Summary: It’s normal to visit a lover’s home. The problem is that your lover is Fae and her home is Underhill. (A second person, dark romance. TW mentions of abuse and injury)
——–
The only thing saving you is that you lied ten years ago.
“Hyacinth,” Magna whines, “hurry up!” Her hand is extended back towards you, half of her body already past the treeline. Her black eyes are bright as she stares at something so deep in the forest you have no chance of picking it out. “We’ll be late!”
You take her hand. It’s cool to the touch, like touching the window in the little hours of the morning while you’re still wrapped in your sheets. If she’s bothered by your slow pace, she doesn’t show it. Like always, she keeps to your speed, neither pulling nor pushing.
It’s the little things like that that make you love her. She never makes you feel lesser than or slower than like so many people have. She waits without making it look like she’s waiting. She smiles at you without malice or sympathy or pity. Like most of her kind, she doesn’t know how to joke, but she makes you laugh anyway.
So even though you know you are signing your death warrant, you follow her deeper and deeper into forest.
You gratefully accept her help over a fallen log. She doesn’t seem to notice that she’s doing it, easily turning to offer you support as you force your knees to lift and bend. She talks the entire time, even when you drop what must be half your weight against her shoulder when your foot catches on the log. Her voice doesn’t even tremble, easily lifting your entire weight to put you back on more even ground.
“—didn’t tell anyone you’re coming to the Hill, but that’s better so I can keep you all to myself—”
Magna has never tried to hide the fact that she’s other. You’ve never outright asked her and she’s never outright told you, but it’s hard to hide when she does things like lift you with her slender arms or call her house “the Hill.” Sometimes you see her watching you when she slips up, eyes black like the night sky. When you don’t react, she nods and keeps talking. When you do react, she leaves.
You’ve learned to take a lot of things in stride just to avoid her leaving.
Like, for example, accepting an invitation to Magna’s home.
“I still think I should have brought something,” you say when she takes a breath. The things you gathered are still sitting on the counter in your apartment. While you can understand the gift cards not being appropriate (“You’re not giving them gifts,right?”) you think that the bottle of wine would’ve been acceptable. “It feels weird to meet your…family with empty hands.”
If she notices the pause before the word family, she doesn’t say anything about it. “Your hands are never empty to me,” she says cryptically. She throws a blinding smile over her shoulder. Are her teeth a little sharper? She winks. “They’ll see how much I love you. That’ll be enough.”
You allow her to direct you off the main path and onto an animal track. She takes up her chatter again, voice happy and lilting, as if to distract you from the way the foliage slithers out from under your feet. It’s hard to see the ground with the dwindling light, but even your eyes can see how rocky the terrain is getting. You don’t struggle at all with Magna’s hand tight around yours.
“—there are silver ceilings, so much betterthan the cathedral you talk about, you’ll see! You’re going to never want to leave when you see how beautiful the city is. I’m positive you’ll love it—"
Contrary to your family’s belief, you weren’t born magic-blind. You can smell the power in Magna’s words, the sweeping compulsion and prickling calming charm. Her voice is like a siren’s song, stealing the lethargy from your body and easing the panic beginning to claw at your mind. You aren’t scared, not really. But the scent of power is rising the further into the woods you get and a little voice is telling you to run.
Or,you muse, staring at the way her pale hand contrasts against the mottled scars on yours, or at least don’t go willingly.
As if she can hear your thoughts, Magna’s voice deepens until you can feel it rattling your bones. The compulsion she’s weaving tingles under your skin. Calm, calm, calm, stay, stay, stay—
“You know,” you say, “I don’t regret being born a witch.”
Magna’s hand spasms around yours. It is the first time you’ve called yourself the wword since leaving your family behind. You’ve avoided using it, considering what witches have done to the both of you, but the time for avoidance is over.
The two of you, you decide, are going to talk.
“You should never regret being born,” she says lightly. She slows down as the hole in front of her fills with dirt by itself. When the ground smooths, she still helps you across it just in case. “I’m very happy you were born.”
