#artem wing x darius morgan

[sdaomine]

'til death do us part... or 'til i kill you first

Things take a sharp turn when Marius and Vyn discover each other's secret identities. Filing a divorce is on the table, but Vyn takes matters into his own hands—after all, he'd rather end the marriage here than in court.

A/N: Finally, FINALLY done with this fic that has long been rotting in my drafts! I've been wanting to write a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU for my favorite gay ship but lacked the time to actually finish it (but here we are!). I wrote this in 2022 but only concluded it today, AMIDST my many, many university backlogs <3 Anyway, I know some stuff here won't make sense but this is a self-indulgent fic so... yeah.

wc: 13.8k words.

==

Six years in.

Six years of a wonderful marriage. Six years of black tea and chocolate drink during early mornings. Six years of intoxicating kisses, sweet and zealous; six years of what the youngest von Hagen called the best fuck he’d ever get in his lifetime.

You see, when you marry the love of your life and spend wild, beautiful years with them, you start to think you are building your relationship’s mighty foundation—that sooner or later, the two of you would be able to finally lower those invisible walls which had always separated you, because admit it or not, there is no marriage built without deep, dark secrets.

But six years in and Marius von Hagen finds himself holding tightly onto his gun—a pretty sleek silencer he so cherished, a gift from his brother—his back pressed hard against the wall just beside the stairs, waiting.

“Hah—shit. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his chest heavy, almost suffocating. Marius pressed one hand against his heart, feeling its erratic pace and, at this very moment, he was all but trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But then there was a quiet creak on the wooden stairs.

Marius’ eyes screwed shut. Fuck fuck fuck—

Marius threw himself to the side, hiding further beneath the wall, just in time—just in time before a series of raining bullets holed through the wooden wall and the staircase banister, which was soon followed by another round of rapid firing. Marius shook his head as he waited for it to stop.

With one arm protecting his head, Marius leaned slightly against the safer side of the house. Deep down he cursed and cursed the sheer agony of having to prop himself like that against the wall, right after he had dived into the floor like it was some massive pool of water. “Goddamn,” he cursed quietly, and however could he not? His once neatly painted Victorian walls that probably cost some other person’s soul were now ripped into shreds, the wood falling off, their deadly splinters scattered around. There were holes all over, both small and wide, and Marius took a little peek.

There he is.

Vyn Richter, Stellis’ most esteemed psychiatrist: well-mannered, elegant, so fucking pretty. Marius was in awe even when the doctor, who still wore his pearl, white coat, carried two massive rifles in both of his hands. Fucking assault rifles. Just where the fuck did you keep those in our fucking house, Vyn?

A sly smirk curved the doctor’s lips. Vyn caught a glimpse of his husband peeking through the small holes and asked, a little too seductively for Marius’ taste, “Darling, you are still alive?”

Dammit!

Vyn held back a scowl when he heard nothing. Marius used to surprise Vyn whenever he came home from work, so it was not impossible the young CEO had already switched hiding places. And so Vyn, as silently as he could, made his way down the stairs—

“Still am, baby.”

Vyn dived down the stairs instinctively,  hissing out small, foreign curses as he landed—crashed—on the floor. He helped himself up with animalistic speed and grabbed his weapons, dashing towards the room opposite the wall where Marius continued to fire his silencer gun.

The doctor clutched his side and winced. Two minutes in and he already got himself a bruise.

“Stupid brat,” he muttered sharply as he reloaded his rifle. “Whatever crossed my mind? I should have killed him that fucking night.”

==

Two nights ago.

Vyn—in his white Mercedes—took a sharp turn round the bend of his English garden, leading out of the mansion gates. He was running, no, driving away from Marius. Why? Nothing much, really. Just that after six years of marriage Marius found out that aside from being a psychiatrist, his dear husband actually worked as an assassin. Learned that Vyn was a killer from another agency, which unfortunately for Marius was PAX’s worst rival with… well, dirty work.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Marius was an experienced killer, too, a secret even the best psychiatrist in the country must have somehow missed.

So… shit.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date. Vyn came home earlier than usual (he had to call off his assassination schedule that night) so he could cook his husband’s favorite dinner. The ever-so-loving Vyn Richter even lit candles on the table, did some last-minute flower arrangements, all so they’d have a good time (He even had half a mind to light candles and scatter rose petals across their bedroom, for a change). It had been a while since the last time he’d eaten a proper meal with Marius, anyway.

But there was something amiss, and Vyn was upset. Upset with the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Or what could possibly go wrong.

Although he was quite certain it involved his husband. And involved he was indeed because Marius was all but suspicious that whole evening, asking this and that, inquiries Vyn himself often utilized whenever he questioned a target or a client. And he wouldn’t have been a renowned psychiatrist if his husband’s dubious actions went unnoticed. Marius. I did not know he would be this daft.

Until the bottle of wine Marius was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and Vyn—who was seated, his back turned away, his attention wholly fixated on anything other than Marius and his wine—caught the bottle swiftly with one hand.

It was then he realized he’d made a grave mistake, because if anything his husband’s grip was always firm, and not in this life would Marius von Hagen let a million-stellin wine slip from his hands.

Marius let it slip on purpose.

And now Vyn drove his Mercedes the way a lunatic would their car, ramming on the trash bins and fences and even some of the patches of roses from his beloved garden, all to escape from his husband. Because apparently, his dirty secret’s out, and Marius is out to get him (perhaps).

The car screeched as he took a sharp turn, finally out from their mansion. Was he a free man, now? Not exactly—Marius von Hagen suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, running. Vyn muttered under his breath. Goddammit. He took the shortcut. I forgot about the shortcut—

A bang sounded, and the next thing Vyn knew, there was a crack on the windshield. The car halted abruptly.

Vyn scrutinized the crack. A bullet.

“Did…” he mused—hissed, rather—as his eyes trailed to where Marius was knelt on the ground, slowly helping himself up. “Did this bastard just try to shoot me?”

Marius almost flinched when Vyn, just a meter or two from him, slammed his hands on the car horn repeatedly. If it wasn’t his pretty little husband Marius would’ve just shot the car until the tires go off and the driver dead; but then again it was Vyn inside that car, and—

And the windshield… has a crack. And I have a gun. And I…

Marius swallowed. And he must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger when he hopped out of the bushes from the sidewalk and tripped. And now Vyn thinks he tried to shoot him.

“Baby, accident.” Marius now stood in front of the car, and the sight of his husband—who looked angry as hell—could be seen clearly from his line of vision. He hoisted both arms, the way a cornered, guilty criminal would, and repeated his words gently, “Baby, accident. Accident.”

Marius gestured to his gun. “I tripped. Accident,” he shouted. Marius didn’t really give a damn anymore whether or not the neighbors would hear him. “Baby, accident—no, stop!”

Marius inhaled sharply as he heard the engine rev—and it revved loud, as if a warning, more than enough to tell Marius if he didn’t step out of the way at that very moment Vyn would drag him to death by way of a hit and run.

And he did not hesitate.

“No, stop! Wait!” Marius waved his arms frantically, almost throwing away his gun just so he could show Vyn he wouldn’t dare hurt him. However it was his mistake that he pondered it at all, because Vyn Richter was the pettiest man alive, petty enough to actually hit the gas and hurl the vehicle towards Marius.

Oh, shit. Is this my end?

The car steered forward, its speed almost inescapable (for anyone in Marius’ situation). Marius gathered all his weight and lunged at the car, and Vyn then piloted the steering wheel in a rapid pace, left and right, in an attempt to haul his husband—probably ex-husband soon—out of the car, but to no avail. “Get off my fucking car!” he yelled irritably. “Marius von Hagen!”

Marius even managed to smirk as he held onto the side of the car (for dear life). “Stop the car—” he shouted back, his face almost hitting the windshield. “Vilhelm von Hagen!”

“Fuck you.”

“When?”

“Saturday, if I have not killed you yet by then.”

“Sweet.” Marius took advantage of Vyn getting carried away by their banter—Vyn could only hiss out in frustration as Marius broke the passenger seat window with the handle of his gun. It didn’t take long before he was halfway inside the vehicle, and Vyn was fumbling with his seatbelt.

But Marius was a second too late. The moment he’d gotten inside entirely, Vyn had already thrown himself out of the vehicle, and the Mercedes, along with Marius, was heading straight to the dark woods.

“Fuck you,” Vyn spat, still lying on the asphalt, catching his breath. He had wounds and scratches all over his skin—so much for all his skin routines—but that did not matter at the time. He fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Good evening,” he greeted rather blandly. “Yes. Please fetch me, and bring something sweet. I need my sugar levels to spiral.”

==

Present times.

And so they are here, trying to shoot one another’s head. Marius had initially come to gather his hidden weapons, only to find them gone. Vyn must’ve found out. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, returned home and got his guns ready. Heck, Marius even considered the great possibility of his husband setting up traps within the house.

Now we can tell who loves who more.

Yeah. That would be me, Marius would say. I love this sick fuck more than he loves me.

He peeked at the stairs. Marius caught Vyn claiming the opposite wall as his barricade, swore to god heard his muse wince at what could’ve been new bruises. He chewed on his lower lip as he crouched and stalked along the hallway with confident precision—he moved the way shadows would devour the night, utterly soundless as he coursed towards their dining area, which was also a connecting room to their massive kitchen.

To Vyn’s kitchen, his mind noted, almost like an instinct. His beloved had always been the one to cook all their meals, bake mouthwatering desserts and mix their cocktails and most times they’d end up hot that Vyn would find himself bent over the counter with Marius railing him from behind. Sometimes atop that long table, where Marius would feast on his husband the way he would his favorite meal; in return, Vyn knelt on the carpet under the table and sucked Marius’ hard cock until he moaned and screamed his name and squirted his cum on Vyn’s crystalline smooth face.

Marius was never in the kitchen, that sacred place. Sacred to his husband, at least, but when he did go there, it was always to admire Vyn while he prepped their meals.

He let out a bitter chuckle as he entered the dimmed space. Good old days.

Marius scanned the room, one he was most familiar with, before he proceeded to check under the table and chairs, ran his hands along the wall, removed the exquisitely-framed portraits hanging on them as a precaution. He knew Vyn couldn’t have been here for long; he wouldn’t have ample enough time to set up his baits within the house, but just in case.

He’d learned well not to underestimate Vyn. Vyn Richter, of all people.

Keeping his steady stance, Marius trod towards the high archway that led to the kitchen hall. He moved with a spy’s practiced grace and quiet, walking about the area as he quickly drafted a plan in his head. It was safer here, he thought, for almost little to no lights were switched on, and none of them would dare, since the lights could only be opened with two claps or a snap. Even without Marius’ careful movements, Vyn won’t be able to locate him that quickly. Especially since their house was a goddamn mansion.

No, screw that. A goddamn castle. If Vyn had not declined his husband’s initial offer with regard to housing, their residence would have looked like Buckingham Palace, except it was in Stellis.

Well great. How nice would it be to reminisce while your husband’s lurking in the same house, trying to kill you? Marius blew a sigh through his nose, frustrated. Couldn’t this be resolved with yet another delftware imported from France—

Marius went cold. “Fuck.”

He went cold because somehow, he’d forgotten that he didn’t really own this kitchen. That even though he’d been here a lot of times to fuck his husband on that table and over that counter, he wasn’t there enough to fully know and memorize each tile, each wall, each delftware that perched on display. Because somehow, Marius had focused on the possible threats that he’d missed the most unsuspecting yet lethal ones: Vyn’s decorative collection of teacups and teapots and plates.

And perhaps the odds were not in his favor tonight, because Marius accidentally bumped into one, and the teapot—even though he had caught it with his hand at first—proceeded to take its fall and break itself into hundreds of tiny shards. Marius stilled, his blood thrumming in alarm.

At first, there was silence. The eerie kind.

And then rained a series of bullets from the dining room entrance.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Marius dived into floor, clutching his silencer. He crawled swiftly under the long table until he reached the archway to the kitchen. He stood on his feet and snatched his other pistol from its belt holster, scanning the kitchen—a fucking enormous kitchen—for efficient shields, weapons, or if the heavens somehow favored him again, a possible way out. An escape from his deranged husband.

He’s too beautiful for someone demented, though.

He heard footsteps. Slow and steady, its familiar, elegant cadence enough a warning for Marius to keep his guard, his guns hoisted and at the ready. In one stride, he took refuge beside the fridge, the opposite side of it facing the entrance.

And then there was a distant, honeyed voice. “You dare break my delftware.”

“You fired because of a fucking teapot?” Marius sneered, but cackled all the same. “You’re crazy.”

“Your fault for marrying me.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

Vyn pulled the trigger and fired, the bullet merely grazing past the fridge. A warning. “I gathered. Seeing how you are out almost every other night, only to a foolish spouse will that go unnoticed,” Vyn uttered, his voice laced with venom—bitterness. “Tell me, darling. How many ladies have you fucked while you were gone?”

Marius resisted the urge to step out of his hiding spot and confront his husband head-on. “Fucking stop it, Vyn. Are you serious? This again?” he complained, the grip around his silencer tightening in his simmering anger. “I never cheated on you, godammit. I told you—I was out for business. How many times do I have to drill that into your head?”

“Ah, yes. Business. And what exactly is your business, Marius?”

Marius chuckled. “I could ask you the same, baby,” he said in his smoothest, sweetest voice, then strode out from his refuge, aiming his silencer at Vyn. In those few, shared seconds of conversation he’d noted where his husband stood, where he was facing, the appliances which surrounded them—Vyn won’t be able to duck anywhere, and could not possibly sprint too fast to shield himself from Marius’ attack.

But then again—he shouldn’t have underestimated.

Because when he’d stepped out, Vyn was not there.

He was already behind him.

“Shit—”

He did the most possible, most horrible thing he could think of: as he swiveled round to Vyn’s direction, Marius hooked his fingers under the fridge’s recessed handle, pulled it open, then slammed its massive steal door against Vyn.

“Scheisse.” The fridge door rammed against him face-first—Vyn’s nose throbbed with a nasty pain, and he sensed hot liquid leaking from it, tasted the coppery tang of blood when it drifted further into his mouth. “Fucking. Swine.”

