violette

Eula’s eyes narrow, her fingers typing away at her keyboard. In a cold voice, she answers, “I don’t. I just have a friend who works there. That’s all.”

“Right,” Lohen replies, his eyes gliding to the picture frame on her desk. “A friend.”

Eula swipes the photo of the brown-haired woman out of Lohen’s sight. She shoots back, “You’re recused as well. I presume you also have a friend at the cabaret.”

“Mm…mine’s more than just a friend.”

“...Good for you, then.”

“Want some tips?” Lohen asks snarkily, leaning back against her desk. “I may not look it, but I’m something of a romantic at heart.”

“I don’t need tips,” Eula hisses, her white cheeks turning red.

“But you said she’s just your friend.”

“She’s not—...you’re just trying to find someone else to wreak havoc on aren’t you?”

“Here’s some advice: start off by telling her you’re a lesbian.”

“You—!” Eula’s eyes bulge, her hands forming fists over her keyboard. “Look, she’s not my friend, she’s my partner! Are you satisfied?!”

Lohen snickers.

The door to the southern cubicles creaks open, a man with blue-hair and a wicked eyepatch strolling in. He looks at them all with a smirk, like he’s in on one big fat secret that he’d just love to hold over their heads. The man Lohen knows as Senior Detective Kaeya plops down into one of the various swivel chairs, folding his arms behind his head. He rotates from side to side, making the rusty axles go squee, squee, squee every time.

“You guys want to know, don’t you?” he asks, unprompted.

“We’re recused,” Eula says firmly. “You’re not supposed to tell us anything, Kaeya.”

“Who cares? It’s not like anyone here did it. And it really is quite fascinating.”

Lohen huffs, amused. “Not to hang myself or anything, but I was kind of there that night. You know I might be a potential person of interest, right?”

Kaeya’s eye gleams. “That’s all the more reason for you to want to know, isn’t it? I’m willing to share. If you beg me enough times.”

“I’m not begging you for anything,” Lohen answers with a laugh. “We all know you blab when you want to.”

“Hm…you’ve got a point.”

Squee, squee, squee. Like he’s observing a pack of animals at the zoo, Kaeya continues to stare and smile.

“...You’re killing me man,” one of the rookies says. “Just spill already.”

“Would Miss Goody-Two Shoes like to leave first?”

Eula crosses her arms. She looks at the photo frame, face-down on her desk, and says nothing.

“Alright then.” Kaeya gives them a toothy grin. “Albedo and Sucrose got the results on that gas chromatography test. The analysis of the champagne glass the victim drank from.”

The glass was preserved. Someone with a head on their shoulders must have responded to the case. The force is thin right now, so it must have been Sergeant Jean.

“What’d it show?” another rookie asks.

Kaeya pops his eyebrows. “Dichloromethane. For you newbies, that’s the kind of compound found in paint strippers and pesticides. Easy to get. Colorless. Incredibly deadly.”

“Shit,” rookie number one says. “You mean it’s a homicide?”

“Looks to be that way.” Kaeya rubs his chin, smirking. “But we’re struggling to place a suspect. We’ve got a lot of eyewitness interviews ahead of us.”

Lohen frowns. “Cameras?”

“Heh. It’s a business, but it’s not the Mond Bank. The manager handles the security system by herself…seems there was some kind of hardware error that slipped under her nose.”

“What?” Eula’s brows furrow. “That’s concerning.”

“Right? But what do I know?” Kaeya shakes his head, smiling. “One woman can only handle so much, right? Not her fault if the cheap security system doesn’t pull its weight. Though I imagine she’ll shell out a pretty penny for a new one, after this whole debacle.”

“Hopefully. Rosaria is an incredibly strong woman, but…” Eula’s hand rests on her photo frame. “She can’t handle it all herself.”

“Yep. So we’re just going to round up the usual suspects.”

“Hm.” Lohen turns his gaze to the window, arms crossed over his chest. “Seems about right.”

“Dude,” Theodore says, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “Why the hell would you go and do something like that without even talking to me? I thought we had a system!”

“We do,” Lohen answers. He holds his cellphone in one hand and a black brick-shaped device in his other. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

“You’re going to be, like, key suspect number one! What if they look into you so far that they end up finding the other things?! What if…what if we’re exposed?!”

“Calm down. They’re not gonna find anything.”

He taps the directional buttons on the brick, filling the LCD screen with strings of text. Navigating to the right shows a new wall of messages, and after a quick look down the list, he settles on a name.

Allec: Been a while since I’ve seen you, Bunny. Allec: I’ll pay you double for a date. No touching or anything. Allec: I’ll pay triple for above the belt. Allec: 4x for below the belt? Allec: Fuck, I’ll pay 5x just to see you. Please stop ignoring me. Allec: Please, Bunny. I miss you. Allec: You got a new guy or something? Pays more than I do? Allec: Just fucking answer me. Allec: You cunt.

“Lohen?”

His breath hitches. He feels that grin on his lips again, the one he always gets when bloodlust stirs at him. Theodore’s used to seeing it, but Lohen wipes it off his face anyway.

“No worries,” he tells the other man. “I just found the answer to our problems.”

It’s around noon when you type up a message to send Lohen. Last night, he had asked if you wanted to stay a while, and you accepted his offer. Since everything that’s happened at the cabaret, you still don’t feel right, and the last thing you want is to be alone.

Well, you’re technically alone. But you’re alone in Lohen’s condo. It feels safer than spending your next few days off at home. It eases your paranoia, if even just a little.

You’re probably just stressed. Maybe a little conflicted. Tohler had done something horrible to you, and something horrible happened to him in turn. Lohen’s insistent that it’s karmic retribution, so you should think of it that way too. Anything to ease the shivers at your spine.

You look down at your message and tap “send”.

[You] Hi, Lohen. Sorry to bug you while you’re working, but would you mind grabbing my mail on your way back? I usually get a few statements on the first of the month.

The grey “read” check lights up blue immediately. It’s probably because he’s on lunch or a break of some kind, but it makes your cheeks tickle when you imagine he’s reading it so fast because it’s from you.

[Lohen] Don’t worry about the statements. I’ve got all that handled.

You blink.

[You] What do you mean?

[Lohen] That you don’t have to worry about it. I got ya.

[You] But I have to know how much my bills are…

[Lohen] No you don’t ;)

[You] Are you saying you paid them for me????

[Lohen] I told you I’d take care of you, didn’t I?

Awestruck, you drop down onto his couch. Your jaw hangs open as you read his message again and again, ensuring that you haven’t misinterpreted his words. A heavy weight feels like it's been taken off your shoulders, but the pressure of reciprocation soon takes its place. What are you, a broke woman with a sea of credit card debt, supposed to do to repay a man who handles your problems so valiantly?

You fiddle with your thumbs as you debate your response.

[You] I’ve gotta do something for you.

[Lohen] Nah, it’s all good bun. Just rest up and feel better, yeah?

[You] Lohen. You can’t just pay all my bills and tell me not to do something for you in return.

[You] I mean, you literally saved my ass. I was scared just thinking about how much interest it’d be this time.

[Lohen] Hm…I guess if you really want to do something, you could decorate the condo? Since I’ve got a man’s sense of decor…or whatever it was you said lol

[Lohen] My card’s on the kitchen table.

