All This Effort To Make It Look Effortless

However now, her feet and back were sore, and Cassian's snoring could be heard even through the walls (she had no idea how Nesta dealt with it) keeping her awake even if her body didn't ache.

It didn't help that Velaris was starting to show it's first signs of winter.

Elain had tried not to let it show in her mood, but she grew a little sadder as each day seemed to be shorter than the last, the sun slipping beneath the horizon before she felt the chance to actually bask in it's light. Her garden had started to die as well. The cold air shriveled up her plants and flowers, the soil now too frozen to properly tend to, and the even the trees now lay bare.

Another small gust of wind made the hairs on Elain's neck stand up, her body recognizing the scent that it carried before her mind could even register it. She twisted her body just in time to see Lucien come through the entrance of the garden.

He froze in his tracks when he too saw her. The pair were silent for a moment, as if unsure whether to pretend like they hadn't seen one another or to say hi.

Elain decided to take the first step and offered him just a slight smile.

Lucien's stiff body seemed to relax at her gesture and he greeted her with a nod in return. "Apologies my lady, I was just taking a small walk around the grounds before I head back."

Ah there it is.

She had been wondering why he was up so late. Was he cold like she was? Did something at dinner make his stomach upset? Could it be that there are other toughts plauging his mind?

On the rare occasion where Lucien would join for dinner, he would often leave before it got too deep into the night. He hadn't chosen to sleep in one of the rooms, even when Feyre had offered.

"It's alright," she softly replied, "I thought you had left already."

He shook his head, golden eye catching the light with the movement, "Rhysand had wanted to discuss some events with me. He's hoping to have me present at some meetings he had planned with other courts." He huffed, "It turned into a tangent of him talking about how wonderful Feyre and Nyx are. Started bragging about how his son was the smartest child in the world and that it was all because he took after his mother."

Elain giggled, "He's already screaming praises for them from the rooftops on a regular day, but the bit of wine he had tonight may have been the reason for the divergence in conversation."

Lucien let out a soft laugh, his breath forming a soft cloud in the cold air. His eyes trailed up to where the moon was high in the sky. "I should get going though. It's late enough and Jurian practically skinned me alive last time I woke him up from his beauty sleep."

She hesitated for a second before saying, "Why don't you just spend the night?" He turned completely towards her, his surprise written all over his face. "It's just that it's late is all," Elain rushed out, feeling her cheeks burn for some reason, "and you wouldn't want to incur Jurian's wrath."

"That I don't," he agreed with a smile, "but as much as I enjoy the Night Court, it sometimes feels a bit odd sleeping here. I prefer to rest my head in my own bed." A pause. "And I'll admit that I find it rather cold in the house during this time of year."

Elain couldn't help but laugh, "Are you not supposed to run warm because of your fire?"

"I do and you would think that would be enough," he said with a shake of his head. "I swear, even when lighting the fireplace and candles, the cold just cuts right through it all. I much prefer the south."

Something inside her slightly ached. She had loved living further south. While they still had cold winters, they were never as long as the ones in the Night Court, and spring seemed to last forever.

"Do you also struggle with the cold weather, my lady?"

There was a brief moment of hesitate before she a polite smile came onto her lips, "Not at all, I find it pleasant."

Lucien quirked an eyebrow. “I have never heard a bigger lie.”

"I'm not lying."

"You are gripping your shawl so tight I think I see some threads breaking."

Elain immediately loosened her fingers, before shooting him a look. "Well if you knew the answer already, why did you ask?"

"I wanted to see if like Rhysand, the events of the night would make you a bit more honest too." He admitted.

"I am always honest." She replied. Lucien glanced at her but said nothing. "I am usually honest." More silence. "I try to be honest."

A smirk played at his lips. "Whatever you say my lady."

There was a question which danced at the tip of Elain's tongue, and she decided that perhaps now was the time to be honest. "What was it like?"

His head tilted in slight confusion. "Pardon me?"

Elain took in a breath. "What was it like living in the Spring Court? Did it get cold there too?"

Understanding dawned on Lucien and he gave her an almost sad smile. "It was one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. The land thrived due to it always being warm year round and every single flower, plant, herb, and root you could imagine grew there. There were beautiful lakes and ponds, vast plains with wildflowers covering it all, and it was everything one could imagine in a court that is eternally spring."

To Elain's ears, it sounded like a paradise.

"But that's how it was before," he sighed. "Much of the court now lays in ruins, the lands overgrown, and weeds running rampage over the other plants." Lucien's eyes caught hers. "Though I'm sure you would still find some beauty in it."

Her breath caught at not just his words but his gaze. It pierced right through her, as if he could see every inch of her thoughts and mind. How was it that every time they locked eyes, it was as if her entire being pulsed alive?

She quickly broke contact, glancing at the ground instead. "I don't think I'll ever get the chance to visit." Before he could reply, she rushed out, "It's getting late. You should make it back before you really do wake Jurian from his slumber. Or maybe you'll wake Vassa too."

The knowing look on Lucien's face told Elain he knew exactly why she changed the topic so rapidly, but he didn't push her. "You're right, waking both of them up really would seal my fate." He tilted his head down slightly, as if bowing. "Goodnight my lady. Try not to stay out too late, then you'll truly catch a cold."

She thanked him and watched as he left, slipping away as quickly as he came. It was only when she knew he was out of earshot, that no one was around to hear her words, that she softly whispered. "Goodnight Lucien."

Elain cracked her window open, cheeks flushing as she called, “Lucien?”

His braid became a red streak of copper as it whipped from the sharp turn of his head. Immediately she had his full attention, the footman and the horse and the carriage entirely forgotten. Full lips stretched into a smile, shining brighter than the sun that washed affectionately across his skin, illuminating every perfectly placed freckle. “Elain,” he greeted, sounding nearly giddy. “Is there something you need?”

She glanced at the armory full of dresses she couldn’t hope to lace by herself. If there wasn’t a footman at their door, she might have slid into one of the tea gowns. But the arrival of the carriage made her suspect today was an occasion to be properly dressed. “Will you come assist me?”

Lucien needed to hear nothing more before he disappeared from sight. Despite how she had fallen into this arrangement, Elain privately found it endearing that her husband was so eager to help. Within moments, he was knocking at her door, russet and gold eyes widening at the sight of his wife in her shift.

As though he’d never seen another woman in his life.

“Going somewhere?” Elain murmured, forcing an ease she did not feel as she stepped towards her wardrobe to select one of the many dresses.

Though her back was turned, she could feel the way he fell into her orbit. His eyes like a physical touch against her skin, trailing over exposed neck and shoulders and legs until she needed to suppress the urge to shiver.

“To Velaris,” he answered, surprising her enough that Elain turned.

What a mistake that was—to see how close he had drifted, sunlight melting the colors in his eyes. They were a shade so warm she could have been lounging beneath a cloudless sky, for the way her body heated.

“Velaris?” Elain asked, trying to remember all she had been told about the capital. It was a two days ride, for one. It was an effort to hide her disappointment at the thought that one day married, and already her husband would be disappearing and leaving her in the empty estate on her own. “What’s in Velaris?”

Lucien caught at a lock of her hair, thumbing the curls with an admiration that made her feel breathless. “The finest staff I could hope to have my wife interview. Seamstresses who could fashion you dresses of the highest end. A friend that I’d very much like you to meet.”

“I’m coming with?” She studied his face, plain with an affection she could not possibly understand. They were strangers in every possible sense, though her body did not seem to understand such a thing. Perhaps that was why she reached forward to press her palm against his unblemished cheek, his skin soothingly warm like all the rest of him.