He knew the fridge door would be a serviceable shield, knew the bullets he’d fire would protect Marius no matter what and doing so would only be a disadvantage. However Vyn blasted back that instinct, that knowledge, and proceeded to rain yet another series of bullets towards Marius (or the fridge, actually), all because of sheer aggravation. How dare he slam that door into his face—was he not his muse, his darling? Was he not this ethereal man Marius had always drawn and sketched and painted on his canvases for he wished to preserve his beauty?

Goddammit—the curse looped inside Vyn’s head, his nose flaring with rage. His nose fucking hurt.

And Vyn screamed along his firing, both weapons aimed toward the fridge. The kitchen was dimmed, with no lights on and so all he could see were the blazing yellows and oranges and reds, could only hear the all-too-familiar bangs and booms as the shots blasted through the metal.

He stopped attacking. Vyn wept the blood from his face with the sleeve of his once immaculate, white coat, wincing as he did. His nose stung so much and it rendered him so very, very furious. “Marius von Hagen,” he said. Hissed.

A low chuckle. “Vilhelm von Hagen. Or would your surname be back to Richter now?”

And there was silence, utter silence, before Vyn’s life flashed before his eyes.

The psychiatrist could only slide back as the fridge—which was a whole lot bigger than him in all aspects possible, completely towering over him—started slanting from above and down to crush him. It was too swift that he could only clumsily stumble back, almost slipping on the tiles and making a fool out of himself.

Marius heard Vyn curse in a vague, foreign language—German, no, Svartian, probably—as he scurried to save himself and dodge his husband’s pretty little trick. Actually, screw that, Marius thought. Pushing this goddamn fridge might very well be his disadvantage: one, it was too heavy it took a lot of effort and energy, and two—the kitchen was a spacious room and he threw his only barricade away.

No matter. He will just have to remedy that, in whatever way he can.

Like taking advantage of his disoriented, recuperating rose by means of taking their electric stove and throwing it in Vyn’s direction.

He’d turned away before that stove hit his husband.

No. He didn’t want to see that.

Didn’t want to see his husband hurt.

He released a sharp breath and looked skyward, then blinked his eyes repeatedly, well-aware of the stinging tears threatening to flow. He ran to the exit all the same, his only goal to escape—he didn’t wish a violent shoot-out with his love, inside their home, no less, but he needed to return the act lest he got killed.

All this—the thought of killing Vyn would kill Marius just the same, anyway.

Heh. He didn’t seem to hesitate shooting me, was what roved in his mind as he made his quick escape. God. That hurt. That fucking hurts.

And he was now well on his way out, finally, with only a step before the archway when Marius peered over his shoulder—then regretted it shortly after.

A kitchen knife had grazed past his ear, the tip of its blade hitting the wall with a dull, slicing thud.

Marius stood there for a while, utterly shocked. Vyn hurled the blade too skillfully that blood trickled down his ear—only a slight brush with the knife, truly, and there was only a minor sting—and Marius recalled it again and again, the way that knife went past him so swiftly, almost like a soft winter’s breeze.

Maybe he deserved it. He’d broken not only Vyn’s delftware but his nose, too.

“Just to remind you, my darling.” Vyn stood steady far across him, his gun hanging by his side, his other arm still held forth after throwing the knife like a sports dart. He was bleeding, his nose and his arm, yet his poise was much like a prince’s, still, as if he hadn’t partaken in this chaos of an indoor shoot-out.

Oh and despite himself, Marius swooned when Vyn had addressed him darling.

“That you destroyed my fridge.” He leveled his gun, his aim at Marius’ direction. “And inside that fridge were all the pastries I had worked so hard for this goddamn week—more particularly that matcha cake.”

Ah, Marius thought, almost nodding unconsciously. I’m thoroughly fucked, then.

The psychiatrist fired another time, only once, but close enough to shoot off Marius’ ear.

Thoroughly, completely, perfectly fucked.

If that bullet blasted a few inches down Marius was sure he’d only have one serviceable ear left. Fuck it. Vyn’s aim was as good as his so thank the heavens the odds somehow favored him tonight because if they didn’t, his head would be pounding with a static burn at this very moment for he got his ear blown off to oblivion.

Marius sprinted. Not out, because the hallway was narrow and with how accurate Vyn’s aim is, he was certain he’d get shot at some point. So instead he darted to the side at lightspeed. “Goddammit, Vyn!” he shouted as Vyn fired constantly, following his every stride; thank goodness there were no kitchen lights and Vyn couldn’t see clearly even with those ugly glasses. “You’re really going to blow off my ear? How am I to hear your needy moans then?”

“You will not hear them again.”

“Not of pleasure,” said Marius as he slid behind the mid counter, hiding away from Vyn. He tugged open the small cabinet and swiftly made a slice on the gas hose before he slithered away like a madman and out to the archway. It would be nasty with that leaking gas and Vyn’s shotgun.

Wow, thank god we weren’t all into electric shit.

When Vyn fired, the kitchen exploded in flames.

Vyn threw himself back, and he crashed into the wooden floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Every part of him ached, and his head pounded; his vision was obscured without his glasses, the narrow hallway a distant horizon he was not sure he’d reach because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—

His thighs burned, a hot, searing pain pulsating within his loins, and it was only then that he realized he was on fire. Like it was his second nature the doctor halted thrashing and crawled to the nearest open space, that area near the archway, and rolled himself across, exhausting the flames on his person.

He wouldn’t dare glance at his burns. He couldn’t stomach them for sure.

Not because they were gruesome, no, but because he cared greatly for his vanity, and now his efforts had been all in vain. So much for face and body value.

He snatched his gun, then, and hastened out of the burning kitchen and into the dining area.

Vyn didn’t mind the burn, the throbbing, the pain that wished to devour him. Not when his adrenaline was spiraling and begging to be put to fucking use. His instinct—an assassin’s or a husband’s, he couldn’t discern—led him out and around the lobby, up the stairs, to that one, distinctive chamber his husband treasured most.

The Atelier.

The memories rushed in with each step, every soundless stride. He’d designed that room with Marius, had decorated it day and night with him. Had baked cookies and delivered them there, so Marius would have something to eat as he worked on his new opuses; had stayed by his side as he recounted stories with his paint.

Had taken off his silken robe as he perched on the chaise, naked, looking so ethereal as Marius painted him, brought his beauty to canvas.

The reward? Marius had fucked him silly all through the night, on that very same couch.

Vyn took deep breaths. He acknowledged those memories, accepted them. Then locked them all away.

He hoisted his gun, and tiptoed close, closer. No signs told him Marius was inside, but Vyn steered forward, trusting his gut as it churned at his intuition—he is here. I do not know why, but I know he is here.

He ticked that box with a check.

As he entered the room a silencer shot, hitting just behind him. Marius stood by the opened windows, his weapon in hand; a thick cable wrapped around the atelier’s metal handle and it fell outside, down to Vyn’s precious garden. He was escaping.

“Heh.” Vyn aimed his gun at Marius, the smirk on his face menacing. “Planning for escape?”

Marius threw him an annoyed glance. “You put the house on a fucking lockdown.”

Vyn shrugged his shoulders. “You were able to open that window,” he said. “Whatever happened to the alarms?”

“Switched them off first.”

“And the window?” No one was supposed to open any part of the house when it is on lockdown.

“I know shit on this house that you don’t know of.”

“Ah. Well, that does not matter.” Vyn trod forward, careful. The weapons were still aimed at one another as he neared a small, circular table where Marius’ rarest pigments sat in glass bell jars. “What matters is… oh, look. These are your pigments.”

“Vyn.”

“Such rare pigments,” mused Vyn, eyeing the expensive, imported, rare set of paints atop the table.

Marius took a cautionary step forward. His hand reached towards his husband, the gesture as if attempting to halt whatever deranged thing Vyn framed out to do. “Vyn—”

“Imported from Italy, yes?” The older man trailed, his finger brushing against the glass. “Ah. And this one was from our Grand Tour—France, if I remember correctly. From Louvre.”

“Don’t shoot it.” Marius’ voice shook. “Don’t fucking shoot it.”

Vyn stopped. He chuckled—then looked up at Marius. “All right,” he said with an innocent smile, “I won’t.”

Then struck the table’s legs so it tumbled down, onto the floor, the special paints now mere, vibrant stains that tarnished the wooden tiles.

Vyn sneered at Marius. “Screw you.”

And proceeded to fire not to his husband, but everything inside the atelier: the canvases, both empty and brimming with colors, the vases and the chairs and stools, the portraits on the wall, the unfinished sketches and all the works in progress—the Seti Falls among other brilliant landscapes of their travels in Skadi, in and around Stellis, all the way to Europe.

Marius seethed, and one may even argue he was about to breathe out flames. “You fucking fiend—”

Vyn halted his advances when his aim pointed to an unfinished portrait of him.

Gods, he looked beautiful in it. Like the image of a prince, one of which a hopeful maiden would see only in the fairytales she reads, wondering if she’d ever snag a man as handsome as him. His lips were curved into a half-smile, all so lucious, and Vyn felt that familiar, rancid guilt tug at him—only a little, he wanted to deny it—as he wondered the many hours Marius had worked to capture him as beautifully as he could. Not that it was a hard task, for Vyn had always been a most spectacular muse, but still…

He lowered his gun and spared that portrait from his rage—saved himself from his own, unfettered violence.

But soon enough, Dr. Richter would realize that only portrait Vyn had been granted salvation.

Vyn nonchalantly aimed at his husband another time, did not hesitate, even a sliver, as he pulled the trigger toward Marius. But Marius dodged and rolled to his back, deftly until he tumbled against the wall under the window, and with a terrifyingly calm expression poised himself to kneel on the tiles.

Vyn reloaded his gun. “What are you doing, kneeling there?” he seethed. “Have you given up, darling?”

“No,” said Marius, a chuckle rumbling down his body. His amethyst eyes had darkened, and Vyn tensed, feeling gooseflesh all over his skin as Marius took something out of his person—a hand grenade.

“You know what,” the young von Hagen began, his voice low and cold, “I shouldn’t have tended your garden during the days you weren’t here.”

“You are to stop this instant.”

“What do you say? Fuck off and say adiós to your precious little garden.” It only took a split of a second as Marius pulled the pin with his mouth, and tossed it behind him, the grenade hurtling over his husband’s precious sanctuary of roses and lilies.

Only a split second before Vyn Richter’s garden exploded into a thousand, splendid fireworks.

And if it weren’t for his unmitigated, passionate fury thrumming with each breath, each step, and every thunder of his heart transcending over the harrowing, golden flames burning in the dead of night, of which singed the beloved flowers he’d tended to for years, Vyn would’ve fallen to his knees onto the wooden tiles, and cried his heart out in heavy grief.

But Vyn stood there, not moving an inch, as he watched the scorching fire. The flares flickered in his eyes, round and round the deepest trenches of those golden hues, until all he could see and feel was…

Well, nothing. As if unbothered.

However his mind, his brilliant mind toiled clearly—too vivid, the thoughts smooth-sailing in his ocean of schemes.

“Dieser verdammte Marius,” he muttered—that goddamn Marius—as he strode near the doorway, opened an emergency cabinet, and pulled the heavy, metal handle, activating the manor’s fire sprinklers.

Wet chemicals erupted from the ceilings, all over the house. Vyn navigated the halls and the rooms with precision, checking the bedroom, the lounge, the bar, in a search for a certain von Hagen.

He hoisted his gun as he trod to each chamber, each corridor. Vyn went down the stairs and proceeded, with much caution, to the main living room—

When a click sounded behind him.

“Let’s stop this now, Vyn,” Marius said quietly as he drew closer, his silencer only a meter or two away from his husband’s back.

“Unlock the house, and we can separate in peace—”

Vyn swung around, pivoting on his heel, and knocked Marius’ weapon out of his grasp.

Marius stumbled to the side, but maintained his balance almost as instantly. “What the—”

“You are naive to think that after all this, I would let you out.” Now it was his time to brandish his gun, leveling the weapon slowly to Marius, who now had both hands raised in surrender. He was on the farthest corner of the room, trapped; his only escape was the very path Vyn stood on, getting in his way out, deliberately so. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“Your loving husband.”

Vyn’s brow raised, and his features scrunched into disdain. “I would not say that—”

He was cut off by Marius pouncing onto him with all his weight, Marius’ hands wrapped around his own, restricting him and the gun. And before Vyn could even try to get away Marius sent him to the ground—Marius had forcefully slid his leg against Vyn’s, and when his husband lost his balance, the two of them plunged into the floor.

At the impact, Vyn’s grip loosened, and Marius kicked the gun away from them as he helped himself up.

Oh, zounds. Why did I kick it away? I should’ve taken it—

A flower vase came hurtling toward him, and Marius shielded his face from the glass, letting it break into tiny shards as it fell to the floor. And his jaw might’ve been broken, too, for Vyn had suddenly appeared in front of him, and threw Marius the best jaw-breaking punch he had ever received.

“Fuck—”

It was painful, to be sure, but he had no time for such. He caught Vyn rushing to the doorway.

What’s he doing?

Marius’ face scrunched and he winced, the pain in his jaw utterly excruciating.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s going for the gun.

“No way in hell.”

Marius the nearest object he could find—a mini coffee table—and hurled it in Vyn’s direction.

He stood on his feet and sprinted to the doorway. The table had hit Vyn’s torso, the impact heavy on his waist, and he dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

But before Marius could reach for the gun himself, Vyn held him by the leg.

He landed face-forward. His arms, thank goodness, saved him from rendering his handsome face wretched. Marius rolled onto his back, only for Vyn to lunge at him.

Vyn first threw a punch to his jaw yet again, but Marius caught his wrists. With a mighty force Marius was able to toss Vyn to the side—he was the stronger one, after all—and Vyn ended up with his back against the couch.

Vyn was still recuperating when Marius came to wrap his hands around Vyn’s neck, restricting his breathing. His hands went instinctively around Marius’, punching and pulling and desperate to get away. At last Vyn gathered enough strength to move away from the chaise and to the side, bringing Marius with him; Marius who, despite his strength, admitted to struggling with Vyn’s futile attempts to escape.

