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separatist-apologist · 1 year

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Throw Me To The Flames

You could drag me through hell if it meant I could hold your hand

Summary: Elain only ever meant to deliver a message to Vassa on behalf of her sister's court. She never intended to see Lucien.

And she CERTAINLY didn't mean to get in the way of a knife that was only ever meant for his chest.

Kidnapped, and dragged helpless to the continent, the two will have to work together if they want to survive.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS to my BEST @acotargiftexchange, @fieldofdaisiies

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have enjoyed hanging out with you!!!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read More AO3

It took Elain and Lucien almost three full days before they reached the outskirts of the sprawling mountainside city Corsicana. Elain was practically dead on her feet while Lucien fussed over her appearance, tucking hair around her ears and face to try and hide what they were. Dusk had settled over them, hiding them further from view. She knew he was thinking of spending two full nights in some tavern inn, sleeping off the walking, resting, and hopefully coming back into their magic.

Elain didn’t dare tell him hers had begun to creep back in the day before. She’d felt like tingling against her fingertips like she’d cut off circulation for too long. It took her an embarrassing amount of time to realize it was her sight creeping back in, along with their shared bond which had begun shimmering between them again.

Elain privately figured Lucien had been kept under with a much larger dose of fae bane, but if hers was starting to creep back, it wouldn’t be long until his did, too. How long could she pretend? She didn’t want him to take her back.

It was a terrible plan, borne the night before when Lucien had wadded into the shallow part of the river. He’d carefully rolled his pants up to his knees and his sleeves to his elbows with a roguish grin.

Watch this, he’d said before reaching into the crystalline water and pulling two trouts upward by their slimy tails. He’d wanted to impress her, which worked. Elain had gasped, and then asked Lucien if it hurt the fish, to which he laughed himself hoarse before reminding her this was their dinner.

In the aftermath, Lucien had scooted a fraction closer toward her and offered to teach her to fish, too. If you want, that is.

Devoid of any innuendo, Elain had turned to him and wondered what else Lucien could teach her. What skill had been absent from her education because she’d been human, neglected because Elain didn’t have a mate willing to crest the deficit like her sisters did? And though she’d felt the bond flickering, bringing with it the undeniable heat of want, she’d said nothing. It was the first time she felt valued. Elain meant to hold on to that for as long as she could.

No one on the edge of the city paid them any mind, save to thrust cups in Lucien’s direction and ask for money. He kept his hand firmly in her own, head down so the newly formed shadows of dusk hid his beautiful face. Elain was too curious to follow suit, though she kept her hood firmly in place.

It wasn’t like the village they’d stayed in before. Everything was tighter here, packed so closely it felt as if the pointed roof buildings—some seven or eight stories high—were stacked on top of each other. It lacked the scent of rotting sewage that had faintly permeated the air back there, and Elain supposed that was because a place as large as Corsicana had a robust sewage system.

The closer into the main square of the city Elain and Lucien got, the denser the crowds became. He wasn’t wrong when he’d said no one paid them any attention. Lucien ducked to a little street cart and paid for two small cinnamon-dusted cakes without anyone realizing a faerie had been the one to hand over those coins.

He didn’t know that once upon a time, those circular cakes had been one of her favorites. Elain knew Lucien was guided solely by his stomach. Human food didn’t taste half as good as fae food, and at that point, the two of them would have eaten leaves fried in oil gratefully if it meant no more fish, fruit, and dried meat. Everything smelled good and when she took a bite, she found it was almost as good as she remembered.

Lucien shoved the entire thing into his mouth with bulging cheeks, his one eye not hidden behind the eye patch practically rolling upwards into his head. His steps hurried, leading Elain over the wide road that had clearly been paved and repaved and then paved again. Each time it seemed to be made bigger for carts drawn by horses and the throngs of people who lived there.

“Here,” he murmured, pulling open a heavy wooden door. The smell of stew flooded her senses, nearly driving Elain to her knees. It was far easier to acquire a room. Lucien asked for two nights, though she wasn’t sure that was necessary, and asked for something with a private bathroom. Elain knew he was overcharged for it, but Lucien didn’t seem to care. He asked for a layout of local restaurants and then they were all but running up three sets of sturdy wooden steps.

She squealed when she saw it. This room was far larger and lovelier than the room before. The bed was big enough to easily accommodate them both, and there was no tiny tub in the middle of the room, but another closed door that led to both a toilet and a large, square tub someone like Lucien could mostly stretch his legs into.

