymore, you couldn't deal with the teasing and as much as you wanted to savour this moment you wanted him more. The need to have him inside you was too powerful and your body cried out.

"I want this" you sighed, looking up at him "I want you, I need you-Fuck 'm so empty"

Your body was on fire now. Every inch of you ached to be touched, to feel him pressed against you, to finally give in completely.

His mouth found yours again with a hungry kiss before he began peeling the reminder of your clothes off. It was his turn to feel impatient now, hearing you so desperate for his touch for him, complaining that you felt empty fuck he'd make sure you never felt like that again. He'd make sure to stuff you so full..

It was his turn and before you knew it he was bare above you and the feeling of his bare erection against your thigh had you gasping out loud. You remembered the way he had pleasured himself in front of you in that brothel, the way he moved and pleaded for his release you couldn't help but reach forward and grab the throbbing length.

He whimpered at the feeling of your hand gripping him, his own hand guiding your wrist up and down in a steady pace before his tip was rubbing between your folds as your breaths mixed together.

"You feel so good" He groaned, his voice was a strained whisper against your ear when his head dropped to your neck. He pressed against your skin as if he couldn't get enough of you "So soft.. I could drown in you"

"I've never.. Rafayel I don't-"

"It's okay.. just trust me" He knew what you were trying to say, and your lips parted when you felt him push inside where you needed him most "Just the-fuck just the tip baby"

He was trembling above you and you weren't acting much better. The tip of him rested inside you, your hand still gripping his cock tightly while your other arm snaked around his neck, holding him closer to you. He moved his hips gently, the tip of his length sliding in and out as you adjusted to him.

You could only close your eyes in bliss and tilt your head back into the pillow as the tip of his cock felt so delicious inside you. He stretched you out so perfectly and you could feel your canines growing once more due to the pleasure.

Every so often he'd pull out, rub his cock up and down your folds spreading your arousal and focussing extra on your clit and you've never felt a more euphoric feeling. Even blood couldn't bring you this much pleasure.

For a while he pushed in and out of you, just his tip only while telling you how good you were for him. There were a few extra claims in there, him reminding you that you belonged to him and you wanted nothing more than to tell him that he was yours too.

But then you were startled slightly when he slid further in you without warning.

"Ah-" both your arms were now wrapped around his neck and he groaned as he slid all the way inside you, the feeling of your walls clenching around him caused him to twitch and you whined in pain. 

"Fuck-Fuck I'm sorry you just feel so good... I can't help myself" his words were rushed as he rested his forehead against yours, staying still inside you for a moment "Fuck, you’re so tight"

The pain of him suddenly sliding in was very much there but his words soothed you and you knew you would have had to face it inevitably so you kissed him again with urgency, as if he'd float away from you if you let him go.

But he wasn't going anywhere, not with how snug he fit inside you and how well your walls accommodated him. He swore he had never fit so perfectly in anyone before, any woman and not even his palm felt this perfect. 

You were his, and there was no way he'd be letting you go after this.

When he finally moved you found yourself biting his lip at the stretch, resulting in a growl from him. He couldn't do anything other than pull out before pushing himself back inside you, slow and steady but you felt every pull and push shatter your body. 

He moved quicker as the seconds passed by, his hips surging against your own and you began to lose your breath. Every thrust was possessive, every time his hips met yours again it was a claim, it was a warning that you belonged to him and him only. Your lips broke apart and his eyes never left yours, watching carefully at how you responded to the way his thrusts gained speed and how you arched into him.

"No one else will ever hear the sounds you make... no one else will ever see you like this" he told you, and he felt his heart skip when he saw the brief smile on your face at his words "You’re mine. You hear me? Mine"

You could only kiss him again, your lips melding together as his hips were practically pushing you further and further up the bed. The pain had long melted away and all you could focus on was the way he was so perfectly sliding in and out of you, the lewd sounds filling his chambers and blending with his groans and your whimpers.

If anyone was to walk past his door, they'd know what was happening.

