L U N A

“words, use them,” leon orders, though his tone stays gentle. his fingertips squeeze your legs, dimpling into your skin as not only a reminder that he’s waiting but a tender reassurance that although he’s giving you instructions, he’s not mad that you forgot to give him a verbal answer, “need t’hear it, baby,”

“yes,” you whisper promptly but much to your dismay leon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head. confusion knits across your forehead as he cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow at you and it takes a second but once you get it, your cheeks flush, “oh—yes, daddy,”

leon chuckles at the deepened shade of red that paints across your face, “good girl,” he drawls, knowing that it’ll only make you get hotter underneath the surface of your skin. he separates your thighs slowly and with ease, letting them fall apart while he leans forwards to drag his lips over your body 

he starts at the side of your kneecap and works downwards, pressing soft kisses all the way down to your hip. a gasp catches in your throat as his warm breath fans over your bare pussy but he pays you no attention—not there at least—before he grazes his teeth over the inside of your other thigh

it’s not sharp or at all painful and yet, you jump and instinctively reach down to weave your fingers into his hair. leon knows what he’s doing and knows exactly how to rise a reaction out of you so when he pulls back to kneel between your thighs, he’s smirking something filthy and clearly very pleased with himself 

his palms push against your thighs, shoving them all the way back until the upper part of your legs are flush against your ribcage—a position you weren’t aware that you could be put into until leon came into your life. with your thighs parted, your pussy spreads wide with a little slick sound that makes leon grunt 

“fuck—there she is,” he groans fondly as his eyes flicker down to your core. his pupils blow wide and the blue of his eyes darkens with lust while his tongue darts between his lips. from your point of view, he looks like an animal admiring his prey, like he’s going to ruin you and swallow whole and knowing him, he just might

a whine erupts in your chest as you squirm under his gaze. you feel exposed, more than you ever have done before, but never once do you feel uncomfortable—leon always makes sure of it. his affinity for you and your body is one thing but his attraction to his inspections is another and it’s highly contagious 

heat blooms throughout your cunt and it’s very closely followed by the tell-tale warmth of slick that pools inside of and then overflows from your clenching hole. you moan breathily as you feel it trickle down your skin and watch as leon’s eyes track it until it soaks into the couch cushions beneath your ass 

“wet already—i haven’t even done anything yet,” leon hums a lie that causes you to wriggle. he has done something, he’s always doing something that has your cunt dripping with want. in fact, he could probably do nothing at all and you would still find yourself soaking—you’re just perpetually wet with him in your life

“have,” you correct him with a huff that’s petulant and annoying, though you can’t find it within yourself to care as your fingertips curl into the roots of his hair and tug. it’s a barely there pull and leon doesn’t really react to it but the second you do it, you regret it and know full well that you’ll pay for it later one way or another 

however—for now—leon ignores your touch to give you his own. against the most outer parts of your pussy, leon’s thumbs stroke outwards, stretching you even wider for his viewing pleasure. his eyes focus on your clit for a moment while it throbs and then flit down to your hole before he starts to blow cool air over you

it breezes up and down the center of your cunt slowly and in a straight line that connects his two main points of interest. bumps scatter over your thighs as a shiver runs the length of your spine and makes your entire body shudder, which is strange because you’re practically sweating with anticipation 

leon puffs even more cold air over you as he whistles low, “she’s real pretty, sweetheart,” he says, low and much too calm considering that his intense stare is directed right to where you’re clenching in a—so far, futile—attempt to entice him into doing something—anything

“yeah?” you breathe eagerly, indulging in his praise while actively searching for more. sometimes leon calls you greedy for it but the way it makes your brain fizzle with a pleasant sort of static is addictive. he knows just what to say and when to say it, knows exactly what you need to hear to keep you pliant and docile underneath him, so really, it’s all his fault that you want more

“yeah—prettiest little thing i’ve ever seen,” leon reiterates and before you have the chance to react, he dips forwards and wraps his lips around your clit in a sloppy—but fleeting—kiss. you hiss through gritted teeth as your thighs try to snap shut but leon is much faster than you

his extensive training works wonders for your sex life. he can predict when you’re going to move and can very easily prevent it before you’ve even managed to register that you're moving. his hands grab at your thighs, holding them in place against the couch, even as you writhe against him 

“don’t you dare—keep them there,” he orders whilst digging his fingertips into you harshly enough to leave small dotted bruises that you’ll find for days to come. he jerks his head away from your touch afterwards, prompting your hands to fall out of his hair, “hold them open—now, angel,” he huffs 

your whine gets ignored but you know better than to test his patience and so, your hands slide around your thighs and then slot into the backs of your bent knees—where leon’s hands were earlier—to do exactly as he says without a single complaint but definitely with a frown that’s very pointed 

after a moment of silence, a test that you pass with flying colors, leon  spreads your cunt wide again. his attention returns to your clit, that’s now covered in a glistening sheen of his spit, “bet she aches—huh—throbbing like that,” he purrs and ever so gently ghosts the pad of his thumb against you 

the simple sensation it creates causes your body to tense up and then relax back into it just as quickly while you hum a sound that’s something vaguely agreeable. your jaw hangs open and your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you indulge in the back and forth sweep of his thumb but then, it stops abruptly 

“words—i won’t tell you again,” leon warns 

“yes—fuck—yes, it aches so bad,” you blurt out through a moan that must satisfy him at least a little bit because his thumb settles back over your clit and starts to rub in little circles. your back arches away from the couch and another wave of slick spills from your hole to add to the puddle that’s growing under you 

“mhmm,” leon hums, laced with a faux type of contemplation that he often uses during his inspections, “that’s normal—especially since she’s so needy,” he mumbles under his breath and begins to take the circles wider and really draw them out whilst applying enough pressure to make your eyes roll back 

pleasure seeps through your veins and burns at the tip of every nerve ending that your body contains. short gasps and whimpers fall from the tip of your tongue and echo in the space around you while leon’s fingertips press deeper and circle ever so slightly faster above your steadily pulsing hole 

“she likes that,” leon observes when his eyes flicker down to see the evidence of your arousal, “what about this?” he murmurs as he takes your clit between his forefinger and thumb and pinches softly. a choked sob pulls from your throat and your thighs tremble against your palms—just more displays of your arousal for leon’s consideration, “good—and this?” 

every day—every single day—leon carries out the exact same inspection meticulously. the same routine, the same tests, and still, when his palm strikes your clit in a tame slap, it makes you flinch. by now, you should’ve learnt to expect it—you should remember it—but you never do. it always catches you off guard 

“fuck—oh my god,” you yelp as the spank stings your sensitive clit in the most satisfying way. your nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, creating half moon indents that’ll definitely hurt when your hand eventually shifts but you don’t care when leon soothes your twitching clit with a gentle kiss that makes you whine 

tears flood your waterlines and blur your vision of the older man, “perfect—as usual,” he hums as the shadowed shape of him leans to one side. you can’t see him properly but you can still feel his touch while he lightly bites your calf muscle and then relieves it with a kiss, “let’s see what else my girl has f’me,” 

leon’s thumb traces slowly downwards from your clit, eliciting your disgruntled whines over the loss of his touch against your demanding bundle of nerves. the presence of his thumb hovers over you and it’s dizzying to know that he’s so close but still not quite there. you could beg, could prove to him that you are greedy and insatiable but leon is already well aware 

he circles your hole slowly, outlining the thin and sensitive skin that has pulled taut with how wide your thighs are still stretched. your eyes clench and squeeze a fresh wave of tears over your cheeks while the breath in your lungs expels itself in a wobbly half whimper and half sob 

“she’s needy too?” leon coos, dripping with what anyone else would mistake for sympathy. it’s not that, it’s never that because it’s said with a smirk and a telling sparkle in his eyes. he’s loves watching you become ruined underneath him and as you do, you almost miss that he asked you a question

“oh god—yes,” you cry out as the slide of his thumb gets easy with the copious amount of slick that you have to offer. your pussy contracts with him that close to where you want him and slick coats his knuckles and fingertips, letting him inadvertently smear it across your thighs whilst his thumb orbits you

“god damn—pretty fuckin’ girl,” leon growls mostly to himself and whether he’s talking about you as a whole or just your cunt—you don’t know and you don’t care to ask, you whimper all the same anyway, “so messy and it’s all for me,” he groans and this time, he’s not asking, he’s stating—he knows it’s for him

still though, you answer, “all for you—always for you,” 

“yeah—i know angel,” leon chuckles at you working yourself into a state, even though he’s the culprit of it all. both of his thumbs brush against your pussy and set your body alight as he uses them to hold your hole open and make it gape, “bet she tastes real fuckin’ sweet too,” he adds, although it’s not an afterthought, while he licks his lips. animal. prey. 

you nod frantically. it’s all you can do as you fight the urge to let go of your thigh and pull him face first into your pussy with your fingers twisted deep into the roots of his hair. the mere thought of his tongue against you makes your hole weep and leon watches it happen as you watch cogs turn in his brain and then, he loses the battle he’s having within himself and dives in

he laps at your entrance like a—well, like an animal. it’s sloppy and messy, there’s no grace to any of it. he moans into you like he truly has just tasted the sweetest thing he has ever come across while your back curves and your fingertips struggle to find purchase against your thighs that so desperately want to clamp down around his head as he licks a stripe up to your clit 

around his mouth and the prickly stubble that covers his jaw is shiny with your slick and you can see it pooling on his tongue where he’s gathered it up just before he spits it lazily over your clit and watches it drip back down to your hole, “knew it—she’s always so sweet f’me,” leon grunts

each word is accentuated with a lick and a peck to your clit that rages a wildfire around your spine and winds the coil in your stomach a little bit tighter. it’s like electricity zapping through your body but it’s still nowhere near enough to satisfy you and you’re too far gone to think any less of yourself for begging 

“please—it hurts,” you sniffle pathetically as the space between your scalp and brain fills with cotton wool and clouds that refuse to let your thoughts make it to your mouth in one piece. leon appears to get it though, his eyebrow raises and one of his thumbs returns to slipping around your hole

“poor thing,” leon coos—no, teases—as he reverses the motion he’s doing to go the other way, “where does it hurt—can you tell me?” he asks and reaches up to swipe tears from your cheek with a knuckle on his freehand, “does it hurt here?” he questions, pressing the pad of his thumb deeper into your rim

your head shakes and your breath hitches. whilst what he's doing feels incredible, it’s not where the ache is beginning to tighten and pull at your muscles, “ah—okay—maybe here then,” leon murmurs and before your brain can work out what he said, his thumb pushes past your entrance and slides into your heat 

you make a noise—a moan, a yelp, a sob, any guess is as good as yours—over the sudden intrusion. there’s no familiar stretch and he’s still far away from the ache but it’s something, “deeper, i need—please go deeper,” you sob as leon shallowly thrusts his thumb into you, barely pulling out and barely going any further 

“ungrateful,” leon sighs and snatches his hand back, making his thumb slip free of your body with a wet pop. you want to wail and thrash as he takes the feeling that was dulling the ache with him but you can’t whilst you try your hardest to keep hold of your legs and keep air steadily filtering into your lungs 

“no—no, i’m just—daddy,” you stumble over your words and blink rapidly to clear your vision to be able to see him properly. your eyes burn and your cheeks are starting to get sore and you’re at the end of your tether with his teasing, “please—daddy—it hurts, need you to fix it, ple—”

your desperate ramble gets cut off and morphs into a strained mewl while your heartbeat pounds against your eardrums as two of leon’s thick fingers slide into your cunt with no preamble. you clench around him on instinct, trying to trap him there and suck him deeper—even though you can feel his knuckles against you 

the stretch that you so badly missed earlier comes now in an all consuming ignition that makes your eyes pinch shut and your lips form into a silent—oh. when your eyes eventually open, you jerk in surprise because leon is standing above you, hovering with his free hand clutching the back of the couch and his knees pressing into the backs of your thighs, nudging your hands away roughly 

“this what you wanted—did i find the ache, sweet girl?” he growls while your hands yank at his shirt to pull him lower over you. his fingertips curl deep inside of you to find that soft spot that only he can reach and can treat so well and when he finds it, he strokes against it—hard, “go on, answer me,”

wholeheartedly—you’d love to but you can’t. your jaw hangs and your eyebrows furrow as the air gets punched out of your lungs with every drag of his fingers. you can feel him in your stomach, up in your chest and everywhere else as you blink up at him and shake with your sobs—you’re ruined and it makes leon grin

breathy moans make your chest heave as the room around you fills with the sound of your sloppy cunt accommodating leon’s fingers as they start to plunge in and out of your pussy. with every thrust, he nails his fingertips against the ache that’s dull and bruising but so—so—good that all you can do is turn into a whimpering, whining mess underneath him

“oh—i know,” leon purrs when your eyes search his, “look how well she’s taking me angel, s’like she was made just for me,” he drawls with a voice that’s like honey while he lets you pull him even closer until the tips of your noses bump together, “perfect fuckin’ cunt on a perfect fuckin’ girl—fuck,” 

leon tilts his head before he’s finished talking and crushes his mouth against yours, causing his last word to muffle somewhere in between you and him as he gives you a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. it’s not supposed to be a good kiss—far from it in fact. it’s raw and instinctual. an animal and his prey. 

your chin tips up to chase him into it as he laps over your bottom lip and then licks messily over the underside of your tongue before he pulls back and puts just inches of space between you, “stick it out—shit—yeah, just like that,” leon huffs when your tongue lolls out so that he can spit into your mouth 

he tastes like you. he tastes like your slick and your arousal and you didn’t realise it when he was kissing you but you realise it now as your head tips back and you moan wantonly. molasses replaces your veins, making your limbs heavy and your eyelids pull down until they’re closer to being shut than open but all you care to see is leon above you and that’s enough 

a gasp catches in your throat as his thumb sweeps over your clit in time with the unrelenting thrust of his fingers. the pace he’s set it unlike any other and if you use every bit of focus that you have left, you can see the veins in his arms popping and protruding from his tanned skin—it makes your mouth water 

