Monique

Digging your toes into the sand, you became rooted as the growing tide glided over your feet, lapping at your shins. With your arms spread wide, you soaked up those final rays, inhaled the breeze until you could taste its salt. 

You loved the sea. Always had. You couldn’t understand why you were forbidden to swim in it. 

‘You can only look,’ your parents had initially warned. Then it progressed to, ‘just stay on the shore, the sand is safe.’ 

They hadn’t permitted this, though. Peering down at your rebellion, you chewed your lip, intermingling both excitement and guilt. Despite the crawl of winter, the water was unusually warm, and you felt a strange stirring of emptiness inside. 

The final flash of sunset, and then it was gone, swallowed by the horizon. You hugged your elbows, tears welling. It was foolish to be upset, yet you were. It wasn’t fair. How could the sun take so long to traverse the sky, but only give a handful of seconds before vanishing at the end? 

You were obsessed with sunsets. They were your favourite colour in all the world, and this was the only place that gave you such glory. With a sulky pout, you retreated from the water, coming to sit where it was dry. Knees tucked and chin atop them, you stared out at the gentle swell for a while, more than content to listen to its lapping lullaby. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” came a drawling, hypnotic voice. 

Whipping about, you saw no one. Goosebumps rippled across your skin. Bolting onto your feet, fists weakly clenched, you called out, “Who’s there?”

“Out here, little one,” the mysterious voice returned, almost echoing, as if it were inside your head. 

With a frown, you swept your gaze onto the ocean, heart galloping into your throat when you spotted him. 

A Lemurian. 

You stumbled away, but the sand was uneven, and you fell onto your rear, eyes about to fall out of your head as you gaped. 

Lemurians never spoke to humans. They weren’t a myth, but they were certainly a mystery. One might consider them a sign of good fortune… or a terrible omen. 

With a shaky breath, you regained your composure, then, with a bow of your head, you mumbled, “I’m so sorry I’ve disturbed you. I’ll leave immediately.”

How stupid of you. Of course this was the reason the beach was forbidden. You inwardly cursed, praying that you might slip free of this ethereal creature. 

Humans weren’t permitted to cross Lemurian territory—no exceptions. It was just rather rotten luck that no one knew what those territories were. It all relied on tragic tales of drowned sailors or lured women. 

You’d half-turned to run when the Lemurian’s honeyed voice ensnared you. “Don’t leave.” His tone was so sweet, yet his stare held sharp command. 

Shivering, both from the cold and from a touch of fear, you accidentally met his gaze. He was extraordinary. Ethereal. You couldn’t believe it, and even as you pinched the skin of your inner wrist, the dream didn’t shatter. 

This was real. 

The Lemurian was a beautiful kind of masculine, the kind that only existed in paintings. A straight nose, pouty lips, sparkling eyes, and that lean, muscled build. His hair fell around him like swaying branches of wisteria, his glowing fins poking out of it. 

A delicate crown weaved about his head, like golden coral, decorated with the occasional pearl. To match such a piece, his bared torso dripped with similar jewellery, complementing his Lemurian markings. 

“Come closer.” He phrased it like a question, yet you knew it wasn’t.

With an outstretched hand, you felt your own drift up, a longing filling the centre of your chest to take it. With your other hand, you clamped down onto your wrist and jerked them both down your front, shaking free of his siren spell. 

“I shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. 

“And yet you are,” the Lemurian smiled, still awaiting you. “So come closer.”

When you slipped your hand into his, you gasped at how warm it was. Smooth, too. Like glass. With such tender politeness, he brought it up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss on the back. 

“Is this the correct custom?” He rasped against your skin. 

Your cheeks went pink. “It’s… well, it’s usually when—”

Your words fell short. At a distance, you hadn’t noticed the colour of his eyes, but now that you were standing in the water, holding hands with a Lemurian, you couldn’t breathe. 

They were your colour.

“Your eyes…” You breathed at him, in true wonder. “They’re like sunsets.”

He laughed, the sound of it rich and tinkling. “What is your name, little human?”

You told him, or maybe you didn’t. You were too lost in that swirl of amber and amethyst. 

“I am Rafayel,” he released your hand, and you nearly whimpered at the loss of contact. “And these are my shores.”

Reality rolled through you, and as if waking from a dream, you blinked a few times. “I didn’t mean to trespass,” you insisted, fear furrowing your face. “Please, I truly didn’t! I just like to watch the sunsets on the water. But I’ll never come back, I swear it to you!”

Not much was known about Lemurians, and you didn’t want to risk the wrath of one. Begging was not beneath you. 

“Never come back? And break my heart? Surely you wouldn’t do that.”

Your breath failed you. “No… I wouldn’t…”

+++

Rafayel was fascinated by humans. He pried for every detail, from your language right down to bodily function. 

“What do you eat?” He probed, resting his chin on a hand. 

He had noticed your constant shivering as you conversed by the ocean shore, the nightly breeze laced with a southern chill. Guiding you along in the dark, you were surprised to find a secret cavern. Having you gather some old driftwood, he lit a fire, and there you sat by it, warm and comfortable, while Rafayel remained in the water, leisurely draped over a rock. 

It was almost comical that a creature of the sea could control fire. Regardless, you were grateful. 

“We eat all sorts of things. Fruit, vegetables, animals. Some things we cook, otherwise we get sick.” 

“What is your favourite?” 

You pursed your lips as you considered. “I like sweeter things. We have a dish that’s called cake. We can make it with all sorts of flavours, but I think orange might be my favourite.”

You had no idea why Rafayel had taken such a great interest in your knowledge. Surely other people out there had caught his attention—you were still young, yet to see the world, to take what it had to offer. 

Maybe you really were the only one breaking the rule about the ocean. 

Sneaking a glance at the Lemurian, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy about that. 

