#auberghynwrites

It was fool-proof, and yet here you were, all plans gone out the window, as if the universe decided that your solo travel had to stop at a certain point; sharing a single metallic bunk with someone whose presence set your nerves alight as well as the desire pulsing through your veins. 

But if you were being completely honest, the change of pace didn't bother you too much. Not really. It was just…exhausting. Your body aches and pulses, leaving you dizzy, drained, and yet, impossibly craving more.

As soon as you hit thirty, you realize you’d never truly lived. All you ever did was work and work and work, confined to that menial third rock from the sun, a planet with days too short for dreams and years that flashed by before you could even blink.

You could only dream of what everyone else experienced, leaping across the stars, talking about visiting planets several hundred thousand light-years away, much as your ancestors once talked about quick trips to Aruba. And you? You were stuck in a routine of nothing but too much labour, coming home to an empty flat in Centretown, a cluster of affordable housing in this seemingly solarpunk paradise. Yet, the air grew more toxic every year.

The city you lived in was one of the cookie-cutter solutions by the One Government, an assemblage of buildings under a greenhouse dome. Outside of it was nothing but a wasteland, with remnants of old civilizations stacked up to the ozone layer. 

Some people didn’t mind the change over time, attributing it to humanity’s adaptability. But you see it as a terrarium for humans, a sanitized box of false hope that keeps whoever’s left alive. At night, you hear the harsh winds scraping against the dome’s protective sphere, making you wonder about a time when it might fail, and humanity would cease to exist.

You might prefer it that way, so you don’t have to keep attending those accursed family gatherings where relatives feel obligated to comment on your appearance, saying you’re practically taking up too much space. You’ve already made peace with the natural way your body has grown fuller, softer as you aged, a progression that feels human in contrast to all the artificial and synthetic aspects of life around you. Then there are the other relatives reminding you to settle down and keep the bloodline going, and even worse, the ones who manage to nag you about both in the same breath. You just want to spite them all for their relentless pestering.

It was a sickening, repetitive tune. Even a couple of millennia into the future, the expectations for women never changed. You had just had enough of the nonsense thrown your way.

So, you snapped. You emptied your life savings and purchased a driftpod. It might have been the most impulsive thing you’ve done in your life, with relatives calling you stupid and all that, but you didn’t care; their words were meaningless to you.

As you let an escort ship shuttle you past the last safe checkpoint in the familiar solar system, you bid the vast yet enclosed space you were familiar with goodbye.

It had been three years then, hopping between moons, one jump after another, from star system to star system. You’d passed by planets that differed wildly from one another, a few that reminded you of home, others that were too icy or too volcanic for your liking, and then there were alien planets that rained molten iron or hurtled glass shards like a never-ending storm.

You didn’t have a galactic permit to land on any of the planets with safe terrain for a supply run or even a short visit, not that you could afford it in the first place, so you made do by heading for the bunkers scattered throughout the galaxies. They were built on moons that were either too big or too small, but that was the beauty of it — the isolation, the freedom to slip away from anyone else’s presence.

You were far from home — too far — but you preferred it this way, preferred the peaceful independence you felt when you pushed your driftpod into hyperspace, drifting across the galaxy without a care in the world.

Your previous stop had been Camrina, a moon with blood red soil, but you weren’t there for long, unaware of the war that was going on, so you hightailed out of there and found yourself wandering into the outer rim of the Coperyn System.

In the shadowed territory at the farthest end, you found a tiny, secluded moon where everything promptly went wrong. As it turns out, you weren’t the only one running from your problems.

You didn’t expect company in a single metallic bunker in the middle of fuckwhere, let alone to end up sharing its only bunk.

Your driftpod landed on the rocky terrain just as his landed a few metres away. You thought he was there to replace his solar batteries, but when he started unloading his belongings into the bunker, you marched your way inside. 

There was hardly an exchange at all. He just sat on the bunk, motionless, watching you like you’d grown a second head while you berated him. Or at least that’s what you assumed, since you could barely read anything behind the skull fixture — which should have given you pause in the first place. A hulking man in a military-grade exosuit and a skull helmet should’ve been enough to deter anyone from engaging.

Still, you kept talking, completely incensed, and although your mouth moved to give him a piece of your mind, your thoughts drifted to the way his head tilted toward you, not in mockery but in a sort of interest — and that surprised you, since most of the stares you’ve gotten in the past weren’t with good intentions. You were well aware of the softness of your frame against the hard metal around you, but he didn’t seem put off. If anything, his posture eased, as though your presence didn’t intimidate him in the slightest, and you weren’t sure if you’d take it as a compliment or an insult. 

But then, you saw his shoulders tighten, and you thought for a split second he was about to lunge, and your mouth snapped shut. But he didn’t rise — he only rolled his shoulders back, flexing as if he’d been holding the tension for far too long.

You realized, then, that he hadn’t spoken a word back. You didn’t know if he was mute or didn’t understand Commonspeak, too riled up to put your translator on in case he was born somewhere you’re unfamiliar with, so you gave up, threw your hands in defeat, and went to prepare to take off to find another nearby bunker — only for your driftpod to have other plans. 

After the galactic vehicle you’d spent a fortune on for your thirtieth birthday sputtered once and died, probably due to three years of nonstop use finally catching up, you tried contacting support, but before you could send the message, hands trembling with anger and disappointment, a voice rang out behind you.

“Y’need t’get that engine rebooted,” he said through comms out of the blue, and you almost screamed, totally unexpecting him to speak. When you turned to him, he remained unmoved, but you did hear a soft crackling huff, like a chuckle. The bastard. 

With nary another word from him, he proceeded to inspect your vehicle, already taking his toolkit out from his gear pack. 

It didn’t take him long to diagnose the issue. His assessment was immediate as he pulled himself from underneath the hull: “Engine’s burnt out. Gonna take five light days to fix,” he said, and you’ve only heard that term before a few times: a light day depends on the length of the sun in this particular territory, and after consulting your datapad, wanting to understand your situation more before you say anything else, your location dictates that it would take ten earth weeks. 

You stared at the screen in disbelief, and for a moment, words didn’t make sense to you. 

“Ten earth weeks?” You repeated to yourself, "That’s two months!"

You would’ve just gotten another driftpod delivered; it was that easy to get an astro-delivery dispatched. However, you were out of funds, so you really couldn’t do much anyway — not with your current financial state, which, in your case, means you literally have no money left. Unless you steal or plunder unsuspecting individuals, which you refuse to do, you would rather disintegrate to nothing before you commit a heinous crime and be brought to a galactic court.

As you turned towards him, you noticed he was back underneath the hull, already tinkering at the machine.

“Ever heard of maintenance?” he said, voice echoing slightly through the communication line, “when’s the last time you had this junk checked?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I have gotten it checked—”

“When?” he added further, and you immediately floundered, stammering to answer. Though the helmet hid your shame, you hoped he didn’t sense your unease.

“Why do you want to know?” you asked, all defensive, and this made him chuckle as he shook his head. 

“Fuckin’ hell. You’ve never had this thing checked in your life, have you?”

You didn’t even bother denying it. He could smell the bullshit from light-years away. You never had the credits for proper maintenance, not after draining everything just to get off that godforsaken planet you called home.

You tried to dodge the embarrassment with an attitude: “Look, it moved. That’s all it needed to do.”

“Oh, it moves,” he said, tapping a scorched panel with his knuckles. “Miracle it didn’t blow itself to bits mid-jump.”

“It didn’t explode—”

“Because you’re lucky,” he cut you off, and then added a sly remark: “or daft. Hard to say.”

You scoffed at this but had nothing to retaliate with; he did have a point, for all you know, you could’ve become just another speck of dust drifting in space.

A spark that popped from the panel, followed by a gravelly swear in your communication line, broke your train of thought, and you see him pushing himself out from under the driftpod.

“Grab your things,” he said, turning to you, and you blinked in surprise. “Why?”

He let out a low, amused breath. “Plan on sleepin’ out here, then? Be my guest.”

A blush crept to your cheeks again, but he could only shrug, the grease on his gloves sizzling away from the suit’s nano-heaters. 

You grumbled the phrase: “You don’t have to be such an asshole about it,” under your breath as you headed for the storage compartment, removing your belongings from the trunk when the comms crackled. You froze, realizing he had heard you, but he didn’t utter a word, only another huff of amusement, as if your attitude entertained him. You also didn’t have to see his face to hear the smirk in his tone.

You cursed softly at yourself, hauling one luggage out, then another, your arms straining from the weight. 

You saw his shadow stretch over you, and he uttered a phrase that almost had you dropping your things: “Give it to me,” he said in a voice probably too deep and gravelly for your liking.

“What?” You asked, head whipping back so fast you almost whiplashed yourself. 

He tilted his head, his hand still outstretched. "Give it here," he repeated, his fingertips curling slightly as he gestured for your belongings. Your thoughts lagged embarrassingly behind before you finally handed him your luggage, and he immediately secured the straps snugly against each side of his exosuit.

With your luggage out of the way, you weren't sure what to do next and found yourself staring at the skull helmet. He leaned in, as if studying your expression.

"You done starin’?" he asked, his voice rumbling through the comms, a hint of teasing evident that sent a thrilling shiver down your spine.

He didn’t wait for your reaction and swaggered back toward the bunker as if he hadn’t just said what he did.

When night came, or at least whatever time your suncycle tracker said it was, you had already stowed your gear in the bunker’s storage module, eaten your rations, and taken a quick rinse at the decontamination stall. Just as you were sliding your suit back on, the door hissed open, followed by the unmistakable weight of heavy boots hitting the alloy floor.

You barely had the suit halfway closed when his form appeared by the chamber entrance.

“Do you mind?” you groaned, annoyed, the sound of your suit closing hissed faintly. 

He took a glance at you and deadpanned: “I don’t mind.” Before he stood in front of the stall and began removing his own gear, you gaped at the sight.

“What are you doing?” you asked, taken aback. He didn’t stop to look at you, but he did respond: “Gettin’ ready to rest,” and just kept removing pieces of his suit and laying them neatly onto the table.

He removed the skull helmet, and the armour clicked and puffed a cloud of smoke. You held your breath as you watched; you wouldn’t even deny your curiosity and excitement to finally see what he looked like underneath. 

But just when you thought you would finally put a face to the grump, he revealed another skull mask beneath it, and you had to hold in an exhale that was a mixture of a laugh and a sound of disappointment as you shook your head.

Who wears a skull mask under a skull helmet? You thought to yourself, squinting your eyes at him. What an odd fellow—

When he bent to tug at the rest of his exosuit, you instantly looked away, but not before you caught a hint of skin — scarred and marred by burns. You felt ashamed for ogling, and you couldn’t deny the fact that the marks intrigued you, but you’d rather not ask about a man’s scars when you know what’s good for you.

Though you did find his lack of shame scandalizing as he just casually strips in front of you.

“For fuck’s sake, at least let me leave first—“

“No need.” He said, his voice sounded clear now, though the skull mask's material muffled it a bit. You barely registered the sound of the decontamination stall going off for a few seconds before he hopped out again. When you looked back, you saw him putting his exosuit back on. 

With one final click in place, he was fully covered again. 

Before you could react, his statement cut you off: “Get in the bed.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You plannin’ on sleepin’ on the floor?”

“No, I—“

“Get in the bed, then.” He said again, a bit impatiently. You were still reeling, confused as if his words didn’t mean what you thought they meant.

You almost laughed, finding his statement utterly ridiculous as you glanced at the bed, then back at him. Surely, he wasn’t expecting to share the bed with you. 

“You think you and I would fit in there?—“ 

“Yes. Get in the bed.” He said it with a finality that made you quiet, prompting you to sit on the edge while still maintaining eye contact. From this angle, he appeared taller and more imposing, yet despite this, you could feel a warmth of excitement pooling in your core. You knew this shouldn’t turn you on, but it did.

Without the helmet, you can see his eyes: smoky quartz, a bit jaded, a bit rough around the edges, but gentle all the same. His head tilted to the side as he let out a soft exhale, a chuckle almost. 

“D’you women on Earth sleep sitting up?” His question was more rhetorical, and before you could respond, you realized it was pointless; the back-and-forth was getting old. And although you had to admit that his comebacks were exciting, you were tired, and sleep called to you. So, you scooted over to the farthest inner corner to create as much space as possible.

You felt the bed dip with his weight, the foam briefly undiluting with his movement before he was settled. You didn’t dare look, but judging by the warmth on your back and his backside barely pressing against yours, he was facing away from you. 

Within minutes of dimming the lights, he was asleep, and you felt envious of how fast he was able to, while you were still wide awake, suddenly aware that you’re sharing a bed with a man — a man you barely know. You don’t even know his background, where he’s from, or his name.

But regardless of this, you felt surprisingly at ease, and you felt warmth caress your skin like a blanket, and soon enough, you were falling asleep, too.