But the next thing Marius knew, he was throwing his husband across the room.

Vyn flew directly to the massive grandfather’s clock, the glass shattering and raining over him.

Blood now stained the doctor’s face, his body. But at that very minute he wouldn’t feel any wound, any injury. Just the unfaltering will to fight to death with his husband.

He felt betrayed.

He was scared. He was so scared he would lose him—to a woman, to PAX, to this. Add the five consecutive nights he’d prepared dinner for them and Marius never came home.

He’d rather end the marriage here than in court.

Marius dashed towards him, ready to pounce. Vyn caught sight of the expensive wine bottles on the table beside him.

And so he snatched two of the wine bottles and smashed them on either side of Marius’ head. The bottles crashed, and Marius bellowed in pain. Crimson leaked in his skin, his clothes—was it the wine? His blood? Vyn swallowed as took in the sight of his husband, hands on his head, moaning in deep pain; he looked away immediately and strode out from Marius’ reach.

Marius chuckled. “Of course you’ll go for the gun.”

“Do you not think it the easiest way out?” Vyn merely said, his voice higher, obviously vexed. Yet the way he spat those words was honeyed, still. “I shoot you, I win.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Marius staggered, but pressed onward. “Then you’re not getting that gun.”

In quick strides Marius threw himself at Vyn, but the older man rolled himself easily over the couch. Marius pushed the chaise to the side with one swift move, and only the oval glass-lined coffee table separated them.

Like that table’s gonna do shit.

And it all began with footwork. In his fighting stance, Marius assessed his husband, the two of them circling around the table slowly, vigilantly. Waiting for the other to hint at their weakness, to give away their hidden cards—neither knew the other’s tricks, having only found out their secret careers this evening.

But goddammit, Marius cursed inwardly as he observed his muse with that perfect sparring form, however his bearing elegant, still. The lock of his shoulders, the way his forearms were bent to his elbows, his knees curved just right; that determined face, his brimming confidence—goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Perfect.

He’s perfect.

I love him.

“Well fuck me. You always made me carry your heavy stuff, but now you look like you’re ready to carry me to my grave.”

Vyn smirked—then pushed the table with his foot.

The force was too strong that Marius knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it on his own, and that he’d only hurt whatever part of him that met the table’s edge. The table slid forward, launching straight at Marius, and all he could do was leap on top of the table.

It was small, that table. Marius lost his balance and fell face-forward to the marble tiles.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, his elbows stinging. “I fucking hate you—”

Vyn gripped his shoulder and swung him around, his back now on the floor. “Hello, my love,” he purred as he pinned both Marius’ hands atop his head, then straddled him. “Do you like this?”

Marius smirked. “You on top? Hell yeah.”

Vyn’s fist went flying to his face.

“FUCK—” Marius groaned, his nose stinging. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. “I can’t believe you ordered me to carry your shit around when you can punch this hard.”

“You betrayed me.” Vyn landed another punch. “You are a liar! You lied to me!”

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“Go to hell.”

With his weakening grip on Marius, the young von Hagen was able to snatch his arms and finally turn the goddamn tables. He wrapped his legs around Vyn’s torso and flung themselves to the side.

Vyn gasped. Marius now sat on top of him, towering over him. His grip on Vyn’s wrists was too tight they could’ve been red with the mark of his fingers, or a nasty purple because of bruising—god, they could’ve been a pale blue for that grip might as well halt the blood from coursing through.

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Marius pinned his lover’s wrists on the floor. He noted the slightly frantic tussling, Vyn’s… sexy labored breathing. “I think I like this better,” he whispered. “Me on top of you.”

And Vyn could only gasp as Marius grappled his throat. Not to kill him—to weaken him, somehow. To make him lose consciousness. And then he’ll decide from there.

“Hck—” Vyn’s choking filled his ears and, even when he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “M-Marius—”

Stop it. You’re hurting him.

His grip did not weaken.

“Hck… P-Please—”

Don’t say it. Don’t.

Say it. Vyn hurt you. You’re just returning the favor.

I can’t...

“Look at you. I love choking you like this,” Marius spat, his eyes dark and wicked. I’m going to hell for this—I’m sure of it. “If only this were a different circumstance.”

He caught Vyn’s arm flailing to his sides, and Marius wondered why he’d suddenly stopped grasping the hands that throttled him—until Vyn seized something and smashed it to his head, sending him backward.

A lampshade this time. From yet another small desk drawer just beside them.

Well, Marius thought. I should’ve seen that coming.

Vyn was, however, still frail from Marius’ attempt to strangle him. His breathing was strained, his face breaking out in cold sweat.

And hot tears rolled down his pale, bloodied cheeks.

However his adrenaline pumped again, and again, and even when his head pounded a fire burned from within, and he tried to go on all fours, a futile attempt to stand.

Marius now stood, albeit unsteadily due to the impact of the lampshade on his temple. “Come on, honey,” he managed to say despite himself, imitating a sparring stance, “come to daddy.”

Vyn inhaled a sharp breath.

He turned on his back, then, and used all his remaining strength to kick his husband’s groin.

“Fucking fiend—” Marius moaned in agony as he fell to his knees.

“Heh,” Vyn chuckled darkly. “Who’s your daddy now?”

“Ahahaha,” Marius managed a laugh. For some reason, it did not sound even the least sarcastic. In fact, it sounded so… genuine. “That’d still be me, Vyn,” he breathed, “still me.”

Then he rolled to the side, Vyn the other way around.

When they got up to their feet, nimble as men who were yet to be injured and beaten up, Vyn and Marius found themselves in a rather precarious situation:

Their guns on each other’s heads.

Blood coated their faces. Some trickled down, some already dried from earlier’s violence, the crimson-brown marking their skin as if pinpointing just where they had tried to inflict pain on one another. Desperate breaths filled the thrashed room, heaving in attempts to ease the thumping hearts, seemingly beating for something other than the desire to kill—perhaps beating for love, still.

The room had now quieted. No more crashing and shattering and heavy thuds brought about by relentless kicking and punching and hurling. The once catastrophic space was now but a peaceful one, at least in terms of sound and every other external force of nature.

“Let us end this here.”

Vyn’s tone never wavered. It was still as honeyed, elegant. But neither had the strength to actually ask, is that what you really want?

“Baby.”

“Stop,” he said, or rather breathed, as if Vyn had drained all capacity to speak, and Marius almost didn’t hear it, but he did. He always did. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Okay.” Marius nodded. His gaze remained fixated on Vyn, who so determinedly held out his gun, although Marius wondered why his finger was a little far off from the trigger. He took that as a good sign—something to hold onto. “So,” he began, his silencer still aimed towards his husband, “what now?”

I do not know, he had the urge to say. But he wouldn’t say it. Not in this life.

“Are we to stay like this the entire night, Vyn?”

“No, of course not.”

“Should I worry now?”

“As you should.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

Vyn’s eyes snapped to him, meeting those eyes of dark amethyst, and Vyn realized he hadn’t been looking at Marius this whole time, only to a random part of his face so it would seem like he was strong enough to take this head-on. But when their eyes met he felt his breath catch, and gods did Vyn want to whip everything back in time just so this didn’t happen. Just so he would have him back.

It is still him, he told himself. This youthful man, so willingly returning his gaze even though Vyn bore some brutal promise, always the man who could see him, who chooses to see through him and accepts what sought refuge beneath the facade—still Marius.

My Marius.

Vyn gasped, more loudly than he’d intended, when the silencer dropped to the floor.

His line of sight panned up to Marius. “What are you doing?” he hissed with unmistakable, rising fury. “Pick it up.”

Marius raised his arms, slowly, in surrender. “I don’t want to.”

“Pick up the gun.”

“I can’t.”

He inhaled sharply that the air could cut his throat, which was painfully drying, his heartbeat starting to race another time as he attempted to persuade him, “Pick it up, Marius! Pick the fucking gun—”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head in regret.

“FIGHT. FAIR. THIS IS NOT FAIR.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Believe me.”

He was pleading, and Vyn knew that. Not pleading for his life, but pleading his love.

Until Vyn asked, “Why did you do it?”

His eyes lit up. It didn’t matter whether Vyn would accept his answer, he didn’t even care if he would believe him, but he was so damn happy Vyn was at least interested to know. And he deserved the truth—he ought to grant his husband that.

“I’m…” He breathed in, his line of sight entirely on the floor, trying to find the perfect explanation. “I don’t know. I guess I just love—”

“Killing other people?”

He looked up at Vyn. “Bloodlust—that’s it, yeah?”

Vyn scoffed. “Bloodlust. Are you kidding me?”

“I had killed someone for Giann. Accidentally,” he began, “an act of self-defense, to save myself and him. He was drugged and unconscious and we were alone, and we were kids.

“And I felt like a different person, you know? Stabbing that man to death. Torturing him until he begged that I end his suffering. Instead I got a blunt knife…” He trailed, his voice now dripping with that familiar longing, that familiar tone of satisfaction Vyn so knew about him, “started carving the family insignia deep into his skin while I listened to his pleas, his screaming, and watched the way his blood leaked from his cuts…

“It was, to say the least, a feast to my senses.” Marius chuckled, his voice dark, almost evil. As if Vyn’s kind, youthful husband had gone, had turned into someone unspeakable, someone he didn’t know. Or perhaps, a Marius he has yet to meet. “That was when I realized I let another me live within. He’s someone who loved drawing blood, someone who craved for violence. All of this, Vyn—I do it all for fun. I couldn’t get it out of my system. So, yeah.”

“You could have told me,” whispered Vyn. Marius wanted to believe he saw those golden irises soften, even only for a passing beat. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, baby. But no,” he said resolutely, “I love you, so damn much, and I wanted to be perfect for you.”

Marius took a step forward. Vyn’s grasp tightened around the gun.

But Marius pressed forth. Arms falling heavy on either side he took yet another step, his mouth curving on a slight, sad smile as he walked closer, and closer, dangerously closer to the beautiful man who carried such a hideous promise.

“I want to be the perfect man…” Marius halted, just a few breaths away from the gun aimed directly at him. He crouched a little, leaned forward—

Vyn gasped. His whole body tremored, a sudden chill running all over his skin.

Marius wrapped his long fingers around the gun’s barrel, tugging it towards himself, pressing his chest against the hot muzzle. “The perfect husband for you.”

He observed as Vyn continued to nibble on his lower lip, biting it hard that it reddened with the threat of blood, and Marius’ chest tightened as he saw those golden hues now glossy with emerging tears. Vyn’s breathing had gone from composed to ragged, and soon the hand which held the gun started to shake.

“Vyn,” his husband called softly, “I love you, okay?”

He was surprised to feel hot tears filling his eyes, a stray of it rolling past his bloodied cheek. “Marius…”

“Vyn?”

“I…” he paused, grasping for words, suddenly losing all the vigor to fight. His heart shattered at this, at everything—at himself for being such a petty husband who never truly gave Marius the chance to prove himself, all because of some missed dinners. Who never gave Marius the benefit of the doubt even when Vyn saw in his eyes a flicker of hope.

He was so lost swimming in his ocean of thoughts that he never noticed Marius, who started easing away the gun ever so calmly, and Vyn—exhausted and drained out of his wits—allowed him his weapon to make its descent, down until he himself decided to drop it to the floor.

And he seemed to be in a daze indeed as Marius pressing closer to him went unnoticed, until Vyn realized, only after almost a minute, that Marius had gotten their bodies closer, almost skin to skin…

Marius knew he was quite awake now—from all his little reveries—and while he expected Vyn to land another blow or finish him once and for all, he was surprised when his husband’s gaze flitted from his lips before it settled up to his eyes, his pale, slender hands sliding to his chest as he whispered, “I love you too, Marius.”

Then Vyn was pushed onto the couch.

The doctor gasped, too surprised that it was a pitch higher than usual, and for a moment he was afraid that Marius had gotten the upper hand with his trick and now he ought to strangle him, but his gut believed otherwise, and his gut turned out to be right because Marius leaned down to kiss him—rough and wet, hungry as his tongue lapped in his mouth, a quiet sentiment of how Marius would rather kiss and touch and fuck him instead of sending blazing bullets all over their house.

“Mm—oh, Marius…” he whined as Marius pressed against him, almost straddling him, his hands relishing the softness of Vyn’s face and disregarding the feel of dried blood there, and now making their way towards the back of Vyn’s head, fingers brushing, tangling, pulling on those silver locks.

He felt his pants tighten at the sound of Vyn’s moans, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged his head back, suddenly feeling the lust of tasting Vyn’s exposed neck. Marius leaned down, his mouth pressed against his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along soft skin, tasting blood and hot sweat. He bit lightly at the hollow of his shoulder—

“Ah!” Vyn cried in perhaps both pleasure and pain, his fingers clutching desperately on Marius’ sleeves—sleeves that were rolled all the way up near his elbows and it was so sexy Vyn almost wanted to wave the white flag, in the middle of their shoot-out, just so he could fuck him. So he could kiss him, kneel in front of him, fulfilling his husbandly duty of sucking his cock. “Marius…”

“We literally just started,” Marius said as he looked up to meet Vyn’s eyes, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m about to.”

“Well why don’t you get on with it? Or would you rather waste my—oh, fuck—Marius!”

Vyn could only screw his eyes shut, and Marius could only let out a satisfied groan as he ground his hips against Vyn’s, biting his lip as he felt that hard erection, the proof of his husband’s growing need and oh, how he’d love to satisfy him. “What was that?”

“Will you ever stop talking—”

Marius shut him up with another kiss on the mouth. Vyn tasted sweet, as usual, however Marius made out the metallic flavor of blood, but it’s not like he would mind. It’s his husband’s blood, anyway, and he’d be most willing to take a sip of it, drink it, chug it until it sank down his throat the way he would his chocolate drink.

Ah, but Marius loved it more when it was Vyn who did that with his cum.