“How do your legs work?”

You giggled. “I suppose the same way your tail does. I don’t know. I just use them.” 

He snorted, but you spied his amused smirk. 

You were too shy to ask him questions about Lemurian things. This was a miracle, and you were terrified of scaring him off, or worse, angering him. There was still a risk here. These were his shores, he’d said so himself, and he had every right to do whatever he wanted to you, since you were a no-good trespasser. 

But the more you talked with Rafayel, the more you felt secure. He wouldn’t hurt you. Well, not out of vengeance. Maybe out of curiosity, at most. To see how your human body differed from his. 

“Can I touch your foot?” He asked, far too excited. 

Your laugh was nervous, perhaps embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that.”

“Please? I will be very careful. I find them fascinating.”

Holding your breath, you slid your foot closer until it was within his reach. He leaned in and, with those warm hands, began to inspect it. You couldn’t suppress your shiver as you watched him, unsure whether it was apprehension or enjoyment. 

It was endearing to see him so enraptured by something so simple as a foot. “So bizarre,” he murmured under his breath. 

Your breath hitched as one hand began to sculpt higher, caressing the muscle of your calf. Cheeks growing hot, you pulled out of his grasp. Rafayel’s brows fell into a harsh scrunch. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

You cleared your throat. “Oh, no. It’s just… Well, humans don’t normally touch each other’s legs. I’m not used to it.”

“I had no idea they were sensitive,” he nodded, intrigued.

No longer as flustered, you let out a breathy laugh. “They’re not. Well, sometimes. It… it really depends on the circumstance.”

Rafayel cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

The tips of your ears were scorching. “Um, oh. It’s… Uhh—”

“Your face is very red. Are you alright?”

You snapped your eyes shut, vibrating with embarrassment. 

“Some parts of us are naturally always sensitive, other parts aren’t. But they can be, depending on the type of touch.”

Rafayel pursed his lips, and after a long moment, he lit up. “You mean like a mating ritual?”

“Exactly. Yes.”

Rafayel then frowned again, slowly considering you. “But we are not the same species. Your body still responds?”

You needed to change the conversation. Immediately. Before you melted away out of mortification. You swore your neck was a vivid shape of crimson right now, the heat that was coming off you. 

“Yes,” you managed to splutter. “It’s not that I, uh, want to. Sometimes our bodies just… react to things. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t be foolish. I am very intrigued. In fact, I’d love to see more.”

You choked on a surprised yelp, fully flinching at his words. “What!”

He merely shrugged. “Lemurians can only mate once a year, and it isn’t through touch. I’d like to know more about humans and their mating rituals.”

“You don’t… touch each other?” 

He shook his head. “We could, but it’s not something we do.”

“Humans… well, we touch each other. A lot. In many places. It’s like what I was trying to explain before.” Your humiliation ebbed away, just like the tide. Here was simply a mind that yearned for knowledge. For whatever reason, this beautiful creature was trusting your explanations and took every word as fact. You had a duty to do this properly. This could be the beginning of a cultural connection! The possibilities… and if all it meant was you had to explain what sex was, well…

“We can mate whenever we want. And it’s not always just to have children. Most of the time, it’s for fun.”

Rafayel’s brows nearly shot off his face. “Truly?”

You nodded, smiling now, finding his curiosity oddly cute. “The body parts that we use are very sensitive. And it feels very good. That’s why.”

“Can I see?”

And just like that, your stomach twisted. 

“Your face is red again. What does that mean?”

“It…” with a shaky breath, you tried to smile through it. “I’m embarrassed. Those parts are very private, Rafayel. We don’t show them to anyone.”

Rafayel nodded. “So you only use these special parts for sex? Fascinating.”

Your mouth parted, the words stuttering from you. “Well, no. We can use everything. The main part of sex does involve those parts. But it doesn’t have to.”

“Explain.”

“Humans sometimes use their hands or mouths. There’s really… Um.” You bit your lower lip, far too self-conscious to continue. “Rafayel, this is… I’m not sure I should be the one to tell you these things. I’m not very experienced.” You mumbled the last part. 

Alarm flashed over his face. “Oh, I am terribly sorry. I thought you were an adult.”

Way to inadvertently twist the knife. “I am,” you sighed. “I’m just… undesired. No one wants me.”

Rafayel shifted, face contorting into the most bewildered pout. “I’m very confused. You are an adult human, and you are beautiful. How are you undesired?”

A warmth spread through you at the sincerity of his words. “You… think I’m beautiful?”

“I have seen many humans. I would consider you stunning.”

A chesty, sorrowful laugh escaped you. “Thank you.”

“If only I were a human man,” Rafayel murmured, something flashing behind his eyes. “You have given me a taste of your life, but I can’t help but long for more.”

“There’s really not much else I can offer you, though.” You tucked your chin down, hiding from his intense gaze, like he was trying to pry something from your head. 

“You have enthralled me,” his voice crawled along your skin like velvet. “I want to give you everything.”

Everything froze but your rapid heart, which lurched up into your mouth. Your eyes followed his movements as Rafayel reached to touch you. 

“Show me how,” he rasped, coming into contact with your ankle. His ascending hand left a smoldering heat in its wake, your skin tingling something fierce in response. “Show me how to give you pleasure.”

You whimpered as he approached your aching core, not that he knew it. But he was observant. He knew that his touch was stirring things within you, eyes narrowing with satisfaction as your eyes fluttered closed and your breath grew shallow. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said softly. 

“I don’t want you to,” you admitted with a moan. 

Standing up, you removed your garments, and as he stared up at you from the water, you felt electric. He tilted his head as his sunset gaze devoured your naked body, partly curiosity, but the other something darker—sinful. 

Rafayel slipped off the rock and sat in the shallow water, and with the flare of his hand, ignited his flames beneath, warming it for you. Slowly, you stepped in, coming to sit beside him with a twist of nerves, but also exhilaration. 