While she bounced to the bed, plopping atop the white goose down bedding, Lucien paced towards the bay window to peer down at the street. “There’s a wedding happening not far from here. It seems like half the city is preparing to celebrate.”

“Good for them,” Elain replied, eyes shut. Lucien’s words brought back preparations for her own now-ruined wedding. She’d been intending to do the same—even her old village would have been sent things so they could participate in the festivities. What had Graysen done with them all, she wondered? Had he still sent it so the food and flowers wouldn’t go to waste? Or merely tossed it all?

“We should join them,” Lucien said, unaware of the new bent in her thoughts. “I could use a stiff drink.”

“I don’t want to,” Elain said, sitting up to look at him. Lucien was still peering through the latticed window, unfastening his cape absently. He didn’t turn to her at all when she said she didn't want to.

“No? You want to stay in bed all evening?” he asked, his voice dropping half an octave. “I can live with that.”

“I don’t…” she was embarrassed now. “I just—Gray and I were supposed to have a wedding like this. I don’t want to celebrate a human wedding.”

Lucien turned to face her fully. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, he asked, “What did you like about him?”

“What do you mean?” she replied, desperate not to have this conversation. She was tempted to order him not to say Gray’s name at all, just as he had done with Jesminda. Lucien had softened and even told Elain some stories of his almost wife. How she’d liked being in nature and sleeping in trees and had been, by all accounts, the sort of free spirit that Elain would probably never be accused of being. She often felt bad for how jealous she was of a dead woman.

Lucien shrugged. “I’ve met him. He’s an insufferable asshole if we’re being frank. I’m glad you escaped him.”

Escaped him. Elain stared at Lucien open-mouthed. “When did you meet him?”

“That’s his manor he’s offered up to Vassa. I suppose he thinks putting up the exiled Queen might earn his family goodwill once she’s restored to the throne. I don’t begrudge him his political machinations. I do hate him, though, for having you.”

Elain swallowed. “We were in love,” she whispered, perfectly aware that fae-born Lucien was never going to understand. Just as Feyre and Nesta had been grateful when Gray called it off, Lucien would only ever hear fae-killer and draw all the worst conclusions.

“Were you?” he asked casually. “The both of you?”

“Yes,” she insisted, her voice rising. He was treading dangerous water. “Don’t push this, Lucien.”

He didn’t listen. “I gave up my crown for Jes,” he told her, pulling his eyepatch off as though he needed to study her with both eyes. “My home. I would have given her my life, too, had my father allowed me any choice in the matter. And Graysen couldn’t eve—”

“He’s not you!” she shrieked, scrambling off the bed, heart pounding. “The comparison is unfair–”

“Because I would have stayed!” Lucien snapped back, color creeping up his neck. “If you came to me human and told me your heart was mine, I would have stayed with you! And deep, deep down, you know that what you offered him was unconditional, but for him, loving you came with strings.”

“I’m done talking about this,” she declared, turning to the bathroom. Lucien reached for her, grabbing her by the elbow and turning her back. Elain wasn’t having it. She didn’t need the comparison between them because Elain had loved Graysen. She’d loved him the moment she’d first met him, and every moment afterward. Even when he’d humiliated her, when he’d discarded her, Elain continued to love him.

She would always love him. Elain was still working to make peace with that fact. She had an immortal life ahead of her, and some part of her would always be in love with a man who had, as Lucien so cruelly put it, only loved her when it benefitted him. As if she hadn’t thought the same thing many, many times.

Elain pulled the knife from her dress and pressed it as viciously as she could beneath his jaw. Lucien staggered backward, hitting the wall so hard a painted pastoral scene rattled loudly.

“I said I was done talking about it,” she breathed, well aware she was not capable of hurting him. What had possessed her to do this, she wondered? Lucien’s russet eye was dark, practically burning as he gazed down at her. His neck flexed, the knot in the center bobbing when he swallowed.

“There’s no shame in loving someone, Elain,” he murmured. Something salty wafted through the room, tangling against Lucien’s usual scent. Elain had to blink, strangely fascinated by that smell. She wanted to bury her nose in the crook of his neck, wanted to see if his skin would taste the same.

She wanted to touch him. For the first time since she’d known him, Elain desperately wanted to be closer. Not seeking comfort because she was scared, or holding his hand to center them both. But to strip him out of his clothes and run her tongue over every inch of his skin until she forgot herself. The realization frustrated her. Elain stepped closer, holding the blade tighter against the healing line from the pict three nights before.

