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darkpoisonouslove · 1 year

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Imitation Play

Summary: An unexpected development during a mission dictates that Griffin and Valtor have to go undercover as a couple. Griffin is concerned about making it out in one piece when faking it has become too easy.

You'll never guess that this fic is yet another victim of the worlduilding and/or plot syndrome that I'm constantly suffering from when you see all the worldbuilding and feels. It's definitely obvious that I was going for smut all the way and that I stuck super closely to the plan for once.

Griffin hugged Valtor’s arm tighter and hunched her shoulders to make herself less a separate person and more an extension of his body. A certain air of wariness clung to everyone they passed by but she was walking a fine line. Having her eyes darting all over the place and checking her surroundings for potential threats and possible escape routes wouldn’t mesh with her cover as Valtor’s equally rich wife. Neither would wide-eyed awe at the sheer size and splendor of the hotel.

Her childhood home was smaller than the lobby that was all decked out in different nuances of blue melding together to create the impression of waves. The walls were a grand mosaic of sea shells, colored flat stones and pearls. The interior was rich and perfectly designed to reflect the harmony between the ocean and land kingdoms of Andros. Just the tiles she was walking on cost more than any shoes she could create even with her particle manipulation.

She had no hope of pulling off the slightly bored look a woman of her cover’s stature would have developed towards places with all the elegance and sophistication of their chosen hotel. Not after all the balls they’d crashed as a couple, Valtor’s gaze only leaving her when his power conquered the very air, made it tremble and sizzle, curl around her to cloak her and claim possession of her as well. His hands on her waist, the traces of his body heat left by the brush of his fingers against hers were more convincing than any diamond ring or wedding band could be.

The memories sparkled in every cell of her body, coming alive in an assault to her senses with the trembling fury of her leashed magic. Confined to the insides of her mind, it pried loose the smoldering yearning to sink her nails into his magic rather than the fine silk of his sleeve, the impact rattling in her very core, in the marrow of her bones. Her only hope was to find herself another reason for her racing heartbeat.

She focused on playing a horny newlywed that had all the money in the world to throw around and make others close their eyes to her inappropriate behavior, brush it off as cute or just the exuberance of youth.

Valtor’s potent smugness enveloping every inch of her was the perfect substitute for his magic seeping through the pores of her skin, over her taste buds, inside her teeth. The playful smirk curling the corner of her mouth didn’t go unnoticed by him and he grinned tenfold in response.

Griffin bit her lip, only half carried by the pretense.

They were met at the reception by an eerily cheerful clerk asking for their reservations. Valtor quickly explained their awful situation of getting stranded in the city that was was crawling with security guards on high alert. Griffin huffed along like the spoiled brat she imagined her cover would be about the nightmare that shopping had become with all the check-ups for shapeshifting spells and forged documents and they were soon handing over their fake IDs to get registered in the system.

She’d had to alter their photos with magic to match their makeover. Not nearly as hard a task as Valtor’s.

He was the one manipulating their appearance in everyone’s eyes. The only way to keep the power surge of a glamor spell undetected by the magic-tracing devices that had been turned on all over the capital was a separate illusion cast on every single person or camera looking their way. Using as little magic as possible, he had to stick close to their real appearance.

Just a little touch to her face to enlarge her eyes and reshape her lips. Her irises would be amber-colored instead of golden if anyone bothered to look and her hair had become the marine blue color inherent to the distinct Androsian mermaid gene. For years it was being sold on the dry land as a cheap hair dye that created an exact and just as cheap imitation for anyone with legs instead of a tail. It was dirt-common in the Androsian capital and often spilled over the crowds of tourists as well. Her dress was the finest yellow silk she’d been able to conjure on a tight schedule and her shoes carried dozens of gems – each threatening to fall off under its own enormous weight with her every step.

Valtor had softened his razor-sharp cheekbones and taken away from his chin to make it rounder. His hair was a pale brown that looked blond in the right light and his eyes had turned a much deeper blue than their usual cutting ice shade. It was visible even through the darkened brown of his sunglasses. His suit was slightly untypical for the heart of all oceans but looked just out-of-place enough to get him brushed off as a peacocking rich guy with zero sense of practicality. The gold watch on his wrist was the second most attention-grabbing thing about him – right after her.

Griffin held her breath as their IDs were put through the scanner. She’d used her powers for more delicate purposes than touching up photos but the forged computer chips inside the IDs were sensitive to magic. She’d only managed so much alterations to her own photo and Valtor had been the one adapting his spell to the mediocre results she’d given.