Wrapping an arm about your waist, he secured you against him, hand resting on the plush of your thigh. 

“Guide me,” he whispered into the shell of your ear. With a shiver, you placed your hand atop his, and your chest tightened at the size difference. He was lean, sure. But he was much larger than you’d anticipated. 

With scalding slowness, you guided Rafayel until those gorgeous, long fingers brushed against your slick core, softer than moth wings. You arched up with a whispering gasp. 

“Tell me,” his voice had dropped into a rasp, almost husky, scraping against your cheek now. “If I were a man, is this where you’d take me?”

You nodded weakly, eyes rolling back as with one slow push, his finger sank into you. 

“So wet,” he murmured, heavy with lust. “How does it feel?”

“So good,” you moaned, grinding your hips for some friction, to have him go deeper. “But you can give me more, if you want.”

Obeying your plea, he slipped in a second, and beyond all reason, Rafayel knew exactly what to do. Curling his fingers just right, he fucked you. Braving a peep at him, your cheeks grew aflame, for he was staring right into you, lips parted and a heavy-lidded expression on his face. 

“Your thumb,” you gasped at him, astonished at how easy he worked you, fingers plunging in and out in a languid pace. “Press… here…” your hand slipped back down to show him your clit. 

When he pressed down with delicious pressure, you choked on your scream, your orgasm rising within you, promising to be a blistering, white-hot release. 

“Not too much, but not too little,” you panted at him, your pleasure threatening to burn you from the inside out. 

“You’re squeezing my fingers,” he observed, a sinful smirk tugging at his mouth. “Am I doing well?”

“Yes,” you whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder, falling away into bliss. “So, so good, Rafayel…”

His increasing pressure had your vision blurring, mouth agape, senses drowning in bliss. He didn’t need any more of your guidance; your expressions and reactions were more than enough to push you closer to the edge. With a final moan, you plunged into an electric wave of pleasure, ripping through your body like lightning. 

Circling your clit, Rafayel earned a needy sob from you, and you clenched hard around his fingers, riding out the final wave of your release.

When he withdrew from you entirely, you whimpered, slumping against his large body. A new kind of heat bloomed through your abdomen when you watched him suck on his fingers, tasting your slick. 

The glimmer in his eye had your mouth go a little dry. 

+++

“I want you to torture me.”

Sprawled across his leather armchair, Sylus had a crystal tumbler in one hand and a book in the other. He dragged his gaze up to meet yours. “Is that so?”

You’d intended to be bold, remain confident. Yet, the second that crimson stare locked onto you, your knees wobbled, and your fingertips quivered. 

You stammered your explanation, the tips of your ears growing hot. “It’s an important mission. Undercover.”

Sylus remained silent, brows subtly lifting, waiting for you to continue. 

“The only way to acquire my target is to get captured and be…” You swallowed the word, almost choking on it. “—Tortured. But only for an hour, maybe two.”

“Only an hour or two,” he repeated, but despite his smirk, his tone was unamused. 

Clearing your throat, you clenched your fists. “The extract team will be right behind me. It’s going to be fine, Sylus. You don’t need to worry.”

You knew it was a stupid thing to say, but the words just kept falling out of your mouth. 

Closing his book, Sylus sighed. “And your bright idea is to have me prepare you?”

You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “There’s no one better.”

“You’re adamant about this, aren’t you?”

“If I can’t handle it, I shall admit my defeat, boss man, and you can come with me.” 

+++

Sylus was seated before you, absorbing every breathy moan, every twitch… how your shoulders shuddered as you held back your whimpers. That aggravating smirk tugged at his mouth, deepening into a sinful grin as, with two of those elegant fingers, sank into your core. You did your best to keep your cries down, because the second you revealed too much pleasure, he withdrew entirely, beginning the process all over again. 

When his thumb pressed down on your clit, your entire body arched. 

And he retreated. 

With a shameless cry, you begged him. “No, no, no…”

After an agonising eternity (two minutes), Sylus leaned forward, and with feather-light touches, began at your knees. Slowly, he danced up along your thighs, right until he was back where you needed him most. You clenched around nothing, so empty, so excruciating. 

Cocking his head ever so subtly, he huffed with amusement from his nose and avoided your needy pussy entirely. With a whimper, you sniffled, but knew you should be content with what he was giving you. His fingers trailed upward, grazing over your hips, your waist, right until he was circling your poor, neglected breasts. 

Only to deny you that, too. 

Tracing around your nipples, you clenched your eyes tight, sucking on your lower lip to stop your scream of frustration. The constant denial had your entire being thrum, so even the barest of touches had electricity crackle across your skin. 

And Sylus knew it. 

Shifting closer, he flicked out his tongue, giving you no pressure, only its wetness. You fluttered, entire body shivering with need. Blowing onto your nipples, you swallowed a silent shriek, the sensation just as sharp as a pinch. 

“You’ve… proved your… point…” You panted, unsure you could handle another second of this. “You win.”

Further, he climbed, hand now coming to cup your jaw. To feel such delicious and authentic pressure, you nearly wept, and you leaned into his touch. Sylus’ face was right there, and as that ruby gaze settled on your mouth, he gifted you a beautiful smile, one that conveyed he might grant you mercy. 

He leaned in, enticing you with the promise of a kiss. 

Of course, like a desperate fool, you believed him. His perfect mouth brushed against yours, only to withdraw entirely, sitting back into his own chair, almost lazy. The corners of your eyes stung, but you refused to cry. 

“Sylus,” you whined. 

With a scolding tut, he shook his head with mock disappointment.  “You said one or two hours, kitten. At least reach your deadline before giving up on me.”

“This isn’t real torture!” 