The Wildes had changed over the years. On your walk, you noticed that borders are now off-limits and that portions of the land are scarred by war. Yet despite it all, it was still a place you roamed, its familiarity giving you confidence even as danger lingered in the scars of its past.

Travelling through the Wildes alone might seem unwise to some, but centuries of walking its paths — even during the war, when you slipped between territories to gather supplies — had taught you its patterns and hidden safe routes.

As you walked, the sun barely filtered through the thick canopy. The forest was very much alive, birds drifting through the air and echoing their songs to one another — a language you understood, each note marking the life blooming all around.

You often paused to rest or to gather herbs you discovered along the way, wrapping each one in wax paper to preserve them. When your journey brought you to a clearing adorned with wildflowers, you couldn’t help but scream with joy upon discovering an abundance of rare finds. 

The clearing was vast, yet the trees around it bent inward, forming a natural dome above, their branches weaving together to cradle the sky. In the very center, the faintest circle of sunlight spilled through, illuminating the wildflowers like a spotlight on a hidden stage, and in that spotlight lay a small patch of grass with a monument. 

As you approached, you saw two ancient texts engraved side by side into the stone. You didn’t know what they meant, but the way the light touched them filled you with reverence. You knelt in front of it, brushing a few patches of moss from the stone before conjuring a couple of lavender stalks and placing them gently at its base.

You uttered a small prayer, hoping the gods above would bless your journey before you resumed collecting.

—

In the midst of your gathering, you heard a rustling sound, accompanied by the wind echoing through a hollow structure, reminiscent of a whistle. It felt as though a cave was nearby, yet there were no hills or mountains in sight where an entrance could be. The rustling sounded too intentional to be merely the wind.

Your leaves bristled, and the vines on your limbs coiled tighter, a subtle warning from the earth itself. You stood still, scanning the clearing carefully, leaning close to the soil and listening to the faint pulse of life beneath your feet. The forest spoke to you, whispering caution, yet nothing revealed itself.

You stepped lightly, your vines brushing gently over flowers and ferns as you moved through the clearing. The usual sounds of birds and rustling leaves filled the air, and you paused every so often to breathe in the damp, earthy scent of the soil. 

Something about the ground beneath your feet felt…softer than usual, almost like it was shifting under your weight. You frowned and tested the earth carefully with your toes, finding it spongy in places, but there was no way to know how deep the softness went.

Cautiously, you moved toward a small patch of sun-dappled ground until the light caught a subtle glimmer tucked between two stones, half-hidden among ordinary plants. You crouched closer, examining the shape.

You have found the rarest flower, spoken of by the elders from the Dryadic Temple. A flower that blooms upon the death of a Lich, with its roots feeding on the bones of old. It had petals of deep crimson flecked with black and white, golden bulbs clustered in its center, and leaves a vivid emerald green. You let your fingers trace the edges of the petals, admiring their delicate shimmer. Carefully, you wrapped your vines around its stem, lifting it gently from the earth without disturbing the fragile roots.

Just as the flower was free, a faint groan rumbled beneath your foot. You froze, eyes widening as a patch of soil wobbled, shifted violently, then gave way. Instinctively, your Dryadic powers shot outward, clutching at roots, moss, and vines, trying to hold the earth together. But it was too late. The ground collapsed into darkness beneath you. You flailed, your powers barely slowing the fall, leaves and dirt scattering in every direction. You hit hard, pain lancing through your limbs, and the void swallowed you whole.

There was scuttling in the dark, a dragging noise that grew louder by the second until it stopped just above your head. Dizzy from the fall, you thought you were dreaming, until something lifted you from the ground, your vines dangling limply from your limbs.

You barely heard a murmur, unintelligible, sounding like two or three voices intermingled together. You ached everywhere, the pain making you black out again as you floated away, a weightless breath caught in your throat. 

—

The sound of a log clattering reverberated in the air, waking you up from your slumber. 

As your eyes adjusted, you noticed a bonfire blazing in the middle of the dark expanse. You tried to turn but felt a sharp pain course through your left leg. 

A voice rose, high yet hollow, and the language spoken was foreign to you, bouncing off the walls with a strange cadence that felt almost…unnatural. You sought the source, eyes scanning until you saw a dark mass sitting in the corner, away from the firelight, as if cowering from it.

“Where am I?” you asked, wincing as you tried to lift your upper body. Soft furs caressed your skin beneath you. The dark mass beside you shifted and moved to the side, and you followed its form.

You didn’t receive an answer; instead, the mass moved further into the cave.

“Wait!” you exclaimed unintentionally, panic blooming in your chest. It’s not like you were afraid of the dark, but you couldn’t deny that you felt uneasy.

A high-pitched whisper echoed around you. Were there others? Before you could ponder the thought, it disappeared, leaving you alone in the firelight.

You didn’t know how long it had been gone, but you must have fallen back asleep, exhausted from your journey and the injury on your leg.

When you came to once again, it was from the sound of footfalls, and it took a moment for your vision to clear. 

A figure stood before you, its long arms marked with intriguing mottling and its back slightly hunched over. A dark, burlap sack covered its face. When it turned to look at you, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of its piercing blue eyes glowing through two holes in the burlap. Surprisingly gentle, the eyes held a hint of humanity, and its expression conveyed an emotion that could only be described as fear.

You found his fear curious, almost endearing. Yet there was something more — a subtle flicker of magic you couldn’t name. Not entirely mortal, but something older, stranger. It felt as though he held secrets that even the cave itself had never revealed.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the steady crackle of the fire and the faint hum of the cave breathing around you. You stayed still, studying the figure as he lingered just beyond the light’s reach. He made no move to harm you, only shifting his weight from one leg to the other, as if uncertain whether to stay or flee. When he finally stepped closer, his movements were careful, almost hesitant — and only then did you truly notice how massive he was, towering over the firelight, broad-shouldered and hulking, scars adorning his torso. Yet despite his size, every motion he made was careful, almost meek, a stark contrast to the strength his body possessed.

You watched as he set two stone slabs at the edges of the bonfire, then lifted a wide, flat slab to rest across them. A moment later, he laid a large chunk of meat on the heated surface, and it began to sizzle. The cave quickly filled with a nutty, savoury aroma, one that would have made your stomach growl, if it could. Your lineage wasn’t of the Carnivorous Dryads of Shadoweald; you survived on berries gathered from the wilds or through sunbasking, a communal feast similar to the ones the humans host in Farrhaven, feeding thousands.

But in a dark cave, it poses risks, especially if you stay longer, and with your current condition, you're worried about your well-being. 

You tried to sit up but failed, and the figure turned and noticed you struggling. He grew a little wary, his body language portraying his discomfort, or pity, as he whispered words you didn’t understand. You also realized his voice was rather high-pitched than you expected, a sound that you expected to come from a man your size, not a Half-Giant. 

When you tried sitting up again, he closed the distance in a matter of seconds, but not intruding, his blue eyes carefully studying your leg. 

He spoke again, but you only shook your head as his words were only gibberish to your hearing. “I’m hurt…need a splint,” you say, but it was fruitless as both of you couldn’t understand each other. You needed something to straighten your leg in order for your magic to heal the damage. The twigs and sticks you’re able to conjure up were unfortunately too flimsy to carry your weight, not unless you exerted more energy. 

You didn’t want to risk it, afraid it would drain your life force, given your current state. Instead, you gestured for a piece of wood, your fingers forming a hook as you traced its imaginary outline, then pointed to your injured leg. You repeated this once or twice, saying, “Splint…wood,” before the figure seemed to understand and went to the neatly stacked firewood.

When he got back, he had found a perfectly thin yet sturdy piece and carefully slid the splint beside your injured leg. You used your vines to secure it in place, sweat beading down your forehead. You caught sight of his reaction, intrigued by your power. 

Once you were finished, you lay back against the furs, panting and exhausted. He didn’t move away as he studied you, but when you looked back at him, he recoiled slightly, his eyes wide as if he had somehow offended you. You found this reaction comical, but you buried your laughter deep within, not wanting to be cruel. 

—

The sizzling of the meat and the crackling of the fire were the only sounds reverberating through the air. 

When the meat was ready, he offered you a small piece. However, you shook your head in refusal.

“I don’t eat meat,” you said simply. His eyes went wide and got a little glassy at your tone, and you almost laughed — not because you thought it hilarious, but because the reaction caught you off guard.

You pointed toward the ceiling. “Sun.” Then, folding your fingers as if plucking food from the air, you brought them to your mouth. “Eat.” You hoped the gesture would convey that you fed on solar nourishment. He watched carefully, head tilted as the wheels turned in his head.

You sighed and decided to show him a symbol on the ground using a conjured-up stick. You drew him a visual of a plant and the sun. You pointed at the plant, then to yourself. He nodded, letting you go on, and you did as you suggested at the sun, and then gestured the movement for ‘eating’ again. Immediately, his eyes lit up, and he understood. 

“Need sunlight, or I’ll die,” you said, groaning, but it was more of an exaggeration; you wouldn’t perish immediately, but the slow process would’ve been devastating and could damage your life force. Oh, to be a Mushroom Dryad, where you thrive at any time of day, more so in a cave, but alas, you were but a mere Plant Dryad reliant on sunlight.

—

He carried you carefully, and at first, you thought he was taking you outside. But as you went deeper into the cave, patches of light began seeping through. He avoided them, maneuvering his body this way and that, and you didn’t understand why until he reached a vast chamber. A skylight stretched above, and soil, grass, and flowers carpeted the middle of the floor. This was where you must have fallen through, and you couldn’t help but whistle at how far up it was.

Judging by the sunlight’s angle, it was just past midday. He stepped further into the chamber but stopped just before the sun could touch him.

Gently, he set you down and helped you to your feet. You stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

He gestured the Commonfolk word “eat,” and you used your vines to guide yourself forward, limping into the sunlight with shaky breath.

When you almost tripped, he lunged forward. The sunlight hit his arm, instantly steaming his skin and reddening it, and he recoiled with a hiss.

It dawned on you — he wasn’t a sun-born like you. He was an offspring of darkness, a creature moulded by shadows rather than light. The thought intrigued you, and you found yourself studying him more closely. He was clearly a Half-Giant, but something in his blood hinted at a different kind of magic, something you barely understood.

You shifted slightly, allowing the sun to warm your skin. The leaves in your hair and the vines coiling around your limbs seemed to absorb the light, rejuvenating you. Even as your body soaked in the nourishment, your mind kept drifting back to him and the strong yet oddly vulnerable presence he radiated.

He watched you feed, and you could hear his stomach growl. A pang of guilt seared through you, but he remained patient, waiting as you finished.

The wind whistled somewhere in the distance, and you hummed absentmindedly, lost in thought.

Finally, you broke the silence. “What’s your name?” you asked, curiosity spilling out a little too fast. He stared at you blankly, not understanding.

You pressed a hand to your chest and spoke your name slowly, introducing yourself.

His eyes lit up, and he repeated your name, letting it roll off his tongue with excitement.

You smiled and waited for him to respond.

Again, you asked, “What’s your name?” pointing toward him. He mirrored your gesture, pressing a hand to his broad chest, “König,” he said softly, his voice shy.

“König,” you echoed, curiosity tugging at you over the meaning of his name.

“Thank you, König,” you added with a smile. You noticed his eyes crinkling, as if he were smiling behind the burlap.

You could tell it was morning again when König gently nudged you awake, his touch light and warm. When you glanced at him, he was motioning for the word “eat,” though he stumbled over it in his attempts to speak Commonfolk.

“Eht,” he said, the sound muffled beneath the burlap.

A giggle slipped out before you could stop it. “It’s eat, but that’s close enough!” you replied with a playful grin.

He carried you back to the chamber but settled you near the entrance, where the morning light stretched in at a low, golden angle, preventing him from going any further. There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes for how far you had to limp, but you reassured him you were fine, using your vines to slowly propel yourself forward.

This time, he had brought food, and the two of you ate in silence, facing each other like old friends sharing a cozy meal.

You noticed that instead of removing the burlap, he merely pulled the bottom part a bit forward, shovelling little pieces into his mouth in a curious manner. It was an odd gesture, but one you chose not to question. If he preferred to keep his face a secret, it was not your place to pry. Still, a part of you was intrigued, wondering what lay beneath that fabric.

When it was time for you to return, the sun had danced a few feet higher in the sky, and he was able to escort you out of the chamber.

As he carried you, you couldn’t help but gaze at the burlap, which had frayed at the edges, adorned with a small tear at one corner. There were also strange red ochre marks where the eyeholes were, and you found yourself wondering if it was a stylistic choice or if he had cried blood at one point. The latter thought felt too morbid, and you quickly decided against dwelling on it.

—

It had become routine for König to carry you back to the chamber whenever it was time for you to feed. The space had begun to feel almost familiar. He always set you down near the light, careful not to jostle your injured leg, and waited until you were settled before stepping back into the shadows.

