Dom Zayne x Brat fem!MC | 𝕄𝔻ℕ𝕀 18+ | Art & Story by Me 💖🍀
This story is my headcanon from Love and deep space Royal Masque banner Zayne's 5-star card: Aeon's Canon
I decided to split 4.8k word into 3 parts
Enjoy~
"If you're looking to escape all the stupid government innuendo for a bit, you should totally come to the dance party today."
One of your maids had said it so casually earlier, like it was no big deal. She thought it would help you unwind, maybe stop overthinking the Grand General who’d been making your stomach flip every time he looked at you lately.
When you actually showed up, though, every single head turned. The stares felt heavy, and it made you feel kind of exposed. You walked straight to the nearest table, grabbed a glass of wine, and took a long sip, hoping it would help you blend in. Sadly, it didn’t. You’re the future empress. There’s no blending in.
You’d just swallowed the last of the wine when one of the knights finally worked up the nerve to step forward. He asked very politely if you’d dance with him. You gave him a small, kind smile.
Honestly? He wasn’t your type at all. But you had to respect the guts it took to ask. His hand was already reaching out when someone pulled your attention sideways.
Zayne. Standing right there. Looking quietly pissed.
Your heart did a weird little jump. Zayne never came to things like this. The man lived in strategy meetings and war rooms. What was he doing here?
He didn’t even glance at your confused face. His eyes were locked on the knight’s still-outstretched hand. A soft throat-clear, then in that calm, low voice everyone obeyed without question.
“The empress already has a partner for tonight.”
His tone was polite. His eyes were not. The message was crystal clear: leave. now.
The knight froze for half a second, gave you an awkward, embarrassed smile, bowed quickly, and backed away like he’d just remembered he had somewhere very important to be.
You turned to Zayne, frowning, eyebrows up. “Since when are we dance partners?”
“Since about sixty seconds ago,” he said, totally unbothered. “May I?”
He held out his hand. The music swelled right on cue. You sighed, but you took it. His palm was warm and felt familiar. You let him pull you onto the floor.
You two moved like you’d done it a hundred times (because you basically had, just not like this). Gracefully. Perfect. People were watching, whispering, clearly impressed. But they had no idea what was really happening between each step.
You kept your voice low, still half-scolding him. “You could’ve at least warned me. Sent a note or something. Three days’ notice would’ve been nice.”
He just smiled. The scary Grand General mask was gone. Now, the men in front of you are just Zayne. Your Zayne. The same one who used to sit across from you at the study table when you were twelve, patiently explaining things until you got them.
“You looked beautiful out there,” he murmured once, so quiet only you could hear. “I couldn’t look away.”
You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks got warm anyway. “Flattery isn’t gonna make me forget you just scared off a perfectly nice knight.”
“Good,” he said simply. “I didn’t want him touching you.”
The music ended. Applause broke out, loud and enthusiastic. Before anyone could approach, you grabbed Zayne’s wrist and tugged him through the crowd, ducking behind a heavy curtain into one of the dim little alcoves tucked away from the lights and the eyes.
You turned to face him, arms crossed, still waiting for an actual explanation. He wouldn’t quite meet your gaze at first, just kept looking at you in that intense, quiet way that always made your pulse race.
“At first I was just gonna watch you from the side,” he finally said, “and let you have your night. But then that knight walked up and—”
“And you got jealous,” you finished for him, half teasing, half hoping.
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean to—”
You didn’t let him finish. You pushed up on your toes and kissed him, soft at first, just a brush of lips. Then deeper. Hungrier.
His arms came around you instantly. One hand splayed wide across your lower back, pulling you flush against him. The other slid up to cradle the back of your head like he was terrified you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.
You kissed him back just as hard, fingers curling into the front of his jacket, tugging him closer. Tongues met, definitely not your first time, but it still felt like it every single time. Like the whole world shrank down to just the two of you, the taste of wine and want on his mouth, the way he let out this tiny, broken sound against your lips when you nipped him. He kissed you like a man who’d been starving for it. Like he’d been holding himself back for weeks. Like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire damn empire.
The air around you was starting to feel way too warm, like if you stayed in that little hidden corner any longer, someone was definitely going to notice the way you two were breathingto heavy. You grabbed Zayne’s hand, fingers lacing tight with his, and pulled him with you through the quieter corridors until you reached one of the royal guest rooms.
The door clicked shut behind you. That small sound felt huge. Your heart was hammering.