“Isn’t it?” He swept in, breath hot against your mouth. Returning to your pussy, he sank one finger into you, unhurried and cruel. 

“N-no,” you bit out. 

“Denial is far kinder than overstimulation,” he retorted, smug. “Or do you disagree? We can always try that, instead.”

“You’re so mean,” you rasped, unable to even roll your hips, to chase the depth you needed him to give you. 

“I could be so much worse, kitten. Would you like that?”

With a quivering sigh, you breathed, “I doubt that.”

You hadn’t intended for it to be a challenge. In that moment, you truly meant it. What Sylus was doing to you, it was maddening. There was no chance it could get worse. 

His laugh rumbled low in his throat, and goosebumps rippled over your entire body. Your heart fluttered at the sound, and your gaze darted up to meet his. 

Right eye glowing fiercely, your stomach flipped. 

“There are many kinds of torture,” Sylus leaned in, his lips tickling the shell of your ear. “Physical pain is easy. Boring, almost. No, kitten. It’s anticipation that breaks you. The not knowing when they’ll strike. Where. How.”

Your breath stuttered out into a wheezy yelp as Sylus ran his tongue down your neck, the warmth of it almost burning you. 

“When you have all your senses, it makes it easier to know what to expect. It lets you compartmentalise. But when you’re left in the dark, in pure quiet, and you have no idea what they’re planning… well.”

Pulling back from you entirely, he raked you down slowly, that crimson gaze devouring you. 

And then, with the click of his fingers, the world plunged into endless shadow. 

Sylus still had you at his mercy, his evol as strong as ever. And damn it if he wasn’t right. After several thumping heartbeats, sweat prickled at your hairline, gathered at the nape of your neck. You had no idea what he was going to do, if he was even still in the room…

You weren’t frightened of him, and yet you were. 

Hands settled on your waist from behind, and you squealed. They glided up, molten hot, and the world exploded as they fully cupped your aching breasts. He toyed with your nipples, rolling and pinching just right, a warm mouth coming to taste your pulse point. 

“You win,” you fully cried, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Please, please, no more. I need you. I need you so badly.”

Sylus tasted the column of your neck, planted teasing kisses along your jaw. The expanse of his chest pressed against you as he chased your escaped tear with his tongue. 

“Say it, sweetie.”

“It’s torture! You’re torturing me!”

“Good girl.”

A pitched groan soared from you as Sylus, with measured control, thrust into you. The stretch of him, after being teased and neglected for so long… nothing could compare. When he pulled out, only to sink even deeper, harder, stars sparked behind your eyes. 

With the aid of his evol, he fucked you, still suspended in the air. One hand became fused with your hip, guiding you as he set a relentless pace, while the other slipped down your front to rub delicious circles on your clit. 

Arms now stretched above your head, you were flush against him. You moaned and panted his name, begged him not to stop. He relinquished his possession of your waist and grasped your neck—not to choke, but to guide your head until his mouth found yours. Hungry, you slipped your tongue into his mouth, needing to swallow his grunts and moans, like you might die if you didn’t. 

He gave you three orgasms, each more splintering and golden than the last, before he finally chased his own release. Releasing you from his power, you slumped back against him, and there you both sank to the floor, a hazy and spent mess. 

“Is this normally how criminals torture people in the N109 zone?” You teased, breathless. 

“Cute.”

“Seriously, it’s effective. I think with another hour, I’d have told you anything, if it meant you’d finally fuck me.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that, sweetie.”

________________________________________________________________

They said that he’d been born in the depths of a volcano, cracked from an egg that fell from the heavens, his godly appetite ill-suited for this earthly realm. You shuddered to even think what he might look like. No doubt he was a dark and endless form, with scales of steel, blades for teeth, and eyes that burned like coals. 

Today was stunning, and still, you knew. You knew. 

It felt almost juvenile to be upset. Why must a calamity happen today, of all days? This was meant to be your moment. For months, you’d waited patiently, worked persistently, and there upon your hip was your completed marital pouch. You chose to finalise the embroidery with golden silk strands, the phoenix flaring its metallic wings… but from a distance, you supposed it looked more like a crow. 

You were going to give it to a suitor this evening, the ceremony to begin at sunset. The entire town was hustling for it, laughing and gathering supplies. How could they not feel it? Not see it? That stillness that pierced the air, how the shadows were darker… deeper… like you might fall in…

You tried to swallow away the dryness that stuck in your throat. You had to flee, and yet your feet remained rooted in the earth. Even if you sounded an alarm, who would believe you? Now clutching your pouch to your chest, you let out a deep sigh. 

And you ran. 

Not to escape, but for help. The merchant city wasn’t far, half a day’s journey if you didn’t stop. Perhaps you’d manage to convince some soldiers to come. If you were wrong, well, it was best to be precautious. 

+++

You’d barely run for ten minutes before you felt it.

Something was watching. Following.

Waiting.

Like the calm before the storm, something crackled through the grassland, vivid and alive. With a shiver, you slowed your pace, whipping your head over your shoulder to catch the culprit.

Nothing, only swaying green and the blurring of pretty blooms.

With a relieved sigh, you pressed on.

Only to be met with the looming presence of him.

There he stood, a statue carved from marble. Carved from death. By the gods, he was tall. Thighs like trunks, torso rippling with muscle, arms folded across the expansive plane of his chest. Then you met his gaze, and the breath was stolen right out of your lungs.

Like gemstones, those ruby eyes gleamed, burning bright and framed by sharp features, and ashen hair that fell down his form like a waterfall. Obsidian horns towered from his head, gleaming, almost wet. Thin chains of gold wrapped about his bare chest, as well as decorative paint.

And then he took a step toward you. Then another. You’d been running before, but now?

You bolted, heart hammering like a drum—a war drum.

You barely made it ten strides before you were ensnared by two enormous arms.

