"Would You Still Love Me If I Was a Worm?"
[A/N: Wrote this while listening to Provider by Sleep Token so I would definitely recommend you to listen to it as well (on repeat) while reading. I'd also like to thank my friend @dorian-gaye (amazing artist by the way, check them out) who helped me brainstorm ideas!]
The city lights stand proud against the pitch black sky. Late night party spotlights shine like a beacon, calling for all, to let loose and enjoy themselves, offering alcohol and inhibited logical decisions.
Beneath the penthouse’s luxurious floor-to-ceiling glass windows, Nox Vegas teems with life, seemingly more alive in the dead of the night.
The clock reads: 1:25 am. Ticking.
Zed tears his gaze away from its screen, displaying its bright red numbers, stagnant yet he finds them mocking. He pulls at his tie from the knot with his index finger, loosening it, sighing as if it had been strangling him all day. The office chair reclines with a quiet groan as he leans further into it, neck craned to the ceiling with closed eyes, chest falling, letting out a breath that came out from the very depths of his soul.
A minor inconvenience, he thinks.
Behind him, Nox Vegas pulses itself into existence like a heart beating, reminding you of its presence. Every building, every nightclub, every strip, hotel and restaurant-it’s his. All of it. Or at least, very soon. Once he eliminates the competition, and those embarrassingly stupid enough to try. He was the most powerful man in Nox Vegas. And he isn’t going to let fools, leeches, and pests deface his name or authority.
He forces his mind to blank, like wiping a surface clean, yet he only finds himself more irritated that even the silence was stifling.
Incompetency will be the death of him.
In the shadows, where the rest of the world’s light doesn’t touch the spacious floor, a shadow stands guard. His shadow. A clone, not quite figured out how, what, and why by the public and press. A dark silhouette seemingly made out of smoke, with an eye, bright and a malevolent purple, slashed diagonally across its torso like an open wound, another beneath it, albeit smaller, and two, on its head, and once on its leg, festering as it glows in a chemically radioactive way. Posted by the door. Unmoving like an ominous statue.
Zed slowly cracks his eyes open, feeling a knowing shift in the air.
He turns his head to the door by the far side of the wall, tired eyes trained on it as it opens, soft, yellow light pouring in from it.
A head pops out from the edges of the doorframe, looking out from where it stands and into his spacious office, looking akin to a woodland creature gauging if it was safe before revealing the rest of itself.
His eyes soften. At the sight of her. Hair let down, wavy, lavender purple locks slightly tussled like she’s rolled around in bed. Silk nightgown, pearl white, reaching just barely past her hips. The light casting a warm glow across her tanned skin.
“Are you done with your work?” She asks in a whisper as if she was afraid to shatter the sanctity of the place.
He blinks. Then nods once. Far too exhausted to use his words, and instead, pushes the chair back on its wheels with his body, leaving space in between where he is and the desk in a silent invitation.
And she takes it without hesitation. Running across the room, to where he is, bare feet padding against the cold marble floors with a little skip in her steps.
His eyes follow her form as she makes her way to him. Looking up at her as she stands before him, hands locked behind the back of his neck while his own find purchase at the skin of where her hips and thighs meet.
Hazel irises, the color of molten gold at its core, bordered by chartreuse green that darkens at the edges, slowly but surely, bleeding through the magnificent amber, streaked of dark purple branching out from the pupil, seemingly crawling its way out from within, stare into her dark brown ones, beaming down at him with a slight crinkle at the corners of her eyes caused by her smile.
“You’re still awake.” His voice rough as he speaks, almost as if he’s relearning how to use his voice, fatigue starting to dig its cruel claws in him.
She nods, hands unravelling from where they rest to travel down his chest, fingers playing with the collar of his black dress shirt, tracing the silver that outlines it, “I was waiting for you.” She says, lovingly, his chartreuse tie folding and coiling at her touch as it flits through her playful fingers, “Is everything okay?”
He blinks again, slower, “A mistake.” He says, calmly, but something sharp glistens behind his eyes, “Nothing that can’t be fixed. No need for you to worry.” A tight lipped smile forms on his face, jaw tight for a solid second before he pulls her unto him by where he holds her, coerced into being right above him, situated on his lap, her knees meeting either side of his hips, straddling him, in the small office chair, his eyes unfaltering, never once tearing itself away from her face as he does so. Raising himself slightly to reach for her, the tips of their noses touching, eyes fluttering close when her soft lips meet his faintly chapped ones, simultaneously sighing into the kiss as if words died on their tongues. Breaths mingling as their bodies mold into one as if the very warmth radiating off of them fused them together.
Her hands slide up his chest, resting at his shoulder while the other continues its travel, finding its way at the base of his head, sharply tugging at the roots of the layered strands of his snow-white, swept back hair, as if asking for more.