As he kissed Vyn he continued moving, grinding his hips until all he could hear were the melodies of Vyn’s whines and sighs, and gods was he so distracted Marius failed to notice Vyn already taking the matter into his own hands unbuttoning Marius’ shirt, and with fervent speed at that.

He suppressed a laugh as he bowed his head, watching in awe as Vyn fumbled with the buttons of his black shirt, breathing so hard and sensually as if he could wait no longer. In fact it felt like Vyn would be very much happy to just tear his shirt apart—not that his husband would mind, either.

“You were so determined to kill me earlier,” Marius said as Vyn unbuttoned the very last one, “but now you’re so hot and horny for me. I told you I did like your mood swings—hmph!”

He was cut off by Vyn’s mouth claiming his own—much to his delight—and soon he found himself hooking his arms under Vyn’s spine and the back of his legs, his feet then making way to their bedroom on the second floor. Vyn wrapped his arms around Marius’ neck instinctively, even pulling him closer as if he needed more, plenty more of him, and Marius loved the way his husband craved for his kisses that it must have given him some omniscient power to navigate the halls and the stairs in the dark so precisely.

In a minute a heavy thud reverberated, echoing across the massive bedroom as Marius opened the door—or rather twisted the knob then kicked the door—and went towards the bed with much haste. He’d licked, bitten, lapped at Vyn’s mouth one last time before he dropped him to the king-sized bed, covered in midnight-lacquered sheets, and proceeded to take off his shirt—

“Wait,” Vyn protested, but before his husband could respond he hooked his two fingers round the belt loop of Marius’ pants, and tugged him closer. It was so damn hot Marius’ cock twitched.

Suddenly he wanted to grab a fistful of Vyn’s hair and make him suck his dick. He’d fuck Vyn’s mouth so well with his hard cock the man would be a beautiful, crying mess the moment he swallowed his cum.

“I…” Vyn turned a little red. “I want to suck you.”

Marius swallowed as he hurried to comply, feeling a certain heat within him intensify. Vyn was already kneeling on the bed, making quick work unbuckling Marius’ belt and letting his cock spring free and fuck, Marius’ cock was heavy and warm and slick with precum, and Vyn felt his own twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He did not waste time. Vyn wrapped his long, slender fingers around his husband’s cock, feeling Marius throb against his palm, his cold fingers. He had sucked Marius dry since god knows when, but suddenly he felt like this was all new, that he was nervous and shy again, and it was as if he was taken back to their first night as two married men. That first night after Vyn said Yes, I do, I shall marry you, and Marius beamed and Vyn thought his husband could rival the sun. Funny what some husband quarrel and house violence could do to you—

“Just so you know, Vyn.” A low, impatient voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “I’m this close to shoving your face down my cock, if you don’t mind.”

Vyn bit his lip as he saw yet again that massive, hard cock staring right in front of him, waiting to be devoured. God, his husband’s cock was so beautiful, thick and velvety soft that his breath caught. And realizing once again that someone was getting impatient, Vyn leaned in and licked gently under the crown of Marius’ dick.

“Fuck.” Marius’ head dipped back, feeling his cock twitch against Vyn’s tongue. “Please—”

He rasped as Vyn complied, letting his mouth close around the head of his husband’s rock-hard cock—

“Fffuck,” Marius breathed, panting as Vyn made swirling motions with his tongue as he slid halfway down his length, “Fuck, Vyn!”

His eyes screwed shut, his hands clutching onto Vyn’s silver locks, and moaned out a broken cry as Vyn sucked his whole length, deep throating him, his wet, warm lips touching his Marius’ hot skin. “Fuck, Jesus.”

Vyn moaned around his cock, and as Marius felt it vibrate around him he dipped his head back again, seeing the goddamn stars. Vyn’s moaning didn’t stop even as he sucked his husband’s dick, Marius’ cock moving in and out of his mouth. Marius tasted so good. Every time Vyn sucked him it seemed he tasted even better and better, as if there were new flavours to his taste of clean sweat, of salty skin, and god even his precum seemed heavenly to Vyn’s tongue, melting like chocolate. His eyes fluttered shut as he sucked. God, he would suck this man’s cock forever.

Until Marius tugged Vyn’s head back, “Fuck, wait.” He panted heavily, and as he saw Vyn lick his lips—still glistening wet from his own saliva and Marius’ precum—Marius wanted to plug that pretty little mouth with his dick again. But he held himself together and said, “Wait. I’m… I was about to…”

“I’d swallow everything, Marius.”

“Fuck, stop it. Stop it or you’ll have to choke on my dick the rest of the evening.”

“What is the matter?”

Marius’ cheeks tinged a bit pink. He looked much like a teenager who wanted to try sex with his crush. “I want to… I—”

“Too good?” Vyn smirked.

“Fuck you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Marius caressed Vyn’s hair, as softly as he could. “I want to come inside you.”

Vyn swallowed, his mind once again drawn to their little memories of fucking every night until both their legs had given in, and Marius thought the same. God, he  couldn’t stop staring at his husband. Vyn looked ethereal bathed in the bedroom’s soft orange glow…

However this time it was Marius who was stripped—so quickly—from his reveries as he was pulled, thrown to the bed, with Vyn taking off his shirt, leaving his necktie around. His shirt was hauled off to the floor in a second, and now Vyn looked like some fallen angel as he straddled Marius, untying the silken tie with deft fingers, his wet lips parted in awe…

“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” Marius’ hand slipped round his husband’s waist. We’ve been married for years but goddammit, your waist is so fucking small.

“You’re gonna use that on me?” he added, whispering against the shell of Vyn’s ear, making his husband shudder. God, he loved it when Vyn did that. Loved it when his ministrations, even the smallest ones, had a great effect on him. “And look at you, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion?”

“I—ah—”

His cock twitched again that it almost hurt, as if begging to be hilted inside Vyn’s ass. Vyn had the sexy habit of whining and making those kinds of sounds whenever he’s surprised or caught unawares, like that very moment when Marius stripped him off his vest with one go, the buttons clinking on the floor in unison. Marius didn’t waste a second and gripped the sleeves of his doctor’s coat, tugging it off him.

Until Vyn caught his wrists and said, “Let me.”

The muse started taking off his vest—slowly, tantalizingly. He knew all too well this act was a feast for his husband’s eyes, for his cock. The slutty bottom that he was, Vyn removed his clothing alongside his heavy, sexy breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, with some stray, silver strands falling over his eyes.

The vest went abandoned. Thrown to the floor just like all else. The shirt followed, Vyn making sure the sounds he made were heard, acknowledged—oh acknowledged indeed, what with his husband’s erection poking against his leg—and he couldn’t help but suppress a smile knowing Marius was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

When everything was unbuttoned, Vyn let the right sleeve slide down his arm, revealing some skin on his chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Marius had seen it all, but still he thought he looked so ethereal, and so hot all the same that he was torn between treating him right—sweetly, gently—and fucking him so rough and so hard he won’t be able to walk the next day.

By instinct, Marius looked away. He bit his lip as he did, setting his sights away as he was suddenly so overwhelmed, so doubtful—do I even deserve this, he asked himself, realizing that it had been his fault why the shoot-out occurred in the first place: he missed a lot of dinners with Vyn. He was always out for his business of killing other people. He hurt him in all ways possible, especially tonight.

But then, “Marius.”

His gaze returned to Vyn. “Darling?”

“Do not look away.” Vyn’s hands, soft and cold, reached to caress his face. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice like that of an angel’s, “this is all yours—all of me. I am yours.”

Marius made sure that shirt was off his husband immediately.

He’d kissed him again, a mix of love and dominance, of lust and longing. Arms tight around Vyn’s waist he pulled his muse close to him, skin to skin, but he wanted them to be closer. He wanted to be inside him—to own him, body and soul.

He loved Vyn. Marius wouldn’t know who he is without him.

“I love you,” he grunted as Vyn ground against his erection, “I love you.” His hands wandered up his spine and down his ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from Vyn. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t long until Marius took his black, silken tie, staring intently, lustfully at Vyn before he hoisted it in between them, “May I?”

Vyn raised his wrists in answer. “And my tie?”

“For your eyes,” Marius said, his eyes darkening. “I was thinking your mouth, but I love hearing your noises.

“I love hearing your moans. Your whines. I love it when you scream my name.”

Marius licked his lips, and his chest swelled with triumph as he saw Vyn shiver again, turned on by a few words. Vyn gasped in surprise as Marius finished tying his wrists, pulling on the knot a bit harshly than he’d intended.

“Now,” Marius said as he worked on Vyn’s red tie, “you love the dark, don’t you darling?”

A whine escaped his lips as he was pushed to the bed. He couldn’t even recall how Marius looped and that red, silken tie around his eyes. All he knew now was he’s on the bed, on his back, his hands tied in front of him. “Ah, Marius…”

“What was that?”

Vyn could only nibble on his lower lip. “Please… oh!”

He moaned as he felt his husband’s mouth, warm and wet, close around his nipple. His toes curled at the sensation, especially at how Marius knew just how to kiss, lick, and suck his nipple and make him cry and moan so loud. His body moved frantically, the pleasure almost maddening now that his vision was obscured, and not knowing what Marius was gonna do next was killing him.

However soon he felt large hands grip his thighs, hoisting them, and Vyn most willingly submitted by wrapping his legs around Marius’ hips. He was now on top of him, could feel his hot, ragged breaths against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Marius whispered as he kissed Vyn’s beauty mark, that one on his collarbone, “I just love fucking you so much,” he said, before unbuttoning Vyn’s pants and sliding his hand down under, wrapping his fingers around Vyn’s length.

“Oh! Marius, ah—”

“Yes, just like that…”

“Please!”

“You like that? Damn, you’re actually making this harder for me… let me just…”

Marius stopped, his hurrying hands fumbling on Vyn’s pants, in much haste to get inside him. Oh how badly he wanted to fuck his husband when he all but looked like a willing captive, writhing underneath him—he let his fingers travel down under, lingering on Vyn’s back, then trailing further south, massaging his arse, lifting Vyn a little in the process.

Marius did not waste any more time and took the head of his own cock, moving his hard-on closer until it rubbed softly, carefully over Vyn’s hole. He rasped as he did a little push inside. “Shit.”

“M-Marius…”

Marius took that as his signal to push further, letting out a small grunt as he moved another inch, then another, and he took satisfaction witnessing Vyn’s mouth parting as he whined, silver brows furrowed in pleasure. “Ohh, Marius—”

Marius gripped on his husband’s waist and hilted his entire cock inside him.

Vyn whined again, so loud Marius wondered if his voice reached the outside, even with their windows closed. Vyn cried as Marius moved inside him, his thick, warm cock fitting perfectly in his ass, hilting deeper and deeper with each thrust that Vyn couldn’t stop muttering curses and Marius, Marius didn’t have any words for it—just sounds, low and needy. Just grunts, and moans, and whines and cries.

Marius thrust again. Harder, deeper—

“Ohh, just like that!”

“Yeah?”

“Mm—ohh, f-faster please—!”

Marius nodded frantically, and he thought how much Vyn had an effect on him that, despite Vyn being the one tied up and writhing underneath him, Marius was actually the one in his mercy.

Good. Deservedly so. Vyn Richter was his Saving Grace and he’d worship the man forever.

“Ah—fuck! Marius…!” moaned the older man, biting his lip as he welcomed the familiar pain—and pleasure—down his nether part. It was only then Marius realized he had been too excited to claim Vyn that the thought of using a lubricant or even covering his dick with saliva never crossed his mind.

“Fuck, Vyn. Does it hurt?” he asked, but never stopped moving, pulling and pushing back in.

“N-no! It feels good. You feel good…” he moaned as he shook his head, “I’d rather you—ah!—fucked me hard.”

And it was enough to make Marius pin his husband’s hands atop his head, cursing as he thrust in, and out, so hard and so deep tears started rolling down Vyn’s pale cheeks. “Faster?”

“Y-yes!”

Marius gripped hard around Vyn’s wrists, railing the man as hard as he could, making Vyn cry with each powerful thrust. The sounds of wet, forceful squelching echoed across the room and, partnered with Vyn Richter’s needy moans, Marius thought damn, I should’ve brought a recorder.

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t do that soon. Pretty sure Vyn would be most willing to film all their blasphemous activities together. “I’m close.”

“M-me too…” Vyn bit his lip, his back arching in ecstasy brought about by their bodies, skin to skin. Marius pounded faster. It felt like fire, really, and he felt his stomach surging and ebbing and surging again and again with pleasure. They moved in sync now, Vyn’s hips thrusting to match his husband’s pace, and he knew he was close when he felt that electric sensation zipping through his veins, his loins, his cock. “M-Marius…!”

His balls drew up tight as Marius slammed into him, again and again. Vyn could only let out a broken cry as he sensed Marius’ hand grasping his cock, jerking it as fast and as hard, perfectly matched with the way Marius pumped his dick inside him in a relentless rhythm.

Vyn came. Loud, majestic, his hot cum spurting on Marius’ stomach and making a beautiful mess there, much like the way he was one. His head was fucking spinning and he thanked Marius for it. And he kept on crying out even as Marius came, his fresh seed filling Vyn up like he was always meant to.

He kept on going. Grinding in him so deep, so sensual, thrusting again and again and letting his very hard cock feel inside Vyn, helping both of them through the very last of their orgasms. Again, then again. One last time, until Vyn croaked weakly, and Marius grunted as he fell on the empty space on the bed, beside his husband.

Despite the exhaustion, he shifted to his side. Took the blindfold off his husband. Vyn’s eyes fluttered open immediately, albeit blearily, the fringe of his long, silver lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave Marius a weak smile. “That was…”

Marius let out a soft laugh, feeling the last bits of his energy dripping away. “I want to fuck you again.” He relaxed, but felt himself stiffen at the sight of his husband: ethereal. Beautiful with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, his neck and chest gleaming in sweat. Vyn Richter, once again, in the afterglow of mindblowing sex.

“I love you,” he whispered, though he was not sure if Vyn heard. His eyes were already closed, and he looked like he was fast asleep. Marius smiled and snuggled close to him, with Vyn’s soft breathing lulling him to slumber.