“I do not wish to go anywhere without you, if I can help it,”

The declaration stunned her. Enough that she dropped her hand and promptly turned back to the wardrobe, busying herself with finding a dress appropriate for a day’s carriage ride. She suspected they would stop at an inn along the way. The thought excited her. She’d never been anywhere so far from the village as Lucien’s estate. And now… she would see a city. 

She reached for a dress of swaying lilac, not turning to face Lucien as she stepped into it and swept her hair over her shoulder. Forgoing a corset and petticoat was perhaps untoward as a Lady and yet Elain could think of nothing worse than sitting in the carriage for hours with the fabric constricting her air flow. Lucien likely wouldn’t know how to lace one, besides.

If it bothered her husband, he said nothing as he obediently ducked his head and began tightening the lace at her back. He was so close she could feel each careful breath against her exposed neck—fanning so torturously against her skin she wondered if he was doing it deliberately. 

“When do we leave?” She asked, if only to have something to focus on beside those mind-numbingly gentle fingers. 

“The second I have our things packed,” he said, sounding breathless. 

“Allow me to help?”

“I wouldn’t dare.” And truly, he sounded offended that she’d even offered. “There is breakfast waiting for you on the dining table. Pick out the dresses you’d like to take with you and then go eat.”

The way his hand wavered on the narrow curve of her waist made his words feel heavier. It was a reminder of the poverty she came from, regardless of the fine dress she wore. Was this the product of genuine husbandly concern, she wondered? Or an effort to fill out her hollowed cheeks so that she might look even lovelier on his arm. Like an accessory bought at the village marketplace.

If she turned around she knew she would find her answer. And perhaps it was easier to continue to paint him a horrible man than to try to wrap her head around the fact that he’d been nothing but kind to her. Or worse, to see the affection on his face and feel confusingly endeared to it.So she avoided looking at him altogether as she shrugged on her cape and picked some dresses out from the wardrobe to lay across the bed.

 It did not take long for Elain to eat the generous plate of cold meat, bread, and cheese while Lucien loaded trunks of their things into the carriage. Before the sun had crested in the sky, Elain was sat on a plush bench across from Lucien as the carriage rattled off towards the great towering walls of the estate. She glanced out the carriage window as they passed through the impenetrable barrier, head swimming with so many questions yet not brave enough to voice a single one.

“Tell me something about yourself, Lord,” she said, unsurprised to turn her head and find that he had been studying her in that studious way of his. When his eyes darkened, she immediately corrected, “Lucien.”

He seemed to think for a long moment about what to reveal to her. The carriage lurched as it shifted from the raised flagstone steps of the estate to the rough dirt road she had walked the day prior. Fixing his eyes on the changing leaves of the forest, he said, “I prefer being outside. Being in that manor for too long…” he frowned, and she had the sense he was choosing his words very carefully. “It makes me feel restless.”

Elain mulled over this kernel of information, wondering what exactly a Lord’s son got up to outside. Besides hunting. She could only imagine what it must have been like to grow up with all that sprawling land, protected by tall iron gates so that his play was never diluted from fear of the unknown.

Elain and her sisters used to do their fair share of running barefoot through the mossy forest floor. Feyre, braid stretching towards the muddied earth as she hung from a tree branch, cackling as she brandished her wooden stick like she were a warrior who had just discovered the most strategic battle position. Nesta, eyes sharp and discerning as she watched her sisters like she were above it all. Really, Elain knew she was too busy listening for every sound, each crack of wood and rustle of leaves. The woods were dangerous, even so close to their village that they could still see the rotting thatch of their cottage. But how else were poor, starving children meant to occupy themselves?

“I understand what you mean,” she offered, feeling oddly struck by sentiment for her childhood years despite the grey that painted them. “I feel nowhere as peaceful as I do in a garden.”

The way the sun fell across his face as he turned his head illuminated a panel of sharp cheekbones. They bunched into perfect apples when he smiled. “For all the time I spend outside, I admit the art of gardening has escaped me. Perhaps you can teach me when we return, wife?”

“Teach you… to garden?” She asked, having never encountered a man who would even feign interest in such a feminine hobby.

“If you would oblige me,” he said, with an earnesty burning in his eyes that unnerved Elain. She could imagine him, crouching beside her in the dirt, unabashed and gentle as he tucked seedlings into the ground.

Suddenly the carriage felt too warm.

Lucien straightened, chest rising beneath his gold embroidered jacket as he took a deep breath. She swore the corner of his lip tilted into a smirk. “Would you like that, lady?”

The satisfaction in his tone surprised her. She searched his face for the source of it, wondering if she had missed some hidden joke. His eyes had darkened, fixed on hers with an intensity that bordered on hunger. Suddenly her mouth felt dry, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as she answered, “Yes, Lord. I would like that very much.”

In such close quarters, she hadn’t decided which would make him more bold—to speak his name or his title. She had her answer as Lucien leaned forward, eyes flashing.

“Tell me, Elain,” he breathed, close enough she could taste each word. “How should I teach my wife to properly address me?”

He wouldn’t hit for it, not when she’d seen how angry the thought made him yesterday.

“It is not my place,” she answered breathlessly, struggling to put air into her lungs. Maybe if she brought her face a little closer, she might borrow some from his lips. 

“What’s not your place?” He asked. A challenge. In his words, but also in the way his mouth curled.

Elain licked her lips, desperate to fight moisture back into her mouth. Lucien tracked the movement with predatory precision.

“To tell a man how to discipline his wife,” she said innocently, knowing her eyes were big and wide as she flicked them up to meet his through her lashes.

Why did it thrill her, the way he seemed to consider her words. Wondered if they weren’t an invitation.

Lucien clicked his tongue against his teeth. He caught her chin between two long fingers, firm as he turned her head so that his lips could find her ear.

“I won’t discipline you, wife. Not unless you ask me to.” His voice was low and sweet, like dripping honey. “And yet I’ve asked so little of you but this—it makes me wonder if you’re hoping to be punished.”

She straightened at the thought—uncertainty piercing through the thrall of his proximity. Would he truly punish her, or was this part of the game? She had seen some of the way men punished their wives in the village.

Lucien used his freehand to stroke warm fingers through her sun-drenched curls. Intending to soothe, to lull, as he pressed a small kiss to the skin behind her ear.

“Not unless you ask,” he reminded her. “Not a finger on you, unless you ask.”

If Elain was feeling especially contrary, she might have pointed out that he had several fingers on her she didn’t ask for. Instead she channeled that energy into the haughtiness that laced her voice as she asked, “Then how might you teach me, Lord?”

Pressed against him the way she was, Elain could feel the way his chest vibrated before she heard the hum that escaped his lips.

Elain had never crossed fake swords with Feyre when they clambered through the forest, nor had she stood beside Nesta listening for every sign of danger. She had always been far too distracted by the cushion of moss at her feet and the pretty flowers that bloomed where they knew a human would never dare pluck them.

Her instincts had never been honed for danger. Perhaps that was why she did not recognize the sound for what it was—a warning.

Elain shrieked as she was suddenly hauled into Lucien’s lap by a strong arm around her waist, hoisting her across the carriage as though she weighed nothing at all. His forearm banded her tightly against his chest, holding her firm and flush regardless of how she squirmed against him.

“Lucien—”

“Yes, exactly,” he purred from where he’d buried his face in her hair. “See? You’re learning already.”

She could feel the hard planes of his body pressing into her, his warmth seeping through her dress and beneath her skin until red splotches swelled over her chest, her neck, her cheeks. 

Warm lips brushed over her pulse, causing her breath to catch in her throat. “What are you doing?” 

“You asked me how I’d teach you,” he murmured. Fingers skimmed down her side, tracing the shape of her hips. “Do you still want me to show you?”