As night fell — or at least you assumed it was night, judging by the way König’s movements had slowed and his posture had begun to sag — he eventually drifted into a deep, heavy sleep. The fire crackled softly, throwing faint light over the stone walls. You busied yourself with readjusting the splint and tightening the vines, wincing each time your fingers slipped or brushed against tender skin.

A low grunt escaped you without meaning to. König stirred almost immediately, his head lifting from where he’d been resting against the wall. His eyes glowed faintly in the dimness as he blinked at you, then shifted closer. With a careful hand, he assisted, his large fingers guiding the splint upward while you secured it tight.

Afterwards, you thanked him, but he only let out a soft hum, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. 

—

In the days that followed, besides König assisting with your recovery, you tried to teach him how to speak Commonfolk.

You had taught him words like sun, eat, splint, take, sleep, and berries. Every time he tried to repeat your words, he stumbled or mispronounced them entirely, but you still praised his efforts, the corners of your lips curling in amusement and warmth. Each attempt seemed to make him shine a little brighter in your eyes, and you couldn’t help but lean closer when he hesitated over a sound, wanting to offer him encouragement.

One night, you found a small bundle of berries beside the furs. You had wondered where he had gone, only to realize he had ventured outside to hunt and gather food. The thought that he had cared enough to risk the outdoors for you stirred something unexpected in your chest — a flutter of appreciation, tinged with a sweetness that made your heart beat a little faster.

There were times you caught him watching you sleep, his gaze gentle, almost reverent. And you noticed the occasional dreamy sigh that slipped from him, quiet but unmistakable, as though your presence alone brought him comfort. It made you feel...seen, in a way that went beyond the ordinary.

You couldn’t deny that his eyes were captivating, how they softened when you spoke, how his hands lingered just a moment longer than necessary. His attention was constant, subtle, yet entirely consuming.

You weren’t blind, nor were you foolish. Although you didn’t have an inflated ego, you couldn’t ignore the truth: König might be infatuated with you. Just as undeniable was the way your heart warmed whenever he was near, the faint electricity that tingled along your fingertips whenever they brushed against his. Every gesture, every glance, seemed to etch itself into your memory, leaving you with a sense of anticipation that made the thought of leaving the cave increasingly unbearable.

He was beginning to leave his mark on you as well, and with each passing day, each shared meal, each gentle touch, the bond between you grew stronger, fragile yet undeniably real.

—

König grows quieter and more withdrawn as he senses your time together is coming to an end.

You were able to walk now, although with a limp, but you chose to spend another night to be with him. You convinced yourself it was because you weren’t ready for the long journey back to the village, but deep down, you knew it was really because you weren’t prepared to leave just yet.

You caught him looking again, although this time, his eyes showed a bit of sadness, aware that you were leaving sooner than he wanted.

You sat him down by the fire, caressing his hands, and there was a slight tremor when you touched them.

“König,” you began, removing your hands briefly on top of his as you conjured up a circlet made of vines. You offered it to him and wrapped it around his left wrist.

“Thank you,” you said, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. Before you could pull away, he slowly wrapped his arms around you, holding you flush against him. It caught you by surprise, but you let him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His form was solid against you, radiating a warmth that seeped through your skin. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how safe he made you feel.

You heard him whisper in his language, an unearthly undertone barely audible, but it was there, trembling as he held you close.

“I…I can’t stay,” you admitted, wishing you didn’t have to leave. He held you tighter, as if the word itself had anchored him to you. “Can’t stay,” he echoed softly, the syllables heavy with understanding. You felt the weight of his need, and your chest ached at the thought of leaving him alone. When he pulled away slightly, his eyes searched yours, full of longing, and you wondered if this cavern — this fragile warmth of firelight — was all he had.

When he placed you back down, you lingered in his arms a little longer, studying his eyes. You felt the pulse of connection between you, something that tethered you to him. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t want it to fade.

Morning came, and there was a hint of sunlight at the end of the tunnel, glaring like white light. The sound of nature echoed into the cave, with birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees. You could almost feel the sun on your skin, drawing you out, not because you were eager to leave, but because your body had been craving proper sunlight for a week, and your leg needed tending to.

You looked behind you, to König, and saw him hesitate. You could hear the wind blow outside as the gusts carried the clouds above, and soon the chamber in the cave was filled with specks of light from the cavern openings above. One lit König on the shoulder, and his skin immediately steamed; he jerked away from the light as if burned. You could see red marks on his skin, and you understood that he wouldn’t be seeing you off at the end of the tunnel. 

You walked back to where he was, his frame towering over yours easily. You held out your hand for him to take, and he stared at your open palm before he looked at your face, searching your eyes. 

“Can’t stay?” he echoed softly, the words fragile on his tongue. You smiled faintly and shook your head, reaching for his hand. Despite his palms dwarfing yours, his grasp was gentle, as if he feared that letting go would make you disappear.

“I’ll make sure to return, alright?” You said, tracing a lazy circle into his palm. You could see him tremble, like he didn’t want you to leave, but you’ve been deprived of sunlight, and you needed sustenance and aid.

"I'll be back, I promise," you reassure him again, but he won't let go of your hand. He hunched over and carefully pulled you in for a hug, his body shaking. You felt something warm and wet trail down your back, and you realized he was crying.

“König…I’ll come back, I promise I will,” you say, patting his shoulder. When he finally let you go, you could see the burlap soaked through; his blue eyes held a wistfulness to them.

You gesture for him to lean down, and when he did, you gave him a quick kiss on his covered cheek.

When you pulled away, you held his hand for a moment longer before you slowly limped back outside. 

He couldn’t follow; the sunlight would destroy him. Yet you heard the faint whispers he uttered behind you. The words were foreign to your ears, but their meaning reached you all the same — a quiet sorrow, a plea carried on the tremor of his voice.

Simon pulled out the chair beside you and sat close, but not intruding. He exhaled sharply, a humourless huff followed by a click of his forked tongue. “Bloody hell, thought I was the only one fightin’ this,” he said, the chair creaking under his weight as he leaned back, arms crossed.

“Bit rich, innit? Us sittin’ through Ethics while the system leaves folk like us writhin’.” Simon’s words were rough, clipped, echoing the frustration you might have felt if you weren’t so overwhelmed. Saliva felt like molasses in your throat, your mouth too dry to speak, and all you could manage was a faint nod.

Simon’s attention flicked to your trembling hand; the highlighter rattled against the page, leaving jagged streaks as you fought to keep it in your grasp.

Steam seemed to rise off your skin, your flesh shifting from a warm rust-red to deep wine as the heat coursed through you. Simon’s eyes widened slightly at seeing your current state.

“Gods below… you’re burnin’ up,” he muttered, concern lacing his tone.

A shaky laugh escaped your throat, teetering on the edge of a sob. “I—I can’t…focus. I thought I could ride it out.”

Heat pooled low in your core, an ache that throbbed with a feral intensity, making you clench and quiver all the same. Against your better judgment, your eyes roamed over him: the strain of his leather jacket across strong biceps, the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his thighs — every taut muscle set your body aflame, your pulse hammering with both desire and the raw hunger that demanded to be sated.

You knew he saw it, the way you regarded him, but instead of recoil or disgust, his expression softened in a way that both grounded and tormented you.

Before Simon could speak, you cut him off, “This is really weird for me to ask, but I need help. Badly.” You whispered, desperation spilling from you as the marker fell from your hand and tumbled onto the pages, leaving a long yellow streak.

Simon’s jaw flexed, shoulders slumping as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. His voice sank into a low, gravelly register. “Should take you to a clinic—”

“I went yesterday, and they sedated me.” Your tone cracked as you rolled your chair closer, fingers brushing against his sleeve, seeking contact. “It didn’t work. I—I know we barely talk, but I’m desperate…”

A hint of understanding passed over Simon’s face. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out, but kept it firmly in place.

He swallowed thickly. “Yeah…I know the feelin’.”

Simon watched as your pupils dilated, the violet ring of your iris glowing faintly against your dark sclera. Then, a soft, ragged whimper, laced with a sultry growl, escaped you — raw, needy, and unrestrained, like some wild creature aching to be soothed. “Please, Simon.”

Something in him shifted at the sound, a visceral and immediate response. Without hesitation, he helped you gather your things, albeit haphazardly. You might have lost a pen or two, and a few folk in the library might have been watching the scene unfold, but you didn’t care; all your attention was focused on the way Simon wrapped his arms around you and led you away, the cool night air brushing against your flushed skin.

As you two started heading for your dorm, he paused briefly.

“Block D?” Simon asked. Your mind swam, and for a moment, you couldn’t even remember which dorm you lived in. You rifled through your jacket, hunting for your keys to check the letter engraved on the bow, but they seemed to vanish, leaving you slurring in frustration.

“Nevermind,” he muttered before lifting you into a bridal carry and heading for the fields near the gymnasium, towards one of the gear shacks tucked away by the trees.

A couple of student athletes were putting gear away when Simon walked into the shack with you in his arms. You planted a palm lightly against his chest, steadying yourself, though the shift didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“What the fuck, mate, you’re not allowed in here—“

“GET OUT.” Simon barked, eyes flaring red.

The taller one, a Bugbear, bristled, incensed at being told off. But the other fellow, an Incubus, dropped the gear to the floor and grabbed his friend by the arm.

“Can’t you see it’s an emergency, mate? Stop being a cock!” the Incubus yelled, pushing the Bugbear outside the door. He glances quickly at Simon and then at you, noting the hunger writhing through your movements before he shuts the door behind him, leaving you two alone in the gear shack, their argument barely audible through the walls.

Simon lowered you carefully onto the piles of mats, and you can practically see the way he holds himself back by the way his fists clenched, in the steady rise and fall of his chest, a silent war between discipline and primal instinct.

A raw whine tore from you as you clawed at your clothes, ripping them free until bare skin met the cool air. 

”Simon, I need—” your words trailed off into a needy mewl as you bit your bottom lip. Simon dropped his gaze, head bowed, anchoring himself. 

“Alright…I’ve got you.” He sank to his knees, hooking his forearms beneath your thighs to draw you closer to the edge. Your legs were pressed tight against your chest, spreading wide as he held you in place.

You were already soaking wet, warmth pooling between your thighs, and the sight and scent consumed him, leaning in to get a taste of you. 

At first, he tried to pace himself, tongue flattening as he moved in slow strokes. But the way you bucked your hips and moaned his name shattered the last of his control.

Simon’s grip tightened, almost bruising, as he drank from you, lapping at your swollen bud. Drool mingled with your heat, and you tasted like the ambrosia of the gods. His eyes rolled back as he lost himself in you, drunk on your sweetness. Your thighs quivered under his grip.

Simon licked you greedily, each pulse swallowed like he could drain you to the bone, taking your energy, and yet he fed you back his in return, his own heat flooding into your body, searing and intoxicating. The exchange tightened something deep within your core, gradually, until the coil snapped, pleasure ripping through you and filling the shack, the air thickening with a heady mist that fogged around you like a furnace barely contained.

One hand left your thigh, sliding down to the growing length straining against his jeans. Watching him move, a languid glide as he fisted himself from base to tip, sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through you. 

“Simon—” your voice cracked, trembling as you pushed at his shoulders. “I need you. Right now. I need—”

He pulled back just enough to peer up at your face, chin glistening with your slick. “Easy, love,” he rasped, “You know what I am.”

Simon seized your wrists, drawing them together before trapping them in one powerful hand, and the way he held you sent another surge of almost unbearable heat. 

“I don’t care!” You yelped, thrashing against him. “I need you inside me.”

Simon’s cock twitched, and he gripped it hard, like petting a beast to stillness. “Patience,” he growled softly, more to himself than you. “I’ll wreck that pretty cunt if I lose it.”

You struggled again, moaning out, “What if I want you to?” Your words drew a feral snap to his gaze. “I want you to ruin me, Simon.” Desire prickled your skin so intensely you felt you might crawl from your own flesh. Your tail slithered along his thighs, brushing against the length of him.

“You want me too, don’t you?” Your irises flared hot pink. “Don’t you want to sink that massive cock inside me?” You mewled, thighs bracketing his hips as you pulled him flush against your bare pussy.

“Don’t you want to feel me cum all over you?” You rasped, canting your hips against his.

“Don’t you want me to be your good girl? I’d be so fucking good to you.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon hissed under his breath.

“I want you to use me…” your thighs shook, craving for another release, “Gods below, fucking use me,” you begged again, trying to fold your fingers against the hand grasping your wrists, your nails a little longer now and sharper, trying to graze his skin. 

Simon stared you down, eyes wild as he retracted the claws of his free hand, teasing your sopping entrance. When he slid a finger inside, it wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but the deep stretch made your core clench around him.