“m’gonna need you to come, sweetheart,” leon pants as his eyes flicker down to the bulge in his jeans. he’s rock hard and straining against the denim but he never touches himself until he’s made you come—at least—once, “gotta make sure she can still take it—yeah?” he asks, though you know it’s not up for debate 

leon’s patience is thinning to a place where it’ll be beyond repair and truthfully, so is yours. his ask isn’t a big one, not when you consider the fact that every curl of his fingertips, every thrust of his fingers, every filthy wet sound that follows them, is hurtling you towards the edge of your orgasm 

he knows that though. he can feel the clench of your pussy and how your heartbeat thrums through it. he can feel your clit throb and twitch underneath the pad of his thumb and if that wasn’t enough, he can see your half lidded eyes and hear your moans as they come in quicker succession than they did before 

there’s something else though. something deep inside of you that has been building patiently through all of his touches. it’s a hot pit that pushes back against his fingertips as he seats them ever so deep inside of you and furiously makes a—come here—motion which pushes you right to the edge and almost shoves you right off of it 

your eyes blow wide and you scramble to sink your hands into the couch cushions to push the top half of your body up. the new position puts leon’s fingers at a slightly different angle, one that feels better than anything else you’ve ever felt and one that has you choking on a gasp that doesn’t let you get your words out 

“there it is—come sweetheart,” leon groans to finish you off. his words are distant as you willingly jump from the edge and tip your forehead against his chin. searing white flashes behind your eyelids and your eardrums thump while your cunt spasms around his fingers that don’t stop pressing upwards 

whatever he’s recklessly searching for, he must find with the flood of warmth that gushes from your pussy, “there—just like that—‘atta girl,” leon murmurs into your hair, still distant, as you keen and cry out but leon doesn’t stop even then and when your eyes flutter open with a struggle, you see exactly why 

the front of his jeans is soaked and the denim is stained darker from the seemingly never ending stream that he’s prying from your body like his life depends on it. your orgasm is starting to wane and overstimulation is lingering and waiting to pounce but you can’t stop, now now and not when leon growls 

“more—more—keep going,” he orders and your body begins to vibrate. you clamp down around him like a vice as your whimpers become nothing but a scratch in the back of your throat. it could be seconds, minutes or even hours of him wringing you dry but eventually, you have nothing left to give and finally, it ends, “good girl—did so fucking good,” leon whispers 

your body sags back into the couch with a thud and your thighs don’t even have the strength left to pull together, leaving your swollen cunt on display for leon while he carefully withdraws his soaking wet fingers. your body is a live wire but your brain has long since switched off and everything feels right, it feels good. even when leon slaps your pussy and utters,

“now—let’s see if she can do that around my cock,”

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“words, use them,” leon orders, though his tone stays gentle. his fingertips squeeze your legs, dimpling into your skin as not only a reminder that he’s waiting but a tender reassurance that although he’s giving you instructions, he’s not mad that you forgot to give him a verbal answer, “need t’hear it, baby,”

“yes,” you whisper promptly but much to your dismay leon clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head. confusion knits across your forehead as he cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow at you and it takes a second but once you get it, your cheeks flush, “oh—yes, daddy,”

leon chuckles at the deepened shade of red that paints across your face, “good girl,” he drawls, knowing that it’ll only make you get hotter underneath the surface of your skin. he separates your thighs slowly and with ease, letting them fall apart while he leans forwards to drag his lips over your body 

he starts at the side of your kneecap and works downwards, pressing soft kisses all the way down to your hip. a gasp catches in your throat as his warm breath fans over your bare pussy but he pays you no attention—not there at least—before he grazes his teeth over the inside of your other thigh

it’s not sharp or at all painful and yet, you jump and instinctively reach down to weave your fingers into his hair. leon knows what he’s doing and knows exactly how to rise a reaction out of you so when he pulls back to kneel between your thighs, he’s smirking something filthy and clearly very pleased with himself 

his palms push against your thighs, shoving them all the way back until the upper part of your legs are flush against your ribcage—a position you weren’t aware that you could be put into until leon came into your life. with your thighs parted, your pussy spreads wide with a little slick sound that makes leon grunt 

“fuck—there she is,” he groans fondly as his eyes flicker down to your core. his pupils blow wide and the blue of his eyes darkens with lust while his tongue darts between his lips. from your point of view, he looks like an animal admiring his prey, like he’s going to ruin you and swallow whole and knowing him, he just might

a whine erupts in your chest as you squirm under his gaze. you feel exposed, more than you ever have done before, but never once do you feel uncomfortable—leon always makes sure of it. his affinity for you and your body is one thing but his attraction to his inspections is another and it’s highly contagious 

heat blooms throughout your cunt and it’s very closely followed by the tell-tale warmth of slick that pools inside of and then overflows from your clenching hole. you moan breathily as you feel it trickle down your skin and watch as leon’s eyes track it until it soaks into the couch cushions beneath your ass 

“wet already—i haven’t even done anything yet,” leon hums a lie that causes you to wriggle. he has done something, he’s always doing something that has your cunt dripping with want. in fact, he could probably do nothing at all and you would still find yourself soaking—you’re just perpetually wet with him in your life

“have,” you correct him with a huff that’s petulant and annoying, though you can’t find it within yourself to care as your fingertips curl into the roots of his hair and tug. it’s a barely there pull and leon doesn’t really react to it but the second you do it, you regret it and know full well that you’ll pay for it later one way or another 

however—for now—leon ignores your touch to give you his own. against the most outer parts of your pussy, leon’s thumbs stroke outwards, stretching you even wider for his viewing pleasure. his eyes focus on your clit for a moment while it throbs and then flit down to your hole before he starts to blow cool air over you

it breezes up and down the center of your cunt slowly and in a straight line that connects his two main points of interest. bumps scatter over your thighs as a shiver runs the length of your spine and makes your entire body shudder, which is strange because you’re practically sweating with anticipation 

leon puffs even more cold air over you as he whistles low, “she’s real pretty, sweetheart,” he says, low and much too calm considering that his intense stare is directed right to where you’re clenching in a—so far, futile—attempt to entice him into doing something—anything

“yeah?” you breathe eagerly, indulging in his praise while actively searching for more. sometimes leon calls you greedy for it but the way it makes your brain fizzle with a pleasant sort of static is addictive. he knows just what to say and when to say it, knows exactly what you need to hear to keep you pliant and docile underneath him, so really, it’s all his fault that you want more

“yeah—prettiest little thing i’ve ever seen,” leon reiterates and before you have the chance to react, he dips forwards and wraps his lips around your clit in a sloppy—but fleeting—kiss. you hiss through gritted teeth as your thighs try to snap shut but leon is much faster than you

his extensive training works wonders for your sex life. he can predict when you’re going to move and can very easily prevent it before you’ve even managed to register that you're moving. his hands grab at your thighs, holding them in place against the couch, even as you writhe against him 

“don’t you dare—keep them there,” he orders whilst digging his fingertips into you harshly enough to leave small dotted bruises that you’ll find for days to come. he jerks his head away from your touch afterwards, prompting your hands to fall out of his hair, “hold them open—now, angel,” he huffs 

your whine gets ignored but you know better than to test his patience and so, your hands slide around your thighs and then slot into the backs of your bent knees—where leon’s hands were earlier—to do exactly as he says without a single complaint but definitely with a frown that’s very pointed 

after a moment of silence, a test that you pass with flying colors, leon  spreads your cunt wide again. his attention returns to your clit, that’s now covered in a glistening sheen of his spit, “bet she aches—huh—throbbing like that,” he purrs and ever so gently ghosts the pad of his thumb against you 

the simple sensation it creates causes your body to tense up and then relax back into it just as quickly while you hum a sound that’s something vaguely agreeable. your jaw hangs open and your lashes flutter against your cheeks as you indulge in the back and forth sweep of his thumb but then, it stops abruptly 

“words—i won’t tell you again,” leon warns 

“yes—fuck—yes, it aches so bad,” you blurt out through a moan that must satisfy him at least a little bit because his thumb settles back over your clit and starts to rub in little circles. your back arches away from the couch and another wave of slick spills from your hole to add to the puddle that’s growing under you 

“mhmm,” leon hums, laced with a faux type of contemplation that he often uses during his inspections, “that’s normal—especially since she’s so needy,” he mumbles under his breath and begins to take the circles wider and really draw them out whilst applying enough pressure to make your eyes roll back 

pleasure seeps through your veins and burns at the tip of every nerve ending that your body contains. short gasps and whimpers fall from the tip of your tongue and echo in the space around you while leon’s fingertips press deeper and circle ever so slightly faster above your steadily pulsing hole 

“she likes that,” leon observes when his eyes flicker down to see the evidence of your arousal, “what about this?” he murmurs as he takes your clit between his forefinger and thumb and pinches softly. a choked sob pulls from your throat and your thighs tremble against your palms—just more displays of your arousal for leon’s consideration, “good—and this?” 

every day—every single day—leon carries out the exact same inspection meticulously. the same routine, the same tests, and still, when his palm strikes your clit in a tame slap, it makes you flinch. by now, you should’ve learnt to expect it—you should remember it—but you never do. it always catches you off guard 

“fuck—oh my god,” you yelp as the spank stings your sensitive clit in the most satisfying way. your nails dig into the flesh of your thighs, creating half moon indents that’ll definitely hurt when your hand eventually shifts but you don’t care when leon soothes your twitching clit with a gentle kiss that makes you whine 

tears flood your waterlines and blur your vision of the older man, “perfect—as usual,” he hums as the shadowed shape of him leans to one side. you can’t see him properly but you can still feel his touch while he lightly bites your calf muscle and then relieves it with a kiss, “let’s see what else my girl has f’me,” 

leon’s thumb traces slowly downwards from your clit, eliciting your disgruntled whines over the loss of his touch against your demanding bundle of nerves. the presence of his thumb hovers over you and it’s dizzying to know that he’s so close but still not quite there. you could beg, could prove to him that you are greedy and insatiable but leon is already well aware 

he circles your hole slowly, outlining the thin and sensitive skin that has pulled taut with how wide your thighs are still stretched. your eyes clench and squeeze a fresh wave of tears over your cheeks while the breath in your lungs expels itself in a wobbly half whimper and half sob 

“she’s needy too?” leon coos, dripping with what anyone else would mistake for sympathy. it’s not that, it’s never that because it’s said with a smirk and a telling sparkle in his eyes. he’s loves watching you become ruined underneath him and as you do, you almost miss that he asked you a question

“oh god—yes,” you cry out as the slide of his thumb gets easy with the copious amount of slick that you have to offer. your pussy contracts with him that close to where you want him and slick coats his knuckles and fingertips, letting him inadvertently smear it across your thighs whilst his thumb orbits you

“god damn—pretty fuckin’ girl,” leon growls mostly to himself and whether he’s talking about you as a whole or just your cunt—you don’t know and you don’t care to ask, you whimper all the same anyway, “so messy and it’s all for me,” he groans and this time, he’s not asking, he’s stating—he knows it’s for him

still though, you answer, “all for you—always for you,” 

“yeah—i know angel,” leon chuckles at you working yourself into a state, even though he’s the culprit of it all. both of his thumbs brush against your pussy and set your body alight as he uses them to hold your hole open and make it gape, “bet she tastes real fuckin’ sweet too,” he adds, although it’s not an afterthought, while he licks his lips. animal. prey. 

you nod frantically. it’s all you can do as you fight the urge to let go of your thigh and pull him face first into your pussy with your fingers twisted deep into the roots of his hair. the mere thought of his tongue against you makes your hole weep and leon watches it happen as you watch cogs turn in his brain and then, he loses the battle he’s having within himself and dives in

he laps at your entrance like a—well, like an animal. it’s sloppy and messy, there’s no grace to any of it. he moans into you like he truly has just tasted the sweetest thing he has ever come across while your back curves and your fingertips struggle to find purchase against your thighs that so desperately want to clamp down around his head as he licks a stripe up to your clit 

around his mouth and the prickly stubble that covers his jaw is shiny with your slick and you can see it pooling on his tongue where he’s gathered it up just before he spits it lazily over your clit and watches it drip back down to your hole, “knew it—she’s always so sweet f’me,” leon grunts

each word is accentuated with a lick and a peck to your clit that rages a wildfire around your spine and winds the coil in your stomach a little bit tighter. it’s like electricity zapping through your body but it’s still nowhere near enough to satisfy you and you’re too far gone to think any less of yourself for begging 

“please—it hurts,” you sniffle pathetically as the space between your scalp and brain fills with cotton wool and clouds that refuse to let your thoughts make it to your mouth in one piece. leon appears to get it though, his eyebrow raises and one of his thumbs returns to slipping around your hole

“poor thing,” leon coos—no, teases—as he reverses the motion he’s doing to go the other way, “where does it hurt—can you tell me?” he asks and reaches up to swipe tears from your cheek with a knuckle on his freehand, “does it hurt here?” he questions, pressing the pad of his thumb deeper into your rim

your head shakes and your breath hitches. whilst what he's doing feels incredible, it’s not where the ache is beginning to tighten and pull at your muscles, “ah—okay—maybe here then,” leon murmurs and before your brain can work out what he said, his thumb pushes past your entrance and slides into your heat 

you make a noise—a moan, a yelp, a sob, any guess is as good as yours—over the sudden intrusion. there’s no familiar stretch and he’s still far away from the ache but it’s something, “deeper, i need—please go deeper,” you sob as leon shallowly thrusts his thumb into you, barely pulling out and barely going any further 

“ungrateful,” leon sighs and snatches his hand back, making his thumb slip free of your body with a wet pop. you want to wail and thrash as he takes the feeling that was dulling the ache with him but you can’t whilst you try your hardest to keep hold of your legs and keep air steadily filtering into your lungs 

“no—no, i’m just—daddy,” you stumble over your words and blink rapidly to clear your vision to be able to see him properly. your eyes burn and your cheeks are starting to get sore and you’re at the end of your tether with his teasing, “please—daddy—it hurts, need you to fix it, ple—”

your desperate ramble gets cut off and morphs into a strained mewl while your heartbeat pounds against your eardrums as two of leon’s thick fingers slide into your cunt with no preamble. you clench around him on instinct, trying to trap him there and suck him deeper—even though you can feel his knuckles against you 

the stretch that you so badly missed earlier comes now in an all consuming ignition that makes your eyes pinch shut and your lips form into a silent—oh. when your eyes eventually open, you jerk in surprise because leon is standing above you, hovering with his free hand clutching the back of the couch and his knees pressing into the backs of your thighs, nudging your hands away roughly 

“this what you wanted—did i find the ache, sweet girl?” he growls while your hands yank at his shirt to pull him lower over you. his fingertips curl deep inside of you to find that soft spot that only he can reach and can treat so well and when he finds it, he strokes against it—hard, “go on, answer me,”

wholeheartedly—you’d love to but you can’t. your jaw hangs and your eyebrows furrow as the air gets punched out of your lungs with every drag of his fingers. you can feel him in your stomach, up in your chest and everywhere else as you blink up at him and shake with your sobs—you’re ruined and it makes leon grin

breathy moans make your chest heave as the room around you fills with the sound of your sloppy cunt accommodating leon’s fingers as they start to plunge in and out of your pussy. with every thrust, he nails his fingertips against the ache that’s dull and bruising but so—so—good that all you can do is turn into a whimpering, whining mess underneath him