With a shriek, you thrashed and fought, but it was no use. The tower of a Warlord hoisted you over his shoulder, a darkly delighted chuckle rumbling from his throat. You smacked your fists against his pale, painted back, the swirls of paint smearing from your blows.

“Let go of me!”

The Dragon chuckled again.

“Let me go! Let me GO!”

“Or what?” He finally spoke, voice smooth and rich, his taunt coiling about your neck like a noose.

You kept fighting, scratching hard against his back, slicing his skin, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. With all your strength, you managed to hoist yourself up just enough to sink your teeth into the back of his neck. You dug deep until the taste of copper dribbled down your throat.

The Warlord erupted into laughter. Even as the crimson dripped down his back, like streaks of new paint, he merely shook you about, and you slung back down. Tears welled at the corners of your eyes, your panic now ripening into full-blown fear.

What was he going to do to you?

“Please,” you whispered this time, brimmed with terror. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Your frightened plea had the Warlord halt, and he placed you down into the grass. Your lower lip trembled as you stared at him, a hot pain blooming behind your eyes, and you held back the tears. And then, your heart sank into your knees, as he produced your pouch.

Dangling from two fingers, he held the pouch out to taunt you. “Your elders spoke of this. A girl gives it as a present to her beloved. Isn’t that right?”

Petrified, you barely managed to nod.

The Warlord—the Dragon—leaned forward, until he was so close his nose was a breath from yours. “Do you have a lover?”

Again, terror clawed at you, and you shook your head.

He gripped your chin, not enough to hurt, but just enough to convey that he could.

“Tsk.” With his other hand, he still dangled the pouch, and you couldn’t help but side-eye it. “I said, 'Do you have a lover?”

Oh.

Dragging back to meet his stare, you swallowed thickly, as if it might aid your heart back into place. “If I did, then he wouldn’t hurt my people?” You’d intended to sound strong, but your voice was pitched and breathless.

The Dragon smirked, lifting his chin with satisfaction, and purred, “he wouldn’t.”

“Then yes,” you agreed softly. “I do have a lover.”

He curled the pouch into his fist, and with one last moment to stare into you, the Warlord released you. Skin prickled and hot from his touch, you rubbed at it. 

“Come along, then,” he ordered, something dark simmering beneath that blood-red gaze. “Let us be wed, then.”

+++

The wedding was awful.

Cold, silent, and thrumming with fear.

Sylus, however, was anything but. Unable to leave his side, the warmth of his body seeped into you. After the vows, he had insisted on a bonfire, to which he drank and sang, all in your honour. Witnessing the Dragon drunk might have been amusing if he weren’t so terrifying.

Your entire town watched you quiver before the white-haired man, heads hung, and gazes averted. Not even your parents came to your defence. What was worse than the wedding was knowing it would eventually come to an end.

And you would be his.

You knew it was a fool’s dream to believe your first time would be in love. That it would be kind and gentle. At least you’d been able to choose your husband, though. You had one or two in mind, having grown up with some of the men.

Seated at a grand table, food being brought to you in waves, you tried to smile. Really, you did. You didn’t want Sylus thinking you were ungrateful, after all. He was going to spare your village, all for something as simple as you?

You could be miserable all you wanted, but at least your people would live.

And yet, he noticed your stiffness. How your shoulders tensed, and your fingers trembled, even as you clenched them in your lap. With one large hand, he settled it around the base of your neck, and you couldn’t help but flinch.

“Are you cold?” He drawled, knowing very well you weren’t, and with gentle pressure, began to massage you.

With a deep breath, you steadied your smile and blinked up at him. “A little.”

“Come closer, then.”

Grabbing the edge of your chair, he dragged you over. Your short breaths drew to a complete stop as your arm brushed against his.

“Thank you,” you managed to murmur.

With a slow smile, he leaned down and inhaled, letting your scent fill his lungs. “You’re welcome… wife.”

A shiver ripped up your spine, right into Sylus’ grip as he continued to work your muscles carefully. “Surely you’re still not cold?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed.

“My lap is available.”

You looked at him then—really looked at him, with his smooth skin, firm jaw, and prominent nose. You noticed how in the firelight, he seemed softer, more human, horns almost invisible against the night that lurked behind him. If you had enough to drink, you might even forget he was a Warlord.

 “Um,” you chewed your lip, not sure how to reject him—if you could.

His rumbling chuckle reverberated between you. “Why do you look so startled? I’m not going to bite, unlike you,” he purred the word.

Your eyes flickered to where you’d sunk your teeth, the mark covered with a healing balm, but even through the waxen appearance, you could see the red marks.

“I’m sorry for that.”

“I’ve faced far more vicious foes than you,” he said with jest, and yet you knew it was true. Then, he patted the top of his thighs, motioning with his brows to obey. With a silent whimper, you crawled from your seat, sitting tentatively on him. He tugged at your hips, planting you more firmly, one hand coming to rest on your knee.

“Lean back,” his command was soft, but a command it was.

You did, heartbeat stuck in your throat. By the gods, he was warm, even shirtless; the heat from him engulfed you, threatening to burn you alive.

“Comfortable?” he asked into the shell of your ear.

You were distinctly aware of how your rear was pressed against him, how the plush of your thighs fit against his. You bit down on your tongue to withhold a yelp as you felt his mouth brush the nape of your neck.

“I have half a mind to return the favour,” and as promised, his teeth scraped ever so gently along your skin. With a violent shudder, you clenched everywhere, bracing for pain. “Where I am from, leaving marks is a great romantic gesture.”

Of course it was.

“Oh,” you uttered weakly. “I didn’t know that.”

“Do you accept?” He purred, the force of it thundering through you.

What was the alternative? Scanning the crowd, seeing all those you ever loved, you took a deep breath.

“Yes.”