“You gonna give me another one, yeah?” he demanded, more than asked, dipping another thick digit until both were buried to the third knuckle, filling you completely.

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” You nodded eagerly at his words, dizzy with need as he set a relentless rhythm that had you mute. Your back arched, toes pressing into your boots, every nerve alight as he kept the pace. Soon, Warmth spilled uncontrollably, your walls clenching around him as you squirted, soaking the front of his jeans.

“Aahh!” you cried, quivering as you tried to push him away, his fingers leaving your core with a wet squelch. He let out a low, throaty laugh, teasing your sensitive bud until you gasped and sobbed, legs folding on instinct as waves of pleasure overtook you.

Before you could even draw a breath, Simon lathered his thumb in your arousal, then thrusted three back inside, curling them just so, and set another relentless pace as he rubbed your clit, dragging you over the edge again.

Only when your trembling subsided and tears of pleasure trickled warm down your cheeks did he finally withdraw. He lifted his hand slowly into the light, your slick stringy across his palm and fingers. He brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact, tongue dragging languidly along his knuckles before curling between each digit, cleaning you from skin to palm with unhurried sensuous precision. The sight should have made you burn with embarrassment, but instead it left you burning with want, breathless, undone, and aching for more.

From the dim light of the gear shack, your hair splayed messily around you, some strands clinging to your damp skin, chest rising and falling with the weight of what he had done, and what was still to come. Simon’s gaze softened as he finally let go of your wrists. He leaned down, bracing his arms to cage you in, his nose brushing the curve of your neck before he dragged his tongue slowly over the damp skin there. 

When he pulled back, only a breath apart from your lips, he claimed your mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue teased yours as he drew you closer, pressing your smaller frame flush against his chest. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, pulling him deeper, and the kiss only fed the fire burning through you.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your lips, the praise making you shiver. He leaned back then, unfastening his belt with deliberate movements. It shouldn’t have surprised you when he shoved his trousers down to mid-thigh, enough to free himself — you knew what incubi carried. Still, the sight of him knocked the air from your lungs. He was impossibly thick and long, heavy, veins ridging the length of him, the head flushed dark with need. Your pussy fluttered helplessly around nothing, aching to be filled.

When he settled his cock on your stomach, you felt its weight and warmth, the tip resting a couple of inches above your navel. A steady trickle of precum dripped, painting your skin.

“Last chance to say no,” he warned, but you answered not with words but with a low, feral growl.

“Just—fuck me already.”

Simon smirked, using one hand to pull back the hood of your clit while his other guided his massive shaft toward you. He nudged it upward and fisted himself briefly, knuckles brushing your sensitive bud and drawing a moan from you before he slid the head inside, slick smeared along its length. The first push was exquisite, opening your body to his sheer girth, panting helplessly. Inch by inch he pushed deeper, and by the halfway mark you were stretched wide to your limit.

“Simon,” you gasped, claws digging into his shoulders, voice breaking.

“Deeper—please, I want all of it.”

His eyes flared crimson, molten and insatiable, as guttural words in an ancient tongue spilled past his lips. They glowed, winding down until a sigil ignited beneath your navel, burning hot for a heartbeat before searing into your skin. Your body felt as if the spell itself was reshaping you to take him fully.

Once your body gave way, Simon gritted his teeth as he buried himself to the hilt, pelvis flush with yours. He paused, both of you gasping at the stretch, the obscene fit of him filling you completely.

When he drew back and thrusted again, each motion hit the perfect spot with ruthless precision. Your hips arched high in his grip, every snap driving you closer to the edge, cries tumbling from your throat.

“Fuck! Simon…don’t stop,” you gasped, canting your hips to meet his rhythm.

He ground harder, shallow and relentless, until it wrecked you, but Simon kept his pace, pounding you through the aftershocks until they bled into another. Then another. Pleasure bleeding seamlessly into torment. Your body quaked as you cried out his name again and again.

“Fuckin’ hell, love—fuckin’ take me,” Simon snarled, voice cracking with hunger.

Pleasure clouded your mind, everything around you blurring as if you were floating in mid-air. Simon shifted, lifting one of your thighs and sliding it to the side, tilting your hips just so. The new angle pressed him deeper, hitting places you hadn’t even realized existed. For a fleeting second, you caught the fire in his gaze before your eyes slammed shut as another wave of orgasm tore through you.

Simon held you still, pressing as deep as he could while your walls fluttered around his cock. He withdrew briefly to let you catch your breath, then rolled you onto your stomach, your hair spilling across your face. You barely had time to adjust before he sheathed himself back inside your weeping cunt, all the way to the hilt. One hand tangled in your hair, lifting you slightly as he thrusts deep and precise, each impact making your stomach press into the mats below.

His other hand snaked around, bracketing your neck as he leaned down to leave bruising kisses along your skin, marking you further. He whispered filthy, teasing words into your ear, and you drank it all in.

Simon paused only to grind against you, finding that sweet spot that sent your body shuddering into a sob of pleasure, your nails clawing at the mats beneath you.

“Good girl,” Simon praised, voice wrecked. “Keep cummin’ on my cock, that’s it—” 

“Gods, Simon—”

He gritted his teeth, pressing his hips against yours. “Fuck, love, you’re gonna make me cum—”

Simon’s strained words sent a thrill through you, igniting a flicker of pride at how undone he was. When your body grew taut around him, likely for the last time, his vision whited out. He gasped as he bottomed out, pulsing deep inside you. Hot ropes spilled forth, filling you until you overflowed, and you shivered with him.

He pulled you close, claws leaving faint crescent marks on your hips. Between gentle murmurs of how good you’d been, he pressed hot, lingering kisses to your cheek, playfully nipping on your ear. Then he buried his head against your shoulder, letting his breath settle warm and steady against you.

It was pure relief. Your body went slack beneath him, your cunt still fluttering weakly around his thick length, coaxing out every last pulse. Your hunger had finally been sated, leaving you boneless. Yet the magic lingered, molten and insistent, coursing through your veins of its own accord. Somehow, the sigil burned brighter, glowing hot against sweat-slick skin.

And then there was Simon’s growl, a low register at first, barely audible, and then it rumbled against your neck, building into a guttural crescendo. It wasn’t relief in his voice — it was raw, unbridled need. You felt him twitch inside you, still impossibly hard, leaking as though his first release had only stoked the fire between you.

“S-Simon?” you whispered when he grew a little too quiet. Simon sank back onto his haunches, and for a moment, you thought he was pulling out, dragging slow and heavy through your overstimulated walls. But when only the head remained inside, his claws bit into your hips a little too hard as he lifted your ass up and roughly drew you back onto him. With every pull, he pressed himself deeper, and the new angle tore a scream out of you before you could stop it.

“Oh, love,” he rasped, voice guttural, fangs flashing in the half-light as he did it harder.

“I’m not done with you.”

Your body jolted with each savage snap of his hips, slick spilling as the mark seared hot, and Simon’s thrusts only grew rougher, like the spell had bound his hunger to yours, feeding it back tenfold.

“F-Fuck—!”

Simon hushed you softly, rutting like a beast possessed. “Can’t stop now. You lit me up, sweetheart.” He withdrew briefly, then flipped you onto your back, kneeling close between your thighs. Drawing your legs together, he pushed all of him inside again, hooking your ankles lightly against the curve of his horns to hold you in place.

“Now I’m gonna fuck it out of you. Breed it out.” 

A deep rumble escaped him, almost like a purr, and you helplessly held onto his thighs, your walls clamping down instinctively. Your body sang with every pulse, magic crackling like wildfire between you.

Simon clung to you as he drove you into the mats with each brutal thrust, every stroke punched the breath from your lungs, your head thrown back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you. Though your legs shook and your chest heaved, the hunger between you both was far from sated. 

When he came again, it was with a guttural roar, hips snapping forward as his cock pulsed inside you, flooding you with heat until it spilled out in rivulets. And even then, he didn’t stop, his body still grinding, rutting insatiably, as if he couldn’t get enough. He needed more.

More. More. More. More. MORE

You were a mess beneath him, boneless, tears streaking your face, yet every nerve screamed for him, and Simon gladly gave it, merciless, unstoppable, until all you could do was sob his name and let him wreck you over and over.

You lost count of how many times you came, your body wrung out, trembling, and yet Simon didn’t let up, a true testament to an incubus' insatiable prowess. 

“Simon! I can’t—” you gasped, voice breaking.

“Yes, you can,” he rasped, his eyes glowing bright crimson as the spell beneath your navel pulsed again. He flattened a clawed hand over your lower belly, pressing down until you felt the heavy ridge of him moving inside you. 

“Feel that?” Simon snarled, thrusting slow yet brutal, making sure you felt every inch.

“That’s me, love. Deep as I can go. Stuffin’ you so full, you’ll never forget it.”

You cried, half-broken with pleasure, your body milking him as he rutted into you, pumping another thick spill of cum into your womb.

It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon groaned, hips stuttering, his cock still hard inside you. “Greedy cunt’s still flutterin’ ‘round me… beggin’ for more. You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

You shook your head as you keened, “Don’t stop!” your claws raking down his side, “Fill me again, Simon, please—”

His laugh was rough, mocking and desperate all at once, ghosting hot against your ear. “That’s it. Good girl...takin’ me so well.”

Simon unhooked your ankles from his horns and pushed your knees backwards into a mating press, holding you in place until you were shaking uncontrollably from overstimulation, utterly ruined by him. 

When the frenzy finally began to ebb, after what felt like endless hours, Simon finally began to slow. You clung to him, every nerve already spent, yet his deliberate grind still found what little fire you had left, sparking another shudder through your body. Your breath hitched, walls clenching around him one last time, and that was all it took. A guttural sound tore from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he spilled inside you in a final, overwhelming release. You were full, so full, you could feel your womb straining from his seed.

He held you tightly, as though the contact was the only thing keeping him grounded. Only when both your hungers finally dissipated, your body going limp, and the sigil fading from sight, did his grip begin to loosen. 

Even softened, his hips gave short, involuntary jerks, and you could still feel his size stretching you. Cum seeped in thick, obscene trails around his cock, adding to the puddle beneath you, but you were too dazed, too utterly spent to care.

Simon stayed close, arms tightening in a fierce embrace as if he couldn’t let you go just yet. He held you there, chest heaving against yours, before he finally rolled aside. Both of you lay there panting, the mats ruined beneath you.

When your vision cleared, you turned your head. Simon caught your gaze, his fiery red eyes dimming back to brown.

“That was…” You began, then trailed off, too exhausted to finish. He looked at you, lips quirking faintly at the corners.

“Yeah…” he murmured, his voice rough, letting the words hang unfinished, just like yours.

No words were exchanged. None were needed. For now, all that mattered was lying still, just basking in each other’s presence.

When it came time to leave, Simon helped you to your feet. Together, you surveyed the state of your clothes. You glanced up at him, modesty prickling after everything that had happened. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. The length reached mid-thigh.

“Th-Thanks,” you murmured, slipping your arms through the sleeves and clutching it tight around you. The leather carried smoke and steel, and beneath it lingered the heady scent of sex. Your face burned, and Simon noticed this.

“A little too late to be shy now, love,” Simon teased, tugging the jacket collar snug around you before reaching for his bag. You glared at him, gathering your own belongings and the rest of your clothes.

Before you could reach for the door, Simon adjusted the jacket again, tucking a strand of hair behind your pointed ears. The brush of his hand lingered, making your cheeks burn.

Outside, the two athletes sat beneath a tree. When they spotted you, the Bugbear turned, flustered, muttering something about being godawfully loud. The Incubus merely nodded in acknowledgment, yet his gaze drifted elsewhere, giving you both a little privacy as you walked away.

Simon did not linger either, leading you back to your dorm in silence.

At the entrance, you turned to him, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Thank you, Simon. You don’t know how much I needed that.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and his lips twitched, almost forming a smile.

“If you ever need help, you know where to find me,” he says casually, but you grin at this, fully aware of what he means. 

“Planning to sit beside me in Arcane Ethics now?” you asked with a teasing lilt, brow arching as you crossed your arms over your chest.

Simon shrugged, but the swish of his tail betrayed his amusement. “If it makes that bloody class less of a nightmare, then yes.” 

He didn’t say more, but he lingered longer than he intended. His gaze held something familiar, something that mirrored your own, though you weren’t ready to confront it.

Finally, he stepped back, swallowed by the shadows, yet his presence seemed to cling to you.

Later, standing under the shower, water streaming over your skin, a tingling ache settled deep in your abdomen, igniting a familiar burning heat. Simon’s essence trickled slowly down your thighs, washed away by the water, yet your body remembered every trace.

He stood almost a foot taller, built from a life of nothing but an impeccable routine and discipline, a stark contrast to your own, formed by living a life of simple luxuries that he had never experienced. 