==

Sometime around his dream, if he ever truly dreamed, he heard a silken voice say, “I love you, too.” Felt a gentle kiss on his forehead once, twice. Then another, “I will love you forever.”

When he awoke in the middle of the night, the quiet surrounding them, he saw Vyn was sound asleep. He rested his head against the hollow of Vyn’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent, and wrapped his arms around him. “Vyn,” he whispered, “I’ll love you forever, too,” before he kissed him on the cheek.

Somehow, Marius knew he hadn’t dreamt it.

==

Vyn awoke three hours earlier than usual, his eyes bleary, almost blind as he stared at the digital clock which blinked 5:58 AM. He wouldn’t be up this early, but his phone rang so alarmingly in the distance—atop that couch beside their bed where Marius fucked him the whole night—and with a ringtone he wouldn’t dare not pick up, lest he received yet another lecture. An hour or two of it, even if that lecture came from his, well… not his superior, because he was the superior.

He sighed—it was his junior calling. “Good morning, my rose.”

“DON’T ‘MY ROSE’ ME, RICHTER-VON HAGEN!” came his beloved junior’s rather sweet response, and Vyn instinctively pulled his phone away from his ear, unless he wanted his hearing damaged forever. “WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“Language, beloved.”

“VYN!” Ah, there it was. He knew she was suppressing those sobs. It was conspicuous she had been pulling back tears the moment Vyn answered the call, the moment she’d heard his voice and confirmed he was alive, although not much well. “I was so, so worried about you… I thought… I thought you were—” she paused to take a light sniff, “dead. The squad is on their way. What happened?”

“I… I cannot tell you right now. I am sorry, dear,” he said, his gaze drifting to his husband who was still snoring in his sleep, and gods did Vyn thought Marius looked ethereal even during his most vulnerable moments. He fucked me so well last night…

“And please, Rosa,” he said, “tell the squad to halt their mission. I am all right—harmed, but I am faring well. And so is my husband.”

“Oh, my god. Mr. von Hagen was a witness?”

“Sort of. I shall tell you all about it when we meet.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his fingers running across the bare skin of his chest, wincing at the hurt from where Marius bit him. “You are in charge for now. Make certain the HQ is still up and about,” he said, “you are my second-in-command, so do what you must in my stead. Meet me tomorrow, same place.”

“Oh, uh—tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes. Is something the matter, dear?”

“Er, well…” she trailed, and Vyn’s brow arched in curiosity. He tried to rewind their past conversations, see if she’d mentioned anything she ought to accomplish tomorrow. There was nothing in particular, and Vyn was about to tell her twice until she cleared her throat and answered, “I actually… have a date tomorrow, Vyn.”

Ah. Understandable.

However, “I have taught you of the risks which comes along with our line of work. I hope you do keep your emotions out of your job—”

“What a hypocrite,” Marius muttered beside him. Was this idiot fake-sleeping the whole time?

“Never you mind. I am not against your relationships. I will meet you in two days, then,” Vyn continued—not without glaring at his husband first and foremost in the morning—and added, “but of course, what is this lucky lad’s name? Age, hair colour—”

“Luke Pearce, thirty years old. Coral eyes, chestnut blonde, and very cute.”

“Make certain you put up his records in the office. That aside—please enjoy your date, Rosa.”

Vyn pressed on the end button. He was thinking whether to check up on his husband or do a background check on Luke Pearce first, but he heard another phone call—this time from Marius’ phone—and even though he never truly meant to listen… well, however could he not?

“Hey, Luke?”

Vyn’s ears perked at the sound of his name. Luke.

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you can’t tomorrow?” Marius asked through the phone, his voice getting inaudible as he yawned, “oh, man. Congrats on bagging your first date—oh, wait a minute. Is this girl Rosa you’re going out with?”

“Who is that?” Vyn mouthed to him with those piercing golden eyes. My junior, his husband mouthed back, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like I can hide it anymore from you.

Well, Luke was not his junior since Luke was older by a few years, but Marius had been an assassin earlier than him. And, well… he was Luke’s boss.

Vyn didn’t need to do a background check. He’d have to pester Marius for it. Just great, what are the odds that their juniors were going on a date?

The first thing Marius did when he ended the phone call was tackle Vyn into a hug, which the older man reciprocated much lovingly (despite his grumpy morning face). He was still scowling, but it was a contrast to the warmth which he gave Marius in return, and the eagerness emanating from him as he pressed closer against Marius’ exposed chest. It wasn’t very soon that Vyn had started nuzzling his face against his husband’s cheeks, like a cat trying to be sweet.

“Vyn.”

“I thought you addressed me as darling or love or baby, but I suppose we—”

“Really, Vyn? This early in the morning?” Marius laughed as he cuddled him more. “You know, I was just gonna ask you something…”

“You want to fuck me again?”

And there it was, that familiar pout and puppy eyes, all too powerful even for Vyn that he knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to deny him. Well, it’s not like he’d decline some more good fucking. “Don’t you want me to?” Marius said, his pout much guilt-enducing now.

But not until Vyn pushed the sheets down until it reached his thighs, revealing his now bulging erection, his sudden craving for Marius. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. You sure know how to—”

Another phone call.

Vyn sighed and took the phone. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a second, upon seeing the caller ID.

“Please tell me you’ll ignore that.”

“Unfortunately for us—” he slid a finger down the green button, “we cannot decline this one.

“Good morning, Captain Morgan.”

“This is Artem,” came that deep, familiar baritone, and Vyn felt himself shiver from the way Artem sounded in the mornings. The senior lawyer had always been a morning person, but there were times too wherein he was too lazy to get up for work—can you actually believe that?—so Vyn had to do all sorts of things to get him moving. His voice during those moments hadn’t changed at all: deep and husky, almost seductive.

“Artem,” he repeated, and the name seemed to capture Marius’ attention, too. “Good morning. Why are you calling this early in the morning? And why are you using Captain Morgan’s phone?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Darius forgot to bring his phone,” he answered. “I called to let you know he’s coming, along with his squad. Too many noise complaints last night. They’re going to investigate.”

“Just so you know, Wing—my house is an estate. I am quite certain no one was bound to hear us…” Oh, shit. Marius threw a grenade in my garden.

He shot Marius a glare before he returned, “Tell Captain Morgan to go home.”

“I kept telling him that,” he replied, quite vexed now. “It was supposed to be our day off, Vyn. Our only day off, and you just had to ruin it.”

“It is not my fault you cannot persuade your boyfriend to stay in bed with you.”

“Are we—”

“Hello there, Artem.” Marius had snagged the phone away from Vyn, having felt that impending argument that would probably last hours—he wouldn’t admit that he was only jealous because Artem was Vyn’s only ex-boyfriend, almost husband—and had taken matters into his own hands. “We’ll meet Captain Morgan when he gets here, all right? I’ll tell him to go home, so let’s have peace, yeah? Bye!”

“I could have handled that, Marius,” Vyn spat, but not before Marius hopped out of bed and went to browse through his cabinet. He got himself a clean set of sleepwear in pastel green, Vyn’s most adored colour, and threw the shirt in Vyn’s direction. “Give me the pants as well.”

“No,” said Marius, already in the process of wearing it, “you take the shirt, I take the pants. It’s too long for you, anyway.”

Vyn crossed his legs, folded his arms. “What are you planning?”

“We’re gonna give ‘em a show.”

==

When Vyn opened the front door to their house, he was met with the rather hot welcome of flashing lights, towering video cameras, fully-dressed reporters and papparazzis in all black. He could make out the faint sirens coming from the police cars parked outside the estate, and he only hoped no one was able to round the bend leading to his recently-bombed garden.

“Vyn Richter, is it true there was a shoot-out here last night?”

“Vyn, did you have a quarrel with Mr. von Hagen?”

“Vyn, the people are curious—is divorce on the table yet?”

“Are you and Mr. von Hagen are going to be available in the marriage market again?”

“Vyn, rumors say that you and Mr. von Hagen are involved in matters of Mafia and secret services. Is that true?”

“Vyn, are you pregnant?”

His eyed widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“VYN!”

If he really ought to be true to his role of being a… babygirl who would pretend to be lightheaded or unwell after coming across crazy reporters with no sense of privacy, he would’ve done it after a few more moments or so. However Vyn truly was made unwell by said blinding lights and mad interviewers, and by instinct he pressed a palm against his temple and leaned against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy at the commotion. “Please…”

“Give him space, everyone. Move, move!”

Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Captain Morgan, he thought as Darius practically shoved the reporters out of the way as he reached for Vyn. A strong hand gripped him by the arm, enough to steady his slowly unstable body. “You okay, Richter?”

“von Hagen,” he corrected. “And not quite, Captain.”

“You can hold onto me,” he said, then faced the crowd of reporters again, “stop it with the cameras. If I see another shot I’ll have you all arrested—”

“You better listen to him.” Marius stepped beside Vyn, and in a heartbeat slipped his arm around his huband’s slender waist. Vyn felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Marius’ hand holding him around the waist, in front of all these people—not to mention he was only wearing a green button top and Marius only in his pajamas. Thank god the cameras had stopped—courtesy by Darius who threatened an arrest—because those dark red hickeys and bite marks were clearer than the clearest of blue skies.

This man, Vyn thought as he leaned against Marius’ chest, he really likes to show off, doesn’t he?

He tried to hide a chuckle. It was true Marius loved to show off, but he loved it most when Marius showed him off for everyone to see, for everyone to know who owned him. At this moment, the message was pretty clear. Even the most senseless person would make sense what Marius wanted to say—that Vyn was his, and Marius was Vyn’s. It was written all over the young von Hagen: from the smirk on his lips, the red marks on his exposed chest. The top which covered Vyn’s probably hickey-filled body.

And so Vyn acted the part, pretending to be nauseous as he rested his head against his husband’s shoulder this time, and hooking his arm around Marius’. “I am not feeling very well…”

Marius squeezed his waist gently. “I’ll get you inside,” he said, and Vyn nodded faintly. Marius then turned to Captain Morgan, who was staring at them rather incredulously. It was conspicuous he never wanted to be here, to witness all this—he’d rather spend the day fucking Artem. “Sorry, Cap. I’ll give you a call and help you fix our mess. For now…” he paused and gestured to an exhausted Vyn, “my husband needs rest. You’ll handle this for now, yeah?”

Darius sighed, massaging his temples. “Yes. I’ll also let Artem know.”

“You better go home to him. He was pretty pissed with us this morning.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. von Hagen?”

“Ehh ~” Marius pouted, but before he could say another word Darius asked, “What am I going to report? There were a lot of noise complaints. Some said it sounded like a grenade.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” Marius winked. “You see, this is what happens when you’re away for work too long. You tend to really, really miss your husband…”

Darius wanted to roll his eyes—no, he wanted to punch Marius. Does this brat really expect me to write ‘very loud, earth-shattering sex’ as the reason for those noise complaints?

Whatever could he do, though? He couldn’t possibly deny the Marius von Hagen of all people. Besides, he was not anointed as the newest NXX member for him to report Marius and Vyn just like that. Fine—he was going to write that unreasonable reason.

Marius seemed to know Darius was not going to deny him, and so the captain was met with the von Hagen’s signature, youthful grin that seemed to say: Hehe, you can’t deny me, can you?

Darius eyed Vyn one more time. He didn’t seem as sick as he appeared, but Darius knew he was indeed exhausted. However he wondered, as he waved the couple goodbye and ordered the reporters and paparazzis to keep out lest they get arrested, how can Richter—er, von Hagen—be this radiant after that violent shoot-out?

The moment Marius closed the door, Vyn muttered:

“Tell Vincent to arrange you an appointment with me,” he said, almost half-moaned, “based on my findings last evening, you need psychiatric help.”

… This hypocrite!

[aisyndromes]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 未定事件簿 | Tears of Themis (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Yan Wei | Darius Morgan/Zuo Ran | Artem Wing Characters: Yan Wei | Darius Morgan, Zuo Ran | Artem Wing Additional Tags: Not Beta Read, Smoking, Mutual Pining, Fluff Summary:

“Are you?”

“Me?” The Captain’s smile lingers. “I’m more than willing, if you let me.”

[nyxronomicon]

a quick errand

Darius Morgan x f!reader

2.6k words

🔞NSFW 18+ ONLY 🔞

cw: unprotected, fingering, creampie, darius wears a wedding ring (but he's divorced), smoking, sloppy kissing, tit play, possessive!Darius (if you squint), praise, mild size kink (he has a big cock what can I say), reader wears lingerie

pet names: love, baby, good girl/naughty girl

You had just stopped by the police station to get some paperwork from Captain Morgan. You were on another one of his cases and Artem loved to make you run little errands like this. Of course you didn't mind, even though Darius wore a wedding ring you found him very easy to talk to and even occasionally flirted with him knowing it wouldn't go anywhere. 

"Anything else you need from me?" He asked as you flipped through the binder.

"This looks like everything." You smiled. You were about to excuse yourself when he spoke.

"You know, you've been very helpful with these cases lately. Have you ever considered being a detective?" You could sense a bit of fondness in his words. 

"My passion is in the courtroom." You studied him a little closer. "Are you trying to poach me, Captain?" You chuckled. 

"No, no, I just feel like I should be paying you for the good work you do." He laughed with you. "Besides, I think Mr. Wing would have my head if I stole you out from under him." He seemed a little dejected, even though his offer wasn't really serious.

"Artem doesn't really have anything to do with it." Even though he was married, you still had a crush on Captain Morgan and you didn't want him thinking you were unavailable. "He's just my boss." You could feel your heart beating a bit faster as Darius stood. 

He walked over to his office door and closed it, leaning against it as he lit a cigarette. "And what about those other men I always see you with? Who are they to you?"

"Huh? Capt-"

"Call me Darius, please." His tone was gentle but firm. You turned in your seat to face him. He was leaning against the door, studying your reaction to his words.

"Darius," you smiled softly, "why do you want to know?" You watched him tap his cigarette on the ashtray near the door before bringing it to his mouth again.  