He chuckled darkly, his hands coming to settle on your hips. “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”

You let your head loll onto his shoulder, hoping that your closed eyes conveyed a dreamy look. “Please.”

You couldn’t help but scrunch, anticipating the pain… only it never came. Sylus planted a tender kiss upon your pulse point, breathing in deep once more, as if trying to drown in you.

“It doesn’t count if you don’t mean it,” he whispered into your skin.

You sucked in your bottom lip, afraid he’d punish you for it, but he merely guided you off his lap, letting you slip back onto your own seat. Blinking up at him with startled confusion, he smiled, but you noticed the sliver of sorrow swimming within them.

You went to lie, to convince him that you’d do anything he asked… but the words didn’t come.

The night moved quickly, your people coming to loosen up as the pleasant flow of alcohol washed away the nerves. Sylus wouldn’t hurt anyone, not as long as you remained by his side. Still, the only thing holding him back was his word, and all heard tales of the Dragon’s temper. None dared do anything but drink and smile.

With much dread, it came time to retire.  The rest of Sylus’ camp had arrived, participating in the late events, their tents littering the open space beyond the walls of your town. And so, with your hand interlaced in his, you were led away.

++++

You sat on the edge of the bed, blood ice cold. Sylus had his back to you as he removed his jewellery. You stared holes through him, watching the massive expanse of him subtly flex with his movements. Every aspect of him was enormous, and you could only quiver with fear, actively gulping.

When Sylus finally turned, he met your gaze and held it, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Are you going to sleep in that?”

You peered down, forgetting that you were still clad in a ceremonial gown. A heat crept up your neck, a stark contrast to the chill that haunted you.

“I have nothing else.”

You anticipated a crude remark about being naked, but rather, he paced across the luxurious tent and fetched you a linen gown. “Here,” he said, passing it to you.

Clearing your throat, you rose to change, but there was nowhere to offer cover. At this point, Sylus had reclined into the bed, hands tucked behind his head in a leisurely manner, eyes never once leaving you.

He wanted to watch.

Your whole body was on fire, knees wobbling slightly as your head spun. No one had ever seen you naked before, and you couldn’t quite comprehend that a carnivorous Warlord would be the first.  

Cheeks aflame, you began slowly, half cowered from his prying gaze. The sleeves of your gown slipped down your arms, the front coming to soften about your chest. Closing your eyes to hide, you let the rest of it slip down and crumple at your feet, and with haste, slipped into the garment Sylus offered you.

Opening your eyes, you dared a peek at the giant man, only to find he had his head tilted right back, eyes closed. A soft snore slipped from him, and like a bucket of water, relief washed over you.

He hadn’t seen.

Crawling in beside him, he was still atop some of the blankets. You held your breath as you poked his bicep. Like a crocodile, one blazing red eye cracked open, slitted pupil focusing into a round one as it registered you.

“You’re… you’re on the blanket,” your hushed tone barely left your lips.

With a lazy smirk, he adjusted, and you were both beneath the spread. Lying flat on your back, you stared at the roof, wondering if waking him had been a mistake. You could have simply slept on the floor, shivering cold, but unclaimed.

Still your own.

Sylus rolled onto his side to face you, fingertips ghosting along your temple, coming to trace the curve of your ear.

“Is this ok?” He murmured.

Your vision flickered onto him, and his gaze drooped down to notice your quivering bottom lip. He removed his touch.

“I won’t touch you,” he whispered, a strange pain twisting across his face. “Not unless you want me to.”

This was the Dragon? The man who burned houses and slaughtered the innocent? You didn’t believe it. This was a trick, some ploy to have you lower your guard. You knew the second you fell asleep, he’d pounce.

With a sudden possession of courage, glancing back to the ceiling, you rasped, “What if I don’t want you to ever touch me?”

A barely audible gasp escaped his lips—yet you still heard it. He huffed, averting his gaze, then settled onto his back, the same as you. “Then I will never touch you.”

You weren’t sure why, but tears welled at the corners of your eyes.

“That’s it?”

He scoffed. “You almost sound disappointed.”

“I…” You trailed off, needing to gather your jumbled thoughts. “You have a reputation… Sylus.” You whispered his name, the taste of it on your tongue nowhere near as repulsive as you’d thought.

“How many women have I wed?”

You paused, unsure.

He shifted, facing you once again, as if needing your gaze. “You are the first… the only.”

You felt your face go pink. “Oh.”

He held up his palm, and he let it hover in the space between you. Accepting the gentle invitation, you pressed your own against his. He was so warm, so real, his touch creating a tangle of emotion in your stomach.

+++

You awoke with Sylus’ large hand splayed across your ribcage, the warm expanse of his chest pressed against your back. One of your feet was tangled between his legs, and as the grogginess of slumber wore off, you could feel the gentle puff of his breath stir at the back of your head.

You didn’t bolt. Didn’t even move, actually.

Although there was still that lingering thump of fear within your chest, there was something else.

Sylus woke and immediately withdrew himself. The sudden coldness hit you like a slap. Rolling over, you felt confused at the disappointment settling in your chest. You trailed after him as he rose. 

“My camp will stay here until you are ready to leave,” he stated, already half-dressed, clipping his chains back on.

Your heart stopped.

Leave?

Of course you’d be leaving. He was a Warlord, a conqueror. His apparent wealth didn’t sprout from the dirt.

You felt unworthy to ask him for another hour, let alone a day. But you longed to say goodbye, to convince your family you’d be alright. That you… might even be happy. Eventually. Maybe.

“Sylus,” you mumbled, his name still so foreign. “Could I please have one more day?”

He turned to face you, fully decorated. Standing there, you couldn’t help but gawk. “A day? You don’t wish for longer? I was prepared to remain here for a month, perhaps even two.”

Your jaw dropped.