[You] You pay my bills and now you’re giving me your card to spend more of your money????

[Lohen] Yeah :P It’d make me happy if I came back and the place looked like it’s ours.

Ours. What a deep meaning that word holds. How intimate it would be, to possess something with someone. How much closer it’d make you feel to him.

Your eyes sweep around the blank walls and undecorated furnishings. You envision a runner at the doorway, a collection of artwork and accent pieces studding the living room. Maybe even some bunny-themed cushions for his couch, that you’ll cuddle up to when he’s not home. You could make his space feel alive. Like you and him live here, together.

You’re smiling before you know it.

[You] Alright. Just remember you asked for this! ;) <3

[Lohen] Haha you won’t hear any complaints from me pretty girl <3

When Lohen unlocks his front door, he almost thinks he’s got the wrong house.

Thump!

His eyes take in the soft rugs and hanging portraits, the pretty glass jar that his homemade bubble gum now sits in instead of a random bucket of tupperware. He hears your feet running through the halls, and when your glowing face appears in the corridor, you’re grinning from ear to ear. You laugh as you propel yourself into him, tackling your arms around his neck with a girlish giggle.

His arms immediately encircle you. Against his ear, you say, “You’re finally back! I’ve been waiting for you!”

Shit, you feel like a warm blanket and smell like his body wash. His heart’s playing jumprope in his chest.

“You missed me?” he asks with a smile.

“Of course I did.”

You beam at him, your eyes twinkling with mirth. The halls around you sparkle, alive with your influence in his dwelling. Standing with him in the entryway, you look like a pretty housewife who’s over the moon that her husband’s come home safely.

To make matters even better, you kiss him. It’s a soft peck, the kind that makes his heart squeeze for you. Lohen’s laughing before he realizes it, pulling you in close for another one.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says. “You definitely have a better sense of interior design than I do.”

“Hey, don’t praise me yet. You haven’t even seen everything.” You wink at him. “Come on, I’ll show you the living room.”

You grasp his hand, pulling him along behind you like an overexcited puppy pulls at its owner’s leash. He envisions a sweet blue collar around your neck for only a second, distracting himself from the thought with the texture of your palm.

“Do you like it?” you ask, looking between him and the den. “I even gave your marble a home.”

He’s not sure how you found a golden stand to perfectly house that old thing, but he’s never been surprised by your strokes of genius. His place looks brand new, and yet, you’ve retained the notes of him. Snow globes and metal ornaments and tiny little penguin figures—all things he likes, influenced by your touch. His eyes drop to the couch, where you’ve set a blue bunny cushion on one side and a pink bunny on the other.

“Lohen?”

You’re clutching your wrist, smiling at the ground as you subtly sway from side to side. He’s taking his phone out and snapping a picture of you before you even realize it.

“Hey,” you say, blinking rapidly. “Delete that. I probably look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid,” he answers, laughing. “I took a pic ‘cause you look so cute.”

“Let me see,” you grumble.

“You’re just gonna delete it if I do that.” He smirks, slotting his phone back into his pocket. “The place looks really good, Bun. I love it.”

You look like you’re caught between wanting to argue about the photo and being touched by his praise. Lifting a finger to your hair, you absentmindedly twirl one of your locks.

“I’m glad you like it,” you say softly.

His heart lurches into his throat. Heat’s soaking through his face as he watches you, and when you turn your eyes back onto him, he’s falling to shambles.

“...Can I take another photo?” he asks.

“No.”

“Aw, come on, Bun! You’re just so cute!”

“I’m a mess today,” you argue, your eyes trained on the ground. “If you’re gonna take a picture of me, I want to look pretty for it.”

“Oh?” He grins, closing the distance between you. “You wanna look pretty for the picture or for me?”

Your lips split into a toothy grin. He grabs your hips, gives you a teasing little pull, and you laugh before him. Playfully, he nibbles your earlobe and asks, “Which one, Bun?”

“For you,” you giggle. “I always want to look pretty for you, Lohen.”

“You already do, Bun. Every day, without even trying.”

“Now you’re just flattering me.”

“I’m just being honest.”

He gives you a big kiss, feeling the rumble of your laughter against his mouth. He leans you back, peppers you with sloppy, wet kisses, and feels your fingers curl tightly into his shoulders.

“Hey Bun,” he purrs against your skin. “I’m filthy. Wanna take a shower with me?”

“You’re bold today, huh? I thought it was just last night that you were too nervous to see me naked.”

He smirks. “A lot can happen in a single night.”

Your teeth dig into your grinning lower lip. “I guess that’s right.”

“Wait,” you say, your skin still dewy from the shower, “shouldn’t I be doing this to you?”

“No,” Lohen replies, his head cushioned between your thighs. “This is my way of saying thank you.”

“Yeah, but—.” Your voice catches, ankles crossing over his back. “But you paid my bills.”

“Mhm,” Lohen says, his mouth closing around your wet clit. “You decorated. That part’s harder.”

“Oh,” you reply, heat rising to your face. Your core throbs when he lets his tongue out, runs it up the length of your quivering cunt. “I-I guess it does take a bit of effort…”

Lohen’s eyes flick up to yours. Fingers curl surely around your thighs, and with an encouraging push, hold them up higher. It gives him more access to you, and with a hot suck of his lips, sends throbs of pleasure even deeper into your core.

You lean your head back, threading your fingers through his hair. Dreamily, you moan, “That feels good.”

He laughs, tickling your insides. You wince somewhat, a sharp pulse of pleasure dictating your hips to rub into his mouth. His eyes fall shut, those long, curly lashes of his touching one another, and with all the eagerness in the world, Lohen goes at you like he’s starving. His tongue curls into your hole, licks you up and down, provides just enough friction against your twitching clit. He lets out a satisfied sound, and the way it tickles your thighs steals your breath away.

“Fuck,” you say, half-whining. “Lohen.”

His fingers squeeze into the fat of your thighs. Bringing his teeth out, he gives your nub a grazing investigation. His eyes look up at you, and you squeeze his fistful of hair harder. Seemingly satisfied with this, he moves down to your inner folds, giving you another little rub between his teeth. He switches back to his tongue after, and when he runs it all the way up the length of you, you gasp.

He pulls his mouth away and you’re instantly whining, “Lohen—.”

“One sec,” he says, reaching over your thigh with a curl of his bicep, bringing his middle finger to his lips. “Is it okay if I finger you?”

Your brain short circuits. All you know is the word yes.

Lohen chuckles. He coats that finger of his with his saliva, and when he descends back onto you, he curls it inside.

“Oh, God,” you sputter, your back arching. “Wait, wait, that’s too much.”

He eases the pressure of his tongue against you. The finger inside you doesn’t curl so deep.

“Okay,” you say, struggling for breath. “That’s a bit bet—oh.”

You’re interrupted by your own gasp. Forcing you from your reprieve, Lohen’s finger rubs against a tender spot within you. Almost immediately, his mouth turns light, his finger withdraws, and you’re coming down from that euphoric sensation once again.

“You’re…kind of mean,” you sputter.

Lohen laughs. You expect him to do the same thing again—soft and slow then hot and hard—but he instead remains gentle. His finger barely moves in and out of you, his lips just barely touching yours. You catch your breath, and as his teasing goes on longer and longer, you whine, “You’re really mean!”

