#soft!eris

The first time, you had blinked in surprise. Surely, you had thought, this was some sort of trick, some game he was playing. A test.

But when he had stripped off his heavy crimson cloak, the fine embroidered jacket beneath it, and then the linen shirt—baring skin dusted with old bruises and scars that looked suspiciously like whip lashes—the truth had been impossible to deny.

It was no secret that Beron was an abuser. Lesser Fae. High Fae. His own family. No one was safe. Despite that knowledge, you couldn’t help the shock and rage that coursed through once you saw the evidence of his brutality on Eris’s body.

You had to take a moment to collect yourself, clearing your throat before motioning toward the bed with your hand. When you had moved to untie your robe, Eris stopped you. He had no desire for you to be nude. You had simply shrugged and crawled onto the bed with him.

Now, months later, it had become a ritual.

The moment Eris stepped into your room, well past midnight, always cloaked and hooded, you would lock the door and open your arms.

And he would come to you, shedding not only layers of clothes but his mask, too.

Tonight, he looked particularly tired.

You watched from the bed as he crossed the room, undoing the heavy buckles of his armor with slow, mechanical movements. His hands trembled slightly, a detail you might have missed if you weren’t so used to looking for it.

Wordlessly, you rose and went to him, brushing his fingers aside to help.

Unbuckling leather. Pulling bloodstained gloves from his hands. Lifting the weight of his armor from his shoulders. He let you, his eyes closed, his breathing steadying.

When at last he stood in just his pants, the firelight highlighting the pale scars across his chest, you reached for his hand.

“Come to bed, Eris.”

He let you lead him without resistance.

You pulled him into the circle of your arms, lying back against the pillows. One of his arms curled possessively around your waist, the other came up to grip the fabric of your shift, as if to anchor himself to you.

For a long time, there was only silence.

Only the feeling of his breath against your throat, slow and uneven. Only the weight of his body half-draped over yours, heavy and real and alive. He smelt faintly of woodsmoke and cedar.

“Today,” he rasped, so quietly you barely heard him, “he made me watch.”

You didn’t ask who he was. You didn’t need to. You stroked your fingers through his hair—that thick, fiery mane usually slicked back so perfectly—and found it damp with sweat. As if he’d only just escaped whatever horrors Beron was up to today.

“What did you see?” you murmured.

“A traitor,” he said flatly, his body tensing up again. “My father caught him trying to flee the court with his mate. Punishment was swift.”

Your hand kept moving through his hair, slow and steady. You didn’t press him to continue, but he did, after a long, shuddering breath.

“I had to stand there,” he whispered. “Had to… pretend I approved. That I agreed.” His fingers clenched in the fabric of your shift. “While they screamed.”

You pressed a kiss to his temple, feeling his body tremble in your arms. “It’s not your fault,” you said softly. “If you have any chance of making this court a better place someday you have to do what he asks to survive.”

Another ragged breath. Another long silence.

“What if I end up like him?”

It broke something in you every time he said things like that. Things a little boy might have whispered in the dark.

You tightened your arms around him, offering your body as a shield against the dreadful thoughts clawing at his mind.

“You won’t,” you said fiercely. “You’re nothing like him, Eris.”

He said nothing, but the tension in his body eased a little at your words.

For a while after that, he simply lay there. You ran your hands along his back, mapping the faint new scars with your fingertips.

Eris buried his face against your throat, breathing you in like you were the only clean thing left in the world.

Eventually, you felt him slip into sleep. His body slackened in your arms, the furrow between his brows disappearing.

You knew he wouldn’t sleep long. He never did. A few hours, maybe, and then he would be gone before sunrise. Back to the Forest House, back to the games, back to his cage.

But for now, he was here. Warm and alive in your arms. And you would hold him for as long as he needed.

He stirred once in the dark hours before dawn, and you murmured his name to ground him. He settled again almost immediately, like a child reassured by a familiar voice.

You wondered, not for the first time, how long he’d been alone before he found you. If anyone had ever held him like this before now. If his mother was ever even allowed to. If he even knew how to accept it outside of this corner in the world the two of you have carved together without fear or shame.