His features softened. “I only conquer those who oppose me. Your home has been nothing but welcoming… even if it came from fear. But they are kind. They didn’t need to be kind. I will not rip you from your home.”

His words held edge, an ancient pain laced through his tone… as if he spoke from experience.

“Thank you,” you breathed, unsure of what else to say.

+++

A month had passed since your wedding, and as promised, Sylus never touched you. He barely even looked at you, not unless you looked first. Spoke to him first. 

He had fortified your village’s defences, taught your people the art of the bow and sword, and even gifted the elders some of his wealth, so they might strengthen their trades. 

At night, he would return to you, quiet and distant. You slept in the same bed, and every morning, you awoke curled right into him. At this point, it shouldn’t have made you so flustered, to make you so quick to retreat. 

Whenever your gazes met, you felt your heart spike. As the early days spanned into weeks, you found it to be less out of apprehension and more with curiosity. 

Conversations with Sylus grew more meaningful. When you were bolder, you’d ask about the word and its people. He was always honest. He told you of the southern seas and their secret city, for the people wept pearls. He told you how the people to the west would glow at night, as did their flowers. 

You were shy to ask questions, but alas, you did. “Would you ever take me to see these places?” 

His grin filled you with a surprising warmth. “There is nothing I would ever deny you.”

It made you stay awake at night, staring up at the ceiling. Had the world been wrong about the Dragon?

No, they hadn’t.

The warhorses came at dawn.

At first, you thought it was a storm rolling across the far horizon, but Sylus knew. He jolted from the bed, sword in hand, his men shouting.

It was the Terror, the one from the distant sea. His flaming conquest left no survivors. He had heard of the new bride and wanted her for himself.

You stood on a hill, as did your people, as you all watched in helpless horror. The ebb and flow of blood and steel, how it screamed and sang. In the end, the Terror called for his retreat, and you stared out at him on his monstrous steed, the beast an impossible silver.

You narrowed your eyes in contempt, willing daggers to impale the back of his head. 

Sylus returned to you, dripping in gore. You said nothing, only held out your arm for him to take it.

He did.

You guided him not to your shared tent, but to the bathhouse. Entering the steamy hut, you ushered him to sit in the hot spring, all without a word. Sylus obeyed you, occasionally glancing up with a curious gleam.

Sitting by the edge, the hot water lapped at your shins, your bloodied husband nestled between them. You grabbed a cloth, and you began to wash him.

You finally broke the silence. “You saved us all.”

“I promised you my protection.”

“No,” you said, leaning in, arms wrapping around him so you could scrub his chest. “Actually, you didn’t.”

“Oh?” He huffed, but you could hear his smile.

“Thank you,” you whispered into his ear, your stomach twisting as you felt him shiver.

Silence filled the bathhouse once more as you continued your mission. You washed his hair next, fingertips scraping at his scalp, unable to resist a smile as you felt him purr.

“Dragon? More like a cat,” You teased him, your thumbs stroking at his temples.

Sylus’ eyes had been closed, enjoying your care as you dipped his head into the water, rinsing the soap out. Peering up at you, he arched a playful brow. “Is that so?”

You broke into a chuckle, biting your lip in an effort to stop. “Maybe.”

He sat upright, turning to fully face you, that gentle smile he only gave to you gracing his face. You blinked at him once. Twice. You reached in, cradling his face in your palms, gazing deep into those ruby voids.

“I’ve decided,” you announced, stomach flipping at the admission.

He arched a pale brow. “On what?”

You lowered your voice, leaning in slightly, so the breath of your words could caress his mouth. “I want you to touch me.”

You held his stare, heart fluttering as you noticed his right eye sharpening, its red hue glowing. Emboldened, you shifted closer until your noses aligned, lips brushing against his.

“I want you to make me yours.” And to fulfill your request, you pressed your lips to his, a promise.

… Only for him to pull back, his gasp sharp. “Are—are you sure?”

“Please,” you almost whined it, needing him to kiss you, devour you, make you scream.

His pupils flared, his astonishment fading and replaced by something darker, as if he’d heard your wicked little thoughts.

His hands seized your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the spring. You arched in, pressing your body into Sylus as his mouth captured yours. It started soft and teasing, but after several hammering heartbeats, he deepened the claim until it was pure and unrelenting.

You moaned against him, the sensation of it all like molten gold. Your hands found his shoulders, nails digging in as his tongue glided against yours, coaxing for more. He swallowed your breathless pants, your overwhelmed whimpers, all while his burning palms roamed.

Sylus pulled back, breathing ragged. “I have waited… so long for you.”

Something told you he meant more than the past few weeks.

“And now, finally, you’re mine.” His hands tightened on your hips, tugging you closer, like you might dare try to escape.

A startled whine slipped from you as he dipped down, licking the column of your neck. With a slow, deep inhale, a low rumble caught in his throat. “Mine.”

He bit you. Hard. And by the gods, was it glorious. Licking the sensitive mark, his hands glided up, up, up, fingertips grazing your nipples through your dress. You let out an indignant moan. He chuckled, pinching them.

“Ah!”

You were at his mercy now, arching deeper, needing to be closer.

“More,” you gasped. “Please, please, please.”

“Begging already?” He taunted, denying you.

You didn’t have the strength to be cheeky. “Whatever you want,” you sighed, fingers coming to curl at the nape of his neck. “Show me how it feels to be yours.”

Sylus let out a low groan at your words, teeth tugging at your earlobe. “Don’t say things like that unless you mean them, sweetie.” His tone held warning. He was barely restraining himself.

You threaded your fingers deeper into his ashen locks. “Sylus, I need you. Right now.”

His control snapped. Fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, he had you wrap your legs about his waist, and once you were secure, lifted you from the water’s edge. He strode out of the bathhouse, right across the campsite—you didn’t care. Sylus didn’t stop until you were sprawled across your bed, panting with need.