None of the women in his Legion looked like you: fuller at the hips, limb circumference that nearly rivalled his own. Where they were always reserved and hollow-eyed, you were the opposite, and he could see the fire blazing in your eyes, the strength behind it, the drive to break conformity. 

He found himself stealing glances from time to time, listening to your breath hitch or hearing you hype yourself up when you were about to do a task through faulty communication lines he still hadn’t told you about, finding your little quirks endearing. So, without thinking too much of it, he began to display small, human gestures, like keeping you company during meals instead of leaving as soon as he was done, and even just placing a blanket over your shoulders at night so you didn’t get cold.

But that was all he allowed himself, these simple displays of affection, each one already beyond his usual protocol. Other than that, he could only linger, keep his distance, swear to suppress these earthly desires. He was a Galactic soldier, after all, trained to observe, not feel, even as those gestures betrayed him. 

And yet, the universe had other plans.

When you drove back with his driftpod that one time, he knew he should’ve immediately initiated inspection mode instead of doing it manually himself, his first lapse in judgment. But he found himself letting his guard down around you, forgetting to be a soldier for once, something he had never expected to happen.

With you, he didn’t have to be on high alert all the time, being able to be normal for once in his life. That, too, was his other mistake, not that he was blaming you for putting him in this predicament. But you were a fool, though, and a brave fool at that for opening your mouth to even regard him in a way that fuelled the desire he thought was long gone, only to be afflicted with a frenzied kind of primal hunger. 

You should’ve avoided him, gone back to the sleeping suite, and yet here you were, an immovable force that held his piercing gaze.

The cleanse didn’t do jack shit to quell the absolute yearning he felt. Maybe it was pure, visceral need for release, one he had never known in his life, his cock throbbing for you, but it might also be a yearning for something more, something more profound than just the act of fucking. 

You. He shuddered with need, his chest aching; he needed you. This sudden overwhelming desire for you should be a mystery to him, yet at the same time, it wasn’t.

This was the Legion’s ultimate misconception, their sole flaw: believing that grooming younglings into a life of hardship and servitude, and trying to erase all traces of emotion and any sense of vulnerability to make the perfect soldier, would make them immune to such a foolish thing as lust.

Oh, but how wrong they were to underestimate human desire for someone who, after all these years, had finally found what he could only describe as a mate.

It might be the lust talking, clouding his judgment completely, but Ghost knew, deep down, this was more than just wanting to spill his seed inside you, more than just to breed you. 

He wanted more, so much more. 

“Need to fuck you.” He groaned, a statement uttered from the very core of his chest, a guttural sound that should’ve had you tucking your tail between your legs and had you hightailing out of there. Although this wasn’t what he truly meant to say, with his body laced with ardour, he couldn’t help but let the control slip even just a little. 

You should have been scared, and yet you kept surprising him, eyes heady with equal intensity, mirroring his own as if he were looking at a reflection of himself, without fear or hesitation. Who would’ve thought that you would be so willing, and it made his cock ache for you. 

You bit your lip as you responded, voice a little shaky and airy, but determined: “Take me, then.”

That was all it took for him to grab your shoulders, turn you to face the wall and pin you there. He delved his fingers against your soft, plush form, dipping his hands along your curves to grab at your flesh, but the material became a barrier, and he growled in frustration — your suit needed to go.

He almost rips it off of you, but a millisecond in, his hand abruptly stops, just gripping the material. Then, he pinches the zipper and slowly drags it down to reveal your cleavage and your stomach, stopping just an inch or two below your navel.

In an instant, he pushes the sleeves off your shoulders, exposing more of your bosom as it overflows from its confinements. Your nipples immediately pebble in the frigid air, rolling them between his fingers before struggling to hold your breasts, their weight spilling beyond his grip.

He groans, pulling you closer, addicted to your softness against his rough, calloused palms.

One hand leaves your supple tits to trace along your side and slip into your suit, curving beneath your belly to dip his hand between your legs and find your mound already wet with slick. 

A soft, broken sound escapes your lips as he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing the folds before plunging halfway in, making you throb and clench around his digits.

He sinks in deeper, making you bite your lower lip as he grazes a particular spot inside you that has you seeing stars. He presses there a few times, pausing to edge you on, before thrusting again with equal measure. 

You’ve lost count of the sensations he’s drawing from your body, and your mind goes blank from the prolonged teasing. Then he withdraws his hand just as you’re on the verge of coming.

He senses your expletives forming at the tip of your tongue from the way you look at him over your shoulder, eyes wild and hungry. But your protests are cut off as he pulls the rest of your suit down to your ankles and spreads your plump ass wide, lining himself up against your entrance before sliding fully in, filling you to the root.

It almost feels surreal how easily your body moulds to take him. He would've let out a breathy chuckle, thinking you were all bark and no bite, but it was just as you said — you can take him — and he was foolish for ever doubting you for one second. 

Ghost stills briefly as he grinds his hips against your ass, pressing just a little deeper, hitting that spot inside that makes you see stars. His grip on your hips is bruising, anchoring him while guiding you down his cock. The room fills with the sound of your desperate pleasure. When he reaches between your legs, he dips them between your folds as he rubs you to completion. 

“Come for me.” He rasps against your ear, and you shiver from his voice. With your body following his command, you come on his cock, gripping his hand that wouldn’t relent on your clit, every stroke bordering on overstimulation. 

He follows not long after, spilling into you until you overflow.

You knew this was only the beginning when he paused briefly, fingers still stroking your folds, making you jolt. He was still painfully hard, still canting his hips upwards into you. He gingerly pulls out of your sopping core, then turns you around and removes the remnants of your suit from your ankles.

With swift, practiced ease, he lifts you to wrap your thick, shaky legs around his middle before driving back inside. Your jaw slackens as a strangled moan leaves you, the head of his cock pressing against your spot over and over.

His strong arms barely strain as he pins you to the wall, pistoning upward while you grind down to meet each stroke.

You are utterly undone, eyes shut tight, hands clinging to his shoulders as he coaxes another orgasm from you, your thick thighs bracketing his side, locking him in place and pulling him deeper as he spills his seed inside you once more.

Even when he pauses to catch a breath, he’s still craving for more, still twitching against your walls, and you barely register him carrying you toward the bed, still buried to the hilt. He drives a few hard, punishing thrusts before finally sprawling you onto the mattress.

“Ass up,” he demanded, and you tried to peek at him through your dishevelled hair. With your body still alight and tingling from coming apart on his cock, you struggled to follow. Ghost grew impatient and flipped you over with a grunt before pulling your hips toward the edge of the bed.

“I said ass up—“

“I heard you—“ your remark was cut short when his palm landed harshly on your ass cheek, making your skin ripple from the impact. You gasped as the motion drove pleasure straight to your pussy, making your slick and his cum drip between your legs.

You looked over to him once more and watched as he slotted himself back into your awaiting core, bottoming out in one stroke. He savoured the way you squeezed him, addicted to the feel of your walls just engulfing all of him. 

It wasn’t long before he ruts into you again, biting back a strangled cry when his cockhead rubbed against your spot. When you let out a particularly wanton cry but held your breath, you felt him lean over and press his lips to your ears. 

“No, no, let me hear, love,” he growls, grabbing at your cheeks with his massive hand. You wanted to be petty and stay quiet, but a particular hard thrust had you moaning out and almost stumbling forward. 

He gathers your hair and holds a fistful of it to tilt your head back just a little before he noses against your throat.

“What happened to that mouth of yours? Cat got your tongue?” He teased, a soft huff escaping him. 

“F-fuck you—” 

“You already are.” He chuckled again before his thrusts crescendoed. 

Your vision hazed over as you felt an odd pressure in your core. You tried pushing him off, but his iron grip on you had you pinned in place. When you came apart again, your eyes rolled at the back of your head as you felt a gushing sensation, almost pushing him out as you squirted on the bed.

But Ghost kept at his pace, pinning you down as your thighs helplessly quivered with every powerful thrust. 

You’ve lost track of time, the hours, minutes and the details in between. Everything blurred altogether, and you weren’t sure how long you two were tangled in each other's arms, maneuvering and repositioning your body this way and that, just the way he wanted it to, and you were just there taking every last drop, milking him. 

After some time, you were starting to get sore, but every press of his hips brought a new kind of sensation, something between pain and pleasure, pain that made your core ache yet unbound the knot of pleasure in your loins, growing tight then snapping as your body wanted more.

And more… and more, over and over, addicted to the intense release only he could pull from your body. 

You whimpered like a bitch in heat, a willing hole to soothe his needs — and yours, pent up with years of nothing but rejection. 

At some point, you found yourself prone on the bed once more, pinned down with his massive hand cradling your neck, his breath ragged in your ear. You could barely see your silhouette against the alloy wall in front of you, jarring from his brutal movements. Your mind blanks when he slips a hand between your sex and starts to play with your clit. The gentle stroke, in contrast with the hard press of his hips, pushed you over to the edge, probably for the final time, as you noticed his pace faltering. 

When Ghost shudders on top of you, arms circling your shoulders in an embrace far tender than the bruising grip he has had on you for the past several hours, you know the affliction he was suffering from has finally eased as he stills. He hovers over you, elbows planted on each side of your shoulders, careful not to crush you with his weight as his breathing evens out, and you watch as his skin reverts to its natural colour. 

The bed was utterly ruined, soaked to the very inner foam with your combined fluids. You started to feel the aftermath and ached all over, but it was a good kind of ache as your body thrums with the tail end of pleasure.

You didn’t even realize you passed out, just utterly boneless from everything that had happened. When you came to, you were clean, fully dressed, and the bed was spotless. You also found yourself sleeping in the middle of the bed, alone with a blanket over you. For a brief moment, you thought you had just awoken from the most intense sex dream of your life. Still, when you feel something bead in your entrance and then slowly pool out, you are suddenly flooded with the memory of Ghost seated deep inside you, his calloused hands on your skin, and his deep, rumbling voice that made you shiver. The most intense fucking you’ve ever had in your life replayed in your mind vividly, like a hologram projected in real life, and you felt a familiar ache in your loins. You blushed from the thought.

As you paced around the bunker — or tried to, on shaky legs — you thought about how you couldn’t believe you’d allowed a stranger to fuck you senseless so many times you’d lost count. Okay, Ghost wasn’t a total stranger, though; you’d known each other on a surface level for weeks now. 

Still, it felt surreal and somewhat freeing to follow your body's instinct and not your moral compass for once. 

When had it become so risqué, you wondered? When you left home, you only wanted to move on and look forward, focusing on yourself and what lay ahead, forgetting the expectations of many and society’s standards. You planned on doing it all until you weren’t able to, just basking in solitude, but you never expected someone’s company could be something you’ve been looking for.

You see Ghost through the viewport as he returns to fixing your driftpod. It shouldn’t mean anything, just a man trying to help you out and staying true to his mission, but you couldn’t help but think this is a sign that everything has gone back to the way things were, not that it was any consolation, back to normal could be just you and him as strangers, before the desperate night you shared, body and limbs entangled. 

The sigh you let out wasn’t giving you any comfort. Usually, when things don’t go the way you wanted them to, you shrug it off and utter ‘c'est la vie’, but you couldn’t help but feel empty. You didn’t want to expect too much for things to change between you two for the better, you two barely know each other at all, besides the very surface level of first-name basis. You tried to smile, to be thankful that after this, after your vehicle is fixed, you’d be on your way, and he'll do the same. 

But then night came, and he slips under the covers with you, surprised to feel him a little up close and personal than before. You chalked it up to the old arrangement you both had before the incident, pushing things aside, but when you felt his hand ghost over your suit, grabbing at your waist, you felt his breath flutter on your neck as he scooped you closer and pressed his warmth against your backside. 

Your heart raced as he planted his face against the side of your neck and breathed you in through the mask, the material tickling your skin. 

His touches weren’t as wild as they were the night before, a sign that he truly was back to the way he was before the bismuth-like object made you two go sex rabid. Still, it felt different this time, a little reverent, maybe even sweet as he caressed your plush stomach, not in a sexual way, but just appreciating the softness against his palms. 

You felt him gently stir, maybe repositioning his body a little before he settled, and then silence followed. 

Ghost had fallen asleep with you wrapped in his arms. You would’ve laughed at how ridiculous everything was, finding it hard to fathom how a gruff man could be so gentle. But you weren’t going to complain, as you find yourself where you want to be at the moment. 

Despite the comforting warmth he once again brings you, you couldn’t help but think of the many possibilities. Would this meeting be permanent? Even if you parted ways after this, you’d still try to meet at one of the moons in this star system. Or would it be something temporary where he goes on his way, and you go on yours, and he’d be just a memory of someone who was the best fuck you’ve ever had. 

Your heart ached as you thought of both, since you didn’t have the answer, too afraid to ask if this could be something more. But the way he holds you on other nights seems to make you think it’s a possibility. 