"Answering a question with a question?" He chuckled. "I'm just trying to get to know you a little better." You might have gotten defensive if it was anyone else. But his soft laughter let your guard down. He could probably get you to tell him anything.

"Luke is just my childhood friend. Vyn is a valuable advisor. And Marius…" you couldn't quite find the words to describe him. After you paused, you could see Darius' expression harden. "I guess I'll just call him a friend." 

"Why the hesitation?" He really was impossible to read. You figured that's what made him a good detective. 

"Well, I'd say he's a client but we do hang out sometimes even though his case is over. I'm certainly closer to him than I am with any of my other past clients." You wondered why he was asking so much about the men in your life. The ring on his finger was prominent as he took a drag of his cigarette. 

"So you're unattached." He finally spoke. 

"You could say that…" you could feel your heart beating faster. You didn't really know what he was getting at, maybe he wanted to set you up? Surely he was not interested in you for himself. 

"So when I say I want to reward you, do you have any problems with that?" He finished his cigarette and put it out. 

"What do you mean?" Darius' office suddenly felt very small. Despite his open window and the light breeze, the smell of his cigarettes and cologne took over your senses. It was so cruel of him to be married and still monopolize your mind like this. So cruel of him to tease you when he was legally bound to another. 

And yet, he never spoke of his wife to you. When you asked about her, he simply sighed and brushed it off. He always flirted back when you said something suggestive and sometimes even started it himself. And without fail he took the time to chat with you for a while every time you stopped by his office. 

"I think you can figure out what I mean." Darius locked the door and removed his jacket before sitting on the small loveseat in the corner. "Sit with me." You watched him roll up his sleeves. This was your first time seeing his muscular forearms. 

"Aren't you… married?" You spoke in a hushed tone. Despite your reservations, his presence was intoxicating. You watched him remove his tie and unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt. The room was thick with sexual tension as he dragged his gaze down your body. 

"No." He slipped the ring off his finger and flicked it across the room. "She divorced me last year. I didn't want to talk about it so I kept wearing the ring." He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, staring at the silver band on the floor. 

You quickly left the seat across his desk to join him on the loveseat. "Darius…" you put a hand on his back as you tried to console him. 

"Don't worry about it." He looked back at you and smiled. "It's been long enough.” 

“Are you sure?” You underestimated how much you were drawn to him. Even just sitting next to him had your nerves blaring, your thoughts barely coherent as your fingers traced the muscles of his back. 

“I want you.” He leaned back, his brown eyes gazing into yours as his hand draped over your thigh. “That much I’m certain of.”

You had daydreamed about this. You hated to admit with all of the men fawning over you that the one that was completely unavailable to you had piqued your interest. So while you entertained the idea of others, you were really set on Darius. You’d made up scenarios of how he’d confess his love to you, how you’d push him away because of his marriage. Or even how you’d give in and let him fuck you senseless over that desk of his. 

You never prepared for this. Sure, a divorce had entered your mind on occasion, but you never could have imagined he was divorced this whole time. All this flirting and tension was unresolved simply because he continued to wear that ring. Sure, there was the possibility that he was lying, but that smile. That smile was the most genuine smile you’d seen on Darius’ face. 

“Well? How about it?” He brought you out of your thoughts and your eyes traced over his body. He was leaning closer to you now, his disheveled hair falling into his face. His fingers slowly moved up your thigh, yet still respectful of your pencil skirt. You could see his chest peeking out of the top of his shirt, seeing he was far more built than you thought. 

“Okay,” you spoke quietly. “What’s my reward then?” 

"What would you like?" He inched towards you until your breath mingled. 

"You seem to have thought about this for quite a bit…" you smirked. "How about you take the lead?" 

"Mmm…" his voice was husky, "exactly what I was hoping to hear." He didn't waste any more time, supporting the back of your head with one of his large hands as he captured you in a deep kiss. His other hand remained on your thigh, his thumb making small circles as his tongue entered your mouth. 

You could feel the heat pulsing through your body already. His kisses were firm but desperate. His hands seemed frozen in place, it was clear he hadn't done this in a while. You took his bottom lip between your teeth to try to encourage him. As you pulled away, you met his lusty gaze and found it easy to lose yourself in those soft brown eyes. 

Without warning, he hooked a hand under your legs and pulled them over his lap, reclining you against the arm of the loveseat before leaning over you. One of his arms braced him against the loveseat while the other pushed at the hem of your skirt. He dove in for another kiss, this time more reckless as if you'd found something in him that he thought he'd lost. 

Darius pressed himself more tightly against you, drinking in your heavy breaths as his teeth clashed with your lips. It was as if he was determined to make you his. To make you forget those other boys you were always with. To make you surrender yourself to him like he'd been dreaming you would.

He urgently peppered kisses along your jaw before remembering that you were still fully clothed. You understood what he wanted when his lips reached your collar and you quickly unbuttoned your blouse. Your lacy bra was just barely visible as his kisses impatiently followed your hands down your front.

"You didn't wear this for me, did you?" He barely separated from your skin as the hand that was on your thigh moved to your breast. Heat rushed to your cheeks. You wished the answer was no, but it wasn't. You had a feeling Artem would have you running an errand here today and you always wore something sexy under your clothes when you knew you'd see Darius. Your silence spoke volumes as his thumb rubbed your nipple through the lace. 

"You did?" He chuckled, his lips pressing against the exposed flesh of your tit. "Such a naughty girl…" His kisses now slowed. It was clear he was feeling more confident knowing you'd worn lingerie with the hopes he'd be the one undressing you. 

"It's not…" your breathing was labored as his mouth toyed with your nipple through the fabric of your bra. "It's not like that…'' you repeated yourself, arching your back as his attention sent butterflies up your spine. 

"You're not telling me there's someone else." His voice was lower than usual. Almost possessive. "That would be cruel of you." He pushed the straps of your bra to the side and your breasts spilled out, your nipples hard from his touch. 

"Not half as cruel as you, leading me to believe you were married this whole time." You tangled one of your hands in his messy hair while the other trailed down his muscular arm.

"That's not a no." He stopped, his brown eyes staring at you until you returned his gaze. Your body yearned for him to keep kissing you. To keep touching you. 

"There is no one else." You spoke softly. "I'm yours, and yours alone, Darius." 

"Good girl." He purred, languidly directing his attention back to your tits. He took one nipple between his lips while he pinched the other, making you moan from the contact on your bare skin. 

As he sucked you, you could feel his cock twitch against the back of your thigh. You sighed with pleasure, your body responding to every flick of his tongue. You arched your back more, curling your toes in a way that made one of your heels clatter to the floor. 

Just as your cunt ached for attention, Darius' hand wandered down your torso. He took his time, running his fingers down your hips, along the curve of your ass, then back up your thigh. He hooked his thumb under the hem of your skirt, finally pushing it up and exposing your sex. You gasped as he tugged at your panties.

"Hmm…" he glanced down to see it was a set. "They match." He smiled to himself before haphazardly pulling them to your knees. He rubbed two fingers along your folds, stroking you and feeling how wet you already were. 

"Do you always wear lingerie when you see me?" Darius shifted so he was hovering above your face again. You avoided his direct eye contact, unsure if the heat rushing to your cheeks was from embarrassment or arousal. His fingers circled your clit as he tilted his head to where your eyes landed. "Hm?" He smiled, having a feeling he already knew the answer.

"Y-yes…" you muttered, almost inaudibly. 

He chuckled and dropped his head in the crook of your neck. "I can't believe I kept you waiting so long… you're so perfect…" he mumbled against your skin as he started kissing your collarbone. You could feel his thick cock against your thighs as his fingers slid into your cunt. You moaned as he pumped them in and out, preparing you for his dick. 

“It’s been a while since I…” He trailed off, his hard cock finishing his statement for him with another twitch. 

“It’s ok.” You quickly reassured him, your pussy aching to be filled as it clenched around his calloused fingers. “Darius, I…” You lost your train of thought when he picked up his head, heavy blush decorating his cheeks as he gazed at you with those sexy chocolate eyes. “I want you inside me.” You spoke in barely a whisper, the words falling from your lips without a thought. 

“Anything, love.” His slip of the tongue made your heart race even faster as he kissed you again. His tongue and saliva were messy as he desperately positioned himself between your legs. You could hear the clattering of his belt falling on the floor and the shuffle of his slacks dropping below his cock, which now poked at your entrance. He separated from you only to glance down, making sure he was lined up with your hole. You practically drooled at his size despite the fact that it was hard to see his full length from this angle. 

“Ready?” He asked, seeming to need the reassurance more than you did.

“Yes, please…” He slid himself between your folds, collecting your juices on his tip before plunging himself deep inside you. You moaned at the stretch, tangling your fingers into his messy hair as his attention returned to you. He thrust himself in and out of you slowly at first, getting a feel for the way you wrapped around him.

“Fuck…” He shuddered, kissing your neck as he fucked you dumb, his dick reaching your most sensitive spot with each thrust. 

“Holy shit… Darius…” Moans spilled from your lips, and while you tried to be quiet about it since you were in his office, you couldn’t hold yourself back. He felt too good. The tingling pleasure quickly spread through your whole body, taking you right to the edge. You couldn’t even think straight anymore. His heavy cock pistoned inside you. His teeth left marks of desperation on your neck. From the sound of your moans, he didn’t need his deductive skills to know you were close. 

“I’m so-”

“Shh…” Darius hushed you. “I know, baby…” He began chasing his own high as he spoke. “Wait for me, ok? Let’s cum together.” His breath fanned over your skin. You were so sensitive. Each time he hit that bundle of nerves you were at risk of giving in to your pleasure but you held yourself back and let him edge you. 

“Such a good girl…” He mumbled, ramming into you haphazardly. “So good for me…” You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Your body was on fire, tingling all the way to your fingertips and toes in anticipation. 

“D-darius…” You whimpered as his breaths got shaky. 

“C-cum with me… !” He grunted, you could feel his seed spilling into you, the pressure pushing you over the edge as you sex flooded with pleasure. You clenched around him, your slick dripping at the base of his cock as he shuddered again. You both rode out the high, breathing heavily as your intertwined bodies buzzed with ecstasy. Finally, he collapsed on top of you, his dick still nestled in your tight cunt. 

“Fuck…” You were still catching your breath. “I don’t know how to go back to work after that…” 

“Call in sick.” He calmly responded, also a little out of breath. 

“Artem’s already seen me today…” You sighed. It would be strange if you called in sick at this point. 

“Then I’ll just tell him I’m borrowing you for the afternoon,” Darius smirked. “There’s a case in my bedroom I think I’ll need help with.” 

[rikumorimachisgirl]

Title: Trading Secrets

Warning: The following content is NSFW. This is not appropriate for readers 18 years old and below.

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Pairing: Darius Morgan x Rosa

Word count: ~1.7K

Summary: Rosa finds out that trading secrets is a fun way to relieve stress.

Notes: I wrote this because I needed more Darius content in my life and because I needed to practice writing smut again. I don't own Tears of Themis or any of its characters but I own the idea for this story.

It was a little past eleven when he stepped inside his apartment that Wednesday evening. Except for the light and the clickety-clack of the keyboard that spilled from the small opening of the makeshift room a little ways off the kitchen, Darius would've thought he was home alone. 

"Is that you, Darius?"

"Good evening, Rosa," the police captain nodded at his guest, who popped her head out of her room to check on him. Soon enough, she stepped out of her room in her blue button-down nightshirt, which looked two sizes too big for her - not that the junior attorney from Themis Law seemed to care. "Late night again?"

"There was a high-profile case that the Chief Justice asked me to look into," he replied, as he slumped on his usual seat at the small dining set. Sitting back, he closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his fingers. "I would've gone home early, but the report took me longer to create."

"That sounds rough," the young lawyer said as she waddled into the kitchen. She set a stack of files on the table and took the plate with the food she'd left for him so she can heat it in the microwave oven. His eyes traced the lines of her bikini panties, which her nightshirt failed to conceal, and he immediately shifted his attention to the papers in front of him. 

"Another witness?" 

"Yeah," the pretty petite replied wearily. "This case is dragging on far longer than any of us expected."

He read through the file to distract himself from his thoughts. It's been over a week since Artem Wing entrusted his junior to his care, and the dark-haired police captain hasn't slept a wink since. 

Not that Rosa was a noisy housemate - far from it. Rosa usually keeps to her room most of the time, and only comes out when she needs to. She's quite tidy and loves to clean when she's stressed out. She also makes for good company, especially when they're watching the news or discussing current events they've come across in the broadsheet or social media. The problem wasn't Rosa's behavior; it was her choice of clothes that bothered him - like the sweat shorts she wore three days ago when she was cleaning the living room, which did very little to hide the color of her underwear or the tank top she had on when they were drinking whisky together the other night, which had a very thin padding so he could see the outline of her nipples. The yoga shorts she wore this morning when she decided to exercise before going to work sent him flying to the bathroom where he relieved his throbbing member under the cold water from the shower. 

He cursed himself - it was ungentlemanly of him to be sexualizing his unexpected guest, especially when she was a good 13 years younger. The microwave chimed, and soon he smelled the delicious aroma of salt and pepper spare ribs wafting in the air. 

"Eat it while it's hot," she prodded. 

"Did you make this?" 

She laughed. "I admire your faith in my ability to cook, but no, Artem made this and sent it over." 

He watched her get their half-empty bottle of whisky and two glasses from the bar. She looked even more tired tonight and the circles under her eyes were darker. "You've brought out the whisky. Are things not going well between you and Artem?"

"Don't make it sound weird," she quipped as she poured the amber liquid into both glasses. Tipping her glass at him, she said, "Cheers!"

They fell into their usual groove over the next hour or so. She begged him to talk about his day and asked him all sorts of questions about the cases his team handles. She offered her advice about how to best approach the high-profile detainees from the recent drug bust and listened to him give his expert opinion about the case she was handling. 

As he was sharing his suspicion about the star witness in her current case, he saw her squint her light yellow-green eyes and attempt to suppress a yawn. He checked the time - it was half past midnight. 

"You seem tired. Maybe we should call it a night," he offered. 