“oh—i know,” leon purrs when your eyes search his, “look how well she’s taking me angel, s’like she was made just for me,” he drawls with a voice that’s like honey while he lets you pull him even closer until the tips of your noses bump together, “perfect fuckin’ cunt on a perfect fuckin’ girl—fuck,” 

leon tilts his head before he’s finished talking and crushes his mouth against yours, causing his last word to muffle somewhere in between you and him as he gives you a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. it’s not supposed to be a good kiss—far from it in fact. it’s raw and instinctual. an animal and his prey. 

your chin tips up to chase him into it as he laps over your bottom lip and then licks messily over the underside of your tongue before he pulls back and puts just inches of space between you, “stick it out—shit—yeah, just like that,” leon huffs when your tongue lolls out so that he can spit into your mouth 

he tastes like you. he tastes like your slick and your arousal and you didn’t realise it when he was kissing you but you realise it now as your head tips back and you moan wantonly. molasses replaces your veins, making your limbs heavy and your eyelids pull down until they’re closer to being shut than open but all you care to see is leon above you and that’s enough 

a gasp catches in your throat as his thumb sweeps over your clit in time with the unrelenting thrust of his fingers. the pace he’s set it unlike any other and if you use every bit of focus that you have left, you can see the veins in his arms popping and protruding from his tanned skin—it makes your mouth water 

“m’gonna need you to come, sweetheart,” leon pants as his eyes flicker down to the bulge in his jeans. he’s rock hard and straining against the denim but he never touches himself until he’s made you come—at least—once, “gotta make sure she can still take it—yeah?” he asks, though you know it’s not up for debate 

leon’s patience is thinning to a place where it’ll be beyond repair and truthfully, so is yours. his ask isn’t a big one, not when you consider the fact that every curl of his fingertips, every thrust of his fingers, every filthy wet sound that follows them, is hurtling you towards the edge of your orgasm 

he knows that though. he can feel the clench of your pussy and how your heartbeat thrums through it. he can feel your clit throb and twitch underneath the pad of his thumb and if that wasn’t enough, he can see your half lidded eyes and hear your moans as they come in quicker succession than they did before 

there’s something else though. something deep inside of you that has been building patiently through all of his touches. it’s a hot pit that pushes back against his fingertips as he seats them ever so deep inside of you and furiously makes a—come here—motion which pushes you right to the edge and almost shoves you right off of it 

your eyes blow wide and you scramble to sink your hands into the couch cushions to push the top half of your body up. the new position puts leon’s fingers at a slightly different angle, one that feels better than anything else you’ve ever felt and one that has you choking on a gasp that doesn’t let you get your words out 

“there it is—come sweetheart,” leon groans to finish you off. his words are distant as you willingly jump from the edge and tip your forehead against his chin. searing white flashes behind your eyelids and your eardrums thump while your cunt spasms around his fingers that don’t stop pressing upwards 

whatever he’s recklessly searching for, he must find with the flood of warmth that gushes from your pussy, “there—just like that—‘atta girl,” leon murmurs into your hair, still distant, as you keen and cry out but leon doesn’t stop even then and when your eyes flutter open with a struggle, you see exactly why 

the front of his jeans is soaked and the denim is stained darker from the seemingly never ending stream that he’s prying from your body like his life depends on it. your orgasm is starting to wane and overstimulation is lingering and waiting to pounce but you can’t stop, now now and not when leon growls 

“more—more—keep going,” he orders and your body begins to vibrate. you clamp down around him like a vice as your whimpers become nothing but a scratch in the back of your throat. it could be seconds, minutes or even hours of him wringing you dry but eventually, you have nothing left to give and finally, it ends, “good girl—did so fucking good,” leon whispers 

your body sags back into the couch with a thud and your thighs don’t even have the strength left to pull together, leaving your swollen cunt on display for leon while he carefully withdraws his soaking wet fingers. your body is a live wire but your brain has long since switched off and everything feels right, it feels good. even when leon slaps your pussy and utters,

“now—let’s see if she can do that around my cock,”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a kiss if you do, mwah ily! send prompts to my ask box!

Spring comes in small mercies, as if apologizing for what’s to come. It comes through open windows and softening ground, through the hush of thawing earth and the first green pushing stubbornly through frost. The palace begins to breathe again, and as the date of your wedding draws closer, you steal as much time with Leon as you can.

It’s your ladies-in-waiting who notice first.

They see the way your gaze drifts in the great hall. How your face softens when you hear his name brought up in court. How you linger too long by the windows that overlook the training yard.

One evening, as they unlace your gown, one of them says lightly, “You always look for him at court, you know. Sir Leon.”

You still, heart lurching, and brace for the worst.

But another of your ladies, Claire, only laughs softly, her hand setting warmly on your shoulder. “We all do, my lady. He’s very handsome.”

Your cheeks flush, and you cast your gaze to the ground. “It’s not—”

Claire draws your robe over your shift, then turns you gently to face her. Her hands close around yours. “We cannot stop what is coming, Princess,” she says quietly. “But we can give you something of your own before it does.”

After that, it becomes much too easy.

The overgrown hedge maze in the garden becomes yours. 

“Her Highness requires air,” your ladies insist, sweet as honey, sharp as knives. 

The guards hesitate, but they always lose.

You walk the winding paths with a breathless grin, down the route you’ve committed to heart. The scent of damp leaves, fresh from the earlier fall of rain, fills the air.

Leon steps out from the shadows. That private smile of his flickers, and he greets you with a soft murmur of your name.

“We meet in daylight now,” he says dryly, reaching for you. “Shall I start greeting you in court?”

You laugh, slipping your fingers into his. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Give me another week.”

It’s always like that — too fast, too much, never enough.

Another time, it’s in the corridor outside the west wing.

You’re meant to sit for a portrait with the king, your ladies fussing behind you, when one of them, Grace, suddenly gasps.

“Oh—my lady, you’ve dropped something!”

You haven’t, but she’s already ushering you into a hidden alcove, hands quick and knowing.

“Five minutes,” she whispers, squeezing your hand. “No more.”

“Three,” Claire corrects. “Don’t make us liars, Princess.” She winks before heading to the portrait room with an excuse.

You smile, quiet and disbelieving, and then Leon’s there. He always is, like he’s been waiting at the edge of the world for you to step into it.

“You’ll get them killed,” he murmurs, though his hands are already on you, grounding and familiar.

Your back hits the cold stone wall, and you look up at him with a grin. “They adore me,” you say lightly. “And they pity you.”

He huffs a soft, teasing laugh against your hair. “Then they’re fools twice over.”

At night, it’s the chapel. Always the chapel. 

He waits for you in the shadows, half-lit by candlelight, surrounded by the ivy winding up the walls. And every time you see him, there’s a moment where neither of you moves. You just… look.

These nights are ending, you think, but you don’t say it. You go to him instead, trace the lines of his face, the shape of his hands, and commit them to memory.

The week before your wedding, he lets you sleep on the chapel’s cold stone instead of waking you as he usually does. When the sun breaks through the clouds, you find yourself with your cheek against his chest, his cloak wrapped around you, and his hand tangled loosely in yours.

He’s watching you, softly, like always, but also with something heavier.

You lift your head. “What is it, my love?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

Leon shakes his head. His thumb brushes your cheek, slow and absent. “Nothing,” he murmurs, but his voice wavers like he’s already grieving. “Just enjoying you.”

𓆱

Leon should have this stopped long ago. Now it’s too late.

He knows it every time you slip through the chapel doors, the hem of your gown catching on ivy-eaten stone, your grin wide with something too close to hope.

Hope is dangerous. It gets men killed. It gets women married to kings they do not love.

He tells himself each time will be the last. Each time he sees you, each time you laugh, soft and breathless, like your fate hasn’t already been decided by doctrine a thousand years old.

This is the last, he thinks as you run into his arms, a dozen stories on your lips about your day spent in town.

This is the last, he thinks, as you kiss him beneath the chapel’s altar, your touch gentle on his bare skin.

This is the last—

And still, his hands find you. Still, he holds you, trying to memorize the shape of something he knows he’s about to lose.

The night before the spring equinox, the night before your wedding, he finds himself outside your chambers. Every step toward your door is a kind of treason, but he cannot stand to waste this one last night in favor of fear.

Your ladies let him in without a word. Not surprised, not afraid. 

Claire meets his gaze for a brief moment, solemn. “We’ll see to it that the corridor remains clear for the rest of the night.”

Leon nods, grateful, and he steps inside.

The room is dim when he enters. The fire has burned low, the candles are nearly spent, and the curtains are drawn, blocking the light of the moon.

You’re half-sat against the pillows, just in your chemise, the coverlet gathered loosely around your waist, your hair undone and falling soft around your shoulders. Your eyes are still bright with tears not yet dried. Your lashes are clumped faintly, your cheeks flushed where you must have wiped at them again and again.

Something in his chest tightens, and he shuts the door behind him more quietly than he has ever done anything in his life.

Your head lifts, and when you see him, something breaks across your face so quickly it nearly undoes him. Relief. Pain. Longing. All of it at once.

“Penny for your thoughts, my lady?” he asks, and even to his own ears, it sounds like a poor attempt at lightness. Too soft. Too pleading.

You shake your head, turning away from him like you can’t bear to be seen. “Don’t jest,” you murmur. “You know already what ails me.”

He crosses the space between you before he can stop himself. His hand finds your cheek, gentle and careful, and turns you back to him before you can retreat any further.

“Indulge me anyway,” he says softly.

You look at him then like he’s already lost. Something inside him, deeper than blood, aches with a will.

“Tomorrow,” you whisper. The word is heavy. It leaves your mouth broken.

Leon nods once, and comes to sit beside you. “Tomorrow,” he echoes.

You close your eyes, another tear slipping free and cutting a path down your face. “I’ll tell them what they want,” you say. “I’ll recite the vows. I’ll smile at the altar. But my truth is here.” You put your hand on his chest, both of you knowing the heart beneath it beats only for you. “My truth is you.”

“And you mine,” he murmurs, covering your hand with his. “But I am sworn to protect you, from anything that would do you harm.” A pause. His thumb shifts against your skin. “That includes me.”

You start to shake your head, but he keeps on.

“I should have stopped this,” he says. His eyes never leave yours. “I didn’t. But I will not pretend that I regret it.”

Your tears are falling freely now, but you make no move to wipe them away. “I’ve only just gotten you back,” you whisper. “Don’t take yourself from me so soon.”

“I would never, if it didn’t put you at risk,” he says. “But I cannot be the thing that undoes you.”

Time, duty, and consequence press in on him from all sides. Leon does the only thing left to him. He reaches into the lining of his tunic and pulls out a small pouch.

The ring inside is thin. Gold. Worn and nicked and imperfect with time. Two hands clasp a heart, a crown resting above it. It’s simple, unadorned, and entirely out of place in a room meant for silk and jewels.

“This was my mother’s,” he says quietly. “From her homeland.” His thumb brushes over the heart, a habit he doesn’t realize he still has. “Before she died, she told me that one day, I should give it to the woman I meant to spend my life with.”

Your breath hitches. “Leon—”

“I know,” he cuts in, shaking his head. “I know what tomorrow is. I know what I am to you. What I cannot be.”

He gently takes your hand. “But in another life, I would have done it properly. I would have courted you. I would have asked for your hand. I would have made a place for you that no one could take.”

Slowly, carefully, he slides the ring onto your finger, hand lingering over yours. The heart faces inward, toward you. “Here, now, this is all I can give you,” he murmurs, voice roughened by something he can’t quite contain.

You turn your hand slightly, watching the light catch against the worn gold. Something breaks in you—your gaze lingers too long, your lips pressed tight to hold something back—and he knows then that your mind has drifted elsewhere.

Just for a moment, he follows.

Somewhere quieter, far away from here, your hand is in his across a rough wooden table, sunlight spilling through an open window. No crown, no guards, no one watching. He says something that makes you laugh. It’s easy. Unburdened. A life that belongs to no one but the two of you.

It comes to him so quickly it feels like memory. It vanishes just as fast.

Your watery gaze finally lifts towards his, grounding him back in the present. And when he looks at you, the pain in your expression makes him still.

“I won’t survive it,” you whisper.

Leon’s thumb brushes beneath your eye, swiping at the dampness there. “You will,” he murmurs, steady despite everything else. He’s more sure of your strength than he is of his own. “You must.”

It’s you that closes the distance with a kiss. His hand splays against your ribs, feeling the way you try to steady your lungs. Your lips part against his, and he exhales softly, something broken slipping through the cracks of what he’s been holding in.

He tastes salt. He doesn’t know if it’s yours or his. His breath begins to shake as it leaves him.

You pull away trembling, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I love you,” you whisper into his skin. “There is no vow I can say tomorrow that will undo that.”

He holds you tighter at that, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Nothing could,” he says, aching and fond. “My heart is yours, my lady. Even in silence. Even from afar.”

𓆱

You took your work at the palace kitchens very seriously. You had practically been raised in these halls, and had learned from the best over the years, so you were quite liked among the other servants and palace staff. You couldn't complain, things were comfortable for you, you had managed to save enough money to buy a small humble home for yourself, near the palace, no less, so you had your privacy to return to after the long days of preparing meals for the royals. You loved your life, and enjoyed your work. The lack of a life partner sometimes would get you down, especially when other maids, and, sometimes, the princess, would tease you about your lack of a love life, all in good faith of course, but you never let it bother you too much! You had your beautiful cat, Coco, to return home to, and that was enough for you! 

That was until he was invited as an esteemed guest of the king. Your life got turned around so fast. 

It was a normal autumn night, you were returning back to your house, when you saw him, in a dimly lit alleyway, feasting on a woman. No, on her blood. He hadn't noticed you, probably was too busy drinking the woman's blood to do so, but you had been captivated by the oddly elegant sight. You were no fool, you knew vampires were real, and very much existing amidst you all. But seeing one in person was still… peculiar. 

You didn't stay long to see what would become of the woman, choosing to just mind your business instead, and kept walking home. No big deal, you hoped the woman would just have the typical memory issues that came after a vampire fed from you and chose not to end your life, erasing your memories of the encounter instead, leaving you with a simple scar to guess.