But as the deadline looms, he seems to be a little bit distant. He wasn’t ignoring you or anything, but on the last night, he did sleep facing away from you, just like the first night you shared a bed, and it hit you like daggers.

You kept it to yourself, shrugging off your feelings, telling yourself you should know better. However, it was a good ten weeks while it lasted.

The engine came to life as Ghost gave your driftpod another intensive inspection, checking everything, from the internal machinations to as simple as the leather of your seat, if they’re comfortable enough on your journey, one gesture he shouldn’t have bothered to do, but he insisted. 

Once done, he hops out from the main chamber to see you hauling your luggage back into the storage compartment. He grabs the last of your luggage and helps you place it neatly inside. When you turned to him, he could almost see the redness of your eyes, all from crying all night. 

He knew why you felt this way; he wasn’t completely daft and heartless, but he did what he thought he had to do to cushion the blow. But maybe he shouldn’t have held you so tenderly all those nights, indulging in his own selfishness, wishing he could stay. 

But it wasn’t that simple — things weren’t that simple, especially with the way things are, with constant wars looming around certain parts of each star system where his Legion would be needed to aid civilians, to do a covert operation, or to do escort missions. 

He could hear you cursing him under your breath with faulty communication lines he still refused to tell you about, and he should’ve. 

He could now, just to get one more moment with you before you two have to leave, but he’s been MIA for long enough, and the Legion was probably looking for him now. 

He hesitated, shoulders rising and falling with each practiced breath. He wanted to touch you again, even just for a little bit; he wanted to feel your skin against his, hear your whimpers, but he wanted to do it properly, without the moonflowers influencing his body. It was foolish of him to think this now when he had multiple other days previously, after the affliction subsided, he could’ve made a move, he could’ve given you pleasure once more, but he didn’t. 

He thought the memory of you shivering underneath him was enough to satiate him, enough to get him by, but with each passing day until the day you two had to part, he regretted not doing much more than just holding you at night. 

He would’ve said something now, trying to mend everything, but he was rooted to the spot, unsure what to do. 

Before he could speak, you reached towards his gloved hand, giving it a soft squeeze: “I’ll see you around?” You asked, your voice a little shaky, and he could see your hopeful eyes behind the visor. 

The sound of a smile left his lips, bittersweet, as he pulled you a little closer and tapped your suit, where the small control panel was. With practiced precision, a small bolt of energy was released from his gloves. He couldn’t hear your soft noises anymore through the garbled static as he fixed your communication lines, an easy fix. He might not be able to listen to your voice going through at random, but your voice did sound clearer now, like no helmets were separating you two. 

“What was that for?” You asked, curious. 

“Get your gear checked on the regular,” he said gruffly. “Wouldn’t want a pretty bird like you pulverized to dust by carelessness.”

It was meant to be sweet, but he heard you gasp, offended, followed by a laugh before you smack him on the chest. 

“Asshole.”

Before you two could leave for takeoff, he gave you a two-finger salute, then went on his way, his driftpod a mere dot in the sky within minutes. 

You settled in your seat for a few more minutes, basking in his presence that you already miss. You would cry again, but what good would it do? Crying wouldn’t solve anything, and yet your heart ached for him. This was just the nature of solitude, you sighed to yourself, this is what you asked for.

As you gather yourself, wiping the tears that threaten to spill with your gloves, you prepare for take off, checking the engine and other settings in your driftpod to make sure you have everything.

Before you could enable hover mode, a small bolt sparked on your suit, followed instantly by a faint sound wave going through your communication lines. 

His eyes crinkled at the edges, a hint of a warm smile when he said your name and leaned in to gather you in his arms. However, he hesitated halfway, realizing he was covered in filth from the hunt and paused before his skin could touch yours. 

He stepped back, looking a little wistful, and you couldn’t help but smile wider as you gestured for him to lean in. You lifted a hand to his clothed cheek, offering a gentle caress in place of a hug.

"Welcome back!" you called. He echoed your words with a grin, "Back!" His arm twitched as if to reach for you, then he shook off the impulse and turned to the farthest corner to clean his hunted game.

You watched as he got to work, skinning and cleaning, bits of viscera smeared up onto his elbows. You should’ve looked away, disgusted by the process, yet there was something in the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled the creature’s limbs from its sockets with his bare hands. His biceps bunched, forearms strained, and knuckles whitened as he tore the meat from the bone. The strength he possessed was haunting, almost terrifying, and then it hit you:

You had never seen him wield an axe or any weapon to take down game. He was using the very same bare hands that were now stained with blood, their power unimaginable. And yet, with the way he held you close, ever so gently, it was a stark contrast. Mighty to others, but tender towards you, his touch reverent and worshipful, like handling a delicate, precious flower.

Your skin still remembers him from the night before, the lingering warmth of his body pressed against you, and your sap dampens your skin at the memory, carrying the faint trace of him—

König paused mid-motion, his shoulders tensing before he slowly turned his head your way, his blue eyes wide. You could see the burlap shift ever so slightly, as if he were catching your scent, and your cheeks heated when you realized even with all the blood and viscera from the game, he could smell your sap underneath it all, subtle yet intoxicating.

The elders once told you that Dryads were born with temptation coursing in their veins. In the past, the sap secreted served a far more dangerous purpose, used to lure many a traveller to their deaths, vines smothering them the moment your kind deemed it necessary. It was always meant to protect the village or deliver swift execution when any one of your kin was threatened.

But that was archaic; it was only done during a time you only heard about in passing.

Although the effect remained the same, today it was nothing more than an aphrodisiac, meant to draw lovers close. That was precisely what was unfolding as you stared at one another now.

König’s head tilted as he regarded you with a primal hunger. He remained still, and his hesitation was evident in every subtle shift of his posture. A shiver coursed through him, not from the cold, but from the heat prickling his skin and flushing his scarred flesh. In those piercing blue eyes, his pupils had already dilated with longing. 

You would have taken the initiative, as you had the night before, longing to feel him buried deep inside you, where no other man could ever reach, yet you held back. You knew he wanted the same, yet you couldn’t let it be only desire that drew you together. So you remained frozen in place, even as your eyes betrayed every ounce of the lust you felt.

Just when you expected him to close the distance between you in three quick strides — a thought that was both frightening and oddly arousing — he suddenly turned away and went back to cleaning, shaking off the primal urges that had crossed his mind.

To say you felt a bit disappointed would be an understatement, yet you chose to leave things as they were. It was for the best, at least for now.

As the day's work finally caught up with you after hours of patching up the cave-in, you shifted under the furs until you were comfortable. You let his lingering scent envelop you, and gradually, your muscles relaxed and your eyelids grew heavy until sleep took you completely.

—

When you rose in the wee hours of the morning, you noticed the chamber was already clean and orderly. Slabs of meat hung from a long, stripped branch laid across a pair of stakes, high enough above the fire that the smoke could cure them until the next meal.

König slept in the corner, his form a single dark shape where the furs draped over him blended with the shade of his burlap mask. As he shifted, his neck bent at an awkward angle that looked painfully stiff. Concerned, you walked over and touched his arm, your fingers gentle yet firm against his skin. When his eyes fluttered open and met yours, he blinked in confusion.

“Come to bed,” you murmured, pointing to the piles of furs before rubbing your own neck to show what you meant.

“You’re going to get a crick in your neck sleeping like that.”

His eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the words. “Stay here,” he mumbled in the Commonfolk tongue, already on the verge of dozing off.

You almost scoffed and nudged him again, making him grumble. At last, he relented, and with a soft huff, he gathered the furs he had with him and followed suit. You slipped beneath the covers first, settling on the farthest side closest to the wall, before he joined you and climbed in after, the bedding sinking under his weight.

Immediately, his scent flooded your senses, making your mouth water. Even asleep, his arm ghosted over you and scooped you backward out of instinct, pressing you flush against his chest. He was like firelight, never scalding, just a steady, comforting heat that slowly eased your breath until you, too, had fallen back asleep.

The sun filtered through the thick canopies, dappling your pathway with tiny patches of light as you headed for a small clearing to gather more herbs and flowers. 

You had already collected everything the apothecary asked for the day prior. Yet, you found yourself searching instead for anything the village healer might need, even if she never asked you for any favours. It was partly to repay the kindness she had shown when she tended to your injury, and partly because you needed something else to focus on. Staying in the cave meant giving in to the desire that clung to you like a second skin, which was precisely what transpired that morning:

Sleep hadn’t quelled the urge you felt once you roused from slumber. As soon as you stirred awake, so did König, his large arm still slung over your waist. 

You felt him shift, his body inadvertently pressing against your backside. You should have said something, or at least not goaded him, and you knew better than to stoke the fire, but when you purposefully ground your derrière back against the hard length of him, all self-control was thrown away, followed by your clothes.

The chamber was filled with gasps and praises as time seemed to slip by. Every thrust of his hips, paired with each eager swipe of his fingers over your sensitive bud, had you coming apart. It was all a little too much, teetering on overstimulation as your body quivered, and a long while passed before his rhythm finally faltered and slowed.

Although you would have willed your body to succumb for him once more, you were far too spent, and with a shudder, his climax surged through you, warmth filling you to the brim.

König shifted to lie on his side, taking you with him, still seated deep within you, softening slowly, holding you there for what seemed like forever, breathing in your scent. His arms held you close as he lazily gave your waist a gentle squeeze.

With a contented sigh, he brushed his clothed face against the top of your head like a kiss, then gingerly pulled out before staggering away, retreating into the darkness. You weren’t sure where he was going, and you would have followed, but you were completely undone.

If the Sisters could see you now, spend dripping and pooling between your legs, they would have sneered and called you unseemly names. But you didn’t care; if they see you unfit to be a part of the Dryadic Temple, so be it—

But that was just the lust talking, clouding your mind. You shook your head to clear your thoughts, trying to dispel the lingering high coursing through your veins. You didn’t want to be shunned by your brethren. Even though times had changed and some people began forming unions with others beyond their customs and traditions, the temple still frowned upon Sisters who broke its rules or stepped out of line.

Even as you tried to focus, gathering herbs primarily for treating stomach ailments and skin lesions, which were often scarce due to the high demand from the various folk who passed by the village healer’s hut, flashes of that morning clung to your mind.

The sensation of him flush against your body, as if reshaping you to take him fully, made your legs tremble as you bent over the plants. Maintaining your balance was challenging, and given your current condition, you considered collecting some herbs that might help with your boneless state since you were already out in the area.

After a while, though, you gave up and returned to the cave with only half of what you had intended to gather. 

“Not much done this day,” you admitted to yourself.

Once back in the chamber, König greeted you with a warm embrace, and you melted as your face pressed against his scarred chest, inhaling his scent. It overwhelmed you, and a rush of emotion began to swell within you. On impulse, you quickly pushed him away, perhaps a bit too harshly. He looked confused, maybe even a little hurt, but you offered him a reassuring, sheepish smile.

He watched you with concern as you began preparing a meal, a stew for the two of you. When your hand trembled and the knife clattered against the table, König was immediately by your side, checking to see if you were alright.

All you could do, however, was laugh, leaving him baffled as you dabbed at the tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

“I’m alright, König,” you said, still catching your breath. You weren’t sure why you were laughing; maybe it was too much euphoria, or perhaps something within you, your body still throbbing with need, had taken over.

You were puzzled, wondering why every time your arousal spiked, König, who should have been affected by it, seemed to have the opposite effect. It was as if he exuded his own aphrodisiac, intensifying your feelings even further. You had experienced desire before, but you had always been able to control it. Yet here you were, completely undone by his mere presence, a mess of longing and need.

You studied him with curiosity, intrigued by how easily he could sway your desires. His kind was unfamiliar to you: Half-Giants were not exactly rare, but they tended to be reclusive. Even rarer was the other side of him, glimpsed in the glow of his blue eyes and the unearthly tone of his voice.

Perhaps it was this hidden side, the part you had not yet understood, that drew you closer. In ways you could not explain, he had bewitched you, and you found yourself powerless to resist.

Trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy was impossible, and it became a push-and-pull, an unrelenting tension drawing you toward each other. Whenever your eyes met, an instant spark ignited, and you could see his blue eyes burning, ablaze with desire.

But he would look away, and so would you. This occurred once or twice as you went about your tasks around the chambers — him heading out to hunt while you gathered herbs or maintained the space. Yet, amidst all this, you found yourselves slowly overtaken by a hunger gnawing at your very cores.

When an ache you could no longer contain surged through you, and you caught his gaze as he prepared to head out for a hunt, you heard him take a sharp breath and murmur softly in his foreign tongue. The sound was both shy and playful, as if he were in disbelief, silently telling you that you were insatiable.

You didn’t deny it; a wicked smile danced at the corners of your lips, a smile you couldn’t suppress. Your body mirrored his entirely, heat radiating between you, and your mind fogged with desire. You wondered why he bothered hunting at night when he could be sinking his nails into you instead. Your eyes spoke volumes, revealing all the temptation and longing you felt.

Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, he closed the distance, hunting forgotten, and soon you were pressed together again, bodies aligning as if by instinct.

And then, it became a cycle, a repetitive rhythm, a back-and-forth cadence where his body seemed to be always at your beck and call — not out of obligation, but from mirrored hunger.

You could have put a stop to this whenever you wanted; a gentle push or even a look would have him pause in his tracks, one that he wouldn’t object to if you ever say “No”, but you don’t, letting your desires take the reins. 

One brief stroll the next night led your basket to lie forgotten, leaning against the edge of a fallen tree, its contents jostling in tandem with König’s powerful thrusts. His hips collided with yours as you were bent over the gnarled trunk, your hands firmly planted against your lips as you muffled the sound you made every time he bottomed out. 

After the little romp, with even shakier legs, you ended up sitting on the log, unable to walk further, so you directed König on where to go.

“Moonblossom,” you said, gesturing with your hands to form two petals dangling on each side. “The one with silver leaves and a white blossom—yes!” You exclaimed as he finally identified the right plant and gingerly dug it out along with its roots.

He strode leisurely toward you, placing the flower in your open palm where a sheet of wax paper lay. Gently, he wrapped it up and added it to the basket.

You held up three fingers. “I need three more Moonblossoms,” you said, and he nodded slowly before returning to the cluster of plants nearby.

Once you were able to move, or at least waddle, the two of you ventured to a new section. You contemplated silently, thinking of other herbs and flowers that the healer might need while studying the flora in front of you.

You sensed König’s presence behind you as he hovered nearby, ignoring the heat radiating from his skin as you walked away.

Leaning over briefly to examine another plant—a flower with shimmering pink petals curling at the tips and adorned with red dots—you dug it out from the ground using your vines and handed it to König.

“Erb?” he repeated the word you had taught him. You smiled and shook your head.

“No. It’s for you,” you explained. He tilted his head, confused. He glanced behind him at the basket, assuming you might need it, but you took his hand, redirecting his attention back to you.

“No, König, this is for you,” you reiterated, placing the flower in his palm and urging him to close his fingers gently. Understanding dawned on him as he inspected the plant; his eyes sparkled with delight.

You gave him a pat on the arm before returning to your gathering, expecting no more distractions.

Or so you thought.

He wrapped his arm around you, lifting you to his chest, and you squealed with laughter as you hovered a few feet above the ground.

He whispered sweet nothings, nuzzling your neck and hugging you tighter.

“König!” you laughed, playfully hitting his arm. 

“Put me down! We need to get back to work!” But he didn’t relent, burying his face against your hair and inhaling the scent of flowers and leaves in your scalp. 

After a moment, he finally let you go, and you turned to face him. 

“You have to stop distracting me!” you exclaimed, though not angrily, as laughter followed your words. He feigned guilt, hunching his shoulders. He tried to scoop you up again, but you dodged his touch.

“No!” you yelped, pointing a finger at him. “Behave!” you added, still laughing. He flashed you a knowing look, one that seemed to say, “You’re one to talk!”

Moving to a different section of the forest, both of you tried to keep your composure, but it was either one of you distracting the other or vice versa.

As you walked a little further ahead, he shot you another playful look, and you could see the sultry glint in his eyes.

You were about to yell at him to go away when you suddenly paused, feeling a strong instinct reverberate through your body.

König halted mid-step, curious about the sudden change in your expression as you charged toward him.

Gripping his wrist with both hands, you led him down a small hill and hid under the overhanging rocks. He tried to say something, but you shushed him. Vines jutted from the ground, overgrown and clinging to the underside of the rocks, helping to hide your location.

You could barely hear the conversation, but judging by the sound of hooves clicking against the ground and the mix of voices, it was a drove of Centaurs — quite far from their territory since the borders were closed. You weren’t sure why they were there, as they rarely stray from their area to patrol these regions. If they were venturing further south than usual, you suspected there was turmoil somewhere, either forcing them to relocate or sending them out on a hunt. However, centaurs typically hunt in the morning and in pairs, not in a large group.

You held König's arm tightly, hoping they wouldn’t come down the hill. Your pulse quickened at the terrible thought of them discovering your makeshift hideout. You didn’t want König to get hurt if a scuffle broke out.

As you glanced at König, he bristled, alert, his eyes flickering like flames in the dark. You stared at him, pressing a finger to your lips to signal silence and stillness.

“Don’t…” you whispered. He remained tense but didn’t move.

“Looks like someone left their wee basket in th' forest,” a voice called out, rough and raspy, as the sound of another pair of hooves approached.

“Take it. We need all the supplies we can get,” one of them said before they seemed to leave the area. It felt like an eternity had passed, though it was only seconds, when another voice rang out: “What’s this?” one of them asked, his voice clearer and much too close for comfort. Your heart skipped a beat as you dreaded what would come next, hoping to the gods above that they didn’t notice where you were hiding—

“It's just a flower, mate. Leave it.” An irritated scoff erupted from one of the Centaurs, followed by more rumbling as they moved away from the area.

You hesitated to come out of your hiding place, clinging to König. He seemed to be staring at you, his eyes filled with concern.

“What?” you asked. He held your gaze for a moment longer until you understood what he meant.

“It’s just a basket, König; I can make another,” you said, but he still looked devastated, his eyes a bit sullen.

“We can gather again. It’s no trouble,” you added slowly.

The forest fell silent again, apart from the rustling leaves and the wind whistling through the rocks. You waited a few heartbeats before releasing the vines. Only then did you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

When you finally emerged from your hiding spot and inspected the area where you had left, you discovered, as you suspected, that your basket of herbs was gone, and the grass around you was crushed, marked by hoofprints. You simply shrugged it off; it wasn't a significant loss as long as both of you were unharmed.

You noticed König kneeling on the ground, and when you took a peek, it was the flower you gave him, but it was trampled. He seemed stricken, and even if you placed a hand on his shoulder, his gaze was fixed on the crushed petals.

“It’s alright, König.” He turned sharply toward you, not in anger, but with a deep sense of grief, as if the little blossom held far more significance than you had realized. You almost smiled, not out of amusement, but in surprise at how deeply he seemed to care for something so small.

You glanced around at the chaos once more and shrugged your shoulders; there was nothing to do here since your belongings had been stolen.

“I guess it’s time to head back,” you said to him. But before you could start walking, he opened his arms to you. You blinked in surprise as he lifted you before you could protest.

“I can walk, you know,” you said, chuckling. However, the look in his eyes conveyed a different message as he squeezed your thigh, reminding you of what you two had been doing in between your tasks.

You could see a cheeky grin beneath the burlap, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

—

By morning, you had woven a new basket from your own vines, slightly smaller than the one you had taken. You told König you wouldn’t be long, then headed a little south toward the river you had visited a few nights ago.

You collected multiple items this time, from herbs for fevers to ones for gut health. You even paused by the moonblossoms, considering that although their petals were still closed, you could gather them and temporarily plant them by the gloomcaps in the cave until they bloomed. That was your plan — until a shiver ran down your spine, the odd sensation of being watched, followed by the sharp click of hooves behind you.

You immediately turned to look and saw one of the Centaurs from last night. He didn’t move closer; instead, he stayed where he was, a few feet away from you behind the tall grass, but you could see him clearly. His towering form stood out. He wasn’t as tall as König, but he still towered over the tallest stalks of grass.

He backed away a little further, as if to indicate that he meant you no harm.

“Mornin’ lass,” he greeted, your breath caught in your throat as you nodded back in return, your eyes wary and your pulse quickening. He eyes your basket for a brief moment before he speaks again.

“Strange place for a Sister tae be wanderin’ alone in these woods, so far frae the village,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “Did nae one warn ye no’ tae stray?” His tone carried a patronizing lilt, and you bristled at his words.

You held the basket closer, fearing it would get stolen again and unsure of what to say. He raised his hand when he noticed vines slithering around you for protection.

“Ah meant nae harm, lass, jist passin’ through tae keep watch.” He chuckled as he stepped back, but your vines held fast. It was unwise to tangle with strangers, yet anger coursed hot through your veins.

“Why are you here anyway? You’re also far from home,” you said, but with a tremor in your tone. He tilted his head at you as if taken aback by your courage. 

“There’s unrest up north. We’re here tae keep folks safe,” he said, briefly swiping a hand along the dagger at his side, one you hadn’t noticed until now. Before he fully turned away, he added one last warning:

“Best be careful in these parts of the woods, lass. There’s an auld creature that haunts this place. Half man, half beast. Best steer clear of it.” You squinted your eyes, unsure of what it meant, and didn’t know what to say. You only nodded, keeping yourself calm. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.” 

He lingered for a moment longer, glancing at your basket again, before he turned and galloped away, disappearing past the thickets.

You waited until the hoofbeats faded before letting out the breath that had been stuck in your throat, relieved there hadn’t been a scuffle. But now you had to return to the cave earlier than planned.

Gathering the few remaining herbs you had been trying to organize, you used your vines to create a makeshift strap and slung the basket on your back before walking away, almost running, toward the cave.

“What a curious thing to utter,” you hissed, struggling to grasp the meaning behind that warning. Yet, as the Centaur’s words about the “beast” in the forest echoed in your mind, a sense of unease began to creep upon you.

Half-man, half-beast. 

A creature of old, you recalled, piecing it together:

A creature of old resided in the depths of the dark woods, fierce and formidable, born of towering strength and strange, unnatural lineage, said to haunt the shadows and prey upon those who ventured too far from home.

The warnings from your childhood came rushing back — the cautionary tales your village spoke of to younglings for their own safety.

Bar your doors and windows, and fear the howl that rode the wind.

Half-man, half-beast.

Then it hit you — they were talking about König. 

Anger coursed through you as you realized there was still fear disguised as hatred lurking in the hearts of many toward misunderstood creatures. It was sad that folk still saw others as beasts.

But knowing the creature himself — knowing König, and having seen firsthand how he had proven the rumours wrong…

“A beast?” you bitterly muttered under your breath, shaking your head in disbelief. What beast is heartbroken when a flower is trampled? What beast tenderly holds you close, wrapping you in strong arms, uttering your name in a whisper so quiet it feels like a prayer uttered into the night? His size might intimidate, along with his strength and prowess, and yet no one had ever made you feel the way König made you feel, and no one ever would compare—

You gasped as warmth prickled against your skin. He was no beast, no creature of formidable lore — he was but a man, powerful yet misunderstood, lonely and isolated for centuries. The realization made your heart thrum, and a shiver of sensation pooled in your core.

You almost dropped the basket as memories of the past few days flooded your mind, a dizzying mix of longing, desire, and something more, something deeper than mere lust.

Before you could speak, you realized you were slipping through the small crack König had made when he pushed the slab of rock aside for you to enter the cave, then rolled it back in place.

He uttered your name with the sweetest lilt as he took the basket from you, placing it atop the cart with the others full of herbs. Before he could move away, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him close, burying your face in his back.

He repeated your name as a question, as if to ask if you were alright. You didn’t want to share the details of the encounter, not because you feared him, but because you were worried about what he might do. You didn’t want others to learn about him or where he was hiding; if they already knew, you didn't want them to rally together and hunt him down.

He was too precious, nothing like the warnings you had heard; if he had terrorized the vicinity for centuries, you would’ve known as the pulse of the earth would warn you of his evil, but he exudes no such energy, no such malice. Rumours were just rumours.

König twisted in your grasp and lifted you higher in his arms, burying his covered face in your hair as he whispered words you didn’t understand.

You held him tighter, pressing his face against your chest. You chuckled softly at the absurdity of it all, at how ridiculous others’ perceptions of him were. You are a daughter of nature, a maiden attuned to the pulse of the earth, yet you would go to great lengths to protect him, and if anything went awry, you would shroud those who ever tried to harm him, ensnaring every single being nearby with your vines—

A sound escaped König’s mouth, and you didn’t realize you were smothering him until he pulled away for a breath of air, his eyes wide. 

He cautiously said your name, and you apologized for getting lost in thought.

“Sorry, love,” you said with a cheeky smile, gently caressing his clothed face. He gazed into your eyes and noticed a look he hadn't seen before. He didn't recoil; instead, curiosity softened his expression. That intensity didn't frighten him; rather, it pulled him closer, making the air between you thrum with unspoken anticipation.

It was your last night together before you had to leave and return to the village. You had been away much longer than intended; while you would have loved to stay longer, you worried the Sisters might grow suspicious of your absence.

You carefully packed everything back into your cart, dividing the items into baskets for easier handoff. Most of them were for the apothecary, with one basket set aside for the healer living at the edge of the village.

König sat near the wall, eating his supper. He tore small pieces of cured meat, pulling his mask forward to tuck them into his mouth beneath.

After laying everything out, you helped wipe away the stray bits of grass and plant remnants that cluttered the table.