Elain did not know where the surge of confidence came from, but she found herself arching her neck to give him better access. There was no shame to be had in this, she reminded herself. She was a married woman, and this was her husband. “Show me then, Lord.”

His responding chuckle tickled her neck, chased with a nip of his teeth. “My wife wants to play, does she?” The hand trailed lower, over the tops of her thighs until it stopped at her knees. There, he slowly pulled at the fabric of her dress, drawing his hand back until it was bunched at her hip. He held her so tightly that all Elain could do was watch as his broad hand began a slow descent along her thigh. The span of his fingers was so wide that it nearly covered the width of her leg entirely. And those were calluses that scraped over her smooth, delicate skin, dragging from the outside of her hip all the way to her bare knee.

“Breathing so heavily,” he noted from where his lips still taunted her neck. His fingers squeezed her knee, almost playful. “Are you nervous?”

Elain was breathing heavily, the air itself working against her as it rushed into her lungs. Every attempt at steadiness was thwarted by sharp teeth grazing her pulse, or the firm hand at her knee that began gently prying her legs apart.

It was why her voice shook as she asked, “Should I be?” 

“I don’t believe in punishment.” Not an answer, Elain thought, before Lucien’s hand began skimming up her inner thigh and any coherency fizzled into dust. He paused midway through his ascent, thumb stroking over the plush skin in such large sweeps that it nearly found the seam of her legs. Teasing—he was teasing her. 

With a soft laugh that she felt like warm silk pooling down her spine, Lucien skimmed his nose along her neck. He nuzzled so close that when he spoke, it was like his words imprinted directly into her skin. “I believe in rewarding good behavior. Have you been good, wife?”

Her lip caught between her teeth, wondering how far she should push him. “Yes, Lord.”

Again, she earned that slow clicking of tongue and teeth, pressed right against her fluttering pulse so that each one sunk low into her stomach. 

“Naughty,” he chided. “And here I thought I spoke so plainly.”

He didn’t stop that deliberate stroking of her thigh, each time swiping closer and closer to the center of her parted legs. It was as though she were a clock, slowly being wound, growing tighter with every passive touch. Something inside her was beginning to throb with such severity that it made even her teeth ache. Lucien sensed it, likely in the way she began squirming in his lap.

“Do you need something, wife?”

Elain said nothing, refusing to give him the satisfaction. She felt him smile, devious as any man set on damnation, before something hot and wet slid across the column of her throat. His tongue. And Elain was so busy being appalled by the action—and the way it sent her heart racing—that she hardly noticed the hand that snuck up her thigh until it was stroking over her clothed center.

It was difficult to tell who was more surprised, between the air that rushed through Lucien’s teeth or the gasp that fled her own. Elain knew she was wet, could feel the way the cotton clung to her body as Lucien dragged a finger through the arousal that seeped through.

“It certainly seems like there’s something you want,” he said, voice little more than a rasp. The arm around her waist tightened, which was just as well because when Lucien’s thumb brushed over her clit, drawing slowly, lazy circles, Elain slumped into his hold.

“Right here?” He murmured, pressing harder. Elain bucked her hips, a soft moan escaping her throat. Lucien chuckled. “I think so.”

His hand retreated long enough to tug the soaked garment to her knees. Elain used the opportunity to turn her head, seeking Lucien’s lips as a distraction from her shaking legs.

Elain had always been boy-curious. Head addled with thoughts of romance, as a child she used to think that one day her true love would come to sweep her off her feet and save her from poverty. She’d believed a kiss of true love could truly defy any circumstance. It had been disappointing the first time she crashed her mouth to a boy’s and discovered it felt nothing at all like magic. Just two soft pieces of skin pushing against each other. No sparks, no fairy godmothers, no all-consuming true love. Just an awkward clash of tongues and a too-hot sharing of breath.

Now, she thought that she could have spared herself the disappointment if she had only skipped to kissing Lucien first. His lips were soft and warm against her own, greeting her as though she were being welcomed home. He tasted of sun bathed apples and crisp autumn air, and she would have opened her mouth to him for that alone. But it was the gasp as his fingers returned to her dripping center that truly parted her lips and allowed entry to his seeking tongue.

Mouth occupied, all he could do was grunt his encouragement as his fingers resumed teasing her. The stroke of his fingers was a thing of leisure, prodding curiously at her entrance but ignoring her arching hips.

He broke away, panting, to remind her, “All you need to do is ask.”

Elain chased him, eyes half-lidded. “Please,” she said, pressing her lips back to his so that the words were muffled. She didn’t care about the game anymore, she just wanted his taste to never leave her tongue. “Please.”

It seemed it was an effort for him too, by the way he eagerly returned each urgent kiss before he broke away. “Ask me properly, wife.”

She could have laughed, were it not so terrible a thing to be deprived of him. Like even air had become a secondary need. 

“Lucien,” she whispered, fisting her hands into the smooth fabric of his jacket. “Lucien, please touch me. I cannot bare a second long—“

It was all she needed to say, and not a word more. Lucien’s mouth crashed back into her own with all the violence of two objects pulled into a gravity they couldn’t control. He plunged a finger into her and took advantage of her resounding moan to slide his tongue inside her mouth. Every inch of her body was consumed by him. Her husband. And Elain melted into it.

Lucien seemed practiced with the way he smoothly countered each of her clumsy kisses, all the while steadily moving his finger in and out. A clocksmith tightening her gears too far. Too tight. Especially as he added a second finger, his thumb sweeping up to rub circles against her clit. Elain whimpered into his mouth, lost in the building pressure as her existence narrowed to nothing but the feeling of his body against hers.

“That’s it,” Lucien panted, when their lungs demanded air once more. “You want to come, Elain? What do you say?”

The pleasure crested, and Elain was certain she would come whether he permitted it or not. Still, drunk on his touch, she whispered, “Please.”

Humor cut through some of the wildness in his eyes. “Not that,” he breathed.

“Lucien—” she complained, exasperated that he was still playing these games.

He groaned, fingers speeding up. “Yes,” he said, like a man descending into delirium. “Yes, exactly that. Say my name, wife. Just like that. Please.”

“Lucien,” she moaned, the beginning of a chant as she shaped his name over and over, falling from her lips as easily as breath. Like she had known it all along, before she had even known her own name.

Something tight coiled in her chest, warm and vibrant as it tugged her closer to Lucien and wound around them both. Golden light exploded behind her eyes as Elain screamed from the pleasure that scorched through her blood. Lucien captured her mouth again, perhaps in an effort to stop the footman from overhearing what they were doing. She couldn’t find it in herself to care as wave after wave wrecked through her, leaving Elain trembling in her husband’s tight hold.

The first thing she noticed, as clarity began rushing her senses, was that Lucien’s chest was heaving. He was staring at her through wide eyes, bathed in hunger, and it made her mouth feel dry all over again.

“Was I good, then?” She found herself asking. Taunting, more like.

Lucien’s throat bobbed. “Very good,” he said gruffly, nodding his head. Those eyes flickered over her face, assessing. “Do you want to know how I reward my wife for being so good?”

Elain could guess by the way he hastily unlaced his trousers. A distant part of her thought it should have been terrifying, just as it had been the night before. That part must have been the first to burn in the fire that licked through her veins, so desperate and wanting that she would rather die than say no to this.

“Yes,” she whispered, so urgent that the please was unspoken but heard all the same. “Yes, Lucien.”

Hearing his name seemed to unlock something in her husband. He groaned, hands tightening against her hips to guide her over his waiting cock. The flushed head parted her lips, sparing a moment to teasingly glide over her clit before he notched it against her entrance.

Elain held her breath, expecting pain as Lucien allowed gravity to do most of the work, slowing sheathing himself in her body. His arms shook with the effort of stopping it from happening all at once, but Elain wished he didn’t bother. It felt incredible, every perfect inch of him stretching her to madness. When he was seated all the way they both groaned.