The next day would be a big one for the palace. A guest of the king would be arriving, so there was a lot of hustle and bustle amidst the palace's halls, as staff scrambled to get everything ready for his arrival. The king chose to personally give him a tour of the palace, so when the stranger, the same one you had caught a glimpse of feeding from a woman in an alley, was shown to the kitchens whilst you and a few other servants were working on supper, you had to stifle your reaction. So, Leon (apparently a big deal amongst royals), as the king introduced him, gave you all a polite greeting, you ignored it in favor of focusing on the dish you were tasked to make. 

Now, if you were some better person, you wouldn't have done what you did next. But then again, you were a little starstruck and you also loved teasing people. So when he called for someone to bring him wine, and you got chosen to be the one to do it by your supervisor, who didn't want to send any of the other girls that were eagerly begging to be the chosen ones up to Leon's chambers and accidentally offend him, your silly little plan was set in motion. 

You diligently prepared the snacking platter to take up to the room the king had given sir Leon, but when you poured him the cup of wine, you also decided to cut your wrist and mix some blood in with it. No one would suspect it, and hey, maybe he wouldn't have to go out at night to feed again, so that'd mean someone's neck would be safe. How selfless! You bandaged your wrist up before you put everything on a tray, and made your way up to his chambers. You cheerfully greeted the guards along the way, they seemed all too eager to keep you for a chat, but you had to refrain from delaying longer, lest he get impatient.

You knocked on his door with your free hand and curtsied the best you could when he opened the door.

“Hello, sir, I've brought the things you requested,” you smiled.

He nodded and let you in, directing you on where to place the tray. You shut the door behind you. His expression seemed off, he had smelt the blood, perhaps. Nevermind that, you set the tray in its spot. 

“Anything else you need, sir?”

“No, that will be all. Thank you,” he trailed off, waiting for you to reply with your name.

You did not. Instead you smiled again as you walked towards the door and spoke in a hushed tone, probably a little smug, from all of your excitement, “your secret is safe with me, sir.”

You didn't stick around to see his mortified expression, feeling way too giddy about it. Your day was over, so after helping clean up the kitchens and prepare for the next morning, you set off back home once more. You had the next week off, a reward for your hard work, which you planned to make the most of. 

In retrospect, as you lay here dying, you think that maybe this was the beginning of your end.

Leon had been in shock since the night that mysterious servant had so casually let him know that she knew what he was. He was on edge, but had managed to keep his facade up perfectly in front of the vultures that were the royal family. But on the side, he would casually ask about servants' names, trying to find you again, just so he could ask how in the seven hells you knew. His search for his mystery girl continued the longer he stayed at the palace, but you were ever so elusive. And to add to that, every servant kept talking about one person, and how her cheerfulness lit up the rooms, but that she was away this week. His interest was piqued, to say the least, but so far his search had come up empty. And he had to be subtle about it, lest he alert anyone about his predicament.

Over the course of that week, he kept thinking about this mystery girl, who had so boldly laced his wine with blood. Her blood, maybe? He had been thrown for a loop, but he narrowed his search down to someone from the kitchens, which was a good start. He hadn't requested another cup of wine be brought to his chambers, choosing instead to randomly pop into the kitchen, his excuses varying from decent ones, to downright stupid, but he muses, that none of the staff would point out his lying, lest they anger him and in turn, the king. 

Meanwhile, you had chosen to spend your week of rest researching more about vampires. You always loved reading, and were thankful they had given you an education at the palace and taught you how to read. Most girls, that weren't royalty or kitchen staff, never had that fortune, so you were extremely lucky in life. You read and read and read, myths, short stories, poems, whatever had been available at the book shop you frequented, you had bought, or traded food for with its owner, an older man who you had been close with since childhood. He had also aided you in learning to read.

Some of the myths you had studied over, also spoke of one of the Goddess some folks worshipped, a kind deity that every few hundred years would resurrect souls that had died an unfair death. Her kindness from the myths had touched your heart greatly, not having really been religious before, besides a few prayers out of desperation that always went unanswered, so you decided to pray to Her, offer some of your humble crafts to one of Her shrines that was in the church of gods at the square of the town. It wouldn't hurt, and She had given you a great amount of comfort from the few stories you read of Her actions. You hoped this Goddess would enjoy your offerings.

That same day, you went to the market to buy some fruits and trade some goods you had made with one of the older ladies there. She always loved when you visited her, as her now grown up children never did, so she often got lonely. She was a sweet, talkative old lady, so you enjoyed her company as well. She often spoke of her long life, and the adventures she had gotten up to when she was your age. Seeing her eyes light up as she reminisced with you always made you happy.

When you eventually returned to your home, you greeted your feline companion, who had decided to pay you no mind at all as you gushed about your day. Before bed, you read some more about vampires and various other mystical beings. You had romanticized those things in your head, you have to admit, but you didn't care, not one bit.

When you eventually had to get back to your normal routine, you were well rested and ready to take on the world. On your first morning back, several of your friends had greeted you warmly, happy to have you back to work. You think it was mostly because you always ended up doing most of the work, but cooking made you happy, so you didn't complain. You hadn't really thought much about your first one-on-one interaction with Leon, having been too absorbed with reading, and now too focused on work. Things were hectic, but you always managed. 

Leon was still very much in search of his mystery girl, but it was one of the few days where he hadn't popped into the kitchen with one of his excuses, seeing as he was too busy entertaining the king and the charade of royal fools that had also visited the palace since they learned he was there too. 

That night, by sheer chance, he asked for wine once more. Your supervisor, once again, sent you up, and you, once more laced the wine with your blood. Your wrist hadn't given you much trouble, and you had ointments that would help it heal, so it was no big deal to you. Once you got to his chambers, you knocked.

“It’s open,” came his voice from the other side, so you took the invitation and entered quietly. He was standing near the window, looking deep in thought, hadn't even turned around to face you. You set the tray on the same spot he had asked you to last time.

“Anything else I can be of assistance with, sir?”

He quickly turned around at the sound of your voice. The voice that had been taunting him for a week, you had finally shown yourself again, “you!” He said, eyes wide as he pointed at you with an accusatory finger.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion. “Yes, me?”

He laughed sardonically and combed a hand through his hair, a move he did when he was anxious, "I have been looking for you for a week! How do you… know? And close that door.”

You did as he asked and looked at him once more, ohhh. So he hadn't seen you back then. “I saw you, um, feeding, the night before you were supposed to arrive, on my way home.”

Fuck. He should’ve known that that alley, despite it being private, wouldn't do its job in keeping him concealed, but it was night, and he thought the place to be deserted. He had been desperate, and if he fed them, he wouldn't have to feed again for a while, and seeing as he would be surrounded by palace people after, he took his chances that night. “I see. Is that… special too?”

You nod. “Just a little, sir. Thought it might help your ailment,” you smiled.

He huffed again and nodded, taking the wine goblet and bringing it to his lips. He took a long sip, seemingly satisfied from it, he set it back down. “Thanks… you don't have to do it, though.”

“Oh, it's no trouble at all! Just glad to be of service!”

He nodded again and took a few steps closer to you. “Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head, “your secret is safe with me, I told you. No one saw me prepare the wine, and I was by myself that night,” you reassure.

He didn't fully trust you, but so far you hadn't done anything to contradict your actions, so he decided to take your word for it. “Thats all, then.”

You turned to leave once more, but as you went to turn the door handle, he cleared his throat.

“One more thing, actually.. What is your name?”

You turned around and smiled as you told him your name. If you went by his expression, something had clicked in his brain. “Why sir?” 

“You didn't tell me last time. And, you can call me Leon, it's just the two of us here, afterall.”

“Alright, Leon. Have a good night!”

You left, closing the door behind you gently, and went back to the kitchens to finish your usual preparations for the next day.

After that night, you and Leon had grown quite close. He often called for you to bring him wine, which was the ‘signal’ and you would end up spending time together, getting to know each other. It had been a few months of this song and dance, and you have to confess, you had fallen for him. He had told you of how he had been turned and how he had ended up as the king's esteemed guest. You had shared your (boring) life story, too. 

He had also fallen for you, too. Your kind and caring nature had truly captivated him. In all his years of living in this world, he had met few people who were so gentle and caring, whilst also assertive when they needed to be. You teased him back when he teased you, bantered with him, hells, you had even been feeding him your blood so he wouldn't be exposed, hunted and killed. He sometimes had you accompany him on walks through the palace gardens at nights, a nice change of pace of how you two usually saw each other in his chambers. 

Eventually, the time for him to depart once more, had come. You had been upset by the news. Tonight was his last night in the palace grounds, after so many months of living there. You ultimately had known that this time would come, but you wished he could stay here forever. He had called you up to his chambers once more, but tonight you two had gone on one of your long walks, and you ended up taking him to your house, to show him around. He had told you, on the way, how he would be making the journey back to his own manor (palaces were too big and he despised them greatly, you had been the only thing he loved about living here), and you had shyly shared how you wished he could stay a little longer.

Much to your surprise, he divulged the information that the king had requested he visit again soon, and that he was going to oblige so he could see you again. Your heart had done a somersault at that.

He had been impressed by your small house, and found it homey, unlike his manor. You decided then and there to hand him a bunch of your crafts, a few paintings of scenery that had captivated you and some discarded trinkets you had found, kept and restored amongst other things. That was the night you shared your first kiss with him. It was perfect. He had been so gentle with it, cradling your head in his, like you were something precious. That night felt like a fairytale, a dream come true. You two had gotten lost in each other's arms all the way to sunrise. 

You laughed off his worry as you two walked back to the palace, hand in hand, up to one point before separating so you wouldn't be seen like that and offend any of the court people. 

(Leon couldn't care less about what any of them would think, but you did, so it was enough for him.)

The time of his departure came soon after, and you were sad to see him go. But he did promise he would come back, so you would patiently wait for him, always.

His next visit had been one a month later, but this one in secret, just so he could see you. He spent the moments of you being away working in the kitchens either taking a stroll through town or going to one of the taverns if he knew you would be extra busy that day. He had made a few friends there, mainly the barkeep, who he found out also knew you and had shared stories about silly things you got up to. That fact only cemented his love for you in Leon's heart, and brain. He wanted to take you with him, but he was reluctant to bring it up, because you had a life of your own here, and he didn't want to take that away from you. But, oh, how he wishes you would go with him.

He spent a few weeks with you, you two sharing quiet moments under the moonlight, talking about life and anything and everything you found interesting or amusing. He yearned for you to choose to leave the palace and your old life behind, and wanted you to see how beautiful the world could be outside of this little space you had carved for yourself. Maybe if he had asked, he wouldn't have lost you, he now thinks bitterly.

After the days he spent with you, he would head back to his manor. He had his own people to take care of, before he lost you. It had become your routine, he had grown accustomed to it, had also let you teach him how to cook, which had been the highlight of some of his visits. He hadn't officially visited the palace in a while, which he didn't mind, because then you two would have to be restrained with your interactions and he despised that. He loved holding you in his arms, kissing you.

You had also surprisingly kept up your praying to the Goddess that had captivated you, much to Leon's amusement.

That little routine had gone for well over a year, he couldn't be away from you for too long. And you couldn't exactly up and abandon your job whenever you wished to, so he was the one traveling. He hadn't really given it much thought, wanting to accommodate you the best he could. He would also often bring you gifts like jewelry, clothes and new paints. You would in turn give him more paintings and whatever new craft you had made with him in mind. 

The first time he made love to you, it had been after he surprised you with a romantic dinner he had made himself. He had been putting in effort to learn and improve by himself on what you had already taught him. That night had been one of the best of your life. Things had been perfect, slow and passionate, he had wanted, no, needed, to show you just how much he loved you on your first time. He had prioritized your needs over his, taken his time to prepare you, and he would have kept going had you not begged him to just get in you already. It had made him laugh, your blunt nature ruining the romantic moment slightly, but he adored that about you.

The next morning, you woke up tangled in each other, the gentle rays of sun helping you stir awake. He hadn't slept much, didn't really have a need for sleep, he was a vampire afterall, so he had been watching you sleep. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into his chest.

“We could,” he pressed a kiss atop your head and adjusted the covers over you a little better. “I could turn you, if you wanted. You could come live with me in my manor.”

You sighed. That was wishful thinking… you wish you had taken his offer then and there, everyone else be damned. “People rely on me here, I can't just… abandon them. Not yet.”

“Alright. Whenever you're ready, then.”

But life had other plans for you both. Some more time passed, and he had been officially invited back to the palace by the king. He had not visited you that month, having been busy with the preparations for his official visit, but it was okay. You two would make up for the lost time. 

When he arrived at the palace, the atmosphere felt… oppressive. Last time he had visited, everyone had been in high spirits, but this time, things felt wrong. He also hadn't run into you when he took a stroll down in the kitchens. They felt eerily still, despite the hustle and bustle there. Everyone there had been oddly silent. No cracking jokes, no nothing. And to add to that, when he inquired about your whereabouts, everyone looked… haunted.

What he didn't know was that just two days ago, you had been apprehended by the guards and dragged to the dungeons. They accused you of being a ‘leech’ and a ‘bloodsucker’ and wouldn't listen to anything you said in your defense. You had begged and pleaded until your voice had gone hoarse, to no avail. The next day, they carted you off to your execution. They had made it a public spectacle. It pained you greatly to see some of the people you had once called friends cheer and holler in excitement and anticipation of your execution. Leon would come the next day. You hope he wouldl be okay… You wish you could've said goodbye to him and your sweet little Coco for one last time.

But back to the present, Leon managed to sneak off to the tavern he frequented, hoping to find you there. Maybe you had stopped by to buy wine as you often did, and had gotten distracted chatting with the barkeep. The tavern was as lively as usual, people chatting about in groups, the town drunkard grumbling in the corner and the bard singing a melancholic melody. How weird. He sat down for a drink, since he hadn't seen you there. He figured, maybe you'd show. 

“Lookin’ for someone?” the barkeep eventually inquired as he wiped the counter clean.

Leon hummed in affirmation, asking if he'd seen you anywhere. The barkeep stilled. 

“That foul girl?” the barkeep spat out. “She was exposed as a vampire, they staked her yesterday at noon. Never liked that one much, she gave me the creeps,” he grumbled.

“What?” Leon felt instantly dizzy and sick to his stomach. They had… what? He couldn't believe his ears. And to add to that, this barkeep, the one that had, in the past sang high praises of you, had now switched up his tune? 

“Yeah, foul leech, got what she deserved,” the barkeep leered.

