#jurdanhell

Oneshots

It's Always You

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Love in Every Line

Take Me Home

Like Fire

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Your Hollowed Skin

Silver Drop Thief Modern Faerie Tales

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For the kindred

I Will Know Nothing (Until I Know You)

what is a secret, but not a promise?

Multi-Chapter

Heart Stopper

Delirium

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Twitter AU

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That One (1) Jurdan Poem I Wrote

That Other Jurdan Poem I Wrote

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A Child's Nightmare

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Lost Possessions, Children, Safety

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And Then There Were Three

Everything Lies in Detail

Somber Songs

Tipsy Kisses

The Truth in Lies Part I

The Truth in Lies Part II

The Truth in Lies Part III

Anyways, Always

I make up my mind just as she moves to close the door behind her. “Leave us,” I command them, and their faces fall but they obey me, silently slipping from my side, gathering their clothing, but making no attempt to clothe themselves before leaving the bedroom. I have servants in the next room who can escort them to my bath, where they can wash themselves clean of me — though perhaps not each other, just yet. That is fine; they may do as they wish. 

I look back to the door where Jude — is still frozen. I can just see her fingers, tense against the handle, through the few inches she has left the door ajar. 

I try to maintain a picture of ease as I call to her. “Dearest Jude, whatever were you doing traipsing through my passageways at this time of the evening?” I’d rather she be traipsing through some of my other passageways. I cannot think that, though, not if I want to be able to maintain my calm facade through the next few moments.

She nearly falls back through the door, she turns so fast. “You know, I could command you not to ask me such inane questions,” she remarks, the same hand that was upon the door handle now pointing a finger towards my face. Her other hand hovers by the hilt of her sword. 

“It would be a blessing,” I drawl, “To not have to ask them in the first place.” 

She advances on me now. “What I do for the safety and security of the Crown is none of your concern — your only job is not to get murdered, or stabbed to death by a jealous lover, or—” 

Her eyes are wild as she approaches the bed, where I am still lounging, quite starkly naked. I think she must have forgotten this in her haste, and is now searching for a focal point that isn’t somewhere below my waist. 

“Dearest Jude,” I murmur, catching her wrist before she can come any closer (though she is already so, so close), “I put myself in your capable hands, as you know.” I smile simply, patting her hand in what I hope is a comforting gesture. As if being patted on the hand by a naked faerie is in any way comfortable to a human being. 

It does seem to make her soften, if only a little. What comes out of my mouth next is completely involuntary. 

“Jude,” I speak even softly than I did before, looking right into her eyes, “Why did you appear so hurt earlier?”

She pretends she doesn’t know what I mean, looking away from me and furrowing her brow. “I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to. I am not hurt; I am embarrassed.” 

By now, I have become well-acquainted with Jude’s facial expressions, and I know she was not embarrassed. Not in that moment, at least. But fine — I knew humans could be squeamish about sexual activity. I could pretend this was all that she felt, if that is what she wished. But why would she not tell me the truth?

“What are you embarrassed about?” I asked, open curiosity on my face. I am not sure why I didn’t just let her leave, or why my mouth continues to betray me. She gapes at me. 

“I didn’t know you had company,” she answers pointedly before gesturing to my body, “Or that you’d be so flagrantly displaying yourself for this long.” She blushes further, and maybe I don’t need to pretend that Jude is squeamish about nudity.

“Flagrant?” I tease, running my free hand along my side and down to my leg. “What about this is flagrant? I rather prefer to call it art.” 

She tries to back away from me — I realize I am still holding her by the wrist. I release it and she turns to go, spitting over her shoulder, “Have someone come and paint it for you then.” 

Something about the venom in her voice, the set of her shoulders, the way her recently released wrist shakes ever so slightly — it pushes me over the edge. If my mouth was betraying me before, my body is beginning to do the same. 

I rise, and as if she can sense my movement, she pauses in her stride. She stiffens as I walk closer, but I only pass by her right shoulder to retrieve a robe. As I shrug it on, I stalk back to her and circle her body, stopping when I am in front of her. Now I am between her and the door. 

“My sweet mortal commander,” I purr, “You must know there are hundreds who would line up to paint this body with their mouths. That I should have to obscure its brilliance in your presence is—insulting.”

“Good,” she grinds out through her teeth, “You need a healthy dose of reality. Not everyone is lining up.” Yet, as she speaks, her eyes trail down the long open V of the robe, to where I have tied it just above that area she was so pointedly trying to ignore before. 

Her eyes widen slightly when she sees how the robe isn’t concealing the way I am feeling.

“And yet,” I smirk, reaching out to touch her cheek. She stiffens but does not move away. “You are still here.” 

There is something in the air between us; by touching her cheek and bridging the gap between our bodies, I seem to have stirred it. Colour is still high on her cheeks, but she is sticking her chin out in defiance. Whatever she is attempting to conquer, I am sure I can make her forget it. 

Kiss me until I am sick of it.

I wonder, not for the first or even hundredth time, what our kiss felt like for her. I also wonder how much of my evening’s previous festivities she was privy to. The idea that she watched most of it voluntarily after stumbling upon the scene suddenly sends a rush of blood to my cock, and I hold back a groan. 

“Jude,” I manage to exhale, and it sounds more like a sigh than a question. “I will ask you again, and pray tell you do not lie — why did you look so hurt earlier?” 

She steps closer to me now, and a thrill rolls through my body as the static in the air fully charges. “Your Majesty,” she starts, gazing up at me through her lashes as her hands come to her hips. I want them on mine. “I beg you not to question me. You are very lucky I do not make it a command as I threatened.” 

“Why, Jude? Whatever might be the reason” — I step closer now, nearly closing the gap between our bodies — “that you do not want any questions?” 

“That, too, is a question,” she groans, exasperated. “Please, Cardan—” 

And I am undone. The way she says my name has me cupping her face in both my hands, stepping as close as I can so that we crash into each other. If she chose to pull away I would let her, and I pause to give her the space if she needs. I am a madman at this rate; High King be damned, I should be hanged for this sort of behaviour.

I pull back just enough to wait for the shove that I am sure is coming. Instead, she grins at me wickedly and grabs my face, pushing me back into the door she came through so hard that it slams shut.