He groans, the sound vibrating through her chest, sliding his hands up her sides, momentarily lifting the hem of her nightgown, the junction of where his index and thumb meet, perfectly slotting in the dips of her waist, silk nightgown against the velvet fabric of his gloved sleeves, custom tailored with and to his dress shirt, pulling her flush against him, impossibly closer, as if whatever little space left was still too far, and a sound comes out of her, half a gasp and half a whimper, taking advantage to slip in his tongue, prodding at her bottom lip before sucking, nibbling at it softly before he feels a faint push at his shoulder, pulling away from her, reluctantly so, short pants flying through the air as their lips part like a shared whisper, foreheads touching as if to still maintain some sort of kinship. Hazed hazel eyes staring at her swollen lips through half lids, lingering, close. Close enough for their lips to not meet but enough to reunite, tips of noses just barely touching.
And while sharing another kiss was a sweet temptation he’d happily fall into, she moves, sweeping at his side part, messy, fingers slipping through its locks as she moves it away from his face, deftly tracing the outlines of his face before settling on his cheek, thumb rubbing comfortingly, “You did good today.” She whispers, pressing a kiss on his forehead, letting himself savor the contact of her soft lips upon his skin, allowing himself to inhale the scent of her cherry blossom bodywash-something she’d recently picked up after knowing how good it smelled.
His thumb strokes the plush of her thighs, kneading at the soft flesh before him, and he feels something in his chest release as if something wedged so deep had finally been removed, and she turns her head at the sound of his deep sigh, back, to look at the shadow by the door.
Its two eyes blink at her as if acknowledging her presence. Its head occasionally swirling out of shape, ebbing, dissipating into the air, before coming back wholly, confirming her of her worries, even if Zed does not answer aloud: He was exhausted beyond measure, and something in her heart painfully swells at the thought.
She beckons for it to come and it follows her whim, taking measured steps as if it was learning how to walk without falling, then turns her attention back at the man beneath her, capturing his lips into a series of delicate, soft, short kisses before slowly, moving to the corner of his mouth, trailing down the line of jaw, to his neck.
“Khaleesi…” He pants, grip tightening around her, the comforting warmth of her body bleeding through the velvety fabric of his gloves, custom tailored with and to his dress shirt.
And it’s by this time the shadow reaches the both of them, standing by right next to them, and she tears her lips and attention from Zed and to the shadow, placing a hand on its cheek as it folds its body to her level, a hand gently on top of hers as it nuzzles into her touch, and a smile appears on her face before being replaced by shock as her wrist is yanked.
“You cannot be jealous.” She teases, chuckling.
“Only when the shadows steal you from me.” He declares, a growl rumbling at the back of his throat as his arms snake around her waist, pulling her against him, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her neck.
“They’re an extension of me.” He argues, grip tightening.
She sighs, rolling her eyes as she stirs in his hold, angling herself to press a kiss on the crown of his head before engulfing him in her arms as much as she can, “We should head to bed.”
A mischievous glint flashes in her eyes and a matching smile, “In that case,” She says with slight lilt in her voice, “Can I ask you a question?”
He hums, adjusting his arms.
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
Then Zed pulls back from her, eyebrows furrowed so deeply his forehead scrunches, looking at her like she’d grown two heads.
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
He opens his mouth then closes it as if he wants to say something but can’t quite form the right words. “W-What?” He shakes his head, stumbling over his words, “Where did this even come from?”
“I saw it on the internet. I thought it’d be funny to do it on you.” Her laugh rings in his ear, clearly overjoyed at the pure confusion that contorts his face.
“First of all, who would even dare to turn you into a worm?” Zed raises his brow as if the question itself offended him. “Secondly, why?”
Khaleesi laughs, throwing her head back, clearly having too much fun. “It doesn’t matter! That’s not the question!” She says in between laughs, too entertained.
He sighs, dropping his head in defeat and it sends her, laughing even more.
“Well?” She asks quietly, palming the fabric of his dress shirt, “Would you?”
“Mhmm. As long as you still recognize me and won’t run and swiggle your way out when I pick you up.”
She giggles, eyes crinkling. “What would you do?” She asks, quietly, playing with his tie once more.
“I would find who did it to you, reverse it, and then kill them.”
A breathy chuckle makes its way out of her.
“But while I’m finding them, I’d have a terrarium built specifically for you and your tastes. Your own little forest kingdom, complete with a miniature castle that you can squiggle around in,” His hands slither to frame the curve of her waist as if it was the one place they were always meant to be in, “I’d carry it around my office, setting you someplace where you can always see me.” Zed pulls her closer, burying his nose in the crook of her neck, “Then, I’d have a miniature one made, portable, and I’d keep it in my breast pocket.” He whispers against her skin, lips ghosting over the spot he’s come to memorize as her Achilles’ heel, “That way, you’d always be close to my heart.” He accentuates with a kiss.
Butterflies flutter in the pits of her stomach, hair rising as a shiver runs its course through her body, helplessly, involuntarily, gripping him hard.
“How…” She pants, breath stuttering as the word dies on her tongue, breathless, as he pecks at the area in soft, slow, deliberate kisses. “Would you even know it’s me…?”
“I would.” He mutters, sucking at the flesh beneath her jaw.
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