That made Leon snap. He grabbed the barkeep by the hair and slammed his face into the counter, hard. He doesn't know how he managed to compose himself after that, but he paid for whatever drink he had ordered and quickly left. He stopped at the back alley of the establishment to empty his stomach, feeling too sick to handle the bile rising and rising and rising-

After that, he rushed to your home, surely this was an elaborately orchestrated prank and he would find you there waiting for him, only to find it cold and empty and… wrong. Your cat, the one you had raised since she was a meek kitten, looked sad. She perked up, but meowed pathetically when she saw it wasn't you at the door. Leon approached Coco to pet her, noticed that the poor thing had been napping on top of one of your discarded shirts, you had probably started your day, gotten changed and then… nothing. He couldn't hold back anymore, he broke down then and there, crying on his knees, holding onto Coco for comfort. How… How could this happen? You had been fine the day before, apparently. Why, why, why? 

He spent a long time quietly crying on that floor. After that, the numbness set in. He's not sure just how he kept his wits about him long enough to find out who had dared accuse you of being a vampire, and in one of his least proud moments, killed them. He didn't regret it. Hadn't given them a reason to explain, didn't care for it. They had taken you away from him. He asked around and found where those monsters had just… dumped your body, left to rot like a petty criminal and took you in his arms. The coldness he was met with was unsettling. You were always so warm, so full of life… To see you like this with his own two eyes, it broke him. Well and truly. 

He carried you and buried you under a large willow tree that faced the sunset. You had always loved sunsets. He found it fitting. He carved your name on it and spent a long while just sitting there, the grief in his chest consuming him whole. How could this… this wasn't possible. Fuck these people. He made a quick stop by your home, one last time. Took all the things he knew you held dear, along with Coco, and left. Went back to his manor. He spent the days sleeping the pain away, the hollowness your absence had left behind in his chest. The nights were the hardest, so he drank until he would pass out, rarely leaving the mansion to feed, or to visit your grave. He found great comfort in Coco. He thinks that the feline deep down also knew you died and found comfort in him, too. She would cuddle him when he slept and would follow him around everywhere. He often took her along with him when he went to visit your grave. The two would spend a lot of time there. He brought you flowers every so often. He once encountered a small little deer napping right where he had…burried you. It seemed your gentleness radiated from you, even in death. He still couldn't believe you were gone. He hadn't felt grief this deep, in all his years as an immortal creature. And to think those foul people accused you of being a vampire, when you had been sheltering him… it was too much to think about.

His bitterness was also aimed at the Goddess you kept praying to, before you… How could She allow someone so kind as you to be taken from this shitty, cruel world so easily? Wasn’t She supposed to, fuck, he doesn’t even know. 

The years passed by slowly, so, so, slowly, and for an immortal creature, that was the worst possible thing. Coco had passed, too. He was heartbroken to lose her. She was the last thing he had of you. Besides your art, that lined the walls of his manor. What a joke. Such a big house, so many riches he had accumulated over the centuries of being alive, and the one person he wanted to show it all to, to share it all with, had been taken from him so cruelly. He buried Coco next to you. He knew you wouldn't want to be separated from her. You had loved her so dearly, like your own flesh and blood. It only seemed fair. 

Everything after that settled into cold, lonely nights, where he would reminisce on all the moments he had spent with you, wrapped up in your scent and warmth. It was so at odds with the last time he held you. Cold, dead, much like him, but you were well and truly gone. He never really properly dealt with the grief. He would often daydream of how it would feel to hold you in his arms once more. A few centuries of constant numbness and isolation had passed by that point. His heart had been taken from him so suddenly, how could he possibly move on? He remembers how he often would joke with you about how he was a ‘one lady type of man’ and how you would tease him about how he chose you of all people. He missed you so much, some nights it felt like he would die from heartbreak.

How he would give everything up just to have one more moment with you. None of his materialistic things mattered when you weren't there to share it with. What was the point of him even clinging onto hope? The Gods were cruel, it was a known fact of this world. Why would this so-called ‘kind Goddess’ ever grace you with Her blessings? You were just one of the many people that had died unjust deaths. He stopped visiting your grave. 

You woke up gasping for air amidst dirt. You're unsure of how you clawed your way out of the ground, some force within you driving you to do so, before you were even fully coherent. No one was around. It was deep into the night, the moon high up in the sky, shining brightly down at you. Your breaths were labored, deep and heavy as you tried to recall… well, anything. Who were you? You gazed behind you, at the large tree. There was a name carved into it. Your name? You're unsure. Shakily, you stood up and dusted the dirt off your clothes. 

You remembered how to read, that was a good start. You tried to remember anything about yourself, to no avail. Why were you in the dirt? You looked down at your clothes. They were tattered. Could you have been… dead? The thought terrified you. Why would you be buried here? Could you be someone unwanted and uncared for? The ground around where you rose from seemed luscious with life. You looked down once more, your chest glowing bright with light. Suddenly, your clothes were restored. How could this be? Odd. Could you be some sort of witch, maybe? No, no, surely not. The warm light faded soon after.

You noticed lights in the horizon, so you decided to go towards them. It seemed to be some sort of settlement, a town? The walk wasn't too long, but the stiffness in your joints made it long. Walking was difficult, so was standing up straight. You took a lot of breaks on your way there. What year could it be? How long had you been… dead for? Would there be someone in this world that cared for you? Perhaps not. 

Something deep within you, led you to the edge of town, towards a small, ruined house. It seemed abandoned. You wonder if its owner had left on a journey of their own and settled away. Seeing how no one was around, you entered the house. The dust inside made you sneeze, once, twice, thrice. You giggled to yourself. This feeling was peculiar. You explored the house, finding nothing of value, besides a few trinkets. One was a silver brooch with a blue gemstone in it. You felt carvings on its back, so you turned it around and squinted your eyes to read what it said. 

‘To my heart, -L.’ 

How sweet of this person. But why would the owner leave it behind? Had those two fallen out? You found the possibility sad. Your mind had cleared a little more, since you woke up, which was when you noticed a pendant with a blue gemstone hanging from your throat. Maybe you enjoyed this color before you died! You decided to pocket the brooch, since the owner clearly didn't care for it. You looked through the house some more, in hopes of finding something else, like another pair of shoes, or perhaps some clothes you could use. Your search came up empty, but you weren't too upset about it. 

You were worried, however, about how you would keep yourself fed and hydrated. You had nothing to your name, besides the clothes on your back and this brooch. You didn't wish to give it away, so you would have to find another way. Perhaps you could find work, but what kind of work? You don't remember what you are good at. Much less who you were before. You only knew your (?) name and even that information was flimsy at best. Anyone could have carved that name on that tree. It could be anyone's name, for all you knew. Someone's lover, someone's daughter, someone's sister?

Your instincts led you towards the town's center, and into a tavern next. You're not sure why you trusted that instinct, but so far, it has not led you astray. You chatted with some folks nursing their drinks, they seemed intrigued by you. You weren't a local, afterall. You mustered up the courage to ask the barkeep, a beautiful, red haired woman, if she needed help with anything. If it hadn't been for her kindness, you're sure you would have starved on the streets. She seemed like she saw right through you, all the years she spent working and interacting with people probably had made her an expert in reading them. She told you she was unmarried, and gave you a roof over your head. You confessed to her that you had no memories of your life, she took pity on you. 

You worked hard for her for a few months. Made enough money for yourself to be able to drift around, as your gut guided you from one place to the next. You never stayed long enough to make significant connections with anyone, always moving on to the next place whenever you felt that deep gnawing need in your gut. You discovered you quite liked cooking, working at different taverns when you had need for money, or found a place you wanted to settle down on. 

Being a drifter, had led you to see so much of the world. You had interacted with all sorts of people, who led different types of lives. Once, you found yourself drawn to one of the churches of the gods, where your attention was caught by the statue of a Goddess. Her gentle features captured in the cold stone enthralled you. How you wish you had that level of skill too. Maybe you did? But that was in the past. A past which you had no idea of, still. Sometimes, you dreamt of a large, imposing palace, of walking in its halls in a rush. Other times, you dreamt of a man, his face obscured, but his arms always in some way on you, holding your own. 

A witch you met in a tavern during your travels took interest in you. She told you you had the aura of someone that had been brought to life by that Goddess. You might have been naive in believing her word, for she could have been lying to you, but you're unsure what she could gain by doing so and you didn't like distrusting people unless they gave you a reason to. So you vaguely told her your story.

The dreams you had were your long lost memories, she said. But any hopes of you finding that man from your dreams were diminished, when she told you that you had probably been dead for a while before your resurrection. So he probably would be long gone, too. It saddened you quite a lot. You had nothing from your past to hold onto, no one to come looking for you or to go back to.

The witch offered to take you under her wing, as her apprentice, but you quite liked the way you lived now, so you declined and kept traveling. Shortly after that encounter, your dreams got more intense. Some nights they were so intense you could barely sleep properly. You often dreamt of the same man, his voice always calming you. You wished desperately to find him, but realistically, you probably never would, but alas. You kept traveling.

You wandered into a large luscious forest early this morning and had gotten a little lost and disoriented. It’s trees were large and imposing, so can anyone really blame you for marveling at them? You surely wouldn't. The birds were chirping, the deer were frolicking and none of them seemed to pay you any mind as you walked about, occasionally sitting on the ground to rest.

The day had passed by in a blur like that, and night had gradually started to fall. Rain began to slowly fall, small droplets pitter pattering against the leaves making a calming melody. You would have to find shelter soon, before it started to rain heavily.

You kept wandering, until you stumbled upon a manor. It looked a little run down and abandoned, so you decided to take your chances with it. The rain had been increasing in volume, so you hoped if any owners existed, they would at least take some pity on you.

Before you entered, you knocked first, just in case! No one responded. Phew! You pushed the door open, its hinges creaking loudly, it had probably not been used for a while. What a pity, it was a marvelous door! You stepped inside and shut it behind you. Taking a look inside, you noticed various paintings hanging from the walls, depicting landscapes of different times of day. They all looked so beautiful! You wonder who the artist might've been. You'd have liked to meet them! 

Shaking yourself dry you shivered a little and leaned down to remove your boots so as not to dirty the lush carpet you noticed.

Little did you know, someone had been watching you this whole time. The man had been looking at you in disbelief from the top of the stairs. It couldn't be- 

He cleared his throat loudly, making you let out a startled yelp as you looked around trying to see who (what?) it was. “Who may you be?” he asked.

You sighed in relief and looked up at him, trying to smile reassuringly. “Hello, sir! Just a drifter, I was seeking shelter from the rain! I knocked but no one responded… My apologies for barging in like this!”

His mind was in disarray. It couldn't be her. What a cruel trick of fate. It just couldn't, couldn't, couldn't. He tried to keep his cool facade up, but he was shaken. Your voice, your looks, it was as if you were a carbon copy of… he shook his head, “apologies, I didn't hear the knocks.” he took a few steps down the stairs, his heart in his throat. The closer he got, the more sick he felt. “You are welcome to take shelter here.”

“Really? Thank you so much! I promise I won't burden you!”

Even your consideration was the same as- “come on, the fire is lit in my study,” he motioned for you to follow him. As you trailed behind him, you told him your name when he asked once more, and he told you his. A pretty name for a pretty man.

(This whole introduction had given him serious whiplash, to say the least. He thought back to the first time he saw her back then. How her mysterious introduction had had him thrown for a loop. How easy-going she had been the next time he saw her. It seemed you didn't know he was a vampire, not yet at least. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.)

“You can sit,” he motioned at one of the armchairs that were near the lit fireplace as he went to stoke the fire.

“Thanks, Leon!" you took a seat and looked around the room. More paintings decorated the walls, some propped up on the floor. The ones kept in here were of a couple, the same one in each painting, you assume, in different locations. Some were of the couple near a riverbank, some of the couple standing close together amidst a garden. They were so romantic!

“So, you live here alone?”

Leon stiffened at the question as he straightened up. “Yes. I have for quite a while.”

“Oh! Don't you get a little lonely?”

He laughed bitterly. If only you knew. “Sometimes, yes.”

“I get that! I get lonely often on my travels!”

He hummed thoughtfully. “How about tea?”

You smiled and nodded, “if it's not too much to ask for, yes please!”

“I offered,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. He could test you, see if you were a shapeshifter wanting to pull a cruel prank on him. He quickly made the tea and held the cup in front of you in one hand, along with a silver spoon on the other. If you reacted to the silver, he would act swiftly, your appearance be damned.

“Thank you so much! I fear I might get sick if I don't warm up properly!” you smile and take the warm cup of tea and the spoon, using it to stir it. You blew some air to it to cool it down before you took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “This is great!”

So, not a shapeshifter. What the fuck were you, then!? Because you surely weren't her. He gave you a tight lipped smile and sat down on the armchair across yours, also taking a sip from his tea, deep in thought. He glanced at you as you moved to take your thick scarf and cloak off. The silver pendant he had once gifted her hung off your neck. He stared at it in shock. He remembers, clear as day, he had buried her with it. How could this be?

“You have a really nice taste in decorations, by the way,” you said after a while. “Did you paint those yourself? They're beautiful.”

“No… My lover did. But thanks.”

You nod and look around some more as you take another sip from your tea. There's shelves filled with books and quite a lot of books at that. You wonder to yourself what kind of books a man like him would read.

“You mentioned you are a traveler?”

You nod enthusiastically, “yeah! It can be a lot of fun!”

“You have no companions? Family?”

Your face scrunches up. You've had this conversation numerous times already, people always curious as to why a woman would travel by herself, their following bewilderment when you spoke of your missing memories and your failure of a search to find out if the man from your dream-memories is still alive. “Nope. None whatsoever. No clear memories either,” you state, because why hide the truth? He opened up his home to you in your time of need, the least you can do is be honest with him. 

“No… memories? How come?”

He was quite perplexed, to say the least. A stranger, waltzing into his home, looking like an exact replica of his dead lover… he didn't want to have hope that you… were her… but the more you spoke, the more those hopes grew.

“Well, it's a long story, but to shorten it, I woke up beneath a tree, apparently my Goddess granted me life once more, I must've been quite devout before I died!”

That made his world stop. You had been revived? By… Her? Too many details lined up for comfort. “A tree, you say? What kind was it?”

“A willow! Big old tree up north! It's not too far from here, actually!”

The storm was now raging outside, causing quite a ruckus. You seemed clueless to his internal mix of panic, joy, melancholy, which the weather matched perfectly by a loud clap of thunder echoing through the room. So it… it was you. It had to be. “...I know the one.”

“You do? Wow! How long have you been living here, then?”