It was like satiating some primal creature that prowled beneath her skin. The itching, crawling desire subsided just enough that she could take a heavy breath. She wondered if it let up for Lucien at all, with the way he buried his face into her neck and gasped like his need were drowning him alive.

“My wife,” he panted, muffled against hair and skin and barely-there kisses at her throat. “My beautiful wife. So perfect. Mine.”

The words stirred something inside her. Yes, she thought, tightening her fists into his hair. Mine. 

She considered saying it back, but worried Lucien would collapse entirely if she did. They were hardly moving, too consumed in each other and this new feeling of closeness. Of becoming. 

Slowly, Elain shifted her hips, grinding herself against his cock. The sound that came out of him was low and guttural, more animal than man. She expected to reach some kind of trigger point, to push him until he snapped. But if anything, Lucien yielded to her, moaning into her neck as he matched her pace with slow rolls of his hips. She had the sense that this was not about pleasure for him. He only relished in the unhurried slide of their bodies, lavishing tender kisses along whatever skin his mouth could find. 

It would have been easy to become drunk on this power. It was addictive, the way her husband worshiped her as his fingers slid back between her legs and he returned his attention to that hooded bundle of nerves. 

“I want you to come on my cock next,” he said, voice rougher than the gravel their carriage trodded over. “Then my tongue,” he gasped, laving it against her collarbone like it were a demonstration of what he might do with it between her legs. She felt him shudder. “Then anywhere you’ll allow. Every inch of my skin.”

It seemed absurd, yet Elain only nodded, his fingers extremely persuasive.

“I want to be covered in you,” he said. “So that there is never any doubt to who I belong.”

Mine, something feral in her head chanted. You are mine, and I am yours.

Her chest tightened again, a golden band of tension that shuddered all the way down her spine until she was clenching so hard against him that the air expelled from Lucien’s chest. She felt him buck into her on reflex, but when it made her gasp and tug encouragingly on his hair, he did it again. 

“Lucien,” she urged, knowing that was all it took to unleash him. Her eyes fluttered shut as his hands came to brace around her thighs, holding her open as he lifted her on and off his cock like she weighed nothing.

“So fucking tight,” he grunted, hips snapping fiercely into hers. “My m—wife. My pretty wife. Say it again, please.”

Elain could feel herself being swept away in his rhythm, but she had enough sense to know what he was asking for. And to choose something better. Light swelled in her chest, so bright she was certain he would be able to see it, feel it. She used a fistful of his hair to bring his lips closer, so that he could taste the words as she shaped them. “Mine,” she said, more wild than she had ever heard her voice.

Lucien snarled—the sound half muffled as his mouth collided with hers and he slammed himself to the hilt. Release tore through her, lost to nothing but the tremor of their bodies and the demanding stroke of his tongue. The light burst, so bright it became a tangible thing that wrapped around them, binding them together until they were one. 

The kiss turned soft as the roaring in Elain’s ears died down and her senses slowly returned. His cock was still buried inside her, twitching from the last of his orgasm. Even as they broke away to catch their breath.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he asked through ravaged breath, his eyes shining so brilliantly she would have believed they were gemstones beneath a glittering sky. 

“Yes, Lord,” she panted, earning an exasperated laugh from her husband. His hands traced soothing strokes along her thighs. 

“It’s a long way to the inn,” he murmured, dropping his forehead against her shoulder. “I have plenty of time to continue teaching you.” Then, as if he’d caught a second wind, he straightened and pulled Elain back into his chest. She whimpered, overstimulated, as his fingers found her clit. She could already feel his cock growing harder inside her. 

With a devious chuckle, he asked, “How many times do you think I can make you come before we get there?”

-

Elain was boneless by the time they arrived at the inn—so exhausted she wasn’t even certain she would be able to walk. Thankfully, her husband ensured she wouldn’t have to. It was like every romantic moment she had ever imagined, the way Lucien cradled her against his chest and carried her up to their room. They would be sharing a bed on this occasion, which she could hardly complain about given how she had spent most of the last twelve hours sitting on his cock. 

“Stay here,” he said, gently laying her out on the bed. “I will go fetch us some supper.”

She stretched out on the bed while she waited for him to return, wincing against her stiff and aching muscles. Elain had never sat in a carriage for so long, nor had she ever had anything thicker than her fingers inside her. The ache was to be expected, she supposed, and she was dreading another full day of it. Perhaps Lucien would have to carry her around Velaris, too.

“Sore?” Lucien asked as he cracked the door open to the sight of Elain massaging her calves. He carried two trays of food in one hand and a jug of water in the other, all of which he abandoned on the bedside table in favor of taking her legs into his lap.

His hands were remarkably hot as they massaged into her stiff muscles, and she swore she felt instant relief beneath his touch. He smiled as she visibly relaxed into the bed, nodding his head toward the trays of food. “Eat,” he instructed. “It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Elain watched him curiously as she reached for one of the trays, delighted to find a bowl of warm stew. She kicked at him playfully in an effort to get him to release her leg as she passed him one of the bowls.

He was sweet, she thought absently, watching him spoon the soup into his mouth. She liked that he made her feel cared for, and she had enjoyed what they had done in the carriage. Perhaps it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to be married to a man like him.

Lucien raised his brows, lowering the spoon back into the bowl. “Something caught your eye?”

“No,” she said coyly, “But I was wondering what caught yours.”

His brows merged, russet and gold eyes tracking each of her movements carefully. She thought he looked like an animal assessing dangerous terrain. “You’ll have to be more specific. I don’t understand your meaning.”

“When you saw me in the village square,” Elain clarified. “What made you decide you wanted me to be your wife? Why not court me properly?”

It would have worked, she almost added, but pressed her lips together to refrain from doing so. She did not want to give him that control in the conversation.

Lucien frowned, setting down his bowl like the question had chased away his appetite. “I…” That frown deepened, pressing a deep line into his forehead. “In truth, lady, this is not how I wished for things to happen.”

That left such a bad taste in her mouth that Elain abandoned her stew as well. She sat up, an edge creeping into her voice as she said, “You chose for things to happen this way.”

“I did not,” he said calmly. “It is true that I was enamored on sight. But I would have preferred to court you properly. This marriage was Lord Nolan’s design, and my hand in it was as forced as your own.”

The world instantly turned on its side. Elain blinked rapidly. “You… You did not want this marriage?”

Lucien grimaced. It sounded awful to say it like that, but she could not blame him for saying yes when she had felt the same. 

He leaned forward, eyes burning as he said fiercely, “I do not regret it.”

Those words felt weighted. Like a confession. Elain searched his face, wondering what he wasn’t telling her.

Lucien took a heavy breath. “I wish that we had been allowed to court freely, but I will not pretend I am afflicted by our marriage. My only sorrow is that you might view me more as captor than husband.”

The room went so quiet, then, as Lucien watched her place the half-eaten bowl on the bedside table. Part of her wanted to reassure him that she did not feel like a prisoner. The other part had been willing to step foot into the forest and never return so that she could avoid marrying him. And that girl, no matter how fond she had become of her husband in the span of a day, was kicking and screaming for her to stay quiet as Lucien waited for her response.

She would not relieve him of his guilt for his decisions.

When she said nothing, he didn’t seem surprised. Though his eyes lost some of their gleam. “If that is the case,” he said gently, “then I shall endeavor to make you the happiest captive there ever was.” 

-

The CEO carried on talking. Her coworkers continued looking mildly disinterested. And yet Elain wanted to slam her laptop shut and curl into a ball of shame. Instead she took a slow breath and hovered her mouse over the exit button, praying the meeting would wrap up soon.