He laughs again. Stupid Lohen and his stupid proclivity for mischief—is edging you really his way of saying thank you?!

“What?” Lohen asks, his hot breath setting every nerve ending you have ablaze. “I thought you said it was too much.”

“Now it’s not enough,” you complain, your brows arching. “Fuck, just go back to what you were doing before.”

“Not gonna lie,” he answers, “I kinda like how desperate you look right now.”

You whimper. Pressing your eyes shut, your legs tuck around him harder.

“Why don’t you beg?” he asks hotly. “Huh, Princess?”

“Fuck,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”

“Ah, yeah,” he replies, lips giving your clit a chaste kiss. “Thatta girl.”

“Please,” you continue to say, clawing his hair harder, digging your leglock into his skin. “Lohen, please. Please. Please—.”

Your voice raises an octave, devolving into sobs and whines as Lohen gives your attention-starved cunt what you’ve been begging for. His finger fucks you hard, curling up against your sensitive flesh with each thrust, and with his mouth closed around your clit, he sucks like he’s trying to draw something out of you. You’re crying, you’re pleading, and you’re rocking your hips into his face until he’s a dripping wet mess and his sheets are ruined. Lohen keeps up the intensity, you crash over the brink again, and with your chin presented to the heavens, you wail for him.

You’ve never felt like this before. No one’s ever put their mouth on you like this, or even cared about getting you off in the process. When Lohen makes you cum on his finger and devote your prayers to the Gods above, you feel like you might just rise out of your own body, your soul ascending to holy goodness.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you realize you’re saying. “Lohen, stop it, you’re making me—.” You yelp. “You’re making me cum so—hard!”

Fuck, you’ve never screamed like this before. It’s embarrassing.

Lohen’s lips loosen around you. In a soft murmur, he says, “Good job. Really good job, pretty girl.”

Your chest’s heaving up and down. Your breath shudders and shakes, and with tears filling your eyes, you gaze up at his ceiling. Lohen gently loosens your grip on his hair, and the mattress dips around you as he climbs your way. When those red-blue eyes meet yours, a hot trail of tears roll down your cheeks.

“Oh shit,” he says, chuckling. Cupping your face, he kisses your cheek with his wet lips, purring, “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Bun.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders. When he kisses your jaw again, you feel the poke of something hard against you.

You lick your lips and swallow. Now would be the perfect time—you’re at the peak of your affections for him, he’s clearly over the moon for you, and you’ve been wanting it, haven’t you?

But your lips won’t move. The words won’t come out.

“I made such a mess out of you,” Lohen says with a laugh. “Sorry, Bun. Can I kiss you, or…?”

“Yes,” you say. “Of course you can.”

When he catches your lips in a loving kiss, you have lingering doubts at the back of your mind. The bugling fabric of Lohen’s briefs brushes against you, but he doesn’t ask to fuck you. He’s probably waiting for you to tell him, so he knows it’s okay.

Because his love for you is pure. He treats you far better than any man you’ve ever met.

“Eh?” Lohen says. “You’re still crying.”

You blink rapidly. He brushes your tears away, smiling at you. As you stare at each other, an unsaid question hangs in the air.

Lohen breaks the silence first. “We should clean up again.”

You smile gratefully and nod.

The next morning, you’re making breakfast for Lohen while he’s getting ready for work. He comes up behind you, smelling like woodsy cologne, and wraps those sturdy arms around your waist. He kisses your ear, and you giggle.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says.

“Good morning, handsome,” you quip back. “Dressed and ready, are you?”

“Wish I wasn’t,” he says. “Not when you wake me up looking like this.”

You’re cheeky about it, wiggling your hips. All you’re wearing is the cute apron you picked up during your decor run the day prior, over top of your underwear. You figured you may as well walk around the place like it’s home, especially when you know he won’t mind.

Lips closed, Lohen chuckles. Quietly, he says, “I really like seeing you first thing in the morning.”

Your face tickles with warmth. Smiling from ear-to-ear, you nod.

“Hey, Bun,” he says slowly. “Why don’t you just…stay with me?”

“Hm? I don’t go back to work until Thursday, so I’ll be here today.”

“No, I mean…past Thursday.” His grip on you tightens. “If you stay with me…I promise I’ll take care of you. You won’t even have to work at the club anymore. You could just…do what you want. And live here. With me.”

You flash him a smile. “You’re joking.”

He doesn’t smile back. Your eyes widen, and all of a sudden, your throat’s so tight, you feel like you’ve got a collar around it.

You turn back to the stove, looking at the bunny-shaped eggs frying away in their metal stencils. The yolks jiggle in the center, the whites bubbling around the edges.

“Okay,” Lohen says eventually, his mirthful tone returning. “I get it. You’re an independent woman, aren’t you?”

Your tense shoulders fall slack. Laughing, you reply, “Yeah…something like that.”

“That’s alright. I respect it, Bunny.” His breath is a whisper into your ear. “I won’t stop asking, though.”

He gives you a quick peck. You shiver.

“I gotta run,” he says, pulling away and leaving you cold in his absence. “If you need anything, just call me, okay?”

“Huh?” You look at the frying eggs, then at Lohen’s back as he exits the kitchen. “You’re not going to—? Eat.”

You scamper after him, but by the time you finish your sentence, the front door is closed and Lohen’s gone.

Left alone in his dim condo, your mind swims. Did you say something wrong? Should you have just said yes, told him you’d move in? Even if it was a joke, was he just trying to see if you cared? Does he think you don’t like him now? Did you fuck things up, just like you always have at every point in your terrible fucking life?

Your shoulders shake with a sob. Rubbing your eyes with your fists, you sniffle.

Then you smell something burning. Rushing back into the kitchen, you cut the heat to the stove, and you stare down at the charred bunnies in the frying pan. What a giant mess you have made, with your own two hands.

Lohen holds his hand to his mouth, his face smoldering under his palm. As he marches to his car, he thinks that he’s stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I should turn around,” he says quickly. “But if I turn around I might panic. And if I panic she’ll get scared, and I don’t want Bunny to be scared of me.”

Fuck, his throat is closing up. Fuck, he’s starting to feel like he can’t breathe. The garage walls warp, and when he stumbles into his car, he clutches his fist over his heaving chest.

“I just want her to love me,” he whines. “Why doesn’t she ever say she loves me?”

He doesn’t have time for this. He can’t break down like this—not when he’s supposed to be your protector, your knight. He can’t hurt your feelings and then leave so he can cry like a bitch in his car, because he’s supposed to be the branch holding you up, he’s supposed to lend you the nutrients, he’s supposed to stretch you to the sun, and make sure you never fucking fall away from him.

He jams his hand into his pocket, withdrawing a lump of pink bubblegum. Shoving it into his mouth, he chews and chews and chews, and eventually, the panic settles.

“People are scared, Lohen. Just because someone hurts you, doesn’t mean that they meant to. Sometimes fear can impact people’s judgment.”

“For once,” he growls, sniffling in the driver’s seat, “the old man’s right.”

You’re not just any woman—you’re one who’s been hurt before. Even if Lohen’s as gentle as he is, you’ve been wired to stay on alert. You don’t hate him, you’re just not used to this kind of princess treatment. Before he came along to save you, you were struggling for so, so long on your own.