She let her head fall on Valtor’s shoulder contentedly while he was being handed the IDs and the keys to their room. The wisps of magic curling and shivering around him in a barely perceptible aura lured her closer. Like a flower caressed by sunlight. The energy was so vibrant, the touch to it sending exhilaration rushing to her toes and fingertips, that it had a pulse of its own. No device could trace its source back to him when it was practically its own separate entity.

Breathing it in left her struggling to suppress the smile blooming on her face. It wouldn’t do to get too comfortable before they were out of sight.

In the elevator Valtor’s grin bounced back at her from the reflective surfaces of the walls.

“Very convincing, my dear,” he made a show of bringing her hand to his mouth and placing a kiss on it.

Griffin’s breath hitched. More from the touch of his fingers now that his gloves were nowhere to be seen rather than from the exaggerated kiss. It had become a familiar routine by now. He had a pattern of acting all gallant and gentlemanly in an attempt to provoke or at least rattle her.

“If all we’ve worked for depends on the performance of my wifely duties, of course I’d give it my everything,” Griffin bit back, mindful of giving anything away.

The elevator could be wired with bugs if not cameras and magic detectors.

“Does being married to me really require so much effort, love?” Valtor pouted theatrically, the effect echoing in her ribcage like he’d forgone the prop and used a real gun instead.

“It does require effort like any role,” Griffin held his gaze.

You had to know how to become your persona, then how to go back to being yourself. And most important of all – you had to know where the line separating the two lay.

Stepping out of the elevator revealed more shades of blue. If Griffin focused enough, she could name them all despite their high number. A strategy that hadn’t come to her back in the lobby when she’d been wrapped around Valtor like a snake.

She only let go of him after he unlocked their room and stepped aside to let her in. The door closing behind her and the magic flooding from Valtor shed a sigh of relief from her. The room was now in his control and any and all devices that could blow their cover were silenced. She could see herself looking at the mirror and she was free to plop down on the bed and sleep into the morning when they’d have to leave.

She locked herself in the bathroom instead. The bathtub could pass for a small pool. She added three different kinds of bath salts and soaked in it until the only thing she could feel under her skin was the water making her fingers pruney.

She’d only need intent and a fraction of her power to erase every trace of the bath on her body. If only she could say the same about the day’s failure lingering on her mind.

They’d made it out with the liquefying spell Belladonna wanted to adapt for her own powers only thanks to Valtor. She’d held back tons of water, guarding the incantation, and turned them into oxygen in an ironic twist but it’d meant nothing in the face of a single guard. The auditory illusion Valtor had used to send the other guards on a wild goose chase had saved her skin.

She could drown herself and all the water straining her lungs wouldn’t be sufficiently forceful to oust the memories out of her mind. The tension in Valtor’s shoulders and his scowl had melted away as soon as his magic had turned her into his beloved air-headed wife, the glint in his eyes jealously possessive yet adding further depth to his cool gaze. His touch had been bold but not invasive, almost gentle, the even pattern of his breathing soothing. His steps had been tailored to hers so that he wouldn’t be dragging her forward by the arm but still carry him in the lead – like a shield from any danger they might have been walking into. Like he trusted her to have his back the same way he’d had hers.

She had no doubt how good he was in a role but she was equally good at not falling for any play of his. Yet, her head fell back against the tub in search of the comfort of his shoulder all the same.

With a snap of her fingers she could conjure a book or a chessboard to occupy herself. The last remaining drops of her magic were all she needed, cocooned in the protection of his as she was. As always, he wasn’t her only option, just the best one by a far cry.

Griffin emerged from the bathroom in a comfortable pajamas of emerald satin. The cleavage was a little too generous and the shorts were a touch too skimpy even in the humid heat of Andros’ capital. Just enough to ensure she wouldn’t be alone in her distraction.

Valtor had a leg up on her. He’d ordered room service to keep up appearances. The scent of her favorite lavender tea was wafting in the air from a lone tea cup next to his wine glass. He knew how to tempt her wound-up mind into the relaxation evading even her body tonight.

He didn’t move a muscle, yet she somehow ended up all but snuggled up in his side with vast expanses of couch stretching past her form. It was a shame not to make use of the soft leather hugging her body like a fluffy cloud and inviting her to trust it with her exhaustion, make herself comfortable and lay her head in Valtor’s lap.

“How many people do you suppose had to scramble to compensate for the stir that our success caused?” Valtor purred low in his throat.