You turned to face him, and it was like the pause button got hit, then smashed. The kiss you’d started behind the curtain picked right back up, hotter, messier, no holding back anymore. Zayne’s hands slid down your back with this careful hunger, like he was trying not to rush even though you could feel how badly he wanted to. You pressed yourself closer, fingers sliding into his dark hair, tugging just enough to make him groan low against your mouth.
The music and voices from the hall felt miles away now. All you could hear was the way he whispered your name, as it hurt him to keep it quiet. He’d been holding it in for too long for this moment to happen.
“Come here,” he murmured between kisses, backing you gently against the wall. His usual iron control was fraying at the edges, you could feel it in the way his breath hitched when your hands found the buttons of his jacket.
You laughed a little against his lips. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m not,” he lied, deadpan, even as his fingers fumbled the tiniest bit on the laces of your gown.
“Sure you’re not.” You helped him, and helped yourself peeling layers away until it was just warm skin and cooler air and the two of you breathing the same small space.
He scooped you up like you weighed nothing, carried you the few steps to the big silk-draped bed, and laid you down like you were something precious. Then he was over you again, slow this time. Intentional. Every kiss, every brush of his fingertips across your ribs, your hips, your thighs, he took his time. Like he wanted to learn you by heart all over again.
You arched up into him, nails biting into his shoulders. “Zayne…”
He paused just long enough to look at you, eyes dark and soft at the same time. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said quietly. “You have no idea...”
“I think I do,” you whispered back, pulling him down so you could kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re not exactly subtle when you’re jealous.”
He huffed a small laugh against your neck. “Not my finest moment.”
“Actually,” you teased, voice breathy now, “it was kind of hot.”
That earned you a deeper kiss, slower, filthier, until you were both trembling with it. Suddenly You shifted so you could rest your face against his chest, then a little lower, nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder, then down to his armpit. You pressed your nose there on purpose, breathing him in.
Zayne let out a quiet, surprised laugh. “What are you doing?”
You smiled against his skin. “Just… appreciating you.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you. “Appreciating me?”
“Yeah.” You kissed the spot just under his arm, then traced your fingers lightly through the neatly clipped hair there, so short it was almost smooth, but not fake-looking, not overdone. Just clean. Intentional. “You take such good care of yourself. It’s… really nice.”
He looked almost shy for a second, which was ridiculous, considering what you’d just done. “I didn’t do it for compliments.”
“Liar,” you teased, sliding your hand lower, tracing the trimmed line of hair at the base of him. Short, shaped, nothing in the way, but still that small, dark patch that felt so masculine. Confident. Not trying too hard, but definitely trying for you.
“Maybe,” he admitted, voice low. He caught your wrist gently, brought your hand up so he could kiss your knuckles. “I like knowing you can touch me… taste me… without anything getting in the way.”
You grinned, pressing one more kiss to the neat line along his groin. “Mission accomplished, General. You’re disgustingly perfect for my taste.”
He rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his mouth was soft. “You’re shaking,”
His fingers slid up your bare arm, slow enough that you felt every ridge of his fingerprint dragging over your skin. Goosebumps followed like obedient soldiers.
“You know,” he murmured, voice low and rough like he’d been holding it in for hours, “I’ve spent years memorizing every proper rule in this palace. Every protocol. Every line I’m not supposed to cross.” His thumb traced the edge of your collarbone. “And yet here we are… in a room meant for diplomats and treaties… about to ruin it.”
Your breath hitched. “You say that like it’s a crime.”
“It is a crime,” his eyes darkened. “But it’s the only crime I want right now.”
He kissed you harder than in the alcove, as the last thread of restraint had finally snapped. You tasted wine on his tongue, salt, heat, the faint metallic edge of want. Your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him closer until there was no space left between you.
When you broke apart, gasping, he didn’t let you go far. Forehead pressed to yours, he whispered, “You like this, don’t you? The wrongness of it. Fucking the Grand General in a bed that’s supposed to be for state guests. Wearing pieces of that crown while I take you apart from behind. Knowing someone could knock on the door and could hear us.”
Your thighs pressed together instinctively. “You’re awful, Mr. Grand General.”
“I’m right.” His lips brushed your ear. “Your pulse jumps every time I say it. I can feel it right here—” Fingers curled around your throat, not tight, just possessive enough to make your knees weak. “—racing like you’re terrified and soaked at the same time.”
You laughed, shaky. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
He nipped your earlobe. “But you love it when I call you out. When I tell you exactly how shameless my empress really is under all that perfect composure.”