“Fucking hell, baby, just like that,” Lucien grunted. The sensual grate of his voice caught at her skin, causing the hairs to raise on her arms. Elain eyed the box with her camera on screen, watching her flushed-cheeked portrait subtly shift. “Such a—hng—good girl.”

“Elain,” the CEO said suddenly, causing Elain to straighten. “Do you have anything to add?”

Beyond the screen, she swore she heard a soft, rumbling puff of laughter. She tried to block it out, swallowing her nerves as she hastily clicked the button to unmute herself and stuttered out, “Uh n-n-no sir, nothing to add here.”

She muted herself just as quickly, terrified that any of the moaning and panting would seep through to the listening ears on the other end of the computer. The odd looks of her colleagues didn’t escape her notice, but she prayed they were a result of her unusual lack of composure and nothing more.

The meeting stretched an excruciating eternity longer before it ended, and Elain was again confronted with the reflection of her stained cheeks as the screen went black. Elain huffed as she leaned back in her seat, glaring out her window to the stoic windowpane beyond.

Suffice to say, Elain hated living next to Lucien Vanserra. 

Almost as much as she hated the girl he was fucking.

-

Elain started work two hours before Lucien did.

Two hours of listening to him pleasure some girl into madness before he politely escorted her out of his house. Elain didn’t know why she did it, her curiosity overpowering her sense of self preservation, but she peeked out the window into the courtyard of their building just to catch a glimpse of the retreating figure. Long, tangled blonde hair swished in step over the elegant black dress she wore.

The clothes she was wearing last night, if Elain had to guess. She’d had her fair share of walks of shame to recognize when it was being done. She just typically saved them for a weekend and not a Monday morning.

Elain dropped back into her seat with a sigh, eyes wandering back to the clock. 9:59. In the five months she’d lived in this building, Lucien had never once been late for work. She wondered if his new friend would be throwing a spanner into his otherwise pristine track record.

The numbers shifted at the top of her phone screen, and a message appeared alongside it as though he had been tracking the seconds. Even with no one there to witness, Elain still tried to hide her smile. 10:00. 

Airdrop:

“Lucien Vanserra” would like to share a photo.

Pressing her lips together to deter any sound, she brought her phone closer to peer at the details on the preview. Some men might choose to harass women by airdroping them pictures of their penis. Lucien chose memes. Probably because the first time he had done it, she had been so caught off guard that she couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from her lips.

The small box showed a cat with its arms outstretched. Written over it was heavy bold lettering that read, “GO AWAY MONDAY, pew pew pew.” Elain wanted to accuse him of being a flirt, and equally a liar. His Monday sounded as if it were going fantastically for him. Really, he should be sending stupid Monday memes to the girl who just left his apartment half dressed.

But she had never said a word to him before and she wasn’t going to start now. Elain tapped Decline, knowing fully well that Lucien wouldn’t be notified regardless of her choice. It still made her feel better, like she was making a statement with her silence.

“Good morning,” Lucien chirped, making Elain jump. 

The drapes of his window were pulled shut, as they always were. But for a second she felt so certain he was speaking to her that she opened her mouth to respond.

She was cut off by a much quieter male voice, tinny as it drifted through speaker and glass and wall to reach her. “You look like you’ve had a good night’s sleep.

Elain recognized that voice well enough—Lucien’s boss, Tamlin.

“You could say that,” Lucien said, the smugness in his voice making Elain wish their adjacent windows opened all the way so that she could lob a pencil at him. But he didn’t say anything else about his morning escapades, shifting into the strictly professional persona that she’d become accustomed to working beside.

Up until she heard the soft sound of a zoom call closing. There was a moment of silence where she imagined he slipped off his corporate smile and leaned back in his seat.

“Asshole,” he muttered.

Elain laughed. She’d overheard enough of Tamlin’s overbearing management style to agree with the assessment.

“Really?” She heard Lucien ask. Elain could picture the singular raised brow he had once shot at her when she stumbled through the hall with too many groceries and had glared at him for offering to help. That, and his stupid, irritating smirk that never seemed to leave his lips. “That earned a laugh, but not the cat?”

Elain glanced at her phone, for just a moment entertaining the idea of sending him that same meme back with the caption “GO AWAY EAVESDROPPER, pew pew pew.” 

It might have made him laugh, and the sound always reminded Elain of running barefoot through the grass with honeysuckle between her lips. Nothing in her adult life had ever felt so magical as a flower that smelled and tasted like golden syrup—or so she thought, until she heard Lucien Vanserra laugh and that same mirth had dropped on her tongue all over again.

Which was precisely why she pushed her phone out of sight, put in her headphones, and carried on with her workday as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

-

“Fuck, babygirl,” Lucien groaned. Elain’s teeth clenched harder with every obscene slap of skin that carried through the walls, threatening to crack a molar as she did her best to stare blankly at the camera.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he groaned, voice as rich and dark as the coffee steaming from the mug in Elain’s hand. If she could, she would dump it on him. “Keep your mouth open, baby, just like that. Good girl.”

What were the odds, Elain wondered, that she would end up living next to someone who couldn’t shut up in the bedroom? How many men had she dated who had the exact opposite problem, and now she was forced to endure this fantasy second-hand? 

“You like letting me use your mouth like this?” It was so filthy that Elain had to duck her face into her mug in an attempt to hide the flush that was spreading over her cheeks. “I know you do, such a good little slut for me.”

Elain choked, which she was certain Lucien wasn’t unused to hearing in response to those words, but in this case it was coffee that spluttered out of her mouth and onto the desk. She coughed, waving apologetically at her colleagues as she shut her camera off and stood up.

The walk from her office to the kitchen was a momentary reprieve, the sex noises only a distant taunt as she blindly grabbed for a roll of paper towel. She stopped in her laundry room to shrug off her ruined blouse before she came back into the office to mop up the spill.

She could still hear his grunting.

 “So fucking tight, baby.”

And maybe it was jealousy.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?”

Maybe it was the fact that she’d embarrassed herself in her meeting.

“That’s it. So fucking good for me. Ready to do it again?”

But Elain felt something snap.

Before she knew what she was doing, Elain had grabbed her phone and was pulling up pictures of condoms on Google images. It only took a minute before she was clicking on his name from the Airdrop menu. And hardly a minute after that before she heard, “Are you serious?”

That was the girl’s voice, and Elain recognized that tone as one belonging to any woman who just witnessed a man do something with unbridled audacity.

“Sorry,” she heard Lucien say, still breathless. “I just…”

Elain bit her lip, wandering closer to the window as she, for once, strained to hear every word coming from Lucien’s apartment.

“You seriously stopped to check your phone in the middle of sex?” The girl demanded. Despite being the instigator, Elain found herself hoping she kicked Lucien’s ass for it. “Who the fuck is Elain?”

“She’s…”

My neighbor, he should have said. Perhaps it wouldn’t have vindicated him, but it would have at least impeded the conclusion that any self respecting person would draw.

“Oh my god,” the girl said, sounding so appalled that Elain felt guilty for her part. “You’re using me to cheat on someone!?”

“No, not at all—”

“Forget this,” she snapped, followed by the sounds of shuffling that made Elain guess she was quickly throwing her clothes back on. 

“Seriously,” Lucien insisted. “I’m not dating anyone, Elain is just—”

“Someone that you stop in the middle of sex to check your messages from?” The girl wasn’t giving him an inch. “Or was I just boring you?”

Even Elain winced.

“No—” Lucien started, but he was cut off by a slamming door. And then another one, further away. Elain stayed where she was at the window, watching with wide eyes as the girl came into view, angrily storming across their building’s courtyard to the parking lot.