The sound reverberated all the way from his ribcage into her own. It dripped into the magic soaking the air causing ripples of it to flutter into her lower belly. They traveled further down her thighs that squeezed together instinctively and over her calves. Almost as if he’d pressed his fingers there to massage away the strain of the day.

Griffin used her magic to summon the tea cup to her hand and drowned the curses on the tip of her tongue in the hot drink.

“Come on, Griffin,” Valtor brushed aside a strand of her hair, opening up her face to him more. Instead of letting go, he wrapped the purple around his finger, the delicate tug on it parting her lips. “We accomplished the mission, we pulled off our cover and we get some leisure time. Let yourself savor this.”

Griffin magicked the tea cup back on the table. “You did most of the work. You should follow your own advice.”

“I am. There’s plenty to savor right here.” Valtor lifted his wine glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers over the rim.

“Right here?” Griffin snatched the glass from his fingers, Valtor’s grip failing him at the contact of their fingers.

The feigned glare he gave her morphed into an intense stare lingering on her lips and spreading a feather-light tingle in the back of her mind.

Griffin basked in it, the magic shivering in her fingertips nearly oozing through the glass to sweeten the wine inside. “You plan on spending the night on the couch?”

“Are you asking me to bed, Griffin?” the faux scandalized note in his voice would have urged her to punch him in the face if not for his fingers still in her hair.

He was weaving them through her tresses now in subtle strokes to her vocal chords. Her chest rose slowly with the heaviness of all the little whines and moans building in there. She had to wash them back down her throat with the wine.

The rich fruity notes caressing her senses were tinting his breath as well. It had to lessen her craving for a taste of it but her mind was stuck on inhaling the scent on his tongue and feeling the softness of his lips against hers instead of just the memory of them imprinted on the cool glass.

“What is there to enjoy about a cold, lonely bed?”

The ice of his irises was burning against her skin where the words made her throat move. His teeth were tucked away and his claws in her hair weren’t reaching far enough to sink into her. He had his attention trained on her every move instead, the magnitude of it sweltering – the perfect excuse for her state of undress.

“If you’re so insistent on me savoring this detour, help me,” Griffin raised the glass again but Valtor’s hot breath reached her lips first.

He leaned in, face so close to hers that her gaze couldn’t focus on him. She couldn't watch for a hint at his next move, only feel the brush of his chest against hers with every inhale. The pressure of his proximity was unbearable on her lips, that last ounce of space between them hard like a diamond when it should have been scorched by the heat of his skin.

The slightest tilt of his head sent his hair tingling over her cleavage before trailing a blazing line over her nerve-endings when he leaned in to whisper in her ear. “A way to make this trip a true success, indeed, but I like to stay committed.”

His retreating warmth was more of a shock than his fingers descending on hers just to pry the wine glass from her. His magic had the tea cup float over to fill the emptiness in her hand and outline the stark contrast between her surrender to distraction and his unwavering concentration on the scheme at play.

She nodded to shake off the haunting sensations of his closeness. “Best not to push our luck with our married act when we have magic to keep us safe.”

Keeping up appearances was of no consequence if they had insurance no one would be around to see. It was only a shame to waste the perfect opportunity that the single–but ludicrously spacious–bed provided.

The tea cup flashing out of existence between her fingers startled Griffin. Her gaze snapped to Valtor only to find him leaning closer, eyes boring into hers with a demand for her attention.

“I like to stay committed to you.” His palm on her knee drew a gasp from her that didn’t go unnoticed, his gaze openly skirting her cleavage. His hand inched up, the hunger growing sharper both in the curve of his lips and in her lower belly. “Especially when you’re trembling from pleasure.”

“I’m not-”

The pull on her hair cut off her words with a shiver running down her spine. His magic stirred with her motion and coiled around her, enveloping, swallowing her. It threaded itself into the oxygen she inhaled and into the light spilling from the chandelier.

The distorted glow shrouded his features in subtle shadows swallowing all the warmth from his face. The lines left behind were clinical, carved by careful calculation that was freezing to the touch.

His fingerprints on her knee was smarting in contrast. The heated pressure easing unexpectedly left her shuddering only for his hand to take purchase on her hip, the emerald fabric underneath wriggling as if it would wither at the edges any moment now. His fingers grasped her chin to keep her in place as if self-preservation could override him and possess her instead.

“I should be displeased with you. Aiming for this at the cost of the mission is one thing, but constructing the situation so poorly that I have to waste my magic and this perfect setup instead of making you scream,” the words morphed into a growl so deep it seemed to come from another time period altogether, “is another.”