The word “centuries,” slipped out from his lips before he could stop it. You slowly turned to look at him in shock at his slip-up. He didn't want you to be scared of him, but now that was too late. You would probably freak out and bolt, and he would never see you again.

“You’re… a vampire?” you asked quietly, setting down the cup of tea shakily on the table.

“...Yeah.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say. He hadn't attacked you yet, but what if he had wanted to lower your guard and then strike? Fuck, fuck, fuck, how could you be so careless!? “You won't eat me, will you?”

He scoffed, as if offended at the mere thought. “Eat you? I could never, fuck, I would never.”

He could be lying to you. But he sounded sincere, more sincere than some of the people you had interacted with so far. “You didn't put anything weird in my tea, did you…?”

He scoffed again, “sweetheart, if I wanted to kill you, I would've already done so.”

That oddly reassured you. Just a little bit, at least. So, what the hells, you decided, you might as well go for it. “Have you been around for long…?”

He laughs softly. “Too long.”

You nodded once more and steeled yourself. “Could you know who the maker of this was?” you pulled out the brooch and handed it to him. He stared at you, his mouth hanging open. He thought he had long lost this.

“You… How did you get this?”

You explained how your first day after your resurrection had gone, and he had listened intently. He kept you talking (which was something he always had been good at before she- no, you- died), and you had told him of how your last two years had been. You're not sure why you felt so at ease telling him all about your life, how you dreamt of your past but it was never clear, but it was a feeling like no other. You felt warm and listened to, for once in your (newfound) life.

“Are you crying? I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?” you immediately apologise when you notice a few tears staining his cheeks. He quickly wipes them away with the back of his hand and hands you back the brooch.

“I thought I lost you forever,” he says softly.

“You-you knew me!?”

Your excited tone makes his heart flutter. Your happiness was always contagious to him, and for once, he's glad he didn't drink an ounce of wine tonight.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Were we close!?”

“Close would be an… understatement.”

Oh… Oh.

Could he be the man from your dreams? Now that you think about it, the voice matches, you even feel… the same sense of safety from your dreams in his presence, despite his nature.

The rain kept pelting against the windows harshly as you two talked well into the night. He (somehow) convinced you to agree to stay with him, for a while, at least and he also helped you make sense of some of your tangled up memories. You really felt like you could trust him.

The months passed by enveloped in tension between you two. He had let you choose one of the manors rooms as your own, and tried to give you as much space as he could, but oftentimes he was a little overbearing. You didn't blame him, opting to just play along with it to ease his fears. If your positions were switched, you would have been the same.

You often would end up keeping him company during nights when your dream-memories overwhelmed you enough to be unable to continue sleeping. He craved to hold you, but he hadn't tried to do so yet. Maybe you would be averse to affection from him this time around and he knew that it would break him if he saw disgust on your face by his advances.

Getting to know you once again had brought back his feelings for you ten times stronger. You hadn't changed too much, it seemed, you were just… more free. Freer than you had been in the past.

The first time since you two were reunited that he held you was one he would remember for a while. Hearing your horrified screams of pain had made him rush to your room instantly, only to find you asleep, a night terror causing it. He gently stirred you awake and was (pleasantly) surprised when you threw yourself into his arms and sobbed. Your pained cries had broken his heart, but holding you like this? Oh god, he could die a happy man. The last time he got to hold you was when he buried you. The sheer contrast of how you felt against him was overwhelming. When he managed to calm you down enough to speak, you told him that you dreamt of your death. The screams made more sense now. You begged him to stay next to you, if not for the night, which he obliged, without hesitation.

Things changed after that. You were more open with him, even touched him casually, as you once did before. He reveled in it. Eventually, you asked if he could feed from you, when after one night of more memories returning to you, you discovered that you used to do that. The experience felt new and old at the same time, and you were surprised to find the whole experience pleasurable, even.

Leon felt so complete and happy after so many centuries of pain and loneliness. Everything was falling back into place, slowly but surely, and he couldn't be more overjoyed at the fact.

You ended up staying with him for good, occasionally going on small trips with him, your wanderlust still there. But that old need in your gut had vanished. It seems it had finally led you where you were meant to go. You kept praying to the Goddess, genuinely thankful for the second chance at life She had given you. 

After a year or two of this, now closer in age to him than before, to be clear, the age he was turned at, not his actual age, and after you two had had a lot of long talks about things and your memories were fully back, he turned you. It was what you always had wanted anyways, so if now, then when? The world had felt so different now, so amplified, it was as if you were truly seeing it for the first time again. You had also started painting again somewhere along the way. Everything was perfect.

As the full moon settles deep under the hilltops, the sun bloodies up the sky again, signaling yet another day has begun. This cruel world, for what it is worth, has its beauty. A beauty that punishes as much as it blesses, that lures you with sweet words only to tear you apart in the next breath. No child is born into this world without being touched by its cruelty.

And you were no exception.

The village had rules that were written in the marrow of every person, written in every lullaby people sung to children. Never step into the forest, it was not yours to touch.

The trees were old, older than the temple stones, older than the altars where false gods, charlatans pretending to be holy men, now fattened themselves on coin and praise. The forest belonged to others, others who were not men nor beast.

But what does a child care for rules when the air is new with spring and the light pools gold on the green grass?

You saw her first, the little doe. Her flank streaked red, a gash blooming along her side. She stumbled from the underbrush and collapsed just beyond the tree line, sides heaving, eyes rolling white. Without thought and without even fear, your little legs carried you to her.

"Hello.." you whispered, voice small and trembling, hands outstretched as if your touch alone could heal it. Behind you, the village roofs slept in the distance. Ahead, the trees loomed, black spines against the dawn.

And in their shadows, something watched.

You didn’t see it at first, only heard the sound of branches shifting, a low pad of paws on damp earth. The doe’s ears flicked but she did not bolt. Perhaps she understood before you did.

Yellow eyes, twin coals, caught the newborn sun.

The huge wolf stood where the light couldn’t reach, silent. Enormous. His coat was dark, thick, blending with the shadows, but his gaze burned. He did not lunge and he did not growl. He only looked. A scream might have saved you, running might have spared you. But instead you did the strangest, most dangerous thing of all.

"She’s hurt.. Don’tㅡ be cruel!" You clenched your fists by your side.

The wolf tilted his head, as though the words puzzled him. As if even he couldn't understand how one could be so careless and so naive. What a silly girl, he probably thought. Then he stepped back into the deeper dark. He was gone just like that.

The doe trembled under your touch, its warm blood slicking your palms. You cried, not out of fear, but frustration. You had no way to help. Your family’s apothecary was full of herbs, tinctures, salves yet here, in the lonesome forest, you were helpless.

By the time you fetched anyone, the doe was gone. The grass was stained where she had lain, the earth turned over in signs of struggle. And among them you saw pawprints, larger than any normal dog or wolf.

You told no one, but you kept going back since then.

By fourteen, you had understood well what it meant to be silent. The apothecary shelves sagged with jars no one bought anymore, the herbs inside curling into dust. The air smelled like thyme and lamiaceae, but no footsteps crossed the threshold. Only your father’s voice filled the old space, muttering as he ground another root no one had asked for.

You kept your head down, hands busy, because it was easier that way, easier than watching the villagers bow to men in gold chains and red velvet robes, who arrived in their square with empty promises. Easier than noticing how your mother’s eyes lingered on the cracked beams above the counter, as though she were counting how many more days before they collapsed.

When the feeling of it was too much, you went where no one was supposed to go.

The forest was forbidden, yes, but it welcomed you more kindly than the village ever had. The trees leaned low, their branches a shelter. Wildflowers tangled at your ankles, and the streams whispered secrets you never dared tell your mother.

And when you went in the forest, he was there.

You couldn’t always see him. Sometimes he was only a shadow between trunks, or a faint rustle in the leaves. But you knew he was there.

Even when the woods were still, you felt eyes on you. Not cruel, not yet kind. Only watching, maybe curious just as you.

You should have been afraid. Perhaps you were, at first. But children grow used to danger when it becomes a part of their days. You carried your fear like another basket in your hands, which was heavy but it became ordinary.

Once, gathering berries, your hem snagged on a thorn. You tugged too hard and stumbled, and the fruit scattering into the dirt. Hot tears stung your eyes, not for the pain in your scraped knee, but for the waste. It was foolish, yes, yet you cried anyway.

You looked up through wet lashes and saw them, those two stars burning in the shade. The wolf. He seemed larger than before.

You did not run, foolish child. "Don’t laugh at me.." you said. "It wasn’t my fault!"

He tilted his head, and for a moment you heard the faintest rumble.

Your heart beat so loud you thought it might shake loose out of your chest. When you left, you felt lighter. As though confessing your shame to the shadows had eased something in you.

You didn’t tell anyone about it. How could you? No one would believe that the forest had listened to a little girl.

As time passed, so had your hope in the world. For the time will never stop to aid mere dreamers.

The bell above the apothecary door rang, a foreign sound now, and you froze mid sweep, hands gripping the broom so tightly.

Your father's shoulders tensed behind the counter, jaw tight as he straightened the jars of powdered plants. Your mother's eyes flicked toward the newcomers, wary, composed, as though she had been expecting them all of her life.

They were the gilded men, with heads high, and their robes of deep red embroidered with gold, coins clinking as they moved. One stepped forward, hands behind his back, a vile smile on his revolving face.

"Good day." he said. "We have heard of your, how shall I say, services to the village over the years. And we think perhaps we can improve upon them."

Your stomach knotted. You knew these men. Men who hid in holy trappings. Oh, men. They weren't worthy of such title.

"We have what we need." Your father’s words did not falter. "The herbs, the roots, they are ours... We tend them with care."

The man tilted his head, smile widening, his ugly eyes scanning you for a moment, lingering a bit too long before sliding back to your parents.

"Ah, but of course!" he said. "But care alone does not suffice. People desire results. We can provide those results. And in exchange we require only your cooperation!"

Your mother’s fingers twitched, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "Cooperation?" she asked, trying to calm herself, all though you could see the tears in her eyes.

"What is it you mean?"

The man’s gaze flicked to you again. "A simple matter. We wish to purchase the apothecary. Its location, its resources, and its goodwill with the people. We will provide wealth, advancement, a future."

A laugh slipped from somewhere in your chest. It was bitter. Your hands pressed to your apron as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

"A future?" you whispered. "You call it a future, but why does this village feel like a cage?"

One of the other men, who was shorter and more rotund with a bald patch on the top of his head, leaned forward.

"Dear girl.." He glanced at you, as if noticing you for the first time. "You work here?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"She is my daughter." Your father began.

"Oh, yes.. lovely, diligent, though unseen. Perhaps you can assist us in the transition?"

You swallowed. You'd rather die than help. Your throat was dry. You wanted to speak, to argue, to tell them they had no right, that this was your father's work, your mother's dreams, but the words stuck somewhere behind your heart.

"They will take the shelves." you heard your mother mutter under her breath to your father, but the words were lost amid the polished laughter of the men. "They will take everything.."

And then you heard your father's voice, which was sorrowful.

"If we refuse, they will burn us from the village. They will take the apothecary by force, and the people will cheer."

You felt small and hollow, as the men made their terms clear. Coins were counted, papers slid across the counter, signatures pressed into ink that smelled of rot and control.

The tall man with eyes like polished diamonds turned to you.

"You may stay." he said softly. "You shall be the maid. Admirable work, yes." But you did not feel admired.

You felt exposed, like a fish caught in a net. The door closed behind them, the bell ringing one last time. Silence filled the room. You sank onto the floor behind a low shelf, hands gripping your knees, cheeks streaked with tears you hadn’t meant to shed.

"Why did yㅡyou let them.. Why?"

"Child.." your mother said, her voice trembling now "We had no choice. Not anymore. We were lucky to have lasted this long."

You pressed your face to your knees, letting the sobs come. And somewhere beneath those tears the memory of the forest stirred, a place where no gilded man could enter, where no coin could buy or threaten.

Again, you ran.

You ran until the cobblestones gave way to soft earth, until the scent of smoke and coin and polished wood faded behind you. Your legs trembled, from exhaustion, from the hurt of helplessness, the spoiled, ugly taste of despair curling on your tongue.

The trees leaned toward you as you stumbled into the forest, leaves brushing your hair like words comfort, roots rising to steady your frantic steps.

Your breaths came unevenly, sharp and desperate and then you finally fell to your knees on the soft earth.

You buried your face in your arms, letting the tears come freely. You felt it all now. The flowers at your feet, the petals damp with dew. Somewhere nearby, a stream murmured, threading its way through the underbrush. You shivered and pressed your body closer to the earth, curling in on yourself.

Hours passed.

When you stirred, the sky was lighter, pink at the edges of the canopy. You looked around, trying to shake some sense into your sleepy mind.

And there he was again.

He did not approach, did not make a sound. He simply stood there, dark and immense, watching and patient, as always.

You lifted your head, blurry eyed. "IㅡI can't do anything right!"

You pressed your hands to your face again, ashamed. Yet you felt seen without judgment, without ridicule. By him.

More hours must have passed in that stillness. When you dared to open your eyes again, the forest had shifted with the afternoon light. Around you, the petals of wildflowers were arranged into a soft, inviting bed, and beside you lay a small pile of berries, dark and ripe.

Golden eyes watched from the shadow line of trees. He had been guarding.

"Youㅡ did not leave.."

Something swelled in your chest, fear, yes, but something else, too. Comfort. Wonder? Maybe. A connection to something alive and strong in a world that had often been cruel.

You pressed your hands to the ground and leaned forward, face nearly touching the petals, murmuring "I’m sorry.. for everything. I know I cry a lot.."

And for the first time in a long while, curled amongst the blossoms with the sweet berries at your side, you dared to let your wild heart rest, even if only for a little while.

The village shifted around you, but not toward kindness. The apothecary your parents once ran, now a Coin House with no herbs that filled the shelves, no smell of lavender or warm wax, only the faint must of old wood and money hungry monsters. You still worked there, of course.

Villagers came, yes, but not for cures. They left coins pressed into your hands or on the counter, whispered prayers tucked into envelopes, along the little richness they had. They were trusting, hoping, that one day, some return would be made if they gave it all away now. Some profit, some miracle from God himself.

Your father had left a year ago, or more, you lost count of time, claiming he needed to secure more patrons. Even if the apothecary was no longer, he still wanted to sell what was left of it.

No one expected him back, not after three months had passed. After seven moths of him gone, your mother became a ghost of whom she was, counting the little coins left, counting days, counting her strength until it ran thin.

Days came and went, and you were twenty three now, which meant one thing: you were eligible. And the arrangements had already been made.