The curtains of Lucien’s window tore open, and Elain’s attention instantly redirected to the tall, very naked man she had only ever caught sidelong glimpses of in the hallway. He was unfairly attractive, golden brown skin gleaming as the sun caught at his sweat. 

His handsome face was drawn, scarlet brows pressing together as he watched the blonde haired girl push into her car. Elain’s mouth felt dry, especially as her traitorous eyes trailed away from his face, marking the tensed and heaving muscles of his chest and abdomen. Fine red hair teased below his navel, guiding Elain’s to a thick patch of scarlet curls and, more importantly, the massive penis that was still half-erect. And, dear god, did she suddenly understand why that girl would scream so loud at 8 in the morning. 

Elain watched, fascinated, as his penis bobbed, stiffening before her very eyes. It was then she realized that Lucien’s attention was no longer on the girl in the parking lot.

He was staring right at her. 

And she still hadn’t put a new shirt on. She supposed that put them on somewhat equal footing. She couldn’t find it in herself to be scandalized by his less-than-subtle survey of her exposed chest when she had just been oogling his erection.

“Busy morning?” He asked, like they were fucking work colleagues talking about the weather.

Elain stared back unflinchingly. “Not as busy as yours, it seems.”

It was the first thing she had ever said to Lucien. She was certain that’s why a smirk was blooming on his stupidly perfect lips.

His russet eyes were full of nothing but challenge. “It could have been busier. It’s a shame my neighbor likes to meddle.”

“I was only encouraging you to be safe,” she said with feigned innocence. “It’s a shame you decided to immediately check your phone.”

It was a question more than she’d liked to admit, an unspoken why? hanging off her words. Lucien cocked his head like he heard it, was processing it.

And sidestepped the question completely as he said, “Eavesdropping is rude, you know.”

Elain scoffed. “So is having loud sex with your windows open.”

His eyes slanted towards her desk. “I think you’d find those headphones work wonders.”

“I was in a meeting,” she snapped.

Lucien raised his brows, eyes pointedly darting to her chest to remind Elain that she was only wearing a bra. “I can see that,” he said dryly. “I’m jealous—I could never get Tamlin to dress up in pretty lace for me on my work calls”

“He’s probably worried you’ll tell him he’s a good girl.” 

Delight flickered in Lucien’s eyes, and Elain had the sense that he enjoyed a little pushback. “Oh I would never tell Tamlin he’s a good girl. He’s far too much of a brat.”

That final word rolled off his lips with an emphasis that sent Elain’s pulse rushing. She knew without asking that she was in company with Tamlin in that regard. 

Maybe she wanted to prove him right. Maybe she wanted to see how brats got treated by someone who spilled praise so readily in the bedroom. Maybe that’s why the question left her lips before she could weigh the consequences of asking it.

“What does he get instead, a few swats on the ass?”

There it was again, that perfect, irritating smirk. Paired with a heated once-over that made her knees feel weak. “Do you want to find out, Elain?”

God, the way he said her name made it sound filthy.

“I want you to shut your windows,” She said indignantly.

“Will I get anything in exchange?” The way his eyes wavered on the swell of her breasts and his erection bobbed, she thought she knew exactly what he would ask for. Wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t give it to him, if he asked.

Her responding smile was sickly sweet. “In exchange, you won’t have police showing up at your door for a noise complaint.”

If anything, that seemed to make him harder. She could see him measuring her expression, deciding how bold he could be. Elain found herself licking her lips in anticipation, willing him to keep playing the game.

His voice was low, each syllable scraping roughly against her skin. “Why don’t we make them show up at your door instead?”

Elain had to try very hard to pretend she was unimpressed as she raked her eyes over his form. “I doubt I’d be making much noise at all.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a promise.”

One that he very much looked like he intended to disprove. 

His smile was nothing short of shameless. “Why don’t we have a drink together after work?” 

Elain couldn’t help but laugh. He was pressing his luck and they both knew it. “Do I need to remind you that your dick is still wet from the last girl you bought a drink?”

“You didn’t seem to mind by the way you’ve been staring at it,” he retorted. Elain’s face felt hot, irrational anger boiling in her stomach. Surely, most men would have at least a shred of humility to be in this situation. How could he stand so proudly with his dick out after being rejected by two girls in the space of an hour?

Elain shook her head in disbelief. “You need to call her back and apologize for being an ass.” She frowned as she glanced at her desk, eyes drifting towards at work laptop. The screen had gone black from inactivity and she cringed as she remembered the meeting she’d left. “And I need to get back to work.”

Lucien pressed his hand to the glass, dark lips parting to say something, but Elain cut him off by leaving the room in search of a new shirt. She wasn’t going to let his charming words make her forget that he’d just been fucking another girl. He was nothing but a flirt, and Elain had already had enough of men who were only capable of thinking with their dicks. Regardless of how beautiful his face, she knew that Lucien Vanserra was bad news.

The curtains were still open when Elain came back to her desk. Lucien had disappeared from the window, but if she craned her head she could see where he stood in front of his dresser, tugging a shirt over his head.

He turned, and their eyes met. Elain scrambled to open her computer, refusing to witness his smirk at catching her in the act.

She could feel him staring at her, but she kept her eyes trained on the screen. His office was in his bedroom. At least that explained why she could overhear everything.

How was she supposed to concentrate on filling out spreadsheets with those stupid russet eyes studying her every move? She felt like a bug squirming beneath a lens, every move being picked apart and examined. What did he see, she wondered?

Probably the same thing she saw when her screen went black again after she spent too long thinking about his naked body instead of actually doing her work. Red, condemning cheeks. 

It was the proximity, she told herself, taking a steadying breath. It was the fact that she couldn’t leave, and that when he sat down in his desk they could have been office colleagues for how close they sat.

10:00.

Airdrop:

“Lucien Vanserra” would like to share a photo.

She declined it without even looking at the preview, ignoring the way he watched her over his desktop.

Airdrop:

“Lucien Vanserra” would like to share a photo.

Elain gritted her teeth. She snatched her phone and quickly hit decline. Then, holding his gaze, she held the screen up to the window so he could see she was switching it off. 

He grinned, and Elain suddenly felt stupid for giving him any attention at all. “You know you could have  just turned off your airdrop.”

“You’ve lost curtain privileges,” she snapped, tugging her curtains shut so she didn’t have to look at his smug face.

But she could still hear him laugh. Still taste that honesysuckle on her lips.

“Enjoy your dark room,” he said.

Elain turned her phone back on just so she could airdrop him a picture of her middle finger.

He sent back an admittedly tasteful picture of his penis. It was the first time in five months she’d ever hit accept. A secret between Elain and the curtains.

“This could be considered sexual harassment, you know,” she hummed, stalling as she scoured through pictures of penises on the internet. She would begrudgingly admit it took her a while to find one that was nicer than his, but the second she found one that was both thicker and larger she wasted no time in airdropping it to him.

He laughed good naturedly. “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be.”

Elain pressed her lips together to silence her laughter. Her ex boyfriend would have been catatonic if she’d sent him a picture of a penis.

“Think you can take it?” 

“Are you offering?”

It felt easier to talk to him without looking at his face. Maybe that’s what made her bolder. “Will you let me call you a good slut?”

“I’ll let you call me whatever you want.” There was a sincerity to his voice that shook some of her resolve.

“That girl you’ve been seeing…”

“We aren’t dating,” he said hastily. “Just two adults, having some mutual fun.”

“Is that what you’re after then? Just some fun?” Elain had only ever been in long-winded relationships. She was more than a little curious what just fun could look like with someone like Lucien.

“Why?” She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Are you interested?”