“You and I don’t share this in common, Lucien,” she hissed. His good eye flashed a warning—he disagreed. But he’d been right. He’d given up an easy life as the spoiled, though maybe neglected youngest son of a High Lord. Lucien could have spent the remainder of his life living in a place philandering if he’d wanted. Who would have cared?

Graysen hadn’t.

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, his expression softening. His fingers curled around her wrist, removing the knife from his throat. She shook her head, but Lucien, free of the non-existent danger she’d posed, pulled her into his chest.

“I would have stayed,” she whispered into his shirt. She didn’t hold him back, even when his arms curled around his body. “I would have done anything to be with him and he…” Not you. Never you.

Lucien rested his chin atop her head. “I know.”

“He acted as if I threw myself into that Cauldron,” she told him, her anger bubbling through her chest. “As if—as if I wanted this. Any of it!”

“I know,” he agreed. Lucien had been there, had tried to stop it for all the good it had done either of them. Elain twisted to look at him, planting her hands on his broad chest.

“If you had realized—and I had been spared—”

“I would still have wanted you,” he admitted, his jaw tight. Elain wondered if it pained him to admit that—that he wanted her. She needed to hear him say it, though. Elain needed to know that

Lucien wanted her, that he didn’t hate her. One of his hands slid down her back, halting just at her waist, and for the second time during their adventure, she caught him looking at her mouth. And for the second time, Elain intentionally lifted her chin, tilting her face so that if he wanted, he could have kissed her.

He didn’t. Lucien dropped his hold and instead offered her back her knife. “Don’t threaten me with this again, Elain. Not unless you plan to kill me.” She nodded, filled with shame. “I’m sorry.”

Elain was surprised to hear Lucien chuckle. “Don’t be sorry. I’ll be thinking about that for a long time. Right alongside the night you slapped me,” he added, making his way toward the bathroom.

“There is something wrong with you,” she called after his retreating form.

Elain suspected, as Lucien tipped his head back to laugh, that he was well aware of it.

LUCIEN:

Lucien had to empty his balls before he could talk to her again. Elain, furious, had put a knife against his throat and Lucien had never wanted to fuck her more. He’d wanted her so badly it had taken every ounce of restraint to keep from flinging that knife across the room—the very same she’d used to kill a pict in order to save his own life—push her onto the bed, and have his very wicked way with her.

He was grateful she hadn’t seemed to understand the shift in his scent, and more grateful she didn’t comment on how long he’d spent in the bathroom with its broken latch. He felt level-headed once he came and his cock deflated, letting his head resume operation of his body. He had done nothing but hold her hand and occasionally pull her into a hug. She didn’t need–or likely want–to be assaulted by the knowledge that Lucien was still obscenely attracted to her.

“Let’s go track down dinner,” Lucien said once he was back in that room. Elain was seated at the little breakfast table by the window, elbows on the wood, head in her hands. She looked tired.

“Dinner?” She brightened immediately. Lucien was forever grateful that Elain liked to eat the same way he did.

“Dinner,” he agreed. “We can bring it back if you like. I thought we could go around the vendors and see what smells good. You’re the expert on human cuisine so you can tell me what's good and what's not.”

Ignoring that Lucien had been living among humans, and thus likely had a very good grasp on what he enjoyed and what he didn’t, Elain nodded her head. This was, like so many things between them, a concession. His mate had been human and Lucien would have been foolish to pretend otherwise.

It made her happy, and Lucien was beginning to live for those moments. All the sadness seemed to seep from her as they donned their cloaks. Elain, a female who had once seemed revolted at the thought of physical contact, now slid her hand into his without a second thought. They traipsed back into the darkened city street hand in hand, a connected pair.

Elain pulled Lucien to a little dumpling cart and, after bemoaning quietly that it all looked good, Lucien paid three silver coins to get a little everything. He had so little money in this world, and no way to do all the things he wished he could. Treating her to food and a nice bed was, he hoped, an overture to a more serious courting when they returned and he had access to the money in his account.

The vendor put it all in a nice bag for Lucien, which meant when they stopped for charred lamb kabobs and flattened bread covered in what Elain promised was a savory sauce, Lucien had space to add that…and the little cakes she also wanted. He’d been beside himself when she’d jumped up and down at the sight, hands clapping together with a breathless, “I forgot about these.”

Lucien never would. They were out of space in their bag, but Lucien still had two hands, and just enough coins to get two tankards of ale, of which he thought he might end up drinking himself. He was perfectly fine with that, even after he took that first watery sip with a wrinkled nose.