Your heart ached for him.

You brushed a kiss against his forehead and whispered promises he might never hear.

“I will always hold you. You are safe with me. You don’t have to be alone.”

Outside, the first gray light of dawn began to seep through the curtains. Soon, he would leave. He would become the heir again. The monster his father demanded. But here, in this stolen pocket of time, he was just a male. Just Eris.

And for as long as he let you, you would be the one to comfort him. To hold him like a lover he isn’t allowed to have.

Caramel and whiskey eyes flick up from between your legs, a pang of longing twisting in the pit of your belly. “I…”

Words soften on your tongue, turning molten and buttery, unable to wrap your lips around them. His rosey mouth lifts into a sharp smile, and your head tips back into the pillows in surrender. Maybe at some point you’d wanted him to stop, but you have no energy left to protest against his pleasurable ministrations. Content to let his hot, wet mouth reattach to your sex.

A whimper bubbles from your chest as Eris gently nips at the intimate skin of your inner thigh. “Finish that sentence for me, fawn,” he instructs, palm rubbing in soothing circles over your hip. “I…” you fumble, “…I don’t remember…” His laugh sends fire sizzling between your legs—like the flame of candlelight. Soft, and controlled.

“No?” He murmurs, kissing his way back to your heat, sex tender and aching from his treatment. “Don’t remember what you wanted to tell me?”

You swallow, shaking your head wearily, body softened by pleasure. Legs open wider for him, handing over all the access he needs, pliant beneath his hands and mouth. “Just…don’t stop…” you request, palm coming up to cup your breast, fingers brushing your nipple.

Feel as his lips spread into a smile against your skin. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs, “not when I’ve finally got you all to myself.” You moan at the softness of his admission, heart bumping against your rib cage as he begins tenderly suctioning his mouth to more and more intimate patches of skin. Teeth graze, and you raise your hips, encouraging him to pay you more attention.

Hot breath fans across your cunt, rosey lips ghosting a little below your navel. A quiet moan is drawn from your mouth, slowly rolling your hips with coaxing urgency. “Eris…” you mumble, attempting to contain the thought within your mind, but it’s like water through your fingers, and you struggle to keep hold of it. Teeth prod into your lip in frustration, but it’s quickly washed away as he presses his kisses lower, something warm and supple fluttering in his wake.

“What is it, fawn?” He asks, raising his head to peer up at you, the sight of his lustrous, silky hair, unbound, cascading over powerful shoulders temporarily rendering you dim-witted. Lips cut into a smile, putting a kiss just above where you want him, “forgotten again?”

Swallow, blinking away your temporary stupor. “I want…” you begin, then fumble, lips almost grazing that spot. Bite the inside of your lip. “I want… Will you talk to me?” You request, nerves wriggling beneath your skin, making you want to squirm. He arches a neatly groomed brow, hand leaving your hip to hold the top of your thigh, keeping you open for him—you wouldn’t dare close. “Talk to you?” He repeats mildly, long, elegant fingers tapping out a quadruple-beat bar: four quavers given the breath of a semibreve.

“Yeah.” You nod, drowsily. “Want to hear your voice. Please.”

He hums, and you moan, back arching as the vibrations sink upon your skin, warming you to near unbearable levels. “What shall I talk about?” He asks, inhaling your arousal softly, nosing at your heat. A quiet exhale breathes from your lips, swallowing before answering. “Anything,” you murmur, “anything you want.” Teeth lightly nip at the slick skin of your inner thigh, causing you to sleepily peek open your eyes, giving him a questioning look.

“Anything’s rather vague,” he smiles, coaxing you into conversation. “Offer me a starting point.”

Mind spins, too softened to properly function. He’s asking you for a starting point. Blink as you try to come up with one, but he’s nosing at your heat again, and you whine quietly. Lift your hips invitingly, mouth parting in a moan. You can feel how wet you are, imagining how warm and velvety his tongue will be. “I… Tell me about your day,” you settle on, just needing to feel him attach himself back to your sex.