The man chosen for you was old and cruel, but rich, yet unmoving as stone. Your mother spoke little when she told you. Your father was now gone, so it was your turn to give back for the many years they have raised you, fed you, clothed you.

And so, the day of the meeting came. Alongside him was the richest of them all, his brother perhaps. They looked related, both with shrunken faces and blue eyes, yet with guts huge from the lot of money they ate on the daily. Gluttony and Greed, both stood in front of you.

Greed did not smile, yet his brother spoke softly, as if talking to a child. "Your duty is simple." he said. "Love him, worship him, bear his children, keep to his house. That is your life now.”

You nodded, but the destain in your eyes was clear. You wanted to bite back, rip straight through their jugular, for the taste of ugliness was too much on your tongue and the thorns that pierced your heart were growing.

"What if I do not want to?"

Gluttony turned to his brother in silence, as if considering it. Then, they erupted in laughter, their voices echoing in the empty church.

"You are a child even more so a woman! You will do as you're told." They both laughed some more, as if seeing you take into account what you might actually want was the tastiest meal they’ve ever had.

"Stupid woman."

"Obey, and do not make me repeat myself. You're only but a lowly peasant girl, with no father and a mother on the brink of death. You should feel lucky you were chosen."

You sucked in a deep breath, the wind hitting against the dusty glass windows. You would be damned if you ever cried in front of a hoaxer, not again, not ever. You may be forced to marry that heathen of a man, Greed, but no one could force you to love him.

So that was that. You excused yourself and walked out of the church, the sundown hugging you with its golden light.

Alone, you walked the quiet streets of the village, listening to the distant crackles of lanterns, to the clatter of pots and pans as people were preparing supper.

The forest at the edge of the village beckoned. And you slipped toward it, letting your tears fall freely.

Branches arched above like spires, and the earth beneath you was soft. Somewhere in the shadows, that same presence remained.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stumbled over a root. You pressed your hands to your face and let it all go, the sobs coming ragged and ugly. You had nowhere to hide now, but the forest did not judge you for that.

You froze, half blind with tears. He came, the wolf. Closer than ever before.

He came forward until his shadow covered yours, and lowered himself until his head pressed into your lap. Your breath hitched. Fingers hovered, trembling, until instinct overcame fear. You touched him. His fur was thicker, softer than you had imagined all these years.

The heat of him seeped through your skirts, steadying you as though he were more real than anything else in the world.

"I-I do not know what to do.." you whispered to the wolf. "They want to— to marry me off. To him. He is.. he’s cruel, and I’ll be nothing but a caged bird."

The wolf’s chest rose and fell.

"I don’t want to leave. I belong here.." Your voice cracked. "I belong to the trees, and the streams, and the air in this forest, not to him! Oh, little wolf.."

His ears twitched.

"I wish I was brave." you confessed. "I wish.. I could say no. But Mother says we’ll die otherwise. She says I must be grateful."

Your fingers sank deeper into his fur, clutching at it. "They all look at me like I’m a coin to be spent. No one asks me what I want. Not once, not ever..."

The wolf let out a low sound then, a growl that shaked against your hands, your thighs and your chest. "I know.." you said, as if he had spoken. "You understand, don’t you? You’ve been here all along.. You are my only friend."

Silence stretched. You curled forward, pressing your forehead to the crown of his head, your tears dampening his fur. "If you were human, I'd ask you to take me away. Anywhere! Anywhere but here..."

The wolf stilled. If it were human.

There were only seven more days left until the ceremony. People who had never even known you were to arrive, to celebrate the union that would forever bind you to that monster.

You were out in the back garden, looking at the now dead plants your dad used to take care of. This patch of earth had been his pride. It used to be a place full of life, now, the stalks were brittle, the soil dry and cracked. A graveyard of what had been. It was truly horrible how much things could change in so small a span of years.

Some crunching on nearby leaves wake you from your sorrowful trance. You lifted your head, and froze. A man stood at the edge of the garden. A villager. No, he couldn't be one. You knew every face, good or bad.

No, this man was someone else.

Tall, broad, his shoulders filling the space as if the light itself had to bend to allow him through. His hair was light, touched with grey that caught the wan light of dusk, and his jaw was shadowed with rough stubble. His face looked carved from something older than the stone of this earth, something cruel yet tender all at once.

You tried to speak but couldn't. You felt the strangest pull, not fear exactly, but almost recognition. As though your soul had seen him before, but your eyes never had.

He looked at you, trying to weigh his words as to not scare you away, perhaps.

"You live here?" His voice was lower than you expected. It sounded just like thunder.

You swallowed and shaked your head. "YㅡYes." The word snagged in your throat. You hadn’t stammered like this in front of a man since you were a child.

He stepped no closer, though you realized you wished he would. "Strange place for someone like you." he said quietly, his eyes drifting over the dead garden you were mourning.

You looked down at your hands, embarrassed without knowing why. "It wasn’t always like this."

When you dared to look up again, he was already walking away, vanishing into the trees.

He came again, and again. Never with warning, never with reason. Sometimes he asked simple things. Whether you liked the woods, whether you feared them.

Sometimes he said nothing at all, only watched you as though he were reading you like a book. You never found the courage to ask who he was.

But each time he came, your shyness only deepened. His presence made you clumsy with words, made your skin burn beneath his gaze, all blushed and warm like simmering milk on fire.

You always waited for him, in the same place, with that same feeling in your stomach.

He was older, rougher, and oh so handsome, nothing like the boys who tried to snicker at you in the square, or the odious man you were about to marry.

Three days until the wedding, you slipped away to the forest and the wolf was there, as always, waiting.

"I've met someone." you confessed, cheeks heating though no one else could hear what you had said. "The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. It seems like... Like he understands me, even if he doesn’t say much."

The wolf’s ears flicked. You laughed softly, reaching out to pet him. "I must sound foolish, don’t I? Telling secrets to a wolf... But I can’t tell anyone else. Not Mother, not the others. Only you, my little friend."

You brushed your fingers through his fur.

"His voice is so soft and sweet, but so strong.." you whispered. "It feels like I’ve heard it before. Maybe in a dream..." The wolf closed his eyes. The forest went utterly still.

Maybe in a dream.

The second to last day came fast.

The house was filled with people and of preparations. Strangers came and went, voices too loud, hands too busy arranging a future you wanted no part of. Your mother’s face was pale, her eyes darting whenever they met yours, as though she couldn’t bear the sight of what she’d done.

You escaped to the garden, as you always did. The plants were still dead, the soil still barren, but at least here the noise of the village could not reach you.

You sat on your little stool by the fence, skirts brushing the dirt, fingers plucking absently at a wilted stem until it snapped.

And as always, he came.

He lingered at the edge of the garden, that towering frame occupying the fading light. He never crossed into the garden as though there was an invisible wall between you two.

He didn’t speak and only watched you with that unreadable gaze, his arms folded across his chest.

You tried not to look at him too long. Tried not to let him see the way your throat tightened or how your heart was knocking against your ribs.

But the silence pressed on you until you thought you might choke. When at last he turned to leave, something in you broke.

"I will get married tomorrow!" you called. The words tore from your throat louder than you'd meant. You were desperate.

You rose from your stool, fists clenching at your sides. "I do n—ot want to." your voice cracked. "But I must."

Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance over his shoulder. In the dim light, you saw the sharp set of his jaw.

"Why must I marry someone whom I do not love?" you asked, your voice breaking into a sob. "Why must I give myself to a man I despise?"

For a long, long moment, he said nothing. Did he even hear you?

"The world is a cruel place, little miss."

He turned his back again, striding away, but his voice you still heard as he walked in the coming darkness. "But you will get your happiness in no time."

He was gone just like that, swallowed whole by the forest. You stood alone in your silence, tears running down your face like a cascade.

The door snapped open behind you.

"What are you doing out here? Who are you talking to?" your mother’s voice cut like a whip across your skin.

You turned quickly, dragging the back of your hand across your cheeks, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed, catching the redness in yours.

"Is this how you plan to make these plants come back alive?" she snapped, gesturing to the withered stalks around you. "Crying over them?"

Your frown deepened, and you wiped your tears more harshly this time, angry at yourself for letting her see. Angry at the world for making you cry at all.

Her shoulders lowered just slightly. The sharpness in her tone gave way to something softer, as she sighed. "Come, child. It’s dark."

You hesitated, glancing back once at the trees.

"Come inside." she called your name, louder now.

And though every part of you longed to run into the forest and follow him, you obeyed.

The morning of your wedding dawned without mercy.

Church bells tolled in the square. Didn't they know what fate they were striking for you? Your mother’s hands trembled as she drew the white gown over your shoulders.

The cloth was rich, far richer than anything you had ever owned yet it felt like a shroud, heavy and suffocating you.

"Stand still." She whispered sharply. "Do not shame me before them."

You stood stiff as she pinned the veil into your hair. It fell like a curtain of smoke over your face, blurring the world into shadow. When you looked down at yourself, the white was blinding, sanctified but you knew it wasn’t purity they celebrated. It was possession.

"They will see you as a proper wife." your mother began, tying the last ribbon at your waist. "And perhaps you will know comfort. Perhaps not. But you must endure, child."

You turned your face toward her, though the veil softened her features. "Do you call this comfort?"

Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Do not make me answer that! The world has no patience for women who dream too much."

The door opened. The sound of voices carried from outside, of villagers gathering, the clatter of carts, the laughter of children who did not know better.

Your stomach twisted.

The walk to the chapel felt endless. Each step made you feel as if you were walking to your own funeral. Villagers turned their heads as you passed, some smiling, some whispering behind their hands.

A few looked at you with pity, yet none dared to speak.

The chapel loomed ahead, its spire stabbing the sky. Inside, candles flickered against the stone, throwing long shadows. The priest stood ready, his robes gleaming red and gold. Beside him, your groom waited.

The Greed. He was older than you by decades, his face sagging like wax melted in the august sun. Rings glittered on every finger, but his eyes were small, so sharp and hungry. When you approached, he grinned, a crooked thing of a smile.

"Lift her veil." he ordered to the best man, who was there to make sure you will not try to run away.

The man reached for you, and for a moment, you thought to pull back, but your mother’s hand pressed at your back, forcing you forward. The veil was lifted.

The groom’s eyes swept over your face, down your form, slow and possessive. "You shall give me strong sons." he said.

The priest cleared his throat, raising his hands. "Before the eyes of the God and of men, we bind these two.”

The groom’s hand clamped down on yours, his nails digging into your glove. His smile was a sneer, fat, greedy and assured. The priest’s voice rose again, but the sound was muddied by your own heartbeat in your eardrums. You wished to kill, eat them all alive then spit them out and let whatever God they prayed to do the judging.

"Let no one put asunder what is bound this day—"

The doors exploded.

Wood splintered, crashing inward as a sound like thunder split the air. A growl rolled through the church, low and guttural vibrating the very walls of it.

The wolf filled the doorway.

Gasps, screams, prayers, a flood of voices all at once. His teeth gleamed wet, his eyes burned like molten moons. He stepped forward, claws raking the stone, and the people fell back.

"The Beast!" the priest yelled, holding his relic high. "The Abomination!"

The wolf lunged. The relic snapped like kindling between his jaws, the priest crumpling beneath him with a scream that ended wet as his very bones shattered.

Panic erupted. Guests scrambled over pews, mothers shielding children, men fumbling for weapons they had no courage to use.

The wolf moved through them like fire through dry fields. He was unstoppable, merciless. He ripped one man in half, sent another crashing against the altar with a swipe of his large paw. The whole building shook with the force of his fury.

Your mother grabbed your wrist. "Run!" She gasped, tugging you toward the side door. But the crush of bodies shoved her back. You saw her eyes widen with tears before the crowd carried her away.

The groom shrieked, pushing you aside as he tried to flee, yet his velvet robes tangled his legs. He stumbled, falling hard. The wolf’s head snapped toward him, lips curling back over fangs.

"No—!" the man wailed. "Stay away you monster!"

The wolf’s jaws closed on his neck, dragging him across the stone. His scream ripped through the chapel as blood sprayed the white floor.

The wolf shook him like a rag, bones cracking, flesh tearing, his head barely connected to the rest of his body now.

You pressed against the altar, your veil slipping, your hands shaking, and yet your heart did not cower. Not from him.

The wolf dropped what was left of the man. He turned, his chest heaving, blood matting his muzzle. His eyes locked on yours.

You thought it must be all a dream, surely. But then he began to change. From beast to man.

His form convulsed, stretching, breaking. Bones shifted beneath fur, muscle twisting, reshaping. Claws curled back into fingers, fur melting into skin slick with sweat and blood, the growls faded into a human gasp.

When it ended, he stood before you. The man from the garden.

His chest rose and fell, blood running down his arms, his hands. His eyes, the same golden fire, fixed on you.

The church lay in ruin around you, the floor slick with blood, streaking your once white gown. The cries of the dying were echoing off the stone.

You swallowed. "You.." The word barely scraped out by your lips "You killed them all."

His gaze didn’t flinch. "I spared who deserved sparing." His voice was low "The rest—" He glanced briefly toward the broken benches, the dead people, the corpse of the man you were meant to wed. His lip curled "The rest were vermin."

Your throat tightened. "But you—" you shook your head, tears streaking down your cheeks. "You’re the wolf."

"And you were never afraid."

"I was." you whispered. "At first. I thoughtㅡ I thought you might devour me.."

"Yet.." his voice rumbled "You stayed."

"Why me?" You blinked hard. "Why not anyone else? Why watch over me?"

His breath shuddered as he stopped just before you, close enough that you could smell the copper on his skin. "Because you were never theirs to take." he said. "Because you are mine."

"Yours?"

The corner of his mouth curled in a smile, but heavy, sorrowful. "Do you not feel it?" His eyes searched yours.

"All those nights you spoke to me as though I could answer? All those tears you spilled into the earth, thinking no one cared? I was there. Always."

"No.." Your hand lifted, trembling, and you touched your chest where your heart thundered. "I thoughtㅡ I thought I was imagining it."

"You were not imagining me." He reached then, slowly, taking your hand in his. His fingers were slick with blood, staining yours, binding them together. He lifted it, bowing his head, pressing his lips hard against your knuckles.

You gasped softly, your tears slipping faster. "You’re covered in blood... are you hurt?"

His eyes flicked up, still holding your hand against his mouth. "Would you rather I left you to him? To a life of chains?"

"No!" The word burst out. "I would rather d-die than belong to him."

He released a sharp breath, almost a laugh. "Good. Then you belong to me."