Griffin grabbed his wrist, nails digging into it to etch her existence there lest he devoured her without a trace left. “I didn’t plan any of this.”

“Oh, Griffin,” Valtor chuckled, an edge of condescension to his voice that never pierced her skin.

He drew her body closer into him, her legs swung over his lap. If he let go of her waist, she’d fall back on the couch.

She had to release his wrist. Her fingers dug into his vest desperately to keep her fragile balance. She forced herself to swallow the heart in her throat at the look of his pupils – blown so wide there was hardly any of the ice left in his gaze.

He ran his knuckles over her cheek, the contact prickling like a live wire that left her skin shimmering with her power. “Magic is emotion. Your magic. That failed where it has succeeded a hundred times before.”

A stream of warmth dripped from his fingers down her cheek, her neck–her pulse point–and her cleavage. His magic ran through her like a river, the air trembling around him as if he were the sun. Her skin rose in goosebumps begging for his touch to smooth them over. Her scalp was already tingling in anticipation his hands returning in her hair.

His next caress was a certainty in her mind, in her body. Her nipples were hard, straining against the fabric of her top with every motion rocking their chests like they were joined in one. She was already wet for the strokes of his fingers, for them to slip under the satin of her shorts. Or better yet, for him to burn them out of existence, cinders dripping on the floor like blood, and dip freely into her arousal the way his magic resonated into her very core like the hum of an avalanche.

“And what of your magic?” Griffin hissed through the cloying waves of it in the air.

Her hand was quick down his front and to the bulge in his pants despite the liquid fire on her tongue. She cupped him through the fabric groping greedily at the taste of his growing hunger. He wouldn’t let go of her just to stop her which left him only with his magic.

“Is it just an excuse to frustrate me? Or are you really letting it be an obstacle between us?” Squeezing his erection had him bucking into her and they keeled over under his momentum.

Griffin landed in a heap of her own hair, Valtor’s lips pressed into her neck, his cock – into her thigh. She had to wet her lips to lure her voice out of her parched throat.

“Valtor, greatest wizard in the known universe, failed by his own lacking control of his magic.”

Her hands were pinned by her sides before she’d even finished, her hips held down by Valtor’s weight when he straddled her.

He leaned over her like a storm cloud, his eyes throwing sparks. “Next time you say my name, your voice will be more sacrilegious than the darkest of spells with all the lust dripping from it.”

His arm brushed her ribs. No, not his arm. The teasing pressure continued down her side, only so much of it that the satin moved against her skin in a feather-light caress leaving her tingling from head to toe.

She flexed her wrists, testing her mind as well as the strength of his grip.

His gaze pinned her into the soft cushions, his touch searing into her wrists, binding her to him like no magic could. Turning to water wouldn’t let her slip between his fingers. The fire on his breath would turn her to vapor and he’d draw her inside his lungs to keep her there forever. He was clinging to her like her own shadow, the formless darkness of him tracing along every curve and filling out the spaces between her lips, her breasts, her thighs, even where light was supposed to obliterate it.

Griffin choked back the whine at the stroke to her bare knee, sharp like nails dancing up her inner thigh. Squeezing her legs together was an impulse but they hardly moved against the rippling current between them. The air was thick and flowing like a river around her skin, little rivulets streaming across her calves and thighs to highlight the arousal dripping from her.

It burned in her mind like a shooting star soaring through the sky to claim all of it with the trail of stardust it was leaving behind. A trail he found and followed, a caress dipping under the pool of emerald fabric weighing heavy on her heated skin.

There was nothing between their hips–not a movement pressing him into her or any space at all–except for the touch flitting over her naked skin, stirring along the wetness of her desire but only skirting along its edges and refusing to dive in. It was her who was drowning in her own want and Valtor’s, too, his erection poking her the same as the broken reality gnawing at her mind like she was a thing to be devoured slowly. Savored.

Griffin’s nails carved into her palms, her blood rushing to the angry-red crescents with the excited beat of her heart. If she dug deep enough, she could reach that place in her chest where Valtor had grown roots, running along the rest of her body just like her veins. It was moonshine that that flowerless garden thrived on, only the longing, the yearning lodged between her lungs like a second heart feeding his existence within her body. He was a shadow spilling over the rest of her insides, gathering in the hollow of her throat and behind her eyes, slithering between her thighs and her fingers the moment his fire wasn’t around to light up her eyes and warm her lips.