“I told you it was gross,” Elain declared in a sing-song voice.

“Ale is ale,” Lucien replied, though he missed the brew from Autumn more than he cared to admit. He’d have taken a Spring wine or even the spirits of Velaris over what he currently had, and still, it was alcohol and Lucien was desperate. He’d chugged half of it by the time they reached their shared room.

Elain spread the food out over that round table, her cheeks warm with delight. “I know we’ll regret this when we’re walking again—”

“I never regret a good meal,” Lucien interrupted, falling into his chair with what he hoped was an easy grace.

“You will when you can barely walk because you’re so full of food.”

He only shrugged. “That's what the extra night is for. I’m out of all but my gold coins, and I don’t want to hand those over unless we have to. Tomorrow it’s back to lamb stew and day-old bread.”

“We have more than enough food for two days,” she told him, picking through the selection with her lady-like fingers.

“That’s what you think,” Lucien teased, waiting for her to take what she liked before he began heaping food on a napkin he was using like a plate. He could have eaten all of it himself without regret. Elain watched, wide-eyed and he almost made a joke about what it took to maintain his body.

The bed loomed just behind them and Lucien didn’t think he wanted to make her uneasy when that was certainly where they were headed next. He wanted an excuse to wrap himself around her, nose in her hair, and fall asleep without contrived distance.

He couldn’t stifle a groan when dough, vegetables, and spiced meat all exploded in a symphony of flavors in his mouth. It was, after days and days of unseasoned, bland food, quite possibly the best thing he’d ever tasted, even for human food.

Elain watched wide-eyed, her own food forgotten while she watched. Embarrassed, he mumbled, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she replied, her words breathless. Lucien took a deep inhale of the air, curious if there was something happening beneath what he could see. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated…but no arousal. That was for the best, he decided. He might lose his mind if he ever had proof she wanted him in a tangible way. In a way he could smell, could all but taste. The food between them muted whatever might have been happening and Lucien found he was grateful for it. Elain began to eat, a smile spreading over her face like a new sun over a darkened landscape. It was easy to forget just how beautiful she was, but Elain was unmatched when she was happy.

Stunning.

He was staring and he knew it.

Eat something, dumbass.

“What was it like?” Lucien asked once his body caught back up with his brain. “Being human, I mean.”

Elain shrugged, cocking her head as if she needed to think about it. Long strands of her hair, pulled from her usual style, spilled over her shoulder. Lucien was in trouble, his control slipping.

“It just was. Looking back, I can see how things were more rigid. I wore more layers, and there were more social protocols I had to adhere to, but truthfully I don’t think it was so different. The fae like to pretend they are without rules, and yet you have so many. It was not the adjustment Feyre likes to pretend it was.”

“Oh?” That was news to Lucien.

“Women–sorry, females–are allowed swords, but otherwise the same rules apply. Though, Feyre had her bow back when we were human and no one ever found it strange, and she always wore pants. Many human women do. The fae nobility are much like the human nobility. Females wear dresses and maintain the homes of their husbands, and are expected to have some level of chasteness before marriage that their male counterparts are not.”

Lucien frowned. “That’s not–”

“Cassian was furious when Nesta was sleeping with the males in town,” Elain interrupted blithely, shredding a piece of bread between her fingers. “I heard him talking to Rhys about it. You can say it doesn’t matter all you like, but it does.”

Lucien considered that. How would it feel, knowing your mate was bedding other males while ignoring you? He’d chosen to remove himself from Velaris as much as possible, in part to avoid knowing what Elain was up to. The mere notion that she’d been with another male filled him with jealousy he knew he had no right to.

He couldn’t help his question. “Are you doing the same?”

“See,” she replied, her point proven. “As if you have not.”

“Not since I met you!” Lucien insisted, looking back at his food. “Though I admit, I was…” Fuck, how to explain how casual he’d been before he’d met her. Before he knew about her at all. Sex was merely sex. With his mate—or, the female he’d assumed to be—gone, Lucien had merely sought out physical contact without messy emotions. He rarely bedded the same female twice, and when he did, he was careful to cut her loose before he cared for her. It had been a transaction of sorts. He offered pleasure and she, the same. In the morning he returned back to his life mostly satisfied.

“Really?”

Their eyes met. Lucien nodded, holding his breath while he waited for her to speak again. A soft smile bloomed over her face, and too late he realized that perhaps his absence had signaled something else to her.