“Your first time should be somewhere you feel warm,” he explained, caging himself over you. “Somewhere comfortable and safe.”

“I feel those things when I’m with you,” you murmured, caressing his cheek. 

He kissed you, sensual and slow, and seemed content to keep it that way. You, however, were impatient, a burning, aching need coiling low in your core. 

“Sylus,” you sighed into his mouth, nails raking down the back of his neck, digging into his shoulders. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Nipping at your bottom lip, he let out a dark chuckle. Sylus trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, gliding down the column of your neck. Gripping the front of your dress, he tore it right off, mindful not to hurt you in the process. Breasts bared for him, his grin was sinful, and he dipped down to suck on a nipple, squeezing the other. 

“I want to take my time with you,” he panted, switching to your other breast, licking at your sensitive bud. 

You threaded your fingers through his damp hair, squirming as he palmed and suckled, swirling his tongue with delicious pressure. You couldn’t help but whimper, try to clamp your legs shut as he descended lower, licking at your skin. His teeth grazed your hip bone, a teasing promise of what was to come.

“I want to savour your taste,” he murmured, voice thick. His words hung over you, already overwhelmed by the heat Sylus was stirring from you. It was only when his hands–those ridiculous, strong hands–gripped your thighs, ensuring that they remained completely open for him, did it register. 

You sucked down your yelp as his tongue flicked out, only a simple tease, but to you, it was maddening. Sylus began gently, although you could feel his thrumming restraint. It was almost testing, the way he licked, until finally, when you began to let yourself fall away into euphoria, he gave you everything. 

His grip on you tightened as he worked you, unrelenting until your cheeks were wet from pleasured tears. You tugged at his horns, squirmed to escape, the sensation impossible, pure, electric. You wouldn’t survive it. 

“It’s alright,” he rasped with reassurance, “you can come for me.”

You were no stranger to masturbation. Had given yourself countless orgasms, but nothing ever came close to what Sylus was doing to you. It was as if your soul was about to soar out of your body, your release threatening to plunge you into an abyss. 

The heat of him was going to shatter you entirely. 

You outright screamed when he deepened his claim, slipping two devastating fingers into your soaked core. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. 

The tension finally snapped, and you came, the surge of it like a thundering wave. It flowed right into your fingertips, escaping your lips as a strangled whine, back arching off the bed. 

After your much-needed deep breaths, Sylus pressed a tender kiss to your inner thigh. “Good girl,” you felt him grin against your skin as he began his ascent. 

“I can’t breathe,” you mumbled pathetically, the afterwaves of your release still clinging. 

With a husky chuckle, Sylus came back to hover over you, peering down at you with those beautiful crimson eyes. The right was glowing, almost pulsating, as he seemed to roam over your face, an unreadable expression upon it. 

“You are everything,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he leaned down to kiss you. One hand skimmed down your side, grasping your hip, caressing your thigh. His touch was pure fire, delicious in its intensity. You slung a leg about his waist, and with your pitiful strength (at least in comparison to him), pulled him flush against you. 

Wrapped within his heat, Sylus positioned himself at your core, and all of that burning need had you tremble. 

“Please,” you murmured into his mouth. 

“Hold onto me,” he whispered, voice like velvet. “Look at me.”

Meeting his gaze, your lips parted into a silent gasp as he, with devastating slowness, sank into you, engulfing you in an inferno of desire. Sylus groaned low in his throat as you took all of him, for even as your breath hitched and tears clung to the corners of your eyes, you didn’t once falter. 

Your nails came to dig into his shoulders as he stilled, giving you time to adjust to such fullness. You craned forward to kiss him, needing something—anything—to ground you. 

“You’re perfect,” he rasped into your mouth, “you take me so well.” His voice was rough, brimming with restraint, which came to pool low in your stomach. 

“More,” you moaned softly, rolling your hips.  

The first thrust was so careful, so agonisingly slow, you thought you might explode, until white-hot stars burst behind your eyelids as he pressed deeper. 

“I won’t break,” you begged, raking at his back, desperate for more. 

His chuckle seemed pained as he buried into your neck, teeth grazing. “You just might, with the things I want to do to you.”

“You promise?” You groaned, arching up into him, your body hungry for more heat, more of him. 

Sylus pulled back, that crimson eye fully ablaze from your words. Cupping his cheek, you gave him a weak smile, the pent-up need that burned within you teetering into downright painful. 

“I’m not afraid. Please, Sylus. I’m yours… I’m all yours…”

A bright, almost feral shift took hold within him then. With a searing kiss, his pace grew bolder, deeper, and you clung to him fiercely, needing to be anchored as your pleasure grew. 

Sylus didn’t lose his control, which you were equally disappointed and grateful for. There was no chance you’d have survived, and yet, you yearned to be shattered by him. Yet, your release was close enough. Like glass, you splintered apart beneath him, everything explosive and burning.

Sylus’ rhythm faltered, the feel of your high too intoxicating. You felt him go to retreat from you, but with spent breath, you whimpered your permission, “Inside.”

With heavy, uneven breaths, he spilled inside of you with a rumbling groan, the weight of it oddly emotional. With a lingering kiss, Sylus pulled from you, then came to prop himself up at your side with an elbow. With gentle fingers, he traced patterns over your skin, an invisible lace. His ruby gaze was still glowing faintly. 

“Are you alright?”

Your laugh was completely spent, but full of satisfaction. “I’ve never been better,” you said, genuine. 

“What are you thinking right now?”

“How glad I am that you found me in that field.”

Sylus’ smile filled you with a different kind of warmth, something that stirred within the heart. “I would stop at nothing to find you. Now, and always.” 

_________________________________________________________

This is my first fanfic, and it came to me in a vision.

Inspired by a few of Sylus' different cards, mainly the grassland one.