His laugh ghosts over your heat, and you whine, pressing your knuckles between your teeth. “Uh-uh,” he tuts, and you immediately lower your hand.

“Sorry,” you mumble, instead preoccupying yourself by gently cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. “That’s better,” he soothes, lips brushing over your wet sex, “keep being good for me.” You whimper your compliance, nodding weakly.

Feel him smile, “now, where were we?” The question sinks into your mind, falling into emptiness as his words simply float through your head.

“Your day,” you supply softly, “you were going to—oh.”

His tongue licks over your clit: a slow, leisurely drag, taking his time to pleasure you. Slowly work you to a delicate climax—he knows you’re on the verge of overstimulation from the last five already; he’s treading a fine line here.

“Eris…” you moan, spine bowing from the bed as he lightly suckles your clit, keeping his teeth to himself. Hips roll upward, his palms warming as fingers tap out rhythms to the tops of your thighs. Small inhales suck between your lips as he begins mapping out your heat with his tongue, licking and teasing his way down to your sopping entrance.

Ever so delicately, he circles you, careful not to stimulate too much, just keeping you within the realms of the feather-light touch. He’s rewarded with the sound of your moan, hands still occupied with your breasts, keeping away from your mouth. You know he likes hearing your noises—embarrassing as you sometimes find them.

When his tongue prods at your entrance though, you whimper, thumbs flicking across the sensitive skin. Smoothly, he relocates back to your clit, wet and puffy from attention. His mouth latches over you, and you’re back to sweet malleability, practically melting under his tongue, the wet muscle parting you like a knife through butter.

You gasp, back arching, lips parting on a sharp inhale as he circles the apex of your thighs. Flicks over the bundle of nerves, suckling softly, light, wet sounds slurping from between your legs. You whine, silently begging for more. “Ready for more?” He asks, as if reading your mind.

Nod eagerly, tugging your lower lip between your teeth.

Eris hums onto your clit, caramel and whiskey eyes piercing into you, observing keenly as you squirm on his bed, legs parting for him. Pleasure hums at the back of his mind, but he simply grinds into the mattress, relieving some of the pressure. “What do you want, fawn?” He asks, delivering a soft, slow lick to your bundle of nerves.

You babble softly, a slew of moans and whines spilling from your lips as you struggle to articulate your needs. Feel him smile over your cunt, enjoying how you’re writhing from a few strokes of his tongue, male satisfaction making his cock twitch. “Whatever you want,” he reassures, still smiling. “Just say the words, fawn, and it’s yours.”

Whines drag from your lips, pleasure dumbing your mind. Struggle to think of an answer. “Fingers,” you mumble out, peeking your eyes open. “Please,” you request, breathlessly, “want your fingers.”

Eris presses a kiss to your clit, thighs squeezing his head gently, hips rolling up to his heavenly mouth. “Sure you can manage that?” He asks, carefully manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder, then the other. “Won’t be too much for you?”

Shake your head, slightly subdued in your motion responses. “I’ll be good,” you murmur, settling down into the pillows, one hand drifting to the plane of your stomach. Nod again as he shifts away, running his fingers lightly over your wet heat, dragging you a little closer to the edge of the bed now your thighs are hooked over his shoulders.

Eris laughs gently, getting his digits coated in your arousal as to make the initial slide in more comfortable. “You’ll be good?” He repeats, pads tenderly playing with your clit, causing you to whimper when he unexpectedly leans over your heat, saliva pooling on his tongue, allowing it to drip down, landing perfectly atop your bundle of nerves. Adding to the mess.

“Yes!” You cry out, bucking your hips, “yes…!”

Heat warms his fingertips, softening you further in preparation, slow oscillations being pressed lightly to the apex of your thighs—just his middle finger circling, keen eyes observing every hitch in your breath. Eagerly drinking in your pleasure. “How’re you feeling?” He murmurs, awaiting your moans as he trails his digits down to your entrance.