“Of course,” he replied easily, ignoring how tight his body was. It had been a long time since someone had touched him or shown any physical affection at all. Lucien craved it. “And if you want to spend the next few decades philandering as I have done, all I ask is you do so outside of my awareness.”

She set her food down, fully studying him then. “And will you do the same?”

Lucien stuffed his mouth with several different dumplings, eyes rolling backward from the heat, the taste, the salt. He could only shake his head then, assuring her he would remain faithful to her if she decided she wanted to explore without admitting that he desperately wanted to be that teacher. If Elain had questions, Lucien wanted to answer them. With his hands, his cock, his mouth…and if she had particular desires, he wanted to help her fulfill them, even if it meant he only got to hear about them in the aftermath.

Elain’s cheeks were blazing. “I uh…okay. Thank you.”

That was certainly very human of her. He didn’t call her on it, well aware they were treading very dangerous water. Lucien changed the subject to his childhood in Autumn, telling Elain a very amusing story of the time he’d gotten trapped in one of Eris’s dog cages trying to pet puppies. She relaxed, though Lucien never did. Instead, he gorged himself to the point of uselessness just as he’d promised he would. Elain giggled and even sipped some of that second mug of ale before declaring it a lost cause.

And when she went to the bathroom to bathe for the evening, and thunder rumbled softly in the distance, Lucien was certain he was going to get his second night alone with her in that room. He tried to call up some of his magic, if only to throw Rhys a message.

We’re fine. Don’t come looking for us.

Nothing rose to the surface.

And Lucien felt relief.

ELAIN:

Elain left Lucien to clean their mess from dinner so she could take a bath. She needed it. Watching Lucien’s eyes roll back in his head, to the sound of him groaning as he took a bite had somehow become overtly sexual. He didn’t realize it, of course, which only made things worse. Elain couldn’t pick the exact moment she’d really started noticing him. The way he’d casually spread his legs in a chair, how his neck would flex when he spoke, or just how big his hands were.

It had been one thing to be curious about his body, and wholly another to want to know what it would feel like to be under him. To hear him make those same noises of satisfaction touching her. To see his eyes roll back in his head because he liked whatever it was she was doing to him.

Elain, luxuriating in near scalding water, considered that she didn’t have a lot of experience in that department.

She had enthusiasm, though. And a lot of books she’d snatched from Nesta back when they’d both lived in the same place. She understood, in theory, what he might like and anything she misunderstood, Lucien could merely explain.

“Stop it,” she whispered, forcing her thoughts back to neutral territory. What was wrong with her? They were supposed to sleep in the same bed that night, an almost impossible feat if she was too busy undressing him with her eyes. They were always on such shaky ground—happy one minute, divulging personal, painful truths the next. Elain didn’t want to expose herself to him both figuratively or literally—the idea that Lucien, who could have kissed her twice and hadn’t, might reject all of her, was so physically painful it destroyed the remainder of her arousal.

Outside, the world rained on some unlucky brides parade. Elain was privately relieved she might get a whole day in bed with Lucien. With nowhere to go and nothing to do, they could waste time sleeping and talking and eating before they ran out of time in that room and had to move on to the mountains.

Time was escaping her. She wasn’t ready to be done. Elain closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the pattering rain and the rumbling thunder while steam curled over her skin. She could hear the steady, reliable thud of Lucien’s heart alongside the warming bond in her chest as it stuttered back to life. Lucien didn’t seem to have any of his magic back at all. That made Elain feel a little better. She couldn’t winnow, though she had half a mind to ask him.

Elain drained the water when Lucien called impatiently, wanting to take a bath of his own. He’d let her go first, risking all the hot water which felt like the highest act of chivalry given how often they quickly bathed in mountain river water.

Thunder rattled the walls, pulling open the bathroom door which Elain had learned did not have a latch that worked. She froze, hands at her side, as she looked across the room at Lucien. He, too, was frozen from his place in bed, by all accounts lounging casually. He didn’t look away and she didn’t move while he studied her.

She understood what that salty smell had been earlier. It was his arousal. At least, Elain assumed when he immediately pulled up one of his legs while tugging on his trousers, as if to conceal whatever was going on beneath them. She lunged for a towel, suddenly embarrassed. This was the second time he’d seen her in some state of undress, though unlike the time before, Elain had let him look at her.

She slammed the door shut again, heart thudding painfully in her chest. His own matched the frantic beat, and she wore she heard him exhaling softly on the other end of the bedroom, as though intentionally trying to calm himself down.

