gilded hearts
summary: the King notices you slip away from the ball. He knows what they've been saying about you. He reminds you that before anything else, he's yours. or: Xavier comforts you by eating you out on the throne.
notes: 18+, mdni, pwp, no spoilers, cunnilingus, fingering, established relationship, reassurance, kind of romantic, maybe ooc? xavier is a little unnerving in some parts of this because darker Xavier is yummier, jealous!mc for approximately three seconds, freak 2 freak communication strikes again. written before myth release. 2.7k words of...something. do not read if any of the above is not to your taste.
“It’s cute when you’re jealous.”
The King— no— Xavier’s voice echoes throughout the great hall, shaking you from your reverie. You had excused yourself by complaining of a headache, departing from the festivities as soon as diplomatically feasible. The gloom in your expression mirrors the frigid hall and you turn away from him, feigning extreme interest in his claymore propped up by the foot of the throne.
You hadn’t expected Xavier to notice you slip away; he was drowning in the attention of his ministers and diplomats as it were, and frankly you didn’t feel like talking to him.
Especially not with the way his gaze seemed to linger on the ladies-in-waiting being paraded in front of him. No matter the millenia, there were always lesser nobles trying to curry the king’s favor through their daughters and sons. That, coupled with your lack of ties to nobility despite being the Queen Consort, was a perennial sore spot. The whisper campaign about how you seduced the Mad King, how you must’ve slept your way to being Grandis Knight and then Consort despite having no lands or titles, was evident in every hushed conversation, a persistent buzz every second Xavier held court.
Although Xavier had made it abundantly clear that that was not the case– showering you with his affection, his words, his time, his touch– the ugly feelings were difficult to deal with, especially in front of an audience. All the pomp and circumstance of the long day meant you had way too much time to stew in your misplaced anger.
Your favorite solution to this problem? To leave as quickly as possible so that no one would catch your mask slipping. You needed an escape from the stuffy courtiers, the polite superficial conversation.
It takes Xavier mere steps to cross the dais and you hear him come to a stop in front of the throne where you stood. You refuse to acknowledge him, stewing in your nervous energy.
The sudden warmth of his chest against your back startles you as his arms circle your waist. Xavier sighs happily, as he always does when the two of you are alone. He doesn’t speak, instead leaving little pecks on your cheek, nose nuzzling behind your ear, long hair tickling your neck.
“Jeremiah almost bit my head off for ignoring the ladies being introduced.”
He knows. Of course he can tell by the way you hold yourself. With merely a sentence, the worries you had been nourishing start to release.
Wordlessly, he spins you around, and he takes your hand in his, pressing a soft, polite kiss over your knuckles as if the ball was actually here and he was just a gentleman inviting you to dance.
You pout halfheartedly, unwilling to fold so quickly. You’re only prolonging the inevitable though, because you can’t help but move into his embrace, seeking his comfort. You feel him chuckle as he kisses your hair and squeezes you in a hug before taking your hand once more right as music starts to fill the room from the outside.
The two of you cut across the moonlight soaked room in an effortless waltz, not a beat out of tempo, his arms a strong cradle around you. The hall is silent except for your heels clicking in time to the muted sounds of the orchestra.
Midway through the third movement, a minuet this time, Xavier finally speaks.
“How can I show my dear Queen–” a step forward, your gown shimmering across the floor, “– how much she means to me?”.
A sweeping sidestep to his right. He places another kiss over your wedding ring, mannerisms gentle, eyes anything but.
All the fight bleeds out of you as you follow his lead, letting him control the pacing, giving up your pain, choosing him instead. Xavier has so much to carry, and the two of you only have each other.
The music swells and he pulls you in close, steady hand on your back as he gently dips you, stealing a kiss to your cheek.
“How can I show her that I would throw it all away just for her?” he breathed, eyes wide. It startles you, the determination behind his statement, as if he was repeating a sworn oath, one that kept him company throughout his journey in the heavens.
Another kiss, this time his breath hovering just a beat too long on the curve of your chest, gaze heavy over the line of your neck, the shadows over your collarbones, taking in the way your breathing started to become heavier. When it comes to flirtation, Xavier is shameless.
“How do I tell her, ‘The only title I want is as her husband?' ”. He plants a constellation of kisses on your collarbone, each one setting your body alight. You feel heat start to fan across your body as he traces his fingertip along your jeweled choker.
“I suppose I could always shower her in more gifts,” he muses, smiling as he pecks your nose. He rewards your giggle of delight with another.