Your other hand rose, cupping his cheek. The blood was now dry. Still, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping shut in relief. "Say it."

"I belong to you.."

His eyes snapped open and then his mouth crashed against yours.

The kiss was brutal, desperate, full of teeth and hunger. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you close, as if he might fuse you to him forever.

Your very first kiss. He has waited for so long.

The taste of his tongue was iron and smoke, your lips smeared with blood, his, yours, theirs, you didn’t care. You clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders as if he gave you life.

"I shall make you mine now."

Your veil had slipped back, tangled with your hair, sticky with blood. The pristine white of your gown was gone, streaked red where his hands had held you, where strangers had fallen. You should have been horrified, undone by it all, yet when his golden eyes burned down into yours, you felt nothing but heat.

"Come." he said, his hand took yours. "This place will rot. It was never meant for you."

He pulled you gently over broken benches and shattered glass. The chapel doors hung open, crooked on their hinges, and beyond them the forest called.

You stumbled once, the hem of your dress catching, but his arm caught you. The chaos around you was nothing compared to the need burning in him.

Outside, the night was waiting. The moon swelled fat above the treeline, its silver light spilling down like a blessing.

He led you into the shadows, further and further, until the screams of the village were only echoes in the wind.

Finally, when the trees grew dense enough to hide you from every prying eye, he stopped. His chest rose and fell, still ragged from battle. He turned to you.

"You do not know what I am." He said.

You swallowed hard, your hand still trapped in his. "I do. You’re my wolf, my friend.."

"Not just a wolf." He looked past you "A man, a beast— both, and neither. Long before your priests, before your coin houses and their false gods, my kind walked among yours. We lived, we loved, we shared blood and bread and fire."

He paused, his breath unsteady. "But men are quick to fear what they cannot chain. So a treaty was carvedㅡ your kind to the villages, mine to the forest. We were forbidden to take wives from you, forbidden to bear children together. It was peace, they said. Peace bought with walls."

"And you obeyed?"

"For a time." His mouth curved, bitter. "Until they stole what was mine." His hand tightened around yours. "You."

"I—I don’t understand."

His other hand rose, rough fingers brushing your jaw. "You are my mate. From the moment you were born, from the moment you stepped into the forest as a child, I knew. Your scent, your voice IㅡI could not keep away. The treaty has no claim on you. No paper signed by frightened vermin can sever what the moon has bound." The forest was oh so still. "You are mine." he said again.

Your lips parted with your heart slamming in your chest. "IㅡI.."

"From the first breath you drew, you were marked. I have circled this place for years, waiting, cursing the gods who made it so I could not touch you, love you.. But no longer."

"You waited for me?"

"I hunted, I killed, I endured. But I did not take a mate. You were mine. Always. Even when you were too small to know, I knew. I could not choose another."

"Then why now?"

"Because they would have bound you to another. Stolen you from me. And I will tear apart the world before I allow that." The ferocity of his tone should have frightened you, really. Instead, you felt the heat pooling in your lower belly. His hand drifted to your throat, just to feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers.

"You are mine." he said yet again. "Mine, as the moon is to the night. Do you accept it? Do you accept me, wolf and man alike?" The forest leaned closer, the wind curling around your gown, whispering and urging you on.

"I do." you blinked up at him though heavy lashes. "I accept you."

His eyes softened, though his grip did not. He leaned his forehead against yours, breath hot against your puffy lips.

"I am yours." you managed.

"And I am yours." he spoke against your skin.

His nose brushed the line of your jaw, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "With those words, you bind me as surely as the moon binds the tide. There is no undoing it, no escape from me now."

"I do not want to escape.." you confessed.

Moonlight slipped between the branches, painting silver over your bloodied gown, over his torn shirt, over the curve of his throat as it moved when he swallowed. He was gorgeous and you were completely bewitched.

He drew back just enough to look at you, his hand still cradling your jaw. "You are trembling." his voice was low. "Is it from fear or want?"

Your lips parted, no answer rising.

A slow smile curved his mouth. His thumb brushed over your cheek. "You shake like a doe cornered in the grass, as the ones you found years ago." he spoke, voice almost like laughter. "But I see the truth in your eyes. It is not fear that has you weak, little fawn."

His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, tilting your face up to him. "Tell me." he said softer now "What is it you want of me?"

Heat surged in your face, your throat tightening. Words gathered, then scattered before they could leave your lips. You looked away.

His hand at your neck tightened just enough to make you gasp "No." He tuts. "Do not hide from me." he said. "Not you, not now. Speak it."

"I—" your breath faltered. His eyes bore into you, demanding, waiting. Shame clawed at you, but beneath it was something far hotter, an ache that made your knees want to give up. "I don’t know what I— what I feel."

He leaned closer, his mouth grazing your temple. "Then I shall tell you. You feel hunger. Need. You want me to put my hands upon you. To make you mine in truth." His lips brushed your ear. "Say it."

"I wㅡant you." you stuttered.

"Again." His voice was firm.

"I want you." stronger this time, though your face was brighter than apples.

His own restraint was fraying. "Good girl."

His hand slid from your jaw, down the column of your throat, over the swell of your breast, pausing as to feel the way you shivered. His mouth was still at your ear, breath ragged, his words sinking deeper than a dagger.

"I will guard you." thumb brushing the edge of your collarbone. "No man will lay claim to you again. No vows but mine, no chains but the ones you choose.."

Your lips parted, your body leaning into his without thought. His palm flattened over your chest, right where your heart thundered.

"You will run where you please, little fawn. The hills, the streams—" His voice deepened almost breaking as his hand swept lower, over the folds of your dress, gathering the fabric in his fist, the buttons giving out. "You will laugh, and breathe, and never bow again."

Your knees buckled, a gasp tearing out of you as his fingers brushed your thigh.

"You hear me?" His voice was demanding, though his lips ghosted tenderly along your neck and shoulder. "You are mine, and I will see you free."

His hands roamed slowly, memorizing every curve of your body that had been hidden from the world all this while. "My beautiful little fawn. " his voice was fire. "You belong to no one but me."

"I.. I've never—" your voice wavered "I've never been with anyone.. like this."

"I know." he breathed, thumb stroking along your waist. "I've waited a long time to show you."

His hands pressed you tighter to him, but his eyes softened as he saw the way you clung to him desperately. "Do you trust me, little fawn?"

You nodded weakly, unable to speak. "You should. You are mine and I would die a thousand deaths before letting a single hair on your head be touched.”

His hands moved, teasing, grazing over places that had never known attention, and your body flinched and arched into it all at once.

"I will show you, little fawn. I will show you what it means to be cherished and wanted and protected...”

He takes your hand into his rugged palm, pressing it onto the hardened form in his pants. You were new to this, yes, yet you knew what that meant.

"Do you feel it? How much I’ve waited for this? For you?" You moan without reason, all shy and teary eyed.

In mere seconds, your dress was completely off, ripped into rags by his strong hands. You were flush against a tree, flowers wet of rain dancing at your bare feet. Though the wind blew, your body was hot all over, this strange, new feeling leaving you wanting more.

"I do not wish to scare you away." He finally speaks again, his pants coming undone and slipping past his knees. "You need to understand there is nothing human about what is about to happen."

You nod, though you can feel your toes curling into dirt. You look down and saying you were shocked would be an understatement. He was utterly enormous, tip red and angry, base bulbous, pulsing. Is this what all men carried in their trousers? Ah, wait, but he was no man.

Your shy eyes meet his again and he smiles. "Do not fear. It may hurt at first but then, I promise, it will feel just as heaven."

Rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his face stays flush against your tender chest. He was ready to devour you. The wolf man looked up into your eyes, and all of the things you felt this instant caused your fears to melt away, just as you had in his embrace.

Gently, he laid you down onto the flowers below, the wet petals cold against your burning skin.

You looked like something out of a dream, skin glowing in the moonlight, hands covering your breasts, legs barely closed. Your pretty eyes searched, long lashes clumped with tears and dry blood. You looked unreal. Erotic. And all his.

"Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obeyed. Spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and the wolf man throws his head back with a low groan.

He kneels in front of you on the earth, pulling you so that your thighs are right over his, your puffy lips now on full display. Two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

After that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. "My gorgeous." You whimpered softly and he shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plush thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers slowly inside, and you can immediately feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. The second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping, moving them in and out as his lips made contact with your swollen bud, lapping up at the nectar of you. So sweet, the wait was worth it. Your eyes stay wide open as this new feeling washes over you, and you can't help but be ashamed as you let out sounds you didn’t know you could make. He hums against your sopping cunt, eating as if he starved for years while his fingers kept moving faster, faster.

You mewl and writhe before it all comes to an agonizing stop. He pulls his fingers out, looking straight down at you. Keeping eye contact, he licks them and you're sat there, mouth agape. Before you can protest he shoves those same two fingers into your waiting mouth, his other hand now fondling one of your breasts.

"Such beauty, I could only dream of it. Thank you for letting me have you this way, eternally."

You hum around his digits, trying to pull him closer by his waist. He smiles, squishing your face with the sleek fingers he had in your mouth seconds ago. "Impatient girl." Your muffled whimpers only seem to please him.

His broad hand presses flat to your stomach, sliding lower until he’s teasing the entrance of your flower with his leaking tip.

He smirks at the dazed parting of your mouth, the flush creeping down your chest.

The hand at your breast squeezes once rough, before sliding down to hook your thigh high around his hip. You stumble, caught only by the sheer size of him pressing you into the tree behind you.

"Look at you." he breathes, eyes roaming. "Shaking for me, and I’ve barely even started.."

His cock drags heavy against your thigh, hot and insistent. He groans low at the contact, the sound beastly.

"I’ll split you open on this cock, little fawn.." he growls, lips brushing your pebbled nipple. "Fill you so deep you’ll never forget what it feels like. Every time you walk, every time you breathe, you will remember tonight."

His length slid against your soaked folds, teasing and pressing against them but not entering. Your breath hitched, thighs trembling as you tried to buck closer. He only chuckled holding you pinned with maddening patience. This is the cruelest you've seen him so far, you thought.

"Oh.." Your nails dug into his shoulders with useless resistance. "Pleaseㅡ" you whispered.

"Please what?" He tilted his head, grinding the thick head of his cock against you, just enough to make you cry out. "Say it, little fawn."

Your cheeks burned, your voice cracked. "Please, inside! Iㅡ I need you inside of me!"

"Do you want my seed inside of you?" His words were sharp. "Do you want to be bred full of my pups, so everyone in that wretched village knows who you belong to?"

Shame and heat tangled in your chest, and you sobbed. Your legs wrapped tighter around him.

"Yes!" you gasped, frantic tears streaking your face. "Yes, please, I want itㅡ I want your pups."

Thats all he had to hear. He thrust, hard, splitting you wide, dragging a cry of pain from your lips. He tries to kiss your tears away, whispering soft sorrys as he lets you adjust, but he can hold himself back so long while you squeeze so deliciously around him. "My, my, what greedy cunt you have, pretty.. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

He moved a bit shallow at first, ragged control making his body shake. But soon the beast broke loose.

His hips slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt, the sound of flesh on flesh ringing sharp in the night. "Oh, g-god.." You clawed at him, overwhelmed. "I am your only god, l-little fawn." You could feel him in your stomach, the sheer size of him forming a small mound in your belly.

My what hunger.

Each thrust was forcing a whimper from your throat. Your legs were now up on his broad shoulders. "TㅡToo much!" you gasped though your legs locked tighter around him, keeping him there.

"No. Not enough." he growled, breath hot against your ankles. "I’ll give you every drop. You’ll take it— you’ll take all of me, yes?"

He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to break skin and enough to leave a mark. His pace turned brutal, unrelenting, like he was carving his claim into your very bones.

Yet even as your cries broke in his ear, he murmured "I’m sorry, my sweet."

Your body gave in before your mind could catch up, heat sparking low in your belly, your cries changing into something else entirely.

You didn’t even realize you were begging until the words spilled out shameless. "Please— Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!"

He wasn't going to stop. Not anytime soon at least.

Each thrust was a strike of thunder, his hips slamming into you until the bark of the tree dug into your back leaving bloody marks.Your nails scored red trails across his shoulders, pleas spilling broken from your lips between sobs and moans you could no longer tell apart.

His breath came ragged, harsh growls rasping from his throat with every plunge. He pressed his forehead to yours, sweat and blood mixing where your skin met.

"You feel it, don’t you? How tight you are— how you take me? You were made for me, look, look how you are swallowing me whole."

He bit down on the tender place beneath your ear, pulling another moan from you as his hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

"I’ll fill you" he swore, voice breaking rough and desperate. "I’ll put my pups inside you, make you heavy with me." He grunts.

Fluster burned your cheeks even as you nodded wildly. "Yes—yes, please, I want it, oh, I want you to!"

His rhythm faltered, hips grinding harder, deeper, drilling into you with no mercy. "Oh, my brave, brave girl.." The wolf huffs.

The sounds tearing from his chest were no longer words, only ragged growls. You felt him swell inside you, thicker, stretching you wider than before.

"WhㅡWhat is happening?" your voice broke with panic, unsure if what you were feeling was right. He buried his face against your neck, teeth grazing your skin where he had bit it earlier.

"Don’t fight it. You’re mine now. All of you. I will keep you filled until it takes."

The pressure inside you built unbearably. You whimpered, pussy clenching around him. With a few more moves of his hips he came undone. his knot swelled fully, locking you to him, stretching you open around the thickest part of him. Pain lanced through your body until were crying out with each frantic jerk of his hips.

"Ah—don’t, I—" Your protest dissolved into a sob as his hand cupped the back of your head, forcing your gaze into his large eyes.

"Yes." he growled, forehead pressing hard against yours. "Take it! Take me, carry me!"

The knot throbbed inside you, his release flooding deep, searing heat that wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

"Mine. My little fawn. You’ll never escape me now. This.. Oh, you are my gift of the moon.."

The world was still. Just the two of you tangled together beneath the watchful moon. you felt so full it was almost unbearable, yet your body no longer fought him.

He started brushing the tangled hair from your face with one palm, the other smoothing across the curve of your back where your skin was scratched.

"You did so well. My brave fawn."

Tears stung your eyes, but he kissed them away, mouth gentle now, where as moments before it had been so wild and beastly.

"I’ll never let you go." he pressed another kiss on your swollen lips. "The forests, the rivers, the hills.. they’re yours, all yours. And I’ll guard them. I’ll guard you. Always."

"Stay? Please..stay with me."

His smile was small almost boyish, and so full of warmth it undid you more than his savagery ever could.