What were they doing? Elain wasn’t sure she wanted to know and was deeply embarrassed by the time she was in her shift. Lucien was exactly where she’d left him, looking unbothered. Calm.

Casual.

“All yours,” she said, wishing her heart would calm down. He was so lovely, pulling his long hair from the leather strap and tossing it to the end table on the side of the bed he’d staked out. Elain pulled back the layers of bedding, determined not to look at him as she slipped beneath the clean sheets. She kept waiting for that bathroom door to slam shut.

When it didn’t, Elain looked up. Lucien had removed his shirt and was unfastening his pants, letting her study him in profile. She realized seconds before he shoved his pants to the ground what he meant to do. Blinking as though blinded by the sun, Elain clapped a hand over her mouth when Lucien turned to face her. It was pure, masculine pride etched over his face while he waited, clearly intending for her to watch him like he’d been caught doing.

“Now we’re even,” he said with a rakish smirk. That’s not what Elain would have called it, though she did exactly what he wanted. She’d been staring at his broad, sculpted chest since they’d first ended up in the wilderness—at first merely curious as to how men were set up.

It was desire, now, that had Elain’s eyes working her way down Lucien’s broad shoulders to his tapered waist. She bit her bottom lip so hard blood flooded her mouth when her eyes fell on the trail of copper hair that pointed towards the half-hard appendage hanging between his legs.

Elain couldn’t breathe at the sight, was clenching her fists beneath the blanket to keep herself from doing something truly stupid—like inviting him as he was into the bed. Lucien’s chest rose and fell rapidly, as if he, too, were holding himself still through sheer will and nothing else.

She gave herself a second to memorize the vein trailing up the side, noting it seemed to be lengthening beneath her very gaze and Elain didn’t want to consider the implications of that. Of what he might expect if she couldn’t stop staring. So she pointedly looked at his muscular thighs, covered in a light dusting of that same red hair that trailed over toned shins.

And then she was done. “Even,” she agreed, too breathless to be believed. Lucien offered her a jerky nod of his head and turned, his broad, scarred back and tight ass on display for only a moment before he vanished behind that door. Elain could have wept at the sound of the rushing tap water. She kicked off the blankets and pushed open the window, letting the sound of the raging storm outside and the spraying rain to calm her.

By the time Lucien strolled out, mercifully dressed, Elain was back in bed with only the lamp on Lucien’s side of the bed for light. She was exhausted from days of little sleep and walking—ever since the picts had attacked, Elain had been practically climbing into his lap at night, and every little noise woke her.

“Will you braid my hair again?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Elain had to smother her smile.

“Of course,” she agreed. Lucien cleared his throat, his cheeks pink from what she hoped wasn’t embarrassment. What was she going to do when they were separated, she wondered. Lucien offered her up the comb and Elain began unknotting the tangles gently the way Nesta had often done for her when she’d been a girl. Elain hoped she might do it for her own daughters someday.

That had once seemed like an impossible dream, but now?

Elain was more hopeful than she’d ever been. Not that Lucien needed to know, but Elain was considering inviting him back to Velaris, as she’d once done. And this time, when he called, seeing him. Letting him court her, regardless of what happened over the next few days.

Elain scratched at his scalp, noting the way his shoulders relaxed. She could have spent half the night touching him, and was certain it would destroy their fragile peace. Rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat was a mistake.

One she was far too tempted to make. Elain plaited his hair and tried to pretend she wasn’t immediately delighted when Lucien threw out his arm in invitation. She didn’t have to wait until he fell asleep to put her head on his shoulder, nor did she have to ask him if she could sleep right up against him.

“Your feet are freezing,” he complained when Elain pressed them against his calves.

“You’re warm,” was all Elain said in response. Lucien was always warm, even without his magic, but beyond that, Elain just liked touching him. Even without the bond, which was all but purring in her chest, Elain had found touching him helped her sleep.

Lucien grumbled, leaning to extinguish the lamp on the side table. The two were plunged into near total darkness, safe from the storm just outside.

“If it’s dry out tomorrow, let's leave,” she whispered, well aware she was nuzzling into him like his favorite pet.

Lucien tightened his hold around her, fingers gripping her shoulder. “Here’s hoping the rain keeps up.”

LUCIEN:

A vicious clap of thunder pulled Elain from sleep with a soft scream. Lucien went just with her, every inch of him immediately alert. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dark. Lightning illuminated their room just long enough for Lucien to see the true fear on Elain’s face.