This was the part you disliked the most: returning to the village. But it was necessary. König was a secret you kept from others, and you intended to safeguard that secret.

When a shadow fell over you, you felt no fear, only a comforting presence.

König whispered your name with reverence as he played with the ends of your hair, then leaned in to inhale your scent while gently pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Stay?” he murmured into your hair. You placed your hand over his large hands.

“I would love to, but... I have to head back,” you replied, and he understood, though he didn’t let go for a while.

He slowly turned you around, and when you pulled away, it was only briefly; you both gazed into each other’s eyes, seeking the same answer, and you saw the sultry look that ignited a spark between you.

You felt a deep hunger within you, one that no food could satisfy. You craved something more primal, a visceral sensation that offered warmth and longing — something only he could provide.

You could see the gears turning in his mind, as if he were trying to recall the right words to say.

“Want… you,” he whispered, uncertain if he had spoken correctly. When your cheeks flushed, he repeated his words with more confidence:

“Want you.”

He placed you on top of the table, the height a tad lower than he preferred, but in that moment, he didn’t mind. He turned you around, positioning you on all fours. With a swift motion, he lifted your skirts, perhaps a bit too forcefully, and bunched them around your waist. All you could do was laugh and sigh as he pressed you down against the surface.

Before you could question his next move, you felt a soft, wet, pliant tongue licking your sensitive bud before he dragged it upward toward your entrance and gingerly pushed his tongue inside you.

You moaned out loud as he drank your sap, too lost in pleasure to hold back. His hands slid along your thighs, spreading them wider as his thumb swiped over your bud in steady, repetitive strokes.

It dawned on you that he had his face buried between your thighs, something you had only ever dreamt about. Your legs quivered as he sucked on your folds, the sounds so obscene you might have recoiled and shied away. Yet the way he feasted on you like a starving man receiving his first meal in years held you in place. You could not have pulled away even if you wanted to.

You whined when his tongue left your nethers, the edge of release slipping out of reach, though he gave you a few more languid licks before pulling back, but it still wasn’t enough.

You were already soaking wet, quivering, sap dripping down the edge of the table and onto the ground. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him sit on his haunches before he gently pulled you onto his lap.

He felt like a furnace against your skin, the leather of his breeches drawn tight around his massive length. Once he untied and shucked them off, he lifted you without a moment’s pause. The crown caught at your entrance, and the needy, guttural sound of your name on his tongue made your breath hitch as he eased you down, slow and steady, until he was buried fully inside you.

Every press of his hips and every slow drag of his cock against your walls ignited a fire inside you. He caged you in, rutting deep into your core, and all you could do was cry out and surrender to the wave of pleasure consuming you.

There had to be something wrong with you, for no matter how many times you took him, your body still hungered for more. And he was just as willing to give again, and again.

He sank so deep that his shape rose faintly beneath your skin. You touched that place, and he twitched within you, pulling a moan from your throat.

Each movement was slow yet deliberate, your body moulding around him as every thrust made that bulge rise again. Your thighs bracketed his, dangling on either side, as he lifted your hips without effort and pressed you down, savouring the way your walls clenched around him.

He trailed one hand from your hips down between your thighs, spreading your sap over your sensitive bud. The reaction was immediate. Your body sang with pleasure as he finally pushed you over the edge.

“F–Fuck!” You cried out, clamping down around his generous girth and feeling so utterly full. You tried to push his hand away from your clit, but he did not relent. He kept thrusting up into you with a pace that grew harder, jarring your bones.

“K–König! Wai—” your voice broke into a silent scream as he willed your body into another orgasm, your release nearly pushing him out as you gushed sap down his thighs.

“Fuck…” he muttered in a breathy exhale, echoing your own words. His grip tightened as he held you close, rising to his feet and turning toward the furs.

As he lay you down, the bedding sank beneath his weight while he hovered above your smaller frame. Your hair fanned out across the furs, your cheeks flushed, and your thighs still trembled with need. He leaned down to nuzzle your cheek before trailing lower, his clothed face grazing over your bosom.

His blue eyes met yours, and he spoke in his foreign tongue, posing a question as if seeking your permission. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, and although you didn't understand his meaning, you nodded anyway, intrigued to see what he would do next. 

He brushed his hands upwards until he held the strings to untie your top, carefully unwrapping the linen and pushing it aside to reveal your breasts.

König pulled the burlap mask forward, letting the hem fall against one of your breasts as he bent down. His tongue flicked over your nipple, rolling the peak, and a sharp gasp escaped you. His free hand kneaded your other mound, teasing the sensitive flesh until you trembled beneath him.

You barely registered him pulling away to slip your skirts off for easier access, your mind still hazy with euphoria, every nerve alight and craving more.

Moments later, he lifted your hips to press his face against your core, the mask shifted just enough to reveal a hint of alabaster skin before he delved his tongue into you. 

Your body arched instinctively, head pressing against the pillows as shivers of pleasure rolled through you. Warmth pooled between your thighs as you gasped and whimpered while he lapped at you with deliberate, hungry attentiveness, murmuring low praises that made you mute. Each flick and glide of his tongue drew a moan from deep within you, and you could feel him drinking you in with fervent intensity.

By the time he finally pulled back, your body was trembling and slick, utterly undone, and he rose to his knees, pulling you flush against his hips once more. Your bodies pressed together, moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each press and glide matched in hungry synchrony, the air around you thick with heat and the dizzying scent of desire.

He grabbed the base of his cock, the tip weeping and dripping onto your mons, and entered you in one slow, deep thrust, stretching you to your limit. The sensation alone was too much, cumming instantly from being filled once more.

You clung to him desperately as his gentle demeanour wavered, and his grip tightened around your waist. His fingers left bruising divots in your skin. Your body was alight, limp and spent, lying there and surrendering to him. You reached for his wrists, as if to tell him to slow down, but you were just as lost as he was.

König moaned your name like a prayer, bottoming out and holding until the pressure made you burst again, tears spilling down your cheeks from overstimulation.

“Too much,” you whimpered as his hands left your hips to wrap around you, pulling you close while still being careful not to crush you with his full weight.

“More…” he moaned, thrusting in short, deep strokes, and you could only wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer while clinging to him for dear life. He nudged that spot inside you again and again, willing you to cum.

“More…” he repeated, his voice strained, and your trembling only worsened. “I can’t—I can’t, König, it’s too much—” you mewled, pleading, but he nosed at your cheek and repeated the word again: “More.” You could only whimper as he kept an unrelenting pace, certain it was impossible to give him anything more.

Then he slowed, sliding one hand between you, his thumb swiping over the sensitive nub with deliberate precision. The gentle pressure, paired with the steady glide of his cock, drew another shattering orgasm from you as your chest arched into his, mouth agape in another silent scream. 

Before long, his pace grew messy and his control slipped, and with one final, deep thrust, his cock twitched, spilling his seed deep inside you, leaving you utterly sated and trembling in the aftershocks of pleasure.

The air around you was thick with desire. Vision blurred, he held you close, softening slowly inside and twitching occasionally with the last remnants of his release.

You did not even realize you had fallen asleep, exhausted, limp, and spent, until you woke in the middle of the night to find König had rolled you on top of him, both of you pressed together on his chest, completely passed out. He did not stir when you shifted, just as boneless as you, and you gazed at the two dark voids where his eyes should be, the inky tone around them almost blending with the darkness of the burlap.

You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to where you thought his lips were, before letting yourself drift back to sleep, warm and safe in his arms.

You left König's dwelling in the early hours of the morning, just before the sun began to rise over the horizon. 

As you both stood near the entrance, your touch lingered longer than it had before, and a comfortable silence enveloped the two of you as he held your hand. You drew him down into a warm embrace, pressing your lips against his clothed cheek, and then, lowering slightly, you placed a tender kiss to where his lips should be beneath the burlap mask.

He didn’t want to let you go just yet, his large arms enveloping you in a tender hug. You inhaled his scent: an earthy aroma with a faint trace of yourself, and blushed at the thought that you must have left some residue on his skin from the previous night.

When he finally set you back down, you conjured up four stalks of lilac, tying the stems together with a small vine before handing them to him.

The promise of your return lingered in the air. As you carried the baskets away, you turned to look at König, who gave you a small wave. Although he looked a bit despondent, he didn’t seem as sad as he was when you first left.

—

It took you some time to reach the village border, as you had to stop and eat a few berries to regain your strength. You planned to make a quick visit to the local healer to get your ankle checked, using it as an excuse before returning home. You wanted to avoid people questioning the peculiar way you were walking.

As you entered her hut, the beads and shells hanging by the door chimed softly. The old woman looked up and greeted you with a gentle smile. Her eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, as if she could see something beyond your limp — perhaps a hint of longing or affection in your gaze. There was also a playful glint in her eyes that you found somewhat unsettling.

“How are you, my dear? Is everything going well?” she asked, preparing a concoction for your ankle. You shrugged at her words, replying that you were fine, but her gaze lingered longer, her eyes squinting as her smile remained unchanged.

You sensed she didn’t wish to pry, but a soft giggle escaped her lips. “You seem... happier,” she remarked, her smile widening like a friend who had caught wind of some delightful gossip.

“Is that so?” you said, giving yourself a quick once-over as if dusting off your skirts and linen shirt. Surely, there was nothing that would betray what you had been up to, unless you showed her the faint fingerprints König had left on your hips after gripping them a touch too tightly the night before. You tried to recall each place he had pressed his lips against yours, and there were none on your neck, where they would be obvious. He had to lift the burlap mask to reach your breasts, and that brief glimpse of his lower face had been the first and only time you’d seen it—

That realization made your heart flutter. His piercing blue eyes were familiar, but the rest — his mouth, the curve of his jaw — mainly remained a mystery. You found yourself tracing that fleeting glimpse in your mind, wishing you could press every kiss you had ever longed for against lips mostly hidden.

The old woman saw the change in your expression and let out a joyful, teasing laugh. Her eyes glowed faintly green — non-threatening, yet knowing — and you realized she could sense something, a faint trace of another magic clinging to your skin.

Before you could defend yourself, she waddled to the corner and retrieved a salve, a slim bottle with a bluish sheen. She handed it to you, still grinning.

“Might want to apply this to your vulva when you return to your sweetheart,” she said matter-of-factly, and you felt your cheeks flush as you stammered, realizing the implication of her words.

“Wh—I—There’s no one—“ The old woman raised her hand to still you, clearly amused by your flustered state.

Panic set in as you tried to justify that you had merely been out gathering herbs, which was true but also a half-lie; you and König could hardly keep your hands off each other like lovestruck younglings.

She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, drawing you back to the present. Her smile remained steadfast. “It’s alright, dear. No need to feel shame. It is the sign of the times. Folks are changing—the world’s changing.” She gestured with her hands as she sauntered back to the table.

“You can love whoever you want,” she said, regarding you as she ran her fingers over a necklace that flickered briefly from an iridescent white to obsidian.

She continued to prepare the healing ointment for your ankle as if she hadn’t just read your thoughts like an open book.

You looked at her, curious about how she knew, but she seemed to read your mind and simply shrugged. “It’s in the eyes, my dear. They reveal what’s in your heart.”

You had not realized how easy you were to read, but with her healer’s intuition, she gave you some comforting words: 

“You’re alright, darling. You’re safe here,” she assured you, yet you remained unconvinced despite her soothing tone. You knew she was mainly neutral; she would never betray your trust, but anxiety gnawed at you nonetheless.

She placed the wooden pestle down and approached you again as you held your breath. You towered over her by a few inches, trying to remain calm, though your pulse quickened in your ears.

She tilted her head, studying your face, and you nearly flinched when she lifted her hand to brush your hair aside, tucking it gently behind your ear.

“Your petals and leaves are in full bloom—such an otherworldly beauty. No wonder someone of that nature is taken with you,” she remarked, a playful wink accompanying her words. You squinted your eyes, blushing at the compliment but also puzzled by her meaning. She didn’t elaborate further and returned to get your salve.

With you seated upon the bed, she knelt before you, gently massaging the salve into your skin. A sense of discomfort washed over you; you could have managed this task alone without her kneeling before you in a manner akin to a mother tending to her child. When you attempted to protest, she merely tutted and continued to fuss over you, unfazed.

“Thank you…Um, I gathered some herbs for you whilst I was out,” you offered, a sheepish smile creeping onto your face, realizing you should have mentioned this sooner. You placed the basket by her table, poised to take your leave, when she called your name.

“When do you plan to return to him?” she inquired, and you froze at her words. Yet she smiled warmly, as if she could see right through you.

You stammered again before you found your voice: “I’m not certain…The Sunbasking is but a few days away; the Sisters expect me to join them,” you replied, watching her nod in understanding.

“I see. Should you find your way back, I shall need more supplies—help an old woman out, dear?” she said, and you blinked at her, striving to return her smile, albeit shyly.