Out of that shadow, that darkness, she had only ever crafted a cover – something to hide behind, to cloak herself with and cocoon her heart. She’d kept it safe and silenced, suffocated in its own pulpy mess with chunks of her feelings still lodged between her teeth where they’d shredded in their desperate bid at escape. She’d torn pieces of herself, bled on the inside and the darkness had only grown thicker with the blood tribute she’d paid it. She’d taken everything from herself when what she wanted to take was him.

His coat vanished, melting off his frame to reveal just another layer of fabric underneath. Stripping him bare–and herself, too–to save the heat of his skin, wasted on his clothes, only for herself had its allure but she only needed one thing. Just a glimpse of what she’d turned into with him on top of her, claiming every inch of her being and still hardly touching her.

What had been maroon fabric morphed into a mirror hovering in the air above. The reflection of them could have been a tapestry. The tragedy of two lovers suspended in color and thread to never feel the satisfaction of a single stroke, never feel emotion flow from one of them into the other. Only the agonizing weight of the still touch between them, an anchor of the other’s statuesque presence – cold and hard against them.

He was hard. Hard and burning against her body, his eyes catching fire from the confession he read in hers, his fingers plunged deep into the telltale magic spilling from every pore of her skin. His lips fell open to drink her in, gulp down every tremble of the air from the power pulsing off her body. His leg parted her thighs further to give him better access and her – a better view.

Her eyelids imitated her hips, falling down on her world as she descended on his leg, grinding on it for that sweet, sweet friction. It was heady like a rush of sugar she could choke on but her lungs worked on instinct just like the rest of her body.

Her wrists flexed in his grip but he held her down again in contrast with his hips letting her move almost freely against him, hump his leg to satisfaction. His own satisfaction.

It was thick in the air, wrapping around her throat like it was his fingers and dripping down her cleavage. It was weighing on her eyelids but she pushed through it to see. An incarnation of his magic.

The shadows. The shadows his body cast over her writhed like they were alive and breathing. Those were the fingerprints on her breasts, the bite in her thighs, the caress over her wet folds. Even the bright lights couldn't obliterate the claim he had on her body, the illusion he was weaving for her that was more tangible than the very air in her lungs.

Softness pressed into her lips. His breath was hot and heady, palpable against her flesh. A kiss. At least the whisper of one. And then another. They streamed in a line down her chin and the column of her throat, her pulse point. Her heart would leap out and free fall into the open air with nothing to meet it.

A flick of his tongue rippled over her neck along with a shadow tendril flicking her clit to make her keen.

Her voice was strangled in breathlessness but her magic filled up his name, shaped it when her body failed, “Valtor.”

It was a whisper, yet not a sound. A presence looming over them with the threat to crush her where she was already under Valtor. It was her essence. Her essence she’d manifested through her magic to leave herself an empty shell. The very rustle of clothes could shatter her, grind her to dust that would scatter and haunt the universe forever.

Valtor’s loud gasp brought her back. Her essence was sucked behind his teeth and his own was deep within her where his magic settled every time it moved through her, calling to every fiber of her being with more demand than her very name.

A pulse of it stung with its harshness against her skin. It was a tidal wave that left her lungs heaving. She would spit if not for the fear of expelling the rest of her own powers for good.

The warm heaviness against her hip retreated, pulling her up like a noose around her neck. Valtor’s gaze was ice for the bruises in her soft flesh.

“Look up,” was all he offered but it was enough.

The mirror she’d conjured was gone. Her mindless magic show had almost dropped it on their heads with only his concentration catching the threat.

A pang started between her ribs. It grew so fast that it was already like a white-hot iron stuck in her rib cage by the time she had a grip on her breathing again. The warm imprints of his fingers were already fading at her wrists like they’d only ever been in her imagination but the fantasy had been real. So real yet it had surrendered to reality, to his focus on what was happening outside the sanctity of her body.

She startled at the sharp sting in her neck. The warm lips around the pain brought her body back down into his embrace. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she went limp in his arms. His teeth were deep in her throat but over her mind they left barely a graze. She needed him to etch himself there, bite enough out of it to make space for himself and then lie there for eternity.

Her fingers dug into his shirt sleeves to maintain equilibrium once he let go of her.

“When my magic can’t fail me,” Valtor swore, the words burning the air out of her lungs. “Do you think you’ll be able to restore my coat by morning, wife?”

Griffin gulped but managed a nod.

The grin he gave her was all teeth but he kept them to himself. It was her own that were sinking in her lip to savor the pounding of her heart echoing in every vein in her body.

She’d lost the thread, the only way to find the line between the lie of calling him husband and his name lying heavy on her tongue.

There was no longer a role. She was his.

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing

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