This was such dangerous territory. Elain could pratically hear the warning bells going off in her mind. Nothing was ever just fun. Things would get weird and messy and complicated. They were neighbors. There would be no escaping him if things went wrong.

“You get one drink,” she said finally. Before he could say something smart, she added, “Here. Me in my apartment and you in yours. Only if you promise to leave me alone the rest of the work day.” After a moment’s thought, she quickly added, “And you have to wear clothes.”

“I have a tendency to,” he quipped. Then, “Will the curtains be open?”

“As long as you behave yourself.”

Another laugh. Soft, brushing over air to soak into her skin. “I never do.

-

Elain was nervous. She knew it was silly to be—she was having a drink inside her own home. The most they could do was talk. Yet she found herself making her drink extra strong, hoping it would lend her some liquid courage.

He was already sitting in his chair when she pulled the curtain back, long fingers braced loosely around a crystal glass. It was raised to his mouth, and Elain could help staring at the gleam it left behind on his plush lips. 

She settled cautiously on her chair. “Did you have a nice day at work?”

“You could hear the entire thing,” he said, raising one of those scarlet brows.

“Believe it or not, I don’t listen in on your every word.”

It was a lie. Elain hardly ever wore her headphones, which meant she was privy to nearly every one of his workcalls. But she had a feeling the same was true for him.

“Work was lovely,” he said, which she also knew was a lie. From the sounds of it, his work day had been stressful. But Lucien leaned forward, bracing his arms against his knees. “Do you want to know why work was lovely, Elain?”

She took a heavy swallow of the martini she’d made for herself. “Why was work lovely, Lucien?”

“Because I got to sit through it knowing that at the end of the day, I’d get to have a drink with you.”

“I didn’t know my boobs made such a lasting impression,” she said flatly.

That toyed a smile on his lips. “It was your penis, actually.”

She laughed around the rim of her glass. “Funny, I was going to say the same of you.”

“Oh?”

“It’s not everyday you see one waving at you through a window,” she joked. And maybe, if she was being honest, she’d looked at that picture he’d sent more than a few times through the course of the day.

Lucien’s smile was a wicked thing as he took a long pull from the amber liquid in his hand. “What were you doing shirtless, anyway?”

“I…” choked, she almost said. But she could already see the jokes he would make at her expense. You like letting me use your mouth like this? It had been one thing to hear him speak like that, having never seen him naked. But thinking of it now…

She cleared her throat. “I spilled coffee on myself.”

“Oh? How unfortunate,” he replied, bringing that glass back to his mouth with that same infuriating smirk. Elain crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for whatever was coming next. 

“How often do you spill coffee and stand shirtless in front of the window? I can time my mornings around–”

“Oh stop. You know why I was standing by the window,” she retorted, the unspoken question hanging between them. 

Lucien, it seemed, was determined to make this painful. He watched her with dark russet eyes, swirling the amber liquid in his hands. “You were so desperate to see my—”

“Why did you answer my message then?”

“You couldn’t guess?” 

Elain blinked, brain grinding to a screeching halt. Words eluded her as she tried to think of something clever to say, something that would lighten the suddenly oppressively tense atmosphere between them. The window was not helping—he might as well have been in her lap. 

Lucien took another drink. “Same reason I like to fuck at seven in the morning.”

Elain choked on the air she had been gulping down. Their eyes locked and held through that window. Did he want her to hear? 

“And the same reason I keep air-dropping you messages you keep ignoring,” he finished. “Hoping one day you’ll respond…hoping you’ll invite me over.”

Elain cleared her throat, trying to lighten the mood despite the way her whole body had gone taut with want. All those mornings listening to him pleasuring that blonde, wondering what it would be like was for her benefit? “Seems like a lot of effort for one person.”

Lucien’s gaze narrowed and she wasn’t sure he’d could see anything but her. “It was hardly any effort at all, Elain.”

Elain swallowed the contents of her glass like it was a shot, the memory of his thickening penis still burned behind her eyes.

“Do you want to come over, Lucien?”

A slow smile crept over his face. “Be right there.”

-

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

The second Lucien’s figure disappeared around the doorway, headed towards her

apartment, Elain began a frantic scramble for her bedroom. She went first to her underwear drawer, throwing neatly folded lace around in her urgency to find something interesting.

She had told herself this was just going to be talking. She was not prepared at all for a bedroom guest. Elain couldn’t even remember the last time she’d waxed her—

Three solid, friendly knocks on her door had her scrambling quickly to change into the nicer piece of lingerie.

“Shit,” she grumbled, grabbing quickly at the stuffed animals on her bed and the errant clothes on the floor, all of which she tossed into her closet. Another three knocks, this time a little more urging.

“Don’t tell me you’re playing hard to get now,” he called through the door.

Elain was breathless as she answered the door. She wondered if it was obvious what she’d just been doing. 

Lucien braced himself casually against the doorframe. “Am I allowed to come in, or were you just teasing me?”

Up close, he was so breathtaking it was maddening. Surely, with a dick and face like his, there had to be something horribly wrong with him? Elain couldn’t think of anything readily apparent as she opened the door wider and watched him duck through the frame. He was so tall, practically flooding the entryway as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

God, what did she say? How did they segue into this? Nice to meet you face to face, now kindly show me your penis?

Lucien glanced around the space thoughtfully, studying her sister’s paintings that hung on the walls, the potted plants tucked into every corner she could find a space. He was smiling. “Nice place.”

Elain almost laughed to think they’d circled back to small talk. She opened her mouth to respond, trying to think of something clever to say, but Lucien was clearly getting impatient, too. He grabbed her by the waist and crashed his lips to hers, saving her the effort of playing host. She could taste the alcohol on his lips, stronger once her mouth opened under his.

Was this what people meant, when they say you can get drunk on kissing? The honeyed whiskey on his tongue was something she certainly could lose herself in. Her arms wound around his neck, and suddenly there was a wall behind her back.

She gasped from the force of being unexpectedly pushed into it, and Lucien eagerly swallowed the sound. His hard body pressed against hers, erection already pressing against her thigh.

He pulled away to gasp, “Bedroom?”

“First door on the left,” she breathed, before his mouth fell back to hers. He kissed like he was starving, like he wanted to devour her whole.

Those warm, broad hands had already begun wandering. Moving up from their respectful place at her hips, sliding under her shirt until he had a generous handful of each breast. His thumbs teased beneath the fabric of her bra, and she squirmed beneath his touch as they brushed over her sensitive nipples.

He laughed against her mouth. How delightful, to know that it actually did taste like honeysuckle, and a healthy drop of whiskey. “Just as soft as they looked from my window.”

Elain’s voice was little more than a rasp. “Did your fantasies about being invited over include groping me in the hallway?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly, pressing down hard enough with his thumb to make her gasp. “They included groping you in every room.”

But he got the hint. His hands retreated from teasing her breasts in favor of sliding down to her thighs. He lifted her effortlessly, and she used the opportunity to twine her legs around his waist. They both groaned when that meant she ground herself directly against his straining cock.

He walked blindly through her apartment, too absorbed in keeping his mouth and tongue moving against her own. She didn’t need to worry about cleaning her bedroom, for all he noticed of the world outside of her lips.

She was deposited hastily onto the bed, simply dropped onto her back while he hovered over her, eyes roving darkly over her body like he were trying to decide what to unwrap first. He settled on the buttons of her jeans, fingers nimble as they pushed metal through cloth and yanked. 

Elain took a deep breath, watching the way his attention honed immediately onto the pretty piece of lace she’d slid up her legs just for him.

He fell to his knees.

No one had ever looked at her so hungrily as Lucien Vanserra. He grabbed at her ankles, pressed an errant kiss to the inside of her leg, and then pulled until she was half off the bed, thighs braced against his shoulders.