“Eris…” you whimper, swirling your hips upward with need. The feeling of the heated pad of his middle finger returns to your clit, and you release a breathy whine. Rosey lips lift into a smile, finally lowering his digits, watching how easily they sink into you, how they disappear from sight, suctioned into your soft heat.

“Look at how well you take me,” he murmurs, attention wholly on your cunt, pumping and curling his digits, stimulating the spots you like. “You’re doing so well.”

Spine arches, teeth prodding your lower lip with pride as you smile lazily, grinding against him. “More…” you mumble, lightly pinching your nipples, trailing your fingertips gently—teasingly—down your stomach, brushing your abdomen. “I’m not sure you can take any more, fawn,” he responds, hot breath fanning your cunt. “Don’t want you passing out again.”

Shake your head sleepily, still winding your hips. “I won’t… I’ll stay here…” He chuckles lowly. “You’ll stay there?” He repeats, at last lowering his mouth closer between your legs. “Yeah…” you moan, bucking into him. “So, please…?”

He sighs, fingers dragging softly against a delicious spot, rubbing when he sees how you respond. How you suction around him, as if trying to pull him deeper. “How could I resist?” He murmurs lowly, mouth latching over your clit—his own recipe for worship.

A long, breathy moan drags from your lips, legs lethargically crossing at his back, encouraging him deeper. Basking in the soft, wet flick of his tongue, oscillating over your clit, rubbing in soothing circles—gentle but tight. The moan-worthy curl of his fingers, like he’s beckoning you closer to the edge, one stumbling step at a time.

You whimper, fingers trailing over your abdomen, finally reaching the soft, silky waterfall of his hair, threading your digits through it. Stroke affectionately, feeling heat radiating from his powerful body, the sign of his own arousal. “Eris…” you breathe, part of you simply enjoying the taste of his name on your tongue. “You’re being so good to me…”

Nearly sob as he does something wicked with his mouth, how he moves it over your clit, fingers stimulating a spot simultaneously. “I’m being good to you?” He murmurs, caramel and whisky cutting to you, piercing through the billowing clouds of lust. “Then I suppose you’re heaven incarnate for me.”

Pleasure rolls over you at the softly spoken words, the heat of his skin sinking deep into your own as his fingers press a little further, finally up to his knuckles—carefully easing his way in; plying you apart. “Taking me so well,” he breathes, “you’re doing so good. Just stay there and let me take care of you.”

Head tips back into the pillows, one hand in his hair, the other palming your breast, thumbing at your nipple lightly. Long, elegant digits have you tightening around him, glistening, rosey lips suctioning over your clit, his tongue swirling and suckling until you can’t take it.

Ecstasy blossoms in your abdomen, crying out as you come on his tongue, having him work you through the high. Heat flutters around him, nails scraping, teeth tugging on your lower lip as breathy, lazy moans float up into his bedroom. His hips grind against the bed as he licks up your release, not wasting a single ounce of it.

“So pretty,” he murmurs between laps, fingers coaxing more from you, delicately prying orgasm after orgasm from your body, steadily guiding you through the motions of pleasure. “So lovely.”

Whimper his name over and over, all other words turned gooey and buttery, melting to unfamiliar shapes that your tongue can no longer form. Only his title rolling from your lips, while he works you gently through the heavenly intimate experience—his mouth like that of a god’s.

A master of your pleasure: infinitely skilled, and endlessly exquisite.

You knew that it wasn’t true, that they were just stories parents told their young to keep them from running into the woods surrounding the cities, dangerous for many other reasons, but as you sit on a thick log next to Eris as his brothers tell you other scary lores, you really regretted agreeing to go camping.

“And it’s disfigured hands clawed deep marks into the trees in this very woods,” the second oldest brother, Pyro, explains. The flames illuminate his face in such a terrifying way, his voice crackling and low as he tells his story, those fiery eyes twisted and blazing like the creature he speaks of, “Some say that it still dwells here, survived the hunters blades and is looking for a pretty little female to–”

Hands clamp down on your shoulders and you scream, bolting to your feet. You lose your footing, slipping on the dewey leaves that had begun falling from the trees, but Eris is there, catching you close to his chest with an amused smirk as you wrap your arms tightly around him.