You’re just guarded. It’s only natural that it would take you time to fully trust him. It’s only natural that you didn’t run after him.

Ping!

He immediately snatches his phone to his face, but instead of seeing your name on his screen, he sees Theodore’s.

[Theo] Just got dispatched.

[Theo] They found him.

His breath stills. Slowly, surely, Lohen smiles.

“Bun!” the Vice Captain chirped, running towards the woman with his arms extended wide. “You came to pick me up, didn’t ya?!”

Ursula and Gunther exchanged a look. When the Vice Captain came within range of this fearsome female, they held their breaths.

The woman raised her hand. Without missing a beat, it slapped straight across the Vice Captain’s face.

Smack! The man’s head whipped to the opposite side of the impact—a startling display of the power behind the woman’s blow. Ursula and Gunther cowered, holding one another as they dared not to gasp.

“Let’s go,” the woman said brusquely, holding her palm out to him.

The Vice Captain was nothing but giggles when he placed his hand in hers. As the two trotted off, hand in hand, their Vice Captain being pulled like a dog on a leash, neither Ursula nor Gunther uttered a single word. After all, when it came to the only person who could tame the likes of Vice Captain Lohen, they would rather endure his special training ten times over than attempt to engage in dialogue with her.

“...How was that?” you asked Lohen awkwardly. “Did you like it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Lohen replied, his lips curled into a grin. “This means you’re gonna beat me tonight, right? I’m so fuckin’ excited.”

“Can you…not say it like that?” you asked, wincing. “I mean, I got everything you asked for ready, but…if you keep walking around telling people I beat you, they’re going to avoid me even more than they do now!”

“But you do beat me!” he chirped. “A consensual beating is still a beating, sweetheart!”

“Ugh,” you sighed. “Someone’s going to ask the knights to do a welfare check on you if you keep talking like this.”

“Uh-oh, that wouldn’t be good. They’d probably walk in on you beating me.”

“Lohen.”

The nurse’s fingers clacked into the keyboard as she asked, “Do we know what caused the dislocation?”

“Heh,” Lohen said with a grin on his face that was much too cocky for the situation. “My girlfriend—.”

“—he was out in the yard, working!” you exclaimed over him. “I think he tripped! Yep!”

Lohen’s eyes languidly rolled over to yours. The smirk on his face made your cheeks burn ten times hotter, your pulse pounding in your ears. For a guy who should have been experiencing some of the worst pain of his life, he sure looked smug about the whole thing. That certainly didn’t make it any easier for you to talk to the emergency room staff.

“Okay, we’ll get him into an exam room while we wait for the doctor,” the nurse said. “I’m assuming he needs a wheelchair?”

“Nah, I’ll just cling to her,” Lohen replied, waving his hand. “It’s her fault anyway—.”

“We’ll take the wheelchair.” You grinned from ear-to-ear, elbowing him in the stomach. “Won’t we, Lohen?”

He snorted. “Fine.”

“What are you doing?” you asked, your eyes narrowed.

“Taking a pic to commemorate this,” Lohen answered, phone in hand. “It’s not every day you end up sending me to the ER, Bun.”

Your hands curled into fists on your legs. Feeling awkward, and extremely responsible for the situation at hand, you muttered, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize I was…that it was that rough.”

“You should tell the doc that, when she comes around,” Lohen chirped. “I’m sure she’ll understand. Besides, isn’t honesty, like, a super huge policy in these medical type places? Judgment free zones and all that?”

“We are not telling the doctor that,” you argued. “If you do, I will die. Do you hear me, Lohen? I’ll die.”

“You’re so dramatic,” he answered with a laugh. “I’m sure they’ve heard way worse than a guy whose hip dislocated ‘cause his girlfriend rode his thigh too hard.”

The memory of it hit you like a freight truck. The way you had rocked your hips back and forth over the smooth, hairy surface of Lohen’s thigh; how he had kissed his way up your neck with those hot lips of his; and how you had tilted your head back, moaning shamelessly as you rocked and rocked and rocked; and then—.

Pop!

…And the unfortunate curse that Lohen had blurted because of it.

“Honestly, it felt kinda good,” Lohen said, grinning from ear-to-ear. “I’m sure we coulda popped it back in at home, too, but you’re just a scaredy cat, aren’t ya?”

“I already dislocated your femur,” you groaned into your hands. “I didn’t want to fuck it up by trying to put it back.”

“Oh, you worry too much. I totally trust you, Bun!”

“I have zero experience with this! Zero!” you sputtered. “It’s easier—and safer—to leave it to the professionals!”

“Pft.” Lohen hid his giggle behind his hand. “Okay, Bun. Whatever you say.”

You sighed. Relaxing back into the rigid plastic chair, you anxiously turned to the door. As long as Lohen kept his mouth shut, you would both get through the evening just fine. No one needed to know what truly brought him there, and they certainly didn’t need to know that you had any part in it.

Yet when the doctor came in, her white coat grabbing your nerves by the throat, your words were spewing the truth before you even realized it. She wasn’t even halfway through introducing herself when you interrupted her.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly, your words leaving your lips in a flurry. “This is my fault. We were getting intimate, and I wasn’t paying attention, and then I was gonna cum, so I closed my eyes because it felt really good, and then I—.”

“Woah, TMI, Bun!” Lohen exclaimed, his eyes wide. He was much more concise when he said, “She rode my thigh and my hip popped out of place.”

“Ah,” the doctor said, adjusting her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I see. Well, you certainly aren’t the first patient I’ve had this happen to. How’s the pain?”

You blinked, your jaw hung low. The absolute lack of judgment in the other woman’s voice had you stunned into silence. Lohen gave you a knowing smile before answering, “Not bad at all, really. Maybe a seven out of ten?”

“...A seven out of ten is quite severe. Would you like pain medicine?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Well…alright.” The doctor glanced your way. “You’re his girlfriend, I’m assuming?”

Your ears burned. “Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you. We should probably be able to relocate it without anesthesia, if your boyfriend can tolerate it. If we’re having issues, we’ll have to consult our orthopedic surgeons. It shouldn’t take all that long.”

That was it? No admonishment for your mistake? Not even so much as a giggle?

“Sounds great, doc,” Lohen chirped.

“Since your pain’s well controlled, I’ll just order some anti-anxiety medications in case you need them. If either of you need anything else, please give your nurse a call.”

With that, the doctor was gone. It was just you and Lohen again, sitting in silence.

That silence quickly filled with his bubbling laughter.

“Shut up!” you whined. “God, I’m so fucking embarrassed!”

“Hey, you…! You’re the one who went and said all that!” he laughed, his eyes budding with tears as his chortles interrupted his own sentences. “So fucking funny, I…! I can’t!”

He leaned his head back, laughing so hard, you were sure everyone in the hall could hear it. With a groan, you held your head in your hands.

“Aw, don’t worry about it, Bun,” he said, wiping a tear away with his index finger. “As soon as they pop my hip back in, we can go home so you can dislocate it again!”

You let out a pained wail.

“Lohen, I’m gonna kill you!”

“Do you think we should bring him the domestic violence form?” one of the nurses whispered to the other.

“Ha!” the older man answered. “That’s how I know you’re single, kid. Trust me—that’s a healthy relationship if I’ve ever seen one.”