“But I think this way is better,” he says as he leans in to finally kiss you, deeply, as if he could imprint his adoration for you onto your body. His palms reach up to cradle your cheeks, tilting it just so right as sweeps his tongue into your mouth, humming with delight when your lips part at his intrusion.
Gently, reluctantly, Xavier pulls back, pleased with how your lips are now parted, eyes half-lidded, nervously swallowing your need, no shade of your petulant earlier self. It was never actually personal. You just needed a little reminder.
Xavier holds you cheek to cheek as the two of you sway to the violins outside, the light of your gown and the dark of his suit a study in intimate contrast. A firm suck to your earlobe has a moan escaping you, and that’s when you hear it, just a whisper above your ear.
“Shall I execute every person who makes you feel this way?”
You freeze, a distant alarm bell sounds, just a little.
He doesn’t react, and you find his gaze is suddenly distant and dull over your shoulder. When you don’t respond, he continues, voice steady, “String them outside the castle walls because they dare make my wife feel this way?”. He says this matter-of-factly, like it's nothing as he kisses your cheek and something like fear settles in your spine alongside the arousal. He would never want you to be afraid of him, but you know him also to be a good actor.
“I’d do anything for you, you know.”
“I know, Your Majesty.” is all you can muster as you blink owlishly at him.
But before you can speak any further he pulls back and smiles at you, eyes soft and full of affection, not a trace of malice or otherwise. Sometimes, you’re not sure which Xavier you’re speaking to.
You take an unconscious step backward.
“Uh-uh. Don’t run from me.” he coos.
“Not you too.” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. Your heart quickens, off-kilter by the sudden change in Xavier’s demeanor as he slowly walks forward, leaving you nowhere to go but the throne.
He’s playing with you though, you realize, because he’s giving you plenty of opportunities to run.
“Light can travel around Philos in 0.013 seconds”, you remember him saying once, somewhere in the murky past.
If he was ever serious, well, it’d be over before you even knew it.
You collapse onto his seat, slightly bewildered, equal parts burning with desire and stiff with a kind of fear.
“Ah,” he remarks, “Where are my manners?”
He flings the tails of his jacket back, and kneels in front of you, hand over his heart.
“May I take this opportunity to show my devotion Your Highness?”
Xavier doesn’t need a throne to project authority. Even as he kneels in front of you, the picture of supplication, with his back to the door, a position anyone else would consider vulnerable; you’re the one who is pinned by his gaze, by the smile playing at his lips as his eyes trails up the slit of your gown. It’s his particular favorite, the gold thread blending in seamlessly with the ivory and traces of blue, delicate golden flowers at your feet, just like he had requested.
“You may.” is your response.
Xavier doesn’t skip a beat, eager hands retracing his eyes. His palm comes to rest just skimming the highest point of the cut in your dress, fingertips just skirting the lace of your garter, anchoring your leg to him. Xavier rests his head on your other thigh, looking up at you from under his lashes.
“Allow me to show you then.” he whispers, hot breath ghosting over your legs. The silky material transfers the feeling straight to your center. Without waiting for an answer he suddenly reaches under you and yanks you towards him. The sudden movement makes your legs butterfly open, causing the material of your dress to pull up and bunch around your waist.
Xavier runs his knuckle up your covered core, ignoring your panicked demands to stop as it dawns on you what he’s about to do. Right now. In the open. In the room where you’d always felt your lowest.
Thought quickly flees however, as Xavier brings the full weight of his attention onto you. He kisses right over your clitoris, laving and sucking at it through the thin fabric, ruining it for good measure before pulling them to the side.
Xavier eats you out with a ferocity he reserves for little else. He uses everything at his disposal, fingers, tongue, lips, nose to feel every part of you, sending ripples of pleasurable overwhelm throughout your body, the kind that makes you chase for more and more. It’s animalistic and sloppy as your juices and his saliva drip down his chin and your thighs, defiling the literal seat of his power.
His iron grip holds your legs open, giving you no quarter, no way to escape his assault. You scrabble at the arms of his throne, looking for an anchor, anything. Xavier snatches your wrist, placing your hand in his long hair, carelessly knocking his crown to the floor. You’re so far away it barely registers.
Hold on to me, I always have you, is what he means.
It’s all you can do to hold onto him. He moans when you yank, eyes rolling into the back of his skull, as he continues with fervor. Your nerves are on fire before he finally takes a break to bruise your thighs, leaving purple blossoms all over the tops of your garters, looking almost deranged with lust as he straightens up to kiss you, the scent of you all over his mouth, the taste of you all over his tongue. He looks almost rejuvenated.