His rust eyes burn bright, the raging fire reflecting in his pupils, lighting up his angular face. The freckles on his cheeks look exactly like the embers dancing in the air around you. The smell of smoke is thick in the air but you catch the scent that is purely him as he holds you tightly, cider and cinnamon mixed with the tinge of the whiskey Pyro had stolen from their father’s cabinet.

“Oak,” you shout, glaring at the fourth Vanserra brother who’d just burst from the thick brush behind you, grabbing you and yelling like a banshee, “You dick!”

Eris watches you and his brothers squabble, amber eyes intense as he admires you, his little firesprite. He doesn’t relinquish his grip on you when you remove one arm from around the princlings neck to flip off his siblings, only puffs out a breathy laugh as your other hand grips the back of his jacket tighter, and his cheeks pink up at the action, praying to the Mother that you don’t look over and catch him in the act.

He definitely didn’t bribe Pyro to tell a scary story on their annual camping trip and he absolutely would never buy Oak a brand new blade in exchange for frightening you as their brother uttered the horrifying tale.

“And you,” you turn on him and he splutters, offended of how you could think such a thing, that he’d been the mastermind behind all of this. Pyro and Oak snicker from across the fire as you continue, “I know you had something to do with this!”

“Now why would I do such a thing?” he asks, trying his best to hold back from laughing or kissing that angry look off of your face, “When I know that you don’t even like camping to begin with.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, a real angel is what you are,” you mutter, sliding from his lap back into your seat. His touch lingers like he doesn’t want to let you go and you blame the heating of your cheeks on your anger and the fire licking warmly at your face.

“Oh come on (Y/N),” Oak starts, pulling a marshmallow from the campfire. It’s a little blaze at the tip of his stick and you scrunch your nose in disgust as he blows the fluffy sweet out and sticks it in his mouth, charred skin and all. “He likes you too much to do something like that.”

You don’t believe the three foxes for a second, ignoring the look Eris shoots his little brothers, warning them to shut their mouths.

“Yeah,” Pyro adds, sly smile hidden behind the mouth of the bottle as he takes a large swig, eyes glossy with the liquor, “Eris loooves you.” He makes exaggerated kissy noises across the fire and Oak elbows his brother, snagging the bottle from his hand and washing down the sticky treat with the dark drink.

You glance at Eris from the corner of your eye, heart thumping in your chest like a drum. If looks could kill…

“You are such a brat, Pyrolas,” Eris grits, fists clenched tightly in his lap. The fire flickers before you, shooting deep into the night sky at his temper. His cheeks are hotter than the inferno he’s turned the measly campfire into, and it has you raising your arms to hide your face from the heat.

When he catches your reaction the flames immediately die out and he’s reaching out for you, murmuring soft apologies, fearful that he’s hurt you. 

“I’m alright,” you tell him gently, placing a hand over his slightly shaking one. You give him a small smile, “It’s okay, Eris.”

He shakes his head, releasing an unsteady breath. He never wanted you to be scared of him. Not ever.

“Is it true?” you whisper, all too aware of his younger brothers’ eyes on the both of you.

His gaze darts between your eyes and you’re not sure he’s going to respond until he give the tiniest nod of his head, breathing out a delicate ‘yes.’

Your serious expression splits into a wide grin, eyes sparkling at he gazes down at you like a kicked fox. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him towards you. The heir topples over, not expecting your reaction, his hands scrambling to steady himself on the log but you don’t care, pressing your lips to his in a feverish kiss.

Eris reacts immediately, shutting his eyes as his hand winds up to caress your face, sliding around to tangle his fingers at the hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you from pulling away.

Your heart is soaring, finally you were getting what you so desperately ached for but was too nervous to pursue.

You laugh against his mouth as Oak and Pyro begin hooping and hollering, so loud they’ll scare away any of the night creatures in the forest for miles.