She should have guessed from what she’d overheard that he was a man of few reservations, but still her mouth fell open with shock as Lucien held her gaze and licked a long strip over the cotton with the flat of his tongue.

“Are you wet for me?” he murmured, toying playfully at the hem of the lace. He prodded his tongue against her entrance, humming at the arousal that was already seeping through the cotton. “Tastes like it.”

It scrambled her brain effectively enough that she needed to remind herself to breathe. She licked her lips in an effort to put moisture back into her mouth. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m a good girl?”

“This is the part where you get to earn it,” he said roughly. “You’ve been a brat all day. Brats don’t get rewarded.”

“You’re going down on me,” Elain pointed out, simply unable to help herself. “That feels like a reward.”

That mouth twisted into the most roguish smile she’d ever seen. With a single finger, he pulled aside the fabric to expose her flushed, glistening lips. And then he buried his tongue inside her.

Elain arched off the bed, panting softly as she ground her hips against his face. Lucien’s hand pressed into her hips to keep her still, hard enough that she was certain they would leave bruises there in the morning. The other hand teased at her clit, rubbing delicious circles in time with the strokes of his tongue.

She clenched her teeth, trying desperately to contain the sounds bubbling in her throat if only to maintain her pride at her stupid promise. I doubt I’d be making much noise at all. Even then, it had been a bluff, but she hadn’t thought the man ate pussy like it was his favorite fucking meal.

With a languid swipe through her folds, his tongue came up to replace his thumb at her clit. He swirled broad, flat circles that had her eyes fluttering shut, only to snap open when he sucked hard on her clit. 

Despite her best efforts, she moaned. Loudly. Lucien pulled away with a smirk, teasing her with soft tweaks of his thumb as he warned, “Not too loud. A disgruntled neighbor might call the cops on us.”

Yet as he returned his tongue to her, she couldn’t help it. The gasps tore from her lips entirely unbidden, pleasure becoming a rattling thing in her otherwise empty body. It was a crawling, living thing that she couldn’t contain, and she felt the need to squirm. To push closer and demand he give her more.

But that strong hand held her hips down. And when she raised her hands to thread them urgently into his silken hair, tugging to encourage him closer, Lucien did the opposite. She could have cried when he pulled away, leaving her clenching around nothing.

“Behave, Elain,” he cautioned. The warning note in his voice could have just as easily been a shot of whiskey for the way it made her head spin, felt so warm pooling down her stomach.

“If this is the treatment brats get, I don’t see why I should,” she said, breath heavy.

Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Pick a safeword.”

And fuck, if she had thought the way he looked at her was heady before. Her cunt squeezed painfully, and she thought she might actually die if he didn’t put something inside her in the next second.

“Airdrop,” she whispered.

Her underwear was yanked down her legs and tossed aimlessly over his shoulder. She didn’t have time to watch it fall, because Lucien flipped her onto her stomach so that she was bent over the bed.

The first slap on her ass rang out in the otherwise silent room. Elain cried out mostly from surprise. No one had ever hit her in the bedroom before. Her heart was beating so loud she could feel each pulse in her throat. The second slap stung, enough that tears blurred the edge of her vision. But worse than that was the heat that rushed between her thighs, until she was aching with a need so desperate she risked the wrath of his palm to arch her ass into the air.

“Fucking hell, Elain,” he breathed, hands gently soothing over the hurt. “Look at you bent over like this for me.” His hands trailed lower, dipping back into her arousal. “Soaked. Is this why you act like such a brat? You like being spanked?”

He slid a finger into her. She moaned, an effort to keep her hips still as she welcomed the friction greedily. She heard him swear, his finger moving lazily inside her.

The bed dipped behind her, and she felt the warmth of his body as he leaned over to whisper in her ear, “Think you can keep quiet while I make you come on my tongue? It should be easy for you, right?” His finger was still teasing her, grinding against a spot that had her shaking in his grip. “But just to help you out, I’ll give you some incentive. The louder you scream, the harder I’ll slap. Sound good?”

Elain found herself nodding, thinking it shouldn’t be that hard to stay quiet, right? 

“Good girl,” he whispered, followed by a soft laugh as he felt her walls immediately clench around him. 

He fell back between her legs with little preamble, immediately licking at the fresh arousal from the small bout of spanking. Elain buried her face into the mattress, letting it smother every errant pant that fled her lips so that Lucien couldn’t hear.

Except when his tongue dived back inside her with renewed vigor, and his arm twined around her so he could press quick, tight circles against her clit, Elain was finding it much more difficult to keep quiet. Her hands turned to fists in the blanket, something about the effort of not making noise making it all the more difficult.

The pleasure was building, merciless and insistent, and she couldn’t help the small moan that eventually escaped. It earned her a sharp, immediate swat with his free hand—already braced to deliver it. And of course, the sting made her gasp, earning her another one. 

Pain twisted with the pleasure of his tongue, increasing the intensity to a metric that made her want to scream. And fuck, did he know how to use those fingers to torture her. The pressure built, and Elain started squirming in his touch. Half desperate to get away, half desperate to get closer. Like she was being torn in half by her desire.

She could feel her walls clenching around his tongue. Her body was tense, sweating with the effort to contain every ragged breath he tore from her lungs. If she took one too loud, it earned her a gentle tap on the swollen, tender skin. 

Lucien searched with each thrust of his tongue until he found a spot that sent her hips twitching, and he kept his attention there, laving at that cluster of nerves, feeling her body shudder beneath him until he forced a cry from her lips.

She could feel the way he smiled against her, pleased that he was able to deal out another punishing hand. Elain cried out against the slap, finding it all too much, too overwhelming with the razor-tipped bliss of his tongue and fingers.

Another slap, and she was screaming, the pain splintering through her body like she were shattered glass and his thrusting tongue was the final stone that made it all come crashing down. She couldn’t register anything beyond the excruciating euphoria that punched through her body, pushing the air out of her lungs in a piercing shriek. It earned her one hard, final slap as she came over his face.

Elain slumped into the bed, gasping as she blinked back tears. Her body felt like a fragile, foreign thing that she hadn’t quite settled back into. The weight shifted on the bed as Lucien stood up and disappeared. She pushed up on her elbows, vision still bleary as she watched him retreat out her bedroom door.

For a moment her heart sank. Was that… just fun? Not even a good job, see you next week? Her ass was still throbbing from his hand, and he just drops the mic and leaves?

She felt foolish when he returned moments later, a cloth in his hand. Elain tensed as he pressed it to her tender skin. It was cool to the touch, soothing once she adjusted to the shock of it.

His hands stroked through her hair, and she turned her head to see that he was watching through tender eyes. “You did such a good job.” He ducked his head to press a kiss to her temple. “How are you doing?”

“My ass hurts,” she said honestly.

Lucien winced. “I’m sorry if I—”

“Don’t,” she cut off. “Don’t apologize. I… I enjoyed it.”

He sighed in relief, looking sheepish as he glanced back towards the cloth he rested laid on her ass. “I don’t think we should keep going. Do you want me to leave?”

No. God, no, she didn’t. But would she look needy, desperate even, if she asked him to stay? He was staring at her, expression guarded well enough that she couldn’t read which way he was inclined.

“Well…” she bit her lip, then glanced over her shoulder to the cloth on her red ass. “Since you’ve thoroughly immobilized me, I think it’s only fair I make you stay and bring me dinner.”

Lucien’s smile was bright enough that she thought maybe he wanted to stay, too. “I suppose that’s only fair,” he said, settling into the bed beside her. “First, though, come here.”

He laid back and opened his arms. Elain wasted no time in shuffling over to him, tucking herself into his chest. He stroked his hands through her hair and over her back.

“Am I still a brat?” she murmured.