“But, sir…you’re divorced.”

“Pft! If my wife dislocated my hip during sex, I probably wouldn’t be!”

As the older man’s laughter filled the nurse’s station, the others rolled their eyes.

As the shower water pelted his back, running down his body in hot rivulets, he nearly doubled over against the tile, his hand working his shaft in his fist. Heat permeated his neck and ears, and with a hot groan, he jerked himself faster.

It wasn’t unusual for Wriothesley to be haunted by wet dreams of you, his lover who was forced to rarely visit him in the Fortress of Meropide. It seemed that the longer he went without you, the worse these delusions became. He loved everything about you, and your body was no exception to this, but he still hadn’t expected to wake up with a raging hard boner and precum spattered all over his stomach.

He had to handle this quickly. After negotiating with the Iudex to open the gates to the Fortress once more, all three of you had settled upon today as the most favorable chance. Neuvilette had set an incredibly early arrival time for you, typical of the man, but certainly not unfavored by Wriothesley himself. The quicker you got here, the longer he’d get to spend with you. He had spent the last few months wishing for nothing more than the comfort of your smiling face.

Though it appeared his body had other plans.

“Ngh,” he growled, feeling his dick throb in his palm. “So fucking embarrassing…”

His mind was filled with images of your face, alright—but not your usual sunshine smile. He envisioned the way your eyes rolled back when you were close, the shape of your lips when they formed his name, wrung from your throat like a desperate plea. He thought of your neck, the smooth skin he loved to bury his teeth in, and how beautiful you sounded when you cried because of it. He could practically feel your body, tucked under his, and the slippery texture of your hot fucking insides—.

“Fuck,” he whispered, the sound of his working hand nearly overwhelming that of the shower water at his back. “I miss her so much.”

Gods above—he wanted to pin you to his mattress and make love to you until you were sobbing into his pillow. He wanted to feel every inch of you as you felt every inch of him, making you feel nothing but his undying affections for you. If you’d let him, he’d even curl his hands around that hair of yours, maybe give you a pull if you wanted it. He’d stuff you full of him, and you’d say, Wri, please.

Wriothesley’s arm slammed over his head, bracing his weight against the damp shower tile. Letting out hot, fervent pants, he stroked himself until his pleasure was blinding, his dick twitching so actively, he knew it was coming. Loosing a growl, he dug his teeth into his lower lip and practically mashed his forehead into the wall of the shower.

“Babe,” he moaned, feeling the squeeze of his tip, the stickiness on his hand. “I love you.”

It was unthinkable, that he could have an orgasm this blinding without you even being here. It was embarrassing, that he was talking like he was fucking you and not his own hand.

His shoulders heaved actively when he slowed his hand to a stop. Swallowing hard, he watched himself go limp in his palm.

Heat bathed his cheeks. In a low mumble, he said, “Behave, you horny fuck.”

Right when he thought he was safe, right when he turned to grab a rag to cleanse himself of the evidence of his sins, Wriothesley stopped in his tracks.

Thump!

Slow and terrified, Wriothesley looked down to see his horny friend, flush to his pelvis and ready for action yet again.

His jaw dropped like the hinges were broken.

“What the fuck?!”

It had been months since you last visited Wriothesley in the Fortress of Meropide. You had been preparing for this moment for weeks, ticklish in your belly and all too shy about it, though for reasons unclear to you. Perhaps it was the fact that you had to maintain secrecy in this relationship of yours—that bourgeoisie family you belonged to warranted a heightened level of discretion. If they knew that their beloved heiress was meeting with the Duke of Meropide under their noses, they’d probably attempt to board you up in the estate again. Probably force you on more “courting” dates with their array of potential “suitors”.

You loathed those dates, which you only attended in lieu of necessity. It would be too suspicious if you refused them all—your family would sense that you were seeing Wriothesley again. Many a time, they had claimed to you that the one mistake they made in raising you, was not teaching you to avoid men who smiled like foxes and acted like dogs.

It was insulting. Wriothesley had never treated you with anything other than immense care. The fact that he had a criminal record, that he was a member of the working class and not from some high-up noble family—that was what your parents despised about him. Were Wriothesley as influential as the founding families of Fontaine, your family would accept him in a heartbeat.

You’ve talked to Navia about it, during meet-ups for tea above the surface. Though she, too, had heavy expectations on her back as a fellow aristocrat, she could never propose a solution that would work for you. That was no matter, as you certainly didn’t expect her to be able to, but you couldn’t help but worry that you were starting to bring her down with your hopeless musings. It was a difficult subject to approach with others, so you often kept it to yourself.

It hurt, to long after him like you did. But when you were in the Fortress, entangled within his loving arms, you could almost forget the unbearable weeks of tension.

So when you saw him, standing there waiting for you in the entrance corridor, you immediately broke out into a smile.

“Wri!”

You practically flew into his arms—or so you had thought. Before you could hug him, he reached for your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. He was grinning, but something about that expression looked terribly strained.

“H-hey, Mademoiselle,” he said, his face pink. “It’s good to see you again. How have you been?”

He gave your shoulders an encouraging squeeze. You gawked at him, but when you heard the whispers of the Fortress employees around you, you immediately relaxed. Maybe he was just embarrassed, too shy to go hugging you in front of all of the inmates. That made sense, even if you were somewhat bitter about it.

“I’m good,” you told him, giving him a fond smile. “How have you been, Wriothesley?”

“Great,” he said quickly. “Hey—why don’t we talk in my office? I’ll make you some tea.”

“O…kay,” you answered, blinking. “Sure. Can I say hello to Sigewienne first?”

“Uh, sure. I’ll just wait for you in the office.”

You raised an eyebrow. Wriothesley took your hand, pulling you along beside him as he trucked down the hall. It was odd that he wouldn’t look at you, and odder still that when your eyes rolled down the length of his torso…

“Why are you wearing a shawl around your hips?”

“Hm? I…always wear one.”

“Wri. I’ve known you for years.”

“It’s…a new trend. I’ve been trying to pay more attention to things like that these days. Can’t let the kids beat us, you know?” He shot you a strained grin.

“You are the last person in all of Fontaine to care about trends,” you laughed. “Why does it feel like you’re hiding something from me?”

“I would never do that,” he blurted, but he wouldn’t look at you. “You’re overthinking it, babe, really. Um, anyways.” He released your hand, standing before the pathway that diverted to his quarters. Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “I’ll…wait for you here. Get your tea ready for you.”

Before you could even answer, Wriothesley was practically running away from you. That shawl around his hips (which you acutely realized was yours) swished with his every movement, until both it and he disappeared behind the grand golden door.

How strange.

Entering the infirmary led you to your favorite melusine medic—little Miss Sigewienne.

“Oh, Mademoiselle!” Sigewienne exclaimed, her face brightening at the sight of you. “You’re finally here!”

“Yes, finally.” You grinned. “I wanted to drop by and say hello. How have you been, Sigewienne?”

“I’ve been fine,” she replied. Her eyes turned to the door when she asked, “Where is the Duke?”

You sighed. “He’s hiding in his office.”

“Oh, no. That’s not what I was hoping would happen…”

You raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean, Sigewienne?”