“Come here,” he ordered, his heart thumping painfully in his chest. Elain nodded, gulping down a messy breath of air before she let him tuck her back against his chest. There was no threat—only the storm around them, and the memories Elain would have for the rest of her life.

“What were you dreaming about?” he asked, stroking the stray curls that had escaped her braid. Elain pressed her nose into his shirt, her heart hammering loud enough it was the dominant sound in his own ears.

“Same as always,” she replied, more miserable than he’d ever heard her.

“The Cauldron?” he guessed. Elain nodded her head, carefully sliding her hand over his torso. Lucien didn’t move, curious to see what she might do. It was rare that she touched him beyond holding his hand. Elain wrapped herself around him until she was all but clutching his body to her.

Every inch of Lucien’s anxiety evaporated. He began undoing her braid, combing his fingers through her hair while Elain just breathed. Lucien was content to count her heartbeats, letting the steady drum lull him back to sleep. He might have refound peace, with her face pressed into the nape of his neck and her fingers curled into his ribs, had he not felt something wet touch his throat. Lucien blinked open his eyes, looking upwards at the ceiling to see if the rain had found some crack to seep through. Telling himself he’d merely imagined it, Lucien exhaled a soft breath, turned his face so his cheek was pressed into her now messy hair, and closed his eyes again. For a moment there was nothing but Elain’s heart, still beating quickly, and the rumbling, angry world around them.

And then that wet again, streaking from his collarbone to his jaw. Lucien frowned, his exhausted brain trying to make sense of what he was feeling. His own heart began to speed up as Elain hooked her leg over his waist.

“Did…did you lick me?” he asked, trying so hard not to move.

“I’m sorry,” she panted, though her thigh tightened over his stomach. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Lucien did, though. As the sweet scent of her arousal slammed into his chest, awakening the bond that had been long dark in Lucien’s chest. It was just a sliver, a pinprick of light in his otherwise bound body but the force of his need nearly wrecked him. He was tempted to turn on his side, to grab her face, and kiss her until he was breathless and she was pliant.

“The bond,” he managed, swallowing the urge to groan when she rubbed herself against him. “You feel it, that’s all.”

“I forgot what it was like,” Elain replied, her breath hot against his neck. “How it makes me want to touch you.��

“Cauldron boil me,” he whispered, forcing himself not to move. He was in danger of doing something he’d regret. Elain clearly felt no compunction at all, dragging her tongue just beneath his jaw. Lucien caught her before her mouth slanted over his and with words he’d never once dreamed of saying, begged, “Not like this.”

Her lips were mere inches from his own. They were sharing the same breath. Lucien was hard and he knew she could feel it given the way her leg was rocking against him. “No?”

“When I kiss you—and I intend to—it won’t be because the bond is driving you crazy.”

She rubbed her nose against his own and Lucien knew he wasn’t strong enough to stop the two of them from doing whatever was going to happen next. His hand was already gripping her hip, helping her rub herself against his thigh.

“No kissing, then,” Elain agreed, reaching for his wrist to lace her fingers through his own. She pinned his hands just above his head before fully straddling his waist. “This is…” she trailed off and Lucien, despite her attempts at restraining him, managed to use his leg to get her atop him with ease.

“This is a fever dream, I think,” Lucien replied, his lips ghosting over her own without quite touching.

“We won’t talk about it in the morning,” Elain promised, rubbing her cunt against his cock. Lucien’s eyes rolled up in his head, his hips arching into her. Even with her long shift and the ugly shorts beneath, and his trousers, he swore he felt the heat, the slickness of her arousal. He was no better than an animal in heat, grinding himself against her, his forehead pressed to her own.

“Lucien?” she panted, fingertips bruised into his skin. He merely moaned in response, unable to form a coherent word. “Will you judge me if I come like this?”

“Fuck no,” he replied, rolling his hips into her in a simulation of how he would have liked to fuck her. Lucien couldn’t keep his spine on the mattress, couldn’t stop his heavy breathing. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to strip her of her clothes, and feast on her body until she woke the entire inn.

“Will you?” she questioned, looking between their combined bodies as if she could see proof of his own building orgasm. Lucien was staining his pants with precum as it was, could feet his aching cock buzzing with desperation to be freed. To be in her.

He hadn’t considered what would happen when the bond came roaring back. Lucien had thought of his magic, of how it would feel to have it at his fingertips again. No longer powerless, hiding in the shadows, but a fae male who could easily protect his mate without resorting to tricks or teeth.

