#ahs 7

The second thing you feel is the ache between your legs. Your eyelids are heavy, and behind them you catch flashes of an imagined, blurry reality: a glimpse of Kai’s open mouth skimming over one of your breasts, a flash of his head wedged between your thighs. Your eyes flick open, and all of a sudden, your heart is racing. You shouldn’t be imagining him that way. 

Being in Kai’s bed is a privilege most of the group don’t get. It isn’t usually one you’re allowed, but you’d done particularly well last night, driving your ice pick through the mayor’s eye, twisting and pulling it back out, bloodied. So you’d been invited upstairs. And fuck, the scent of him and the thick floral perfume from the hallway had made for a heady combination. 

You turn to meet his gaze, the covers pooling around your waist. At the sight of his face, another wave of inconvenient desire crashes over you. “Divine Ruler,” you say softly, eyes darting down to your lap, then to his. 

Kai pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face upwards, his expression halfway between dark lust and disapproval. “You know better than to let yourself fall victim to primal urges.”

You nod, your heart beating faster. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “It was a dream.” 

“Dreams kill the mind,” Kai says. “Dream while you’re awake. Don’t waste ideals.”

“I don’t,” you say. You shift upward, leaning against his headboard. His hand falls, skimming over your breasts, your stomach. “You know that.”

You watch him swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes dance across your skin. “What were you dreaming about?” he asks. The way he speaks keeps his lips close together, and when his sentence finishes, you’re left wondering whether or not he spoke at all. His fingers dig into the meat of your inner thigh, making your breath catch in your throat, your problem growing. 

“You,” you admit. There’s no point in lying to him; he’ll know. And either way, your dynamic doesn’t work if it’s impeded by dishonesty. Your thighs clench together when his blunt fingertips skim over the front of your underpants, heart speeding up as you try to keep yourself from rocking against him. 

His gaze doesn’t break from your eyes, his stare penetrative and all-seeing. He’s always been able to see all of you, hasn’t he? Recently, there’s been a new blankness to his expressions. The layers are gone now that he’s achieved his foremost goal—followers; people at his beck and call; a small, devout, suburban army. 

You don’t look away either, just shift your hips, nudging his fingers harder against your damp underwear. There’s something about this. It’s an absurd power rush. Here you are, in Kai’s bed, using Kai’s fingers to stroke your clit through your clothes. And he’s still looking at you. Through your skull, into your mind, unspooling and dissecting every thought that’s ever passed behind your eyes. 

His breathing is rough, his eyes half-lidded, pupils blown, like he’s high on you. Nobody else gets this. None of the men sleeping on top of each other in the basement, coming down from last night’s celebrations. Not the handful of women in the living room. You. 

Something snaps between you and he rolls over, covering your body with the shadow of his, his head eclipsing the light streaming in from the window on the opposite wall, morning haloing him. His hands are rough on your hips, the pads of his fingers dragging over your skin, slipping beneath your underwear. “Are you that weak?” he asks you, hooking his forefinger in the elastic waistband, pulling them down and off, making you keen. “I thought you were stronger.” 

“I am strong,” you protest, rolling your hips into his, trying to stave off the feeling of the cold air on your wet cunt. “Desire isn’t indicative of—oh…Kai—mental delicacy—”

“But you are delicate,” Kai says, cupping the space between your thighs, not quite touching. “So delicate that you let your subconscious control you.” His voice is low. You always fight like this. In some ways, you’re grateful. You’re worth his time, his arguments. If you weren’t, you’d be dead instead of just at odds. 

“The unconscious mind handles primal desires. Id. My ego can’t work while I’m asleep—” You whine slightly when he dips his middle finger into you, thumb brushing your clit. “Freud.” 

“Freud,” he echoes, mocking. 

“It’s not all Oedipus,” you say, arching your back when he adds another finger, curling them both and gripping your side with his free hand, keeping you down. “Fuck…”

Kai nods, the tiniest iota of praise at your display of pleasure, bowing his head and sucking a dark bruise onto your jaw. He never could let you go unmarred. “You’re my favorite,” he says. “The others, they don’t make me feel this way.”

Bright, fiery pride blooms in your chest, settling above the mounting pressure in your abdomen. You make him feel something special. You keen, letting out another high-pitched noise, chasing both the sensations he was eliciting in your body and in your mind. He could pull anything out of you. 

His teeth sink shallowly into the curve of your neck. His canines are sharp, and your muscles scream under them. You hope they draw blood. You want to paint yourself in vulnerability, open yourself up to him. Your thighs clench around his wrist. 

“Come,” he demands, and who are you to deny him?

Your orgasm shudders over you, the pleasure crescendoing in a wave that makes your thighs and shoulders shake, makes tears bead on your lower eyelashes. “Kai—” you cry, “Divine Ruler.”

“Kai,” he corrects. He pets your hair. Pushes it behind your ear. “You’ve earned that much.”

tags: @z0mbie-unic0rn @star-rey-night @ethereallmonkey @posiebb @kylesdove

messed up my taglist - lmk if you're not supposed to be here (or if you are!)

how do we feel about this one gang. lmk. i'm unsure. i kind of don't like it. kind of a bad grand return

pov is skewed. obviously in actuality the dynamic & kai's actions aren't how reader perceives them