“Well, I’ve been observing the Duke for quite some time now. He tends to get extremely anxious around you, so I was hoping I might be able to concoct him a cure. His heart rate routinely soars past an acceptable limit when he’s around you, and I wouldn’t want him having a heart attack because of it.”

That sounded like Sigewienne alright—analytical and practical. Though at times, it did feel more like she was maintaining her garden rather than aiming to assuage the ailments of others.

“If he’s avoiding you,” Sigewienne said, “then maybe the tea didn’t work.”

“The tea,” you echoed.

“Yes. I shared my concerns with one of the inmates, who suggested I try a calming blend of tea with a dash of honey. According to him, this special honey has properties of revitalization that work exceedingly well for human males, and helps them avoid awkward situations.”

“...This inmate,” you said slowly. “He gave you the honey?”

Sigewienne nodded. “I wouldn’t have accepted it so easily, had he not told me he often uses it himself. He mentioned something about how it was natural for human males to exhibit difficulties with women in their lives from time to time…and said that a dash of honey is all he needs to spur his confidence.”

The gears in your brain were clicking. Wincing, you asked, “This inmate…he didn’t happen to be an older, middle-aged man, did he?”

“That’s exactly correct,” Sigewienne answered. “How did you know that?”

You smiled awkwardly. Things were slowly starting to make more sense here—the shawl, the way he didn’t want you to hug him even though you hadn’t seen each other in months. How he fled to his office, abandoning you instead of clinging to your side like a puppy, the way he always did. It seemed that somehow, unknowingly, he had become the victim of a well-intentioned gift by a misguided stranger.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep Wri waiting.” You smiled, lifting your hand in parting. “Don’t worry about him, Sigewienne. I’m sure he’s quite alright.”

“If you say so, Mademoiselle. Please let me know if he requires medical attention during any point in your stay.”

You chuckled. “Sure thing, Sigewienne. I’ll do just that.”

For some reason, you were sitting beside him with a smirk on your face, your dainty little spoon stirring your tea as you laughed under your breath.

“…What’s so funny?” he asked, ignoring the flames bathing his cheeks.

You smirked, your eyes twinkling with mirth. Rather pointedly turning your gaze down, you said, “How long do you intend to keep that pillow over your lap?”

He stiffened. “Just…bracing my arms on something. That’s all.”

You giggled.

“How long do you intend to keep it hidden from me?”

He felt like he was sweating. Obstinately, he muttered, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You haven’t touched me once,” you said, laughing. “Don’t you think that’s a little odd, Wriothesley? At this point in the day, you’re usually asking me to sit in your lap while you handle your paperwork.”

“You can’t do that,” he said quickly. “Definitely not that.”

“Why?” Your smug grin set him ablaze. “Is it because you’re afraid I might feel something underneath me?”

Ah, fuck. Not like he could ever keep a secret from you to begin with. Still, when you pulled the cushion off his lap, his fingers instinctively grabbed for it. You didn’t pull hard, but he immediately relinquished his grip when you gave it the slightest of tugs. He was a fool for you through and through, and he would be remiss to treat you otherwise.

“My shawl,” you murmured, your palm upturned.

Awkwardly, he stood. He felt your eyes on him as he unwrapped the long sheet of fabric from his hips, the back of his neck burning when you extended your palm to retrieve it. Slowly, Wriothesley pressed it into your palm, his throat bobbing with a nervous swallow.

“Sit down,” you said softly.

Immediately, he obeyed. You shuffled closer to him, and he could tell where your eyes were at. As if his biology knew that its perfect fit was just centimeters away, it throbbed in his pants.

Your hand touched his thigh. He nearly jumped out of his own skin.

“How long has it been like this?” you asked.

“I dunno,” he blurted. “Well. I guess I do, actually…since this morning. When I woke up.”

“Oh, my,” you said, sounding genuinely surprised. “You’ve been hard this whole time…?”

God, he really didn’t want to admit it to you—that he had jacked himself off to the memory of you three times straight trying to contain it. But knowing you, you’d get so concerned about him that you might force him into the infirmary over it.

“I…handled it,” he said awkwardly. “A few times. Sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Your fingers grazed over his thigh, stroking up and down. Softly, you said, “I think you just like me.”

“Of course I do,” he answered, his eyes following the trace of your hand. “But I’m not ever like this because of it.”

You laughed under your breath. Leaning over to his ear, your hot breath tickled his face when you murmured, “I’m not sexy enough?”

Your hand slid over the bulge in his crotch as you spoke. He grunted, feeling heat spread through his face as he watched your delicate fingers trace the shape of him. Blinking rapidly, he said, “It’s not that you’re not sexy enough. You…definitely have that part covered.”

Your fingers, soft and tracing, turned a touch harder. You gave him a salacious rub, and his breath hitched because of it. His fingers curled around your wrist with the intent to stop you, but when you rubbed him through his pants just the way he liked, he let out a strangled groan.

“I think I know what’s happened to you,” you murmured. “Sigewienne told me that an older man offered her some honey for your tea. She was concerned about you being nervous, and it seems that the inmate misunderstood what you were nervous about.”

“What?” he asked, his brows furrowing. “Are you saying someone…spiked my tea?”

“That’s what it seems like, Wri.” You batted your eyelashes at him, smiling ever so innocently as your hand moved in ways that were anything but. “Why did you feel the need to hide it from me?”

“It’s been months,” he answered, his eyes trained on your fingers as they split around his bulge, his hand curling into your forearm. “I didn’t want you to think that the first thing I want when I see you…is to sleep with you.”

You let out a pensive hum.

“Is that…really such a bad thing?”

His breath caught in his throat. Looking down into your eyes, which were shying away ever so slightly, he felt his heart pound in his ears.

“I’ve missed you,” you said softly. “I’ve also missed the way you make me feel. I…wouldn’t mind it, Wri.”

He gawked at you, speechless. As heat flooded every inch of his face, you brought your hand away.

He almost wanted to pull it back. But when he followed that hand of yours, it went to your hair, tying it at the base of your neck.

Wriothesley gulped so hard, he felt like he was drowning. When you dropped to the floor before him, he pushed himself away until his back was flush to his sofa, his words coming out rushed as he babbled, “There’s really no need to do that—.”

You smiled up at him, your lips resting against the shape of him in his trousers. Sweetly, you asked, “You don’t want me to?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were hot. When you pulled his belt undone, he felt powerless beneath your touch.

“Oh,” you said, your eyes widening when he sprung out of his briefs. “Hello there.”

“Babe,” he answered, his ears burning. “You’re killing me.”

“But I haven’t even started yet.”

The way your warm, soft fingers curled around him had him losing it already. Dribbles of precum spewed actively from his tip, but you certainly didn’t let that stop you from rubbing his shaft up and down. As he watched you, the most elegant woman he knew, soil your soft fingers with his thick precum, he felt as though he might lose it right then and there.

“...You’re sensitive today,” you said with a smile.

He pressed his hand to his lower abdomen, responding with a shudder. How interesting, that the only chills he ever felt were brought on by you.

When you lowered your head, Wriothesley felt like you were moving in slow motion. Your lips parted, your glossy pink tongue slid out through them, and when that hot, wet sensation caressed his tip, he groaned.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his hand balling into a fist.