Your legs were around his waist, arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed you more eagerly. Your chests were together and it felt so intimate, your breasts squished against his firm chest and your stomachs grazing every now and then as his thrusts continued. You had a fleeting thought of pressing your hand to your stomach to see if you could feel him there..

He was yours. In this moment, in these chambers he was all yours for the taking and the thought made you claw at his skin.

There was an unfamiliar feeling setting in your stomach and you pulled away from his lips with a concerned face, his eyes watching you carefully as his thrusts slowed.

He figured it out immediately, and with a smile he picked up his pace again, his hips truly slamming into you and you could do nothing but take it. Take it, take it, take it...

"You feel it don't you? You're going cum.." clearly all his restraint was gone by now, because he was moving so quickly in and out of you it was difficult to understand how he kept up the pace when you were losing all control over your body "I feel you trembling. Don't-hm don't fight it"

"Oh..Rafayel-"

"So fucking perfect" he told you and you gripped the sheets tightly "I can feel you, squeezing me so tight like you don’t wanna let me go. You don’t, do you? You wanna keep me buried inside this perfect, greedy little cunt forever"

His voice broke into a whimper as he ground against you, forcing himself even deeper. He needed to be deeper, he needed to be so far inside you that not even the gods could pull him away.

His rhythm was ruined now, his thrusts were desperate and erratic and his hands were gripping you so tightly you wished you didn't heal quickly so everyone outside these walls could see the bruises he made... see the way he claimed you, you wished that you could wear proof of this moment and of him.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing it quickly and franticly as his cock twitched inside you.

"Cum for me" his voice was desperate now, he was practically whining "Please, baby-fuck look at me"

The moment your eyes fluttered open and locked onto his you felt your whole body shatter under his gaze and his words. The feeling of him inside you, the way he was looking at you and calling you his and his relentless finger on your clit you swore you felt like you were starting to float.

The pleasure was too overwhelming for you that when you came you made no sound, your last moan stretching out into silence as your mouth fell open, feeling your walls tighten around his cock as he pushed in you and pulled out at a speed that had your breasts bouncing but you kept your eyes on him.

He was like a siren, calling you to him and putting you under a spell that you could never escape.

"Fuck" his grip on you tightened as he felt you cum, your body flush against him and his hips stuttered for a moment as he gazed down at you "That's it.. that's it baby just like that"

He rode out your high, finishing you with the same pace but it was only when he felt his own release he did as he pleased. His hands gripped your thighs and pinned them to the bed, your legs spread wide as you whined at the overstimulation but it only fuelled him more. Your legs pinned on the bed gave him the perfect angle and you could feel every inch of him.

He leant back and stared down at where you were connected and only bit his lip at the sight of you pushing on his stomach, pleading that you were overstimulated but he needed this... he needed this release.

"Rafayel.." you whimpered and he looked at your face, slowing down his pace and panting thinking he hurt you. But he watched as you bit your lip, lazily looking down at his cock inside you before your own fingers circled your clit "Will.. will you fill me up, my prince?"

Rafayel broke. The second the words left your lips, the last of his resolve shattered.

His entire body jerked and a strangled wrecked moan tearing from his throat as his hands tightened around your thighs, keeping them pinned wide open beneath him. He needed to see you like this, needed to see how you stretched around him, how you took him and how you begged for him like he was the only thing you could think about.

"Oh, fuck—" His head tipped back for a moment, eyes squeezed shut as if the very thought of filling you was too much for him to handle. But then he looked down at you again and fuck he was gone "Say it again"

His voice was nothing but a wrecked whisper, his rhythm turning deep and deliberate. His cock dragged against your walls perfectly, making sure you felt every last inch of him. Your back arched.

"Rafayel—"

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw, forcing your gaze back on him. 

"No. Say it. Say exactly what you just said to me, or I swear I won’t let you cum again" His words were a threat but his body betrayed him. He was trembling, holding on by a thread.

You felt powerful.