"I'm not that tired yet," the young brunette replied, stretching her arms above her head while letting out a yawn. Before he could stop himself, he watched the fabric of her nightshirt outline the swell of her breast as she stretched. 

He shook his head. Darius, this woman is young enough to be your baby sister, he repeated to himself. For as long as he can compartmentalize her into that role, he figured he would be okay. 

It could be because of the alcohol and the fact that she looked cute, but somehow compartmentalizing her wasn't doing the trick. Her nightdress was now disheveled, her nipples were peeking through the fabric of her clothes and it was enough to send blood rushing to his manhood. He sighed and quietly counted to ten to calm himself down. 

"I think you should rest," the dashing dark-haired captain said. "Artem would be upset if he finds out you've been staying up late."

"But I can't sleep," Rosa whined. "Lately, all this prep work for the trial has been stressing me out so much, my brain's been working overtime. I can't relax, and I can't sleep."

Darius took one look at the crestfallen expression on Rosa's face and mentally deliberated between helping her or leaving her to her own devices. "But she's still young," he muttered under his breath. 

"I'm right here and I'm twenty-four. What are you up to?"

"Nothing," the Stellis Police Captain replied, downing his glass of whisky. "We should go to bed."

"Darius," Rosa cried, as she gripped his arm. "Don't go to bed yet. Stay with me a little while longer. I'm not tired yet and you have the day off tomorrow, too, right?"

He sent a prayer to the heavens. He was so close to giving in. He wished she'd be a good girl and just go back to her makeshift room so he can take a shower. 

But she wasn't keen on following instructions the first time tonight. He wasn't sure if it was the way she pleaded with him or the feel of her hand as she held his arm for dear life, but the gruff police chief let go of all remaining logic he had left as he picked Rosa up and hoisted her on his shoulder. Slamming the door of his bedroom shut, he dropped the young woman on his bed and stared at her bewildered expression. 

"Listen, I'm gonna help you sleep, but you better promise me you'll keep this a secret. Don't tell anyone about this," he said. 

"I believe that's how a secret works." 

He smirked. Even in her disheveled state, the junior lawyer still managed to answer back. No wonder she has Artem wrapped around her finger. He crouched down in front of her. 

"Have you ever been intimate with a man before?" 

She shook her head. "But… But I know the science behind it. I have an idea of how it works," she said. 

Darius chuckled as he grabbed her legs and knelt in front of her. He could smell her arousal and he didn't have to touch her to know she was getting excited about what he was about to do. 

"I have another secret to tell you," he said, as he reached for the waistband of her panties. There was a curious spark in her eyes. "I used to think of myself as your older brother," he confessed while slowly sliding her panties off her legs. He then positioned her legs on either side of his face and smirked. "But I wouldn't do this to my baby sister," he said before he licked the slit of her pussy once before lapping at it like a starving man. 

She gasped at the feeling of his wet tongue on her most intimate part. It wasn't unpleasant. She wanted more. She bucked her hips against his face, urging his tongue to keep tasting her. The feel of stubble on her clit as he ravaged her made her scream.

In between licks, Darius kept telling her how good she tasted and what Artem would do if he ever found out he was eating her out. These only added fuel to the fire as she begged him to keep going. 

She thrashed wildly when he sucked at her clit. She pulled on his hair, on the sheets - she didn't care if she looked like a maniac, but she wasn't gonna make him stop. 

He held her hips steady. "Look at me, Rosa," he told her. With her eyes locked on his, he lowered his lips again and parted her slit with his tongue. His eyes never left hers as he expertly parted her slit with his tongue and plunged deeper. Each time she would close her eyes, he'd click his tongue to remind her to keep watching. He loved watching her rise and fall apart with each lick and each suckle. As his tongue plunged inside her, he felt her tremble and knew she was close. He could also feel his pants tighten, so he unzipped his pants and took his cock out to stroke it while he drove Rosa off the edge.

"Darius…"

"I know, I know, baby," he said. "Don't fight it. Let it go. Cum for me." 

"Darius, I-I'm coming," Rosa gasped before waves of white heat rolled inside of her and Darius lapped it all up, not stopping until he's consumed all of her essence and planting one last lick on her sensitive clit. 

Sensing his own release, he stood over Rosa, still sprawled on his bed. "Sorry, Rosa, I'm gonna cum, too. May I?"

Before she had the chance to respond, he lifted her nightdress and groaned. Webs of creamy white liquid spilled from the tip of his large member unto her warm belly, and she watched as the magnificent man who had given her her first orgarsm now sought his own release. 

He collapsed on top of her and kissed her forehead. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can go to sleep," he said, still catching his breath. "After all, you must be tired now."

"I am," the pretty petite nodded. "But I want to sleep here. And since we have the day off tomorrow, do you mind if we trade some more secrets, Captain Morgan?" 

The older man laughed. "I can't possibly say no to a request from little Miss Attorney Rosa," he said, burying his face on her neck. "I have a lot of secrets to share with you. I hope you're ready for it."

The end. 

[yanderelucy2]

Since I am currently on my period I have decided to do what Tears of Themis characters would do when you're on your period!!

Includes Artem, Luke, Vyn, Marius, Vincent, Kiki, and Darius!! These are all on romantic terms btw!

f!reader, I am not good at writing btw

!Might not be character accurate!

Artem Wing

He'd be so prepared and patient, kind, just exactly what you need. He will treat you as if you're sick with a cold or fever, he treats you like a princess when you're on your period, well even when you're not.

Any time he's confused he'll search the internet, but if he still doesn't get it he'll just ask Celestine straight up. It will be embarrassing for him, but out of love for you, he will do it.

Luke Pearce

He knows exactly what to do. Not. He does know the basics of like cramps and blood, but he doesn't understand the back pain, the issues with food, and all that. (I tend to throw up because of cramps, so I don't know how to write calmer cramps..)

He'll buy you supplies and buy you snacks, he'll be understanding if you're moody. He just wouldn't exactly understand how much pain you're in, if you throw up he'll make sure you're all cleaned up and that there's a space on his bed just for you to set up comfortably for a nap. Overall he tries his best and succeeds!

Vyn Ritcher

Knows a lot, he's a doctor for crying out loud. (Yes, I know he's a feelings doctor, but he still works with hospitals and has to study basic medicine) He has female patients, and he has doctor friends.

He knows all the possible outcomes that may appear, and he's very prepared. He'll let you lay in his bed all comfy and mopey, making you a nice snack with some warm tea. He'll probably just lay with you in bed and let you sleep in his arms.

Marius Von Hagen

Sadly I think he'd be too busy to physically take care of you, he'd love to but he just doesn't have time to until later on in the day. He would probably send Vincent to send you some things, and then later at night he'd sneak in and just sleep and cuddle you saying sorry.

If he did have a day off, he wouldn't be super prepared or anything he'd know of it and know what happens, he's not stupid. He just wouldn't get it kind of like Luke, but a little more oblivious. He didn't have a mom growing up and wasn't exactly people of the female sex so his knowledge comes from his dad and the internet. He would buy you chocolates like the internet says to do, and just try not to annoy you. He'd probably avoid you a bit to not annoy you until he realizes your personality doesn't change much except for just being a little ruder to inanimate objects. Overall a cute oblivious mess.

Vincent Kim

Since there isn't much info on his home life I don't know if he has a motherly figure.

He would know what to do and be very responsible when doing it, Marius would probably let him take some breaks when the times available for the two of you. Vincent would probably just check up on you every now and then like normally give you whatever you want and get back to work.

If you are having bad cramps or are getting moody at something he'd panic a little, but then just straight ask for you to tell him what to do. He wouldn't want to bother you or do something wrong, I think he'd be so cute about it all too!!

Kiki Bennet

You and Kiki are synced two miserable messes. Overall though you two cuddle and make sure the both of you are okay. Instead of Kiki taking care of you, you end up taking care of her. She's moodier than you on her period, but just being with her helps ease all the pain away. She actually understands the pain and everything. You two watch whatever she wants to watch and you can sleep in her arms while she continues to watch.

Once you both are done with your periods though she always thinks back on how she acted and ends up feeling guilty and saying sorry.

Darius Morgan

HE'S SO FINE THIS MAN OMG, I WOULD LET THIS MAN DO WHATEVER HE WANTED TO DO WITH ME. LIKE SIR PLEASE FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME... anyways

He'd be very concerned and understanding, similar to Artem but a little more serious and spends less time with you. Since he's busy quite often there's not enough time for him to put as much effort and well time into you when you're in pain, so instead, he'll call you asking if you need anything and if you are okay.

If you say you miss him he'll try to finish work quicker and say he'll try to be home earlier, if you say you do want something from like the store or something he'll send one of the training officers or something to deliver it to you.

Sorry for not posting as frequently lately! Sorry, this is not well written either. I decided to try writing something including the side characters so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[vynsvision]

Hey writers of Tears of Themis community!! Quick question.

I'm writing a fic and New Years celebrations are part of the story. Me and my family (and everyone i know, just about) celebrate New Years on December 31/January 1.

But!! We aren't exactly sure where Stellis is, as a country/city. I imagined it was somewhere near China or Japan, but others have said its kinda like Netherlands or Denmark or a similar small European country.

What do y'all think would be the best option for a New Years celebration date period? December/January, sometime around Chinese New Year, or some other time?

Thanks !! :D

[kyoren15]

lovely art by my friend miiya!

for my fanfic Boundaries

[thecoffeelovingfreak]

𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤

Hello! This post contains the characters and themes I write for! I am always open to your ideas, though, so if something is not listed here feel free to ask me!

I only write for Bungou Stray Dogs, Vanitas no Carte, Twisted Wonderland, Castlevania (the series), and Tears of Themis!

I write headcanons, drabbles, oneshots, and stories (which can range from ~1.8k to 2k or higher, depending on how inspired I am)!

I write gender neutral readers, and prefer to write that way!

Please note the reader will always be of legal age.

~~

You can request:

- a character

- a character with a genre/tone

- a reader with an ability*

* - BSD - you can base the ability off of a specific book, but if I don't know it or haven't read it I may ask you to give me a summary or more specifics (how you see the ability)!

If I don't feel comfortable with the author's work, I'll ask you to send in a different request!

~~

Your request will most likely take 1-2 weeks (it can always take shorter or longer however) to get written and posted so please be patient!

Also note that I may ask you to send in a different request if I don't feel comfortable writing what you asked for :)

Do not send me multiple sets of the same request. I promise that I see and read them, but insistence can discourage me from writing it.

~~~

What I will write:

fluff

hurt/comfort

angst

AU's

suggestive content

virtually anything

What I will not write:

yandere content

nsfw/smut - I prefer to write it on my own accord, without requests, and it generally appears very rarely on my blog

non-con/dub-con relationships and sex

extremely detailed readers - if you would like me to do a slightly specific reader please give me a short list of traits or mannerisms!

character x character

child readers and readers under 18

standard criteria (no homophobia, incest, racism, etc.)

~~~

Characters I write for:

Bungou Stray Dogs:

Armed Detective Agency:

Yukichi Fukuzawa

Osamu Dazai

Akiko Yosano

Edogawa Ranpo

Doppo Kunikida

Port Mafia:

Kouyou Ozaki

Chuuya Nakahara

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa

Gin Akutagawa

Michizō Tachihara

The Guild:

Louisa May Alcott

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Mark Twain

Margaret Mitchell

The Decay of Angels:

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Nikolai Gogol

Sigma

Bram Stoker

Hunting Dogs:

Tecchou Suehiro

Saigiku Jouno

Other:

Agatha Christie

Mizuki Tsujimura

Yukito Ayatsuji

Ango Sakaguchi

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Vanitas no Carte:

Vampires:

Noé Archiviste

Jeanne

Dominique de Sade

Humans:

Vanitas

Olivier

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Twisted Wonderland:

Heartslabyul:

Riddle Rosehearts

Trey Clover

Cater Diamond

Ace Trappola

Deuce Spade

Savanaclaw:

Leona Kingscholar

Ruggie Bucchi

Jack Howl

Octavinelle:

Azul Ashengrotto

Jade Leech

Floyd Leech

Scarabia:

Kalim Al-Asim

Jamil Viper

Pomefiore:

Vil Schoenheit

Rook Hunt

Epel Felmier

Ignihyde:

Idia Shroud

Diasomnia:

Malleus Draconia

Lilia Vanrouge

Silver

Sebek Zigvolt

Ramshackle:

Grim (platonic)

The Ghosts (platonic)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Castlevania

Humans:

Trevor Belmont

Sypha Belnades

Greta

Lisa Ţepeş

Forgemasters:

Issac

Hector

Vampires & Dhampirs:

Adrian "Alucard" Ţepeş

Carmilla

Morana

Striga

Lenore

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Tears of Themis

Themis Law Firm:

Artem "Libra" Wing

Kiki Bennet

Pax Group:

Marius "King" von Hagen

Vincent Kim

Giannovyn Mental Health Research Center:

Vyn "Adjudicator" Richter

Pearce Private Investigations:

Luke "Raven" Pearce

Stellis Justice Department:

Darius Morgan

~~~

Please don't hesitate to send in your ask! I look forward to writing for you! :)

[sdaomine]

Under Arrest (NSFW)

There’s a hot cop named Darius Morgan, and there’s you who wants him so bad.

Pairing: Darius Morgan x fem!reader

A/N: I rarely write smut; it’s not my forte, but it’s Captain Morgan we’re talking about and he’s just so hot I couldn’t think of anything but... smut... huhu. 

==

Something had been bothering you as of late.

Whatever this may be, you thought as you tried to figure out why you were feeling a certain way.

Was it because of your new case, the particularly difficult one? No, you handled way more challenging cases than that. Then, was it Artem asking you out for dinner? Eh, probably not...

You only felt fidgety whenever you anticipated something, or when you sense an ominous event. However whatever it was that kept you up all night, you couldn’t figure it out.

“Rosa.” You almost flinched at the voice calling for you; instinctively you swiveled your office chair to face your boss.

“Artem!” you squeaked, surprised. “What is it?”

Before he could even open his mouth, you heard Celestine’s footsteps walking towards you and Artem, seeming to be in a rush. She gave you a little wave upon seeing you before she whispered something to Mr. Wing.

He sighed, then turned to face you again. "Sorry, Rosa," he said. "I cannot accompany you today; I need to attend an emergency meeting. Do you mind handing these files over to the police station?"

The police station.

 “Oh.” Your cheeks heated, and you angled your head to look away, silently wishing Artem and Celestine did not witness the fiery blush all over your face and neck. “Okay. No problem.”

Artem let out a relieved smile. "Good. Thank you," he said before glancing at his watch, "it's already one-thirty, so Captain Morgan should be there already. Call me when you need me, okay?"

You nodded rather embarrassingly. “I... I will, Mr. Wing! I’ll update you.”

“Thank you.” And with that, Artem walked out of the space, leaving you all flustered.

Your hands reached to cover your face in an attempt to cool your heated cheeks. The police station, you couldn’t help but relish the words in your head, means I would...

It only meant one thing:

You get to see Captain Morgan.

==

Stellis Police Department.

You’ve been going in and out this place for years now; almost everyone here already knows who you are, since you and Artem always went to work directly with the police whenever you handled cases. It is more convenient than mailing evidence and the likes every now and then.

Given that, surely you could step into this place with confidence and familiarity, right? So why are you all keyed up, standing in front of the station like a dumb, lost woman? What has changed?

Eventually, you proceeded inside, letting your feet take you somewhere so familiar; the captain's office is located at the farthest corner of the hall, away from everyone. It's quiet there. No one ever interrupted a meeting held in that quarters.

Softly, you knocked. “Themis Law,” you said through the wooden door. There was no response at first, but then you heard footsteps from inside, and the door opened.

You fought the urge to swallow when the captain graced you with his presence. Even when clad in his usual navy blue coat and uniform, he still appeared rather striking — for a man of his age, well...

So fine, you silently told yourself.

“Miss Rosa,” he greeted in his raspy voice, taking a step back. He gestured for you to come inside. “Artem’s not with you?”

You entered the office; it looked like the usual space of a policeman, however it seemed more masculine in a sense, exuding much like the captain’s vibe. It’s very... Darius.

“Unfortunately, no. He has an urgent meeting to attend to,” you said, “Artem sent me these —”

You halted mid-sentence as Darius reached for the thick band of case files in your hands — his rough fingers brushed against your soft skin, and you shuddered, feeling yet another blush creeping into your face.

You bowed your head for him not to see your reddened cheeks. “H-here you go! Sorry.”

He smiled. Oh goddammit, he smiled! What —

“Sorry. Let me take those.” He took the files from you and placed them on his wooden desk, giving it a quick glance before his attention fixated on you. “These are heavy. You brought them all by yourself?”

You nodded. “Er, yes. It’s just a ten-minute walk from the firm, though. It’s fine, captain.” The words came out quite shaky, probably because you were tensed; still, you need to uphold professionalism. You cannot let a silly crush get in the way of your job. “Do you have any more requests, Captain?”

"None so far." Darius's attention was on the stack of papers, organizing them on the desk, but then he gazed on you. "Thank you."

“You’re welcome.” A small smile, followed by a quick bow. “Then I shall take my leave,” you said, “call the firm if you require our assistance.”

You hastily walked towards the exit. No, not that you didn't want his presence; it's just that you couldn't handle the churning sensation when you're alone with him in a room. Your heels click-clacked in the silence, and your hand had already reached for the knob when warm fingers held softly around your wrist, stopping you from twisting the knob open.

Your breath hitched; a strange noise escaped your lips, and your cheeks were burning red because of too much embarrassment. Still, your eyes remained focused on the knob and the captain's hand on yours.

“Wait, Rosa.”

You couldn’t look at him. “Yes, Captain?”

And you knew he was looking at you. You could see him through your peripheral vision, carefully observing your features, every little reaction. For a long while, he mumbled nothing.

Then he let out a burdened sigh. “Are you still avoiding me?”

Shit, you cursed inwardly. Was I that obvious? Haha, of course I was…

“N-no,” you said. “I’m just… in a hurry. I need to report to Artem immediately—”

“Right. Artem.” You shuddered at the conspicuous hint of jealousy lacing his voice, and it wasn’t long before Darius rested his forearm against the door, taking away all your chances of leaving. You’re trapped inside with him now. “Do you like him?”

“What?” You blurted out incredulously. “I don’t! How could you say that? After we—”

You cut yourself and looked away, biting your lip. You couldn't escape now, could you?

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Darius said, more of a declaration than a question. In his eyes, you could sense disappointment, and… pleading. “You’re not responding to my texts, my calls. You’re like a ghost to me.

“I’ve already married once, and I… don't want to fool around," he said, his voice slightly lower, almost as if he's talking to himself.

"You're young, so I get that..." He gets that you have plenty of time ahead of you — flings, dating, and casual sex were probably an ordinary feat to people your age. But not to him. Not to Captain Morgan, who already once married for love; and hasn’t tried finding love again for years after his wife died. Until he met you.

"I'm sorry. I must've made you uncomfortable," he said with a sad smile and stepped away from the door, even twisting the knob for you. "Here," he said, opening the door, offering to walk you out.

He didn’t say it directly, and you know he wouldn’t, because he probably didn’t want to make you feel guilty. But you knew him well enough to decode what he really intended to say: that he won't hold any grudges if you decided to cut your connections and leave him altogether, despite those… moments you two have shared in the past few months.

And it’s because of those moments that you slammed the door closed, locking it; the reason why you won’t give up your secret relationship with Darius, although you’ve no idea if you really are in one.

His height towered over you, and so you needed to tiptoe to pull him in for a kiss.

Darius was too shocked to react at first, but eventually he responded to your advances — large hands rested on your waist and at the small of your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you.

His tongue, wet and absolutely delicious, prowled your mouth like it was his territory; he then sucked on your lower lip, emulating a soft whimper from you.

The lewd sounds of wet kissing and soft moans filled the captain’s office. Your eyes were screwed shut and you wanted more; you missed this, missed him, and you wanted to bump your head repeatedly against the wall for even trying to avoid him. You just didn’t want Artem to know — it would be nasty, since he harbored feelings for you as well.

“Darius — ah!”

You gasped in surprise as Darius carried you towards his desk — and you bit your lip again in anticipation. This desk…

Was where he railed you last time.

Oh, and there’s the couch, too. And against the bookshelf. Your bedroom, his bedroom; on your dining table, over his kitchen counter… just thinking about it makes you wet.

And now you were sitting on the captain’s desk, Darius standing in between your legs; he didn't waste any time grabbing a fistful of your hair and pressing you closer to him, your lips on his, and you tasted bitter coffee on his tongue. "Ah… Darius…" you whispered his name against the kiss.

“Hm?” he too, hummed against your lips before his teeth sank softly into your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. “Yeah?”

“N-nothing, just… ah…” You stifled yet another whimper when the captain trailed lower, leaving kisses across your jawline, then your neck… “Don’t stop.”

Darius pulled away, and you looked up to him questioningly, only to realize that he stopped his ministrations so he could undress you. Saving him from the hassle you hastily remove your crimson blazer; on the other hand the captain roughly unbuttoned your blouse, unveiling your brassiere-covered breasts, the soft skin underneath your clothes.

You were about to get rid of your blouse, but Darius stopped you. “… Darius?”

“Keep it. Don’t take it off.” He bent forward until his face was leveled directly at your breasts, and you squeezed your legs together when Darius looked up at you with lust-hooded eyes. “I like it this way.”

He pulled on your brassiere with quick fingers, and you sighed in pleasure, in need, when you felt a tingling sensation on your breasts — Darius was sucking on your nipple while his fingers crept underneath your skirt. “Ah…!”

“Shh.”

Your own fingers tugged desperately on his hair, like a madwoman clinging for dear life; you somehow worried it might hurt, but Darius didn't seem to mind. "Darius, oh god…"

His rough fingers brush lightly against your clothed pussy. “Hnnh…! Fuck — ”

Darius licked your nipple, then sucked on it again before he pulled away; you haven’t even realized he stopped when you felt your panties being dragged down to your ankles. Is he going to fuck me in heels was what you immediately daydreamed about, the thoughts in your mind far, far from being holy.

Soon, your undergarment’s thrown to the couch, and Darius once again pressed his lips against yours — hard, dominant, his tongue on its own familiar dance with yours.

Suddenly you had the urge to tease him. You playfully brushed your hand against his hard-on, and the captain moaned in between kisses — but what did you expect? Of course he’d get back at you immediately.

His fingers pushed down precisely where you wanted, and you instinctively moved your hips, your face now buried in the crook of his neck. "Hah… Darius — please…"

The captain began trailing open-mouthed kisses across your face as his fingers slid inside you, slow yet impatient — you gasped at the stinging feeling of three fingers plunging deep into you, however it was fleeting, because pleasure always came next.

Then he kissed you, the movement of his tongue now wilder as he fingered you — but then you sensed cold metal around your wrist, and you realized that Darius had already captured one of your wrists in handcuffs.

And you, being the kinky woman you are, willingly offered your other wrist for him to bind in cold, hard metal. Darius placed your handcuffed wrists around his neck for support, because you’d easily lose balance from the way you were grinding your hips on his fingers, moaning and whimpering, filthy all for him.

“Ah…! Darius, please, I… I’m…”

The two of you froze as the telephone rang.

You groaned in utter frustration. Darius felt the same, but he's on duty, so he couldn't really ignore it…

“Stellis Police Department, Captain Morgan here,” he said through the call. “… Mr. Wing.”

You buried your face in your hands when you heard his name. Is Artem looking for you? Wasn’t he on a board meeting? God, such good timing, Artem…

Darius slammed the telephone back in its place. “It’s your boss. He’s done with his meeting, and he’s on his way to fetch you here.”

“What?” You groaned, at the same time attempted to cover your breasts with your arms. Darius had seen it all, many times over, but your spicy moment was disrupted, and he’s fully-clothed, while you’re…

But Darius hoisted your arms and captured your nipple in his mouth. “Ah! Darius!”

He didn’t respond, only continued to feed on your breast. Then he licked it one last time before he told you, “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

And before you could even comprehend, Darius had already bent you over his desk.

You propped your forearms on the wood, your breasts colliding with the cold material of his work desk.

You hear the sound of a belt being removed, a zipper being pulled down and soon, the captain’s cock was poking against your cunt. You lacked time, so Darius wasted no time and plunged himself inside you, his pleasured moans like melodies in your ears.

Darius moved, slow and brazen. He sighed once he was fully hilted inside you.

“Sorry, Rosa.” His large hands gripped on your hips. “I’ll make this quick, okay?”

“Y-yes, please,” you whimpered. “Before he gets here.”

And so Darius sank deep into you again, his hands clenching your hips as he stood behind you. The two of you moaned as he pulled out nearly to the tip of his cock, then plunged in, and out again. You writhed. “Please… ah…”

“You feel so good — ah, so… so good," Darius moaned as he ground harder into you, and you braced your hands on the desk's edges. Lewd sounds came out of you as he fucked you relentlessly, oblivious to the stack of case files you brought now a mess on the ground. "R-rosa — ah, god, I missed you.

“God, you’re dripping for me — I’m fucking soaked with you, Rosa,” he groaned as he pounded into you, deep and steady, the squelching sounds of his cock plunging in and out of you so obscene inside the quiet office.

The captain continued to thrust into you, hitting your innermost walls; you whined and writhed at the utter bliss. His thrusts were unrelenting, and you were close to sobbing, having to endure his size, even though he filled you up so perfectly. He’s big, and you’re not going to get used to it…

A familiar ringtone rang from inside your bag – your phone – and you knew Artem was close, if not already here in the station. “F-faster!”

Darius shifted his stance, holding onto your hips harder, as he plunged his cock even deeper — your moans have become wilder as well, echoing across the quiet room, and Darius had to put two of his fingers in your mouth to shut you up. “Ah, Rosa… fuck — I’m close…”

At his words, your toes curled. “Mmph…”

Darius fucked you with abandon, not caring about the mess on his desk, on the scattered files on the floor. He only cared about the mess that was you, his lover, his Rosa, all whiny and lewd just for him. At this moment, only your firm grip on the desk kept your heels on the floor.

“Rosa…!” The captain hissed as he came, and as he spurted his seed deep into you, you reached your climax, your moans too loud Darius’ fingers on your mouth didn’t muffle your noises.

You continued to suck on his fingers as tears spilled across your cheeks, the pleasure of it too much — you missed him and he felt the same towards you, and oh, is this how sex feels after being deprived of it for so long?

Darius kept on pounding into you, spilling himself over and over until hot liquid ran down your inner thighs. “I missed you," he whispered as he bent closer to your face. You only hummed in response, already feeling weak — however if you thought he was done, you were absolutely mistaken.

“Nnhh… ah! D-darius, oh god — ”

Darius had slid his fingers on your juices mixed with his own, rubbing your still-too-sensitive cunt with idle strokes. You wanted more of it, but Artem was probably on his way to the office now, but how could you possibly stop Darius? Your wrists were still bound by handcuffs, and you’re utterly at his mercy.

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you,” he said.

And then he’s inside you again.

==

Artem sighed. "Alright, Captain. Thank you for letting me know," he said before ending the call.

Rosa has already left?

But she wasn't back in the firm yet. Darius, however, informed him that Ms. Rosa suddenly left because of an emergency. She didn't tell the captain what the emergency was — probably a personal one — so he instantly let her go.

The senior attorney drove his way back to the firm.

You, on the other hand, were busy daydreaming as you walked the pavements of Stellis, on your way to buy iced coffee from a popular shop. Darius insisted he’d drive you back to Themis Law Firm, but you rejected his offer repeatedly that he had no choice but to let you go.

You wished you’d be able to focus on work this afternoon after all that.

Later after work, though, you agreed to visit Darius’ house again to spend time with him, to make up for the days you’ve avoided him (that was quite stupid and childish of you).

And you know what the best part is?

Darius will cook for you!

(And he’ll fuck you after dinner.)