Your lips closed around him, and with your tongue rubbing the underside of his shaft, you slowly lowered your head. Wriothesley could hardly look at you—you were far too erotic—and as the caverns of your hot mouth sucked around him, he worried, for a moment, that he might forget to pull out.

He didn’t like making you swallow it. It didn’t feel very romantic. Though he supposed he didn’t like making you suck his dick either. That certainly wasn’t romantic. You were a noble lady, one who deserved a tender touch in bed. He could hardly face your parents to begin with, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to look them in the eye ever again if he started your date off by fucking your throat.

Ah. His hips were moving.

Your hands curled around his thighs. The way you looked up at him through your lashes told him all he needed to know.

Shit, he really didn’t intend for things to turn out like this. Sure, he had envisioned the fist in your hair and the tears down your face, but that didn’t mean he wanted things to start like this.

“Sorry,” he said, standing before you now with your ponytail in his grasp. “Sorry, I…fuck, that’s good.”

The way you stroked his hips up and down was reassuring. He listened to the croak of your throat as it filled his office, his breath coming out in hot, sharp pants. You closed your eyes, resigning yourself to his rhythm, and he moaned.

“You’re so good at that,” he whispered, fingers squeezing your hair. “You’re okay?”

You nodded, your hands stroking his thighs again. Wriothesley nodded, if only to himself, and stifled another moan.

Gods above, your throat was tight. You had struggled with this when you first tried it, but you had been insistent on learning how to take all of him. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him—he’d rather you sit back and let him do the hard work—but you had argued that if he was able to eat you out, you should be able to suck him off. He was nothing if not a lovesick fool for you, so he had let you try and try until you finally became proficient.

Though it really, truly, didn’t matter to him, he couldn’t say he regretted it. Not when his pelvis was flush to your lips, his cock buried in the warm confines of your throat, and you let out a lovely sounding moan because of it.

Your hand reached back for his. You curled your fingers around his fist, squeezing it tighter around the base of your hair.

He closed his lips, breathing heavy through his nose instead. Slowly, he pulled your hair a touch harder.

You moaned again. He guided your head back, gently, before pushing it forward. The way you pushed against his grasp told him you wanted him to do it faster.

Fucking your throat was not how a gentleman went about welcoming his lover back into his longing arms. Yanking you back, shoving you forward, slapping his pelvis into you so hard that he saw stars, was not how he had intended to receive you. But fuck, if it didn’t feel good.

“Babe,” he hissed, his nose scrunching, teeth gritting together. “You wanna swallow?”

You nodded.

“Fuck. Okay, then.”

He let out a sharp breath, pulling your head as he whipped his hips forward. It was rough, it was forceful, and it was far too much, but you continued to stroke him with your reassurance. As his cock twitched inside your throat, pumping semen down the length of your pretty neck, he moaned, “You’re such a good girl, babe.”

Your hands squeezed around his thighs. Concerned, he immediately withdrew from you.

You gasped when he fell from your lips, sucking in a deep breath of air. He noticed the streaks of mascara running down your cheeks, and immediately fell to the floor to cradle your face.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, running his thumbs under your eyes. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You’re always so apologetic,” you laughed. “I’m fine, Wri. You know I cry when I…”

You trailed off, your gaze shifting to his left. Smiling still, you nuzzled further into his touch.

“Huh?” he asked with a blink. “You…you came?”

You bit your teeth into your grinning lower lip, and ever so shyly, nodded.

“Wh—? But I didn’t even touch you.”

“Yes you did. My hair?”

“Oh. I didn’t realize you liked it that much.”

“Now I’m embarrassed,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“No, no, don’t be,” he replied, laughing. “Honestly, I’m kinda impressed. Good job, babe.”

He pressed his lips to your cheek, and you laughed against him. Turning your mouth to his, he more than happily let you kiss him, tasting the sweetness of your mouth mingled with the musk of him.

Thump!

Slowly, quietly, Wriothesley withdrew from you. Slowly, quietly, you both turned your heads downwards.

He was hard again.

He smoldered into flames, and you let out a lilting laugh.

“Don’t look so worried, Wri,” you told him fondly. “I’ll take care of you.”

“Nah, that’s…I can handle it this time.”

“I think I can handle it better.” Your eyes twinkled as you stared up at him. “Besides. It’s been a while since you bent me over your desk.”

Laughing, he replied, “Yeah, it…sure has.”

It had been a while since you last felt like this.

“W…Wriothesley,” you said, your voice as strained as the rim of the desk clutched in your fingertips. “Pull my…hair.”

One of his hands was fixed to your shoulder, gripping you firmly as his hips rocked into yours. The hand clenched around your ponytail tightened, and as your neck stretched backwards, you felt the curl of your toes into your heeled boots. Wriothesley fucked you hard and slow, filling you the brim with him with each eager thrust, and as your eyes budded with tears because of it, you whimpered.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

“Yes,” you whispered back, nails scratching against the cedar of his desk. “Wri, pull harder.”

He was always hesitant about doing anything he thought might hurt you. You appreciated that, truly, but at the same time, you wished he wouldn’t worry so much. You only ever asked of him what you wanted, not what you thought he would want in your stead. It just so happened that your desires were nearly always perfectly aligned.

You knew he liked keeping that hair of yours in his fist, pulling you so hard that you felt dizzy. You knew he liked the bite of his nails through your skin, the pierce of his teeth into your neck as he rammed into you so hard, your insides devolved into mush. In the early mornings, when he thought you were still asleep, he’d brush his fingers along those love bites of his, tender and sweeping across the length of your bruised skin.

“Ah,” you said suddenly, your voice rising an octave. His pelvis snapped flush to yours, and in an encouraging moan, you said, “Wri, I like that.”

“Babe,” he said, sounding awfully strained. “Go faster or keep it like this?”

He gave you too much control, but the love behind his intentions was clear as day. Blinking tears from your eyes, you answered, “Take me how you want, Wriothesley.”

His breath hitched behind you. The shift in his speed was gradual at first, but after a solid few strokes, you were whining his name, your hands gripping the desk for dear life as it shook and rumbled beneath you. Wriothesley’s breath was quick and heavy, sending a cool sensation of cryo across the length of your spine. As the repeated smack of his hips to yours overwhelmed each and every one of your senses, you moaned, “Wriothesley.”

“Sorry,” he said, like he always did. “Babe, you feel so fuckin’ good. I can’t—ngh—I can’t help myself.”

He would hear no complaints from you. No, the only words that would spew from your mouth, as they dripped with your hot saliva, were more, Wriothesley, more.

“You want me inside?” he asked. “Or outside?”

“Inside,” you gasped, hands scrambling across the ridge of his desk. “Cum inside me, Wriothesley. Please. And pull my hair—!”

Your voice spewed fervent, feathery moans when Wriothesley tugged your head backwards. Something about how rough he was with it, how he didn’t apologize this time—had you cumming before you even realized. You were rife with overstimulation when his nails dug into your shoulders, and as you listened to him groan behind you, you desperately whimpered, please, Wri, please, Wri, please—.

“Oh, fuck,” he hissed, fucking into you so hard that the desk legs wailed against the floor. “Babe, you’ve gotta take it.”

Yes, yes, yes, yes, Wri, please—.

“Ngh,” he breathed, slapping his dick into you one last time. As it pulsated inside you, lively and twitching, Wriothesley murmured, “Babe. Good job.”