A lazy, teasing smile spread across your lips as you let your fingers circle your clit again, the sensation making you whimper softly sweetly just to watch the way his jaw clenched, the way his hips jerked against yours. You dragged your eyes slowly down his heaving chest, his toned stomach, the muscles flexing with every desperate thrust he gave you.

And then you locked eyes with him again, completely wrecked and ruined beneath him.

"Fill me up, my king"

Rafayel let out a choked, broken groan, his hips snapping forward hard enough to make you jolt up the bed.

"Fuck...fuck, I’m going to—"

He folded over you, his arms caging you in as he buried himself to the hilt, grinding in deep, deeper, deeper as if he could spill every last drop of himself inside you and still, it wouldn’t be enough. His release tore through him and he let out another ruined moan, his forehead falling to yours. 

"That’s it.. that’s my good fucking girl fuck, take all of it" his voice broke as he ground himself deeper, spilling inside you. His hands fisted the sheets as he collapsed onto you, still shaking, still gasping and caging you in like he was terrified you'd slip away.

He hated how he was too caught up in his own pleasure to see you finishing again but at least you were still here. His cum stained your insides, your walls were so tight around him there was no way he'd be pulling out of you anytime soon. His cock was softening now but he stayed still inside you, twitching against your body as his sweat dripped down onto you.

It was then when you smelt the blood again, and once again your eyes opened lazily to see that his neck was still dripping from where your fangs had been and you only started to notice how pale he was.

He was more tired than you, given that he was human, so you rolled him over with a gasp as his softened cock rested inside you. You didn't think twice, gently running your tongue over his wound, cleaning him and ridding the evidence of what you had done.

You had taken so much from him.

He could do nothing but enjoy the feeling of your tongue against him. His breath caught and there was a low, almost inaudible sound of pleasure as you tended to him and you could feel the way his hands weakly gripped your thighs, his touch still desperate in the aftermath of everything. He didn't question what you were doing, in fact he didn't even care if you were draining what remained of him. He really didn't, not when your naked body rested so comfortably on top of his while your cunt warmed his cock. So he laid there, eyes closed and enjoying the feeling.

After a few moments you were done, pulling your mouth away from his skin to see the now closed holes. There was a mark that would clear up in a few days, but for now the bleeding had stopped, and he needed rest.

You sighed after admiring your work, the tension in your chest slowly melting away as you lifted your gaze to his face, only to find him already watching you. 

He spoke about you being beautiful, but gods had he seen himself?

His lids were heavy and his eyes soft, so tender that your breath hitched in your throat. You had never seen him so.. relaxed. Then, he smiled and you couldn't understand how he could look at you like that. How was it possible for someone to look at you like that?

To admire you so openly, to touch you so gently even after seeing the parts of yourself that made you a monster?

With a sigh you shifted, laying your head on his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing rocking you into a gentle comfort. His hands found your back, gently running up and down your spine as though he were offering comfort in his own way.

You weren't sure how long passed, but you stayed where you were and his cock had already slipped out from you and you once again felt empty. The feeling of his seed spilling out of you was uncomfortable and you wanted to clean yourself up but you were terrified that if you moved he'd realised what happened and kick you out.

As if he hadn't been the one to seduce you. 

"You're still here..." Rafayel’s voice broke the silence, low and raspy as if he had just woken up from a deep sleep. You tilted your head up to look at him, your face close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. 

"I am" was all that you could mumble.

His fingers slid through your hair, gathering a few strands between his fingertips and he leaned forward just enough to kiss the top of your head, as if to reassure you that you were still wanted, still needed here.

"Don’t go anywhere" he whispered, his voice rough but filled with quiet intent.

His words lingered and you could do nothing but nod your head, admiring him. He kissed you on your lips again, gently and not desperate, as if he knew now that you weren't going anywhere.

His coronation was tomorrow, he would be king, you had no idea what would change between you but for now you enjoyed being held. For now, you enjoyed not feeling like a monster.

It wasn't until hours later in the crack of dawn when the first light of morning began to creep in through the windows that you were ripped from his arms.

