Elucien for @yennas-stuff, who wanted to see a confrontation scene after Lucien is "so gentlemanly it angers Elain," haha.
(lol suggestive but not complete smut)
It wasn’t like Elain to be so down. At least not outwardly. She tried to hide her negative emotions when she was at a ball or a party. But that insufferable man- or male, whatever- was driving her absolutely mad. There he was, at the center of the ballroom, laughing at whatever the woman he was dancing with was saying. Through a small gap in the crowd, Elain watched one of the woman’s sleeves slip, revealing a metal arm. It was Lady Nuan, the woman who had made Lucien’s metal eye. She typically resided in the Dawn Court, but she had come to visit in Day since Helion Spell-Cleaver was throwing a ball to celebrate the announcement of his new son and heir, who was apparently Lucien by bastard birth. Elain, who typically enjoyed balls, found herself slouched in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she scowled at her mate from across the room.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered. “Stupid insufferable man. Absolutely idiotic man who apparently knows everyone who has ever breathed. What a pathetic male with his glossy tousled hair and perfect smile. I want to punch that smirk off of his face.”
“Are you alright?” came a male voice from nearby her. Elain abruptly sat up straight, patted down her hair and gave a practiced smile. The man had long blonde hair and long sharp bullhorns. Looking down his legs, you could see a tail poking out between them. He had bright blue eyes and a spotting of freckles on his nose. He kind of looked like Tamlin, actually.
“I am alright, my lord,” Elain replied. He raised one bushy brow skeptically. “Are you sure? I heard the things you were muttering…they weren’t quite so ladylike.”
Elain felt herself blush. And now this man had bore witness to her frustration! “It is, well…” she sighed, pinching her nose. “Can I be frank with you, my lord?”
He sketched a deep bow. “I shall take your words to my grave, my lady.” Elain couldn’t help but snort at the theatrics. But then she leaned forward in a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you see the male with flaming red hair?”
He nodded. “Ah, Lucien Vanserra. Or oh dear, shall we call him spell-cleaver now? Either way, he is hard to miss.”
He really was. It was both infuriating and endearing at the same time. “He is my mate, and I would like to make him jealous. Are you game?”
The man grinned. “I knew it. Luckily for you, I wish to do the same. My…lover has been looking at another all night. I wish to make him jealous.”
Elain tilted her head. “What is your name?”
“Tevan. You?”
“Elain.”
Tevan guided Elain to the dance floor. He was not a half-bad dancer, but Elain took the lead and guided them towards where Lucien stood in a crowd by a bunch of friends- or admirers. When the song ended, Elain gave a hasty curtsy before sprinting the remaining distance to Lucien, manners be damned. She came from behind him and slapped her hand on his wrist, gripping it tightly. She stood on her tiptoes so that she could reach his ear. “We need to talk,” she muttered. She got a whiff of his smell-crackling embers and pumpkin pie. UGH why did he smell so good too?
Lucien gave his apologies as Elain dragged him towards the door with purpose. The outdoor hall was dark, but Elain could make out several couples participating in activities not suitable for public view. Elain shoved him against a wall, surprised at her own strength. Perhaps Lucien was too, for he stared at her wide-eyed, out of breath.
“Elain?” he asked uncertainly. “Is everything alright? Do I need to call a healer? Or should we lea-“
His utter politeness in that moment caused Elain to snap. “Oh, spare me your perfect gentleman act, Lucien. I have seen how you are with Jurian and Vassa. I have seen you converse with my sisters; I have seen you snark at Eris. I have watched your behavior with your parents, with Nuan, with Tamlin, in nearly every court in Prythian. Why don’t you drop the noble lord act and tell me what you really think of me? Or do you think me too delicate to handle your cutting remarks?” Why wouldn’t he, after all? Everyone else did.
Lucien’s eyes simmered with fire in the dark hall. Good. She had drawn his ire. Perhaps now she would see some emotion from him and not the mask he had been wearing around her. “You think I mean to insult you with my kindness?”
“I don’t need you to be nice to me,” Elain hissed. “I need you to be real to me.”
“Fine,” Lucien growled. “You desire to know my true thoughts? Well, here you have them, lady.” His blazing eyes met hers as he murmured, “I do not know how to act around you.”
“Why?” Elain demanded.
“Because. You. Drive. Me. Mad,” Lucien rumbled, emphasizing each word. “You-you marvelous creature, who appreciates every subtlety of conversation and nature, unbearably gentle, yet filled with a fire that may go unnoticed but whose heat and light will never go out. You, so overwhelmed with sorrow that I can feel it in my very soul, twin to my own pain. I have never felt this way before. Never have I been so unsure of myself, of what the person I am speaking to thinks of me. I thought my mate died long ago, and I mourned her for a couple of centuries before meeting you. It leaves me free to move on, yet it is exactly what pushes you away. I cannot know if you will ever accept a rotten faerie as your own but know this: I am driven mad with longing for you every moment of every day, a desire so intense that oftentimes I cannot breathe. When I close my eyes, I dream of sin. Is that what you wish to hear, Elain? That when I sleep, I see our bodies intertwined, my lips all over your skin, your expression one of bliss? You may think me a filthy bastard, but I cannot help it. It has taken every inch of my control not to touch you more than is necessary.”
Oh.
Oh.
Elain was speechless. What did one even say after that? Words weren’t good enough to respond. She was suddenly hyperaware of her hand clenching the collar of Lucien’s shirt, their heavy breathing, and their utter isolation. No one would disturb them here.
Suddenly feeling bold, Elain ran her hand down his chest, stopping when she reached his belt and yanked him towards her by the buckle. Elain stared up at his fiery eyes. He towered over her, and she had to crane her neck to properly meet his eyes.
Lucien lifted a hand to her face, his thumb rubbing her cheekbone back and forth. The way he was looking at her…so intense, so passionate, filled with raw need…Mother spare her.
She leaned forward, her eyes fluttering shut as Lucien’s lips met her own. And suddenly, she was overwhelmed with sensation. Lucien moved forward, Elain backward, until she hit a wall. Her legs wrapped around his waist as one of his hands leaned right beside her head.
She had never done anything like this before. The few times she had been with Graysen, it had been arranged; they’d stripped their clothes in advance, Elain leaving her clothes on the side and waiting wrapped in a blanket while Graysen left his clothes in the next bedroom and walked inside. There had been some kissing, then Graysen had stuck his shrimp in her a few times, grunted, then got up and walked away. Not very pleasurable, and Elain had been in no hurry to do it again; she had not understood why so many were enamored by the idea of sex if that was all it was.
But this…all of their clothes were on, yet Elain was more aroused than she’d ever felt in her life. Her legs were hot and soaked, and loud moans escaped her lips at Lucien’s every touch.
“Not very ladylike of you, Elain,” Lucien whispered against her neck. In response, Elain shoved her hand into his hair and pressed his face against her breasts. “Just shut up and kiss me, Lucien.”
“As you wish,” he said, his voice muffled against her chest.