“Wriothesley,” you slurred, your eyes blurred by hot, pooling tears. “That felt so good.”

He released your hair, and you slowly pressed into the desk. Wriothesley leaned over you, his dick still buried inside you, and pressed the softest of kisses to the back of your neck. You reached your hand backwards, grasping a fistful of his soft hair, and encouraged him to kiss you harder.

At the base of your ear, he sucked hard enough to leave a mark. One of his hands slid over top of yours, his fingers curling into your joined fist. Tenderly, he said, “I love you.”

You smiled amidst your tears. “I love you too, Wri.”

“…Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly. “Does that sound okay?”

“Of course.”

He helped you stand, and the way your legs trembled beneath you made warmth flush your cheeks. Wriothesley certainly noticed, but rather than mentioning anything, he gave you a fond smile. His hands grasped both of yours, holding you steady.

“Want me to carry you?” he asked.

With a nervous giggle, you nodded. “That would probably be for the best.”

He laughed under his breath, pulling you forward. After pressing his lips to yours, he murmured, “I’ve got you, babe.”

…Thump!

The sound interrupted your shared giggles. Wriothesley looked irrationally pale, his blue eyes stark wide. You glanced down, and at his pelvis, his dick stood flush; throbbing, shimmering with you, and dribbling with precum all over again.

You gave him a nervous grin. He looked like he’d rather die than stand before you.

“What’s one more time?” you whispered.

Wriothesley laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah…what’s one more?”

“Now it’s not enough,” you complain, your brows arching. “Fuck, just go back to what you were doing before.”

“Not gonna lie,” he answers, “I kinda like how desperate you look right now.”

You whimper. Pressing your eyes shut, your legs tuck around him harder.

“Why don’t you beg?” he asks hotly. “Huh, Princess?”

“Fuck,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”

“Ah, yeah. Thatta girl.”

“Please,” you continue to say, clawing his hair harder, digging your leglock into his skin. “Lohen, please. Please. Please—.”

When he obliges you, your voice raises an octave, devolving into sobs and whines.

Passage 2

He hears your feet running through the halls, and when your glowing face appears in the corridor, you’re grinning from ear to ear. You laugh as you propel yourself into him, tackling your arms around his neck with a girlish giggle.

His arms immediately encircle you. Against his ear, you say, “You’re finally back! I’ve been waiting for you!”

Shit, you feel like a warm blanket and smell like his body wash. His heart’s playing jumprope in his chest.

“You missed me?” he asks with a smile.

“Of course I did.”

You beam at him, your eyes twinkling with mirth. The halls around you sparkle, alive with your influence in his dwelling. Standing with him in the entryway, you look like a pretty housewife who’s over the moon that her husband’s come home safely.

To make matters even better, you kiss him. It’s a soft peck, the kind that makes his heart squeeze for you. Lohen’s laughing before he realizes it, pulling you in close for another one.

“Looks like you’ve been busy,” he says.

“Hey, don’t praise me yet. You haven’t seen everything.” You wink at him. “Come on, I’ll show you the living room.”

You grasp his hand, pulling him along behind you like an overexcited puppy pulls at its owner’s leash. He envisions a sweet blue collar around your neck for only a second, distracting himself from the thought with the texture of your palm.

“Hm?” His teeth grazed you, light but certainly not disinterested. “Then just don’t wear one.”

“If you give me a hickey, I have to wear one.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do! I can’t show up to work with a hickey!”

“Since when is that against the rules?” he asked, the rumble of his voice tickling your throat. “Who’s gonna fire you? Lisa?”

“It’s not that I’ll get fired,” you insisted, “but that it would be extremely embarrassing if anyone saw it!”

Lohen laughed, and the thrill it sent through you made your heart skip a beat. Fingers curled around your hips, he pressed you further into the wall behind you, his tongue playfully licking your collarbone. Your hands grasped his shoulders, and when he kissed the corner of your jaw, you felt heat bathe your cheeks.

“What’s so embarrassing about a hickey? We’ve done way worse than that in the library, anyway. Don’t recall you complaining about that.”

“I…that’s not the point.” You swallowed hard. “Just don’t bite. Okay?”

“Hm…but I like biting.”

You sighed. “I know you do.”

“Fine,” he answered. You could feel his smile in the pit of your neck. “Nothing on your neck.”

You raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like him to give up so easily—especially not when it came to leaving your throat spotted with him.

His lips pressed chastely to your collar, surprising you with his level of restraint. Relaxing into him, you closed your eyes and let the pleasure of his kisses wash over you.

“You smell good,” he purred. “You been making perfumes in Millhaven again?”

You smiled. “The Windrest Flowers are blooming really well this year. Lilian and I worked really hard on a new batch of—ow!”

Your shoulders flinched in conjunction with your loud yelp. Lohen’s teeth lifted from the exposed portion of your chest, his giggles filling your ears. When you looked down, you saw a ring of darkness on your cleavage, right where his obnoxious mouth had been. He curled his arms around your hips, pulling you against him when you started to struggle, and laughed, “Why are you mad? It wasn’t your neck!”

“Do you know how hot it is in that library?!” you whined, your fists pounding against his shoulders. “Now I have to cover up tomorrow!”

“You’re so freakin’ modest,” Lohen purred into your ear. “Don’t want anyone knowing you get your tits sucked?”

“Oh, yes, Lohen,” you spat, “I love letting everyone who comes in for a book know that I get my tits sucked!”

“Ha! You’ll make me blush, Bun.”

“Ugh! Can’t you listen to me for once?!”

“But, Bun,” he whined playfully. “You just said your neck.”

You smiled, your brows furrowed and twitching with irritation. Nails digging into the shoulders of his coat, you said, “I’m not having sex with you.”

“Huh?” He stood upright, blinking rapidly. “Wait, hold on. Let’s not be rash, yeah? It was a joke in poor taste, I confess.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch,” you said sternly.

“I am so, so, sooo sorry,” Lohen said quickly, shaking his head rapidly. “My lady, I have slighted you! Forgive a reckless young knight for his deplorable behavior—please!”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help a smile. He pecked your cheek repeatedly, saying, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, so sorry, Princess. Punch me if you want. If it’d make you feel better.”

“I’ll punch you,” you said, “but I’m still not sleeping with you.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s about time you learned to listen.”

“I don’t know if I like this whole ‘consequences’ thing. Can’t we go back to what we were doing before?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ve been too lenient with you. I’m sure we can find something else to do tonight.”

“But I was looking forward to it,” he mumbled, plopping his chin onto your shoulder. “I was gonna eat your ass.”

You froze. The thought of Lohen’s mouth, licking away at you from behind, shot into your mind like an arrow. You could practically feel those cold hands of his, squeezing into your ass and pushing you open for him, giving him enough access to lave his hot tongue across your sensitive inner ridges.

Quiet, you drummed your fingers against his shoulders. You glanced up at the ceiling. Cleared your throat.

“Well. I guess I can forgive you this once.”

He immediately burst out into laughter. His hands clapped around your skirt, groping you, and with a playful growl, he said, “Come here then, pretty girl.”

When his lips pressed to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, you sighed. Smiling still, you would tolerate it for now. After all, you knew the payout was going to be far more than worth it.