[lads-ficrecs]

ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇꜱ ᴀʀᴄʜɪᴠᴇ ────୨ৎ────

✦ This post presents a well-organized collection of Love and Deepspace series fics, featuring both completed and ongoing works, conveniently tagged for easy navigation. If any updates are made to these works, I would greatly appreciate it if the author or anyone else could tag me, so I can keep the list current. Thanks in advance for your help!

We have three categories: 1. Completed 2. Ongoing 3. Status unknown: applies to fics that might initially seem like standalone drabbles but could potentially develop into multi-part stories, though their future is uncertain. Also for fics I'm unsure on if it is completed or not. If a particular fic is updated or completed and I haven't listed that on the post, please tell me so that I can update!

For more information, see the Pinned Post here! Check out the author list here! Check out recommendation lists made by others here!

Not quite human by @comatosebunny09 | Sylus Ongoing: 01

An arcana of hearts by @plutotheplum | Sylus, Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Caleb Ongoing: 01 | 02

The sin and the sinner by @saintobio | Sylus Completed: 01 | 02 | 03

The choices we make by @thechaoticarchivist | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Take your time, Miss Deer by @borkunlimited | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10

Love is a bitch & Ataxia by @calebrity | Sylus Completed: 01 | 02

Blood Bag by @navydoves | Sylus Ongoing: 01

Wilted promises by @shaiyasstuff | Sylus Completed: 01 | 02 | 03

Out of bounds by @novthirty | Sylus Ongoing: 00 | 01

The cat-tastrophe by @mangooes | Sylus Status unknown: 01 | 02

Inked by @harmonyrae | Sylus, Rafayel Completed: 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

Sensitive by @comatosebunny09 | Sylus Status unknown: 01 | 02

A flame that ignited fire by @bobasbn | Sylus Status unknown: 01 | 02

Sing little birdie by @starmocha | Sylus Ongoing: 0.25 | 0.5 | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Black jack, ace & house edge by @peachylynnie | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03

A blooming predicament by @subliminalwish | Sylus Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03

Serve & protect by @comatosebunny09 | Sylus Ongoing: 00 | 01

Red, through the fire & ever after by @shaiyasstuff | Sylus, Zayne Completed: 00 | 01 | Sequel

7 days of recovery with you by @dellieghtful | Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb Ongoing: 01 | 02

Tides of treachery by @nekoashiii | Caleb Ongoing: 01

The spider's sense by @tojicide | Caleb Ongoing: 01 | 02

It was always you (and us) by @zaynessbeloved | Caleb, Zayne Ongoing: 01 | 02 | 03

Fly little pilot by @starmocha | Caleb Ongoing: 01

Credits: -> @fic-dumpster -> @toastray

[lads-ficrecs]

ᴛɪᴍᴇʟᴇꜱꜱ ꜰᴀᴠᴏᴜʀɪᴛᴇꜱ ────୨ৎ────

✦ These are recommendation lists made by other users. Since I might not be able to find all the fics about lads, here's some lists made by other lads fans; you might find something new.

For more information, see the Pinned Post here! Check out the author list here! Check out series list here!

✦ Sylus fanfiction recommendations by @celestialgojo

✦ Wall of fame by @writingastory

✦ Sylus fic recommendations by @tsukimirecs

✦ Hybrid AU fanfic recommendations by @grabby-smitten

✦ Lads fic recs by @joy-laufeyson

✦ Sylus fic recommendations by @joy-laufeyson

✦ Love and Deepspace fic recs by @sylusdarling

✦ Love & Deepspace Masterlist by @solifloris

✦ Caleb fic recommendations by @joy-laufeyson

✦ AO3 lads Fic Recs Jan-Feb 2025 by @circecyerce

✦ LADS fic recs by @juiceeypeach

✦ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬 by @swissschees3

✦ Rafayel fic recs by @us3r999999

✦ Love and deepspace Rec list by @linkonlceleste

Credits to: -> @fic-dumpster -> @toastray