Now, though…Lucien thought they’d need to be forcibly separated by, perhaps, an entire sea and even then it might not be enough. Lucien might force his way back to her, might take her regardless of reason. And he thought, given how Elain was currently grinding herself against him, how she had him restrained, that she’d let him.

Elain’s teeth tugged at his ear lobe, causing Lucien to nearly come right then and there. She felt how his hips lost their rhythm, bucking beneath her like a youth with no control. “Is that what you like?” she asked, catching the thin skin of his neck between those same teeth.

“Yes,” he all but whimpered.

“Everywhere?” she questioned and fuck he was so ruined. Years of nothing had dragged him to this moment, pent up and hot. Was she close? Lucien couldn’t tell and was terrified of coming first.

“Yes,” Lucien admitted, because Elain was his mate and she was asking how to please him. She moaned, the sound reverberating through his bones. He pushed upwards, trying to break free of her only for Elain to shove back, inadvertently pressing her cunt harder against him. They both gasped at the rough friction, suddenly frantic for more.

“Elain,” Lucien pleaded, or perhaps prayed. He wasn’t sure anymore. Release was gathering along his spine, dragging him into a warm abyss Lucien didn’t think he’d ever visited before.

Nothing had ever felt half as good, which only served to excite him. If this was what it was like to not have her, what would happen when he did? When those legs parted with invitation and he had nothing but an endless expanse of time with which to fuck her?

He couldn’t remember why he wasn’t. He was so close to flipping her over and burying himself inside her when Elain’s gasping orgasm ripped through her. Lucien’s eyes flew open to watch, mesmerized and overwhelmed by how stunning she was. Flushed, her lips parted in a silent scream, Elain bore all her weight against his wrist, still rubbing against his erection. Lucien didn’t care that coming in his pants was impractical or he’d have to be up rinsing and drying them when he wanted to lay beside her and fall back asleep.

He came with a jerk of his body, pulled by the shimmering strings of the reawakened bond in his chest. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, his body arching so violently he heard his bones groan in protest. Lucien freed himself from her grasp, grabbing her back the back of the neck.

“Not like this,” Elain reminded him, turning her head mere moments before his mouth crashed against her cheek. He’d forgotten his earlier promise and was grateful Elain had stopped him. He nodded, still holding her against him as he came back down.

The aftermath was awkward. Lucien had no other way to describe it—not as she pulled herself from his grasp and slid back to her side of the bed, revealing a sticky, damp spot in the middle of his trousers from their combined release. The two stared at it, proof they’d wanted what just happened.

He’d promised to treat the whole thing like a dream, but Lucien also wanted to talk to her about it. He wanted to know if she’d enjoyed herself or if he’d crossed a line by not stopping her. He sat up, back facing her, as he grappled with those dueling wants. Lucien, ultimately, decided to give her what she’d asked for over satisfying his own insecurities was better.

“I’ll be back,” he told her, rising to his feet awkwardly. Elain watched with a guarded expression, her lips pressed tight. “Get some sleep.”

He’d made it four steps to the dark bathroom before she called, “Are you angry?”

Lucien froze. “How could I be angry with you?” he asked with more honesty than he’d ever meant to offer.

“I know we said we’d pretend this was a dream, but…”

Lucien waited for the crash. He’d been flying mere minutes before, soaring in a sky made of nothing but her. At that moment he was hovering over sharp rocks, waiting for the wind to pull away, to send him careening to his metaphorical death.

“I don’t want to pretend we didn’t…that we don’t like each other.”

Lucien turned, then, ignoring his pants or his need to clean himself. He faced her, his mate he’d spent years both wanting and resenting. “I like you, Elain.”

Blanket drawn up her chin, Elain’s once nervous face split into a bright smile, and once again Lucien was flying. She tucked a strand of hair behind an arched ear, a little shy for the female who had held his hands over his head and ground against him until she found release.

“I like you, too,” she admitted without any of the teeth-grinding disappointment he might have expected two weeks prior. Her admission was genuine, was sweet, was reminiscent of the same female he’d watched describe how honey was made in such explicit detail Lucien thought he could have started his own hive on her instruction alone. He offered her his own smile, one he hoped matched her enthusiasm and didn’t make him look as insane as he felt. Lucien felt crazy, in a good way.

His mate liked him. A low bar and still.

And still.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #elain archreon #lucien vanseerra #elain x lucien #people were praising my restraint regarding the lack of smut but SURPRISE #thats done now

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