Reluctantly, he pulls away from you with a gasp before diving back into your cunt.
“Y-Your Majesty I–” a particularly earnest suck has you seeing white.
“That’s not who I am,” he retorts instantly, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He watches the way you swirl your tongue around his fingers with rapt attention, sticking them just far enough down your throat to be uncomfortable, making you gag. You don’t miss the way his eyes darken, blue eclipsed entirely by black, as he watches you choke. You must be mad too, because that only amplifies your need for him. For this Xavier, your Xavier, the one that indulges the darkest parts of himself, the parts that do live up to his reputation, a sight only ever for you to see.
What His Majesty wants you to know is that before he is king, he is yours. Before he is anybody, he is just Xavier.
He would be content to do this for the rest of his unnatural life, head between your legs, two fingers slowly pushing in, grinning as you let your head fall back with a moan. He curls his fingers with devastating precision, relishing in your pleas and gasps, the little tells signalling that you wanted more.
“Don’t be shy starlight.” the old nickname from before fills you with a kind of warmth that could only be described as divine.
“Tell me what you want,” Xavier pleads, voice husky, “let me be a good husband and a good lover.” It makes your heart ache.
Your words come out crystal clear. Full of surety that he wishes you would always have moving forward.
“Make me feel good. I want you to make me feel good Xavier.”
He shudders as he hears his name fall from your lips, turning to kiss the little anklet he gifted you on your wedding day, a delicate barely there golden chain. Even in the dim light the little “X” glitters as you thrash around in his grasp, arching your back off the throne as his fingers continue to pump methodically in and out of your hole. Occasionally, he’ll pull them completely out, instead dragging his hand across your folds, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver as you demand sensation from him.
Your world shrinks to the feelings that he allows you, the points of contact he allows you to partake in. He is equally as vocal as you are, the way he moans your name into your pussy makes your skin dance, sweat shimmering all over you.
It’s your turn to be in prayer, as you cry out his name over and over.
“Yes—oh god Xavier— Xavier— my angel.”
He lets you scream yourself hoarse before he adds a third finger.
You see stars, trying desperately to scrabble off of Xavier’s face as you approach your end. Some distant part of you knows that he’ll have to walk around with evidence of your sin all over him back to royal bedchambers. The more present part of you though, knows that that is a foregone conclusion, and that he doesn’t care. In fact, you know Xavier would be delighted and shameless about it.
There’s nowhere to go as he pulls you towards oblivion on the tip of his tongue.
“All over me, or nothing at all starlight.”
The contrast between the fullness in your pussy, his ringed knuckle brushing on your clit, and the roughness in his voice has you spiraling as you cum. Your orgasm is unmistakable in the way you try desperately to curl in on yourself, in the way your thighs ache, warm liquid spraying onto his chest, his hair as you buck into Xavier’s face with a cry.
Xavier watches as you drip down the throne onto his claymore with naked, almost incredulous delight.
“Now you’ve gotten it all over my blade…” he tutted, “wasn’t enough to just soak my clothes hmm?”
Firm fingers grasp your jaw, directing your gaze back to him. While you’ve been on the receiving end of his affection, he looks almost worse than you, evidence of your release all over his chin and hands and jacket. That, coupled with the secretive smile on his lips lets you know he is far from done.
His voice is soft as his thumb caresses your cheek. “I seem to recall allowing you to cum, but not to make a mess.”
“I recall no agreements of any sort,” you croak, still coming to, trying to catch your breath. “Has my liege picked up bad habits at court too?”
His laugh, relaxed and unguarded, echoes across the air you two share.
“There’s also the matter of my consort getting in her head about frivolous, untrue things,” he tuts, finger tapping his lip as if in thought.
“We’re going to leave court for a spell, just the two of us,” he whispers, palms once again parting your thighs as he licks his lips, “and I’ll permanently extinguish that thought from your pretty head before we return.”
It’s a promise as good as any oath.
notes:can't wait to get my greedy hands on all the new lore. i wrote this to distract myself from the wait (curse being in na server!). this kind of went in all manner of directions tonally i was kind of hoping to strike a balance between loving wifeguy xavier and maybe he's actually gone slightly crazy xavier. i hope he isn't too ooc! if you saw any mistakes, it's approximately 1 am and i wrote/edited the bulk of this in a few hours shh. i want to see him getting pegged on the throne too hmm.
may he come home on soft pity to everyone who wants him!
likes/reblogs/comments/follows always appreciated! divider: @/thecutestgrotto