You nod your thanks. Another reason why you’ve known her for ten years and this is only happening now; you have never saidthank you. “I don’t regretbeing born a witch.”
“Why not?” The spell is obvious not that her voice isn’t happy and chirping. You can feel the weight of it against your threat as her tone darkens. “They hurt you because of it.”
You resist the urge to touch the web of scars curling along your jaw. “Actually, they hurt me because they thought I wasn’t born a witch.” A handful of years ago, you would have been bristling at the reminder of what your family did to you. But the years spent under Magna’s unrelenting kindness have been as good as a balm to your soul. You say, “I think I survived it because I met you.”
Magna stops. She doesn’t turn to face you nor does her hand tighten around yours, but you can feel her aura ripple as your words hit her. “You give me too much credit.”
You hum. “No, I don’t.”
——————-.
You’re twelve and you aren’t going to make it to your next birthday.
Your family’s estate is empty at this time of night. You limp through the halls like a wraith, arms held carefully away from your body. The bandages on them are still pristine and you don’t want to risk soiling them by opening any of the cuts. The doctor your family allows you to see won’t be back until next week.
The carpet muffles the sound of your footsteps as you drift past your siblings’ rooms and their ajoining work rooms. It’s after 3am and the only light in the entire house comes from the full moon shining through the windows. You wonder why none of your siblings like being awake at this time of night. Couldn’t they feel the soft power of the moon all around? Didn’t they want to drink in the soothing howls of the stars?
On nights like these, you don’t mind not having a room quite so much. It means that the entire world is your room, the moon shining just for you.
You frown. Well, it’s shining just for you now. You aren’t going to be alive on the next full moon. You overheard your family’s plan for you while sneaking through the kitchen for leftovers.
“The power that thing gives is no longer needed,” your father told your mother. “Especially now that our youngest has fully matured. It’s time to end it.”
Your mother hummed. You could hear the ice melting in her glass. “We will need to sever the blood ties beforehand. Though not a witch, she has enough magic for a death curse.”
You hope down the stairs as best you can on your uninjured leg. You’d listened silently, invisible, as your parents talked calmly about the ritual to destroy your soul. You wonder what they would have done if they’d caught you eavesdropping. Kill you?
They’re already going to do that.
You can’t run. The injuries aren’t healing like they used to. Your second eldest brother boiled the blood in your leg to practice his curse work. Could that be why it’s not better yet? Is it a curse? Or just unlucky? Whatever the case, it prevents you from running away. Your family’s estate is large and in the center of a large plain. They’ll catch you long before you make it to the valley’s edge, much less before you make it over the mountains.
You stop on your way to the kitchen. You’d been going to get something to eat, your appetite only just now returning after hearing the news of your impending death, but what’s the point? Your death at their hands won’t be painless. You might as well just starve now.
“Not like this.”
The whisper is so faint you think it’s in your head at first. But then you hear the clinkof metal against metal and the slow drag of chains coming from a long way off. You freeze, head cocked to one side. The dragging sound comes again and you track it to the air vent in the floor.
A muffled sob comes from below.
There’s someone in the basement. You know that’s where your family keeps their experiments. Witches from other covens captured in battle, cryptids, and mutated animals. You’ve heard them screaming before but have never been allowed down to see any of them.
You have never heard any of them speak.
You aren’t allowed to, but you stagger to the basement door. It is a quick work of magic to make the locks drop to the ground and to convince the heavy steal door to open. You aren’t allowed, but what is the worst thing that can happen? Maybe this guest will kill you before your family has the chance to.
You lean against the stone wall as you carefully make your way down the stairs. The sound of sniffling seems loud in the quiet of the underground. It’s dark down here, only a sliver of the moon’s light coming through a few small windows near the ceiling.
In the dim light, you can make out three cells. One is empty, door partially ajar. The other is stained black with what looks like old blood. And the third, door light tight, has a girl in it.
“Oh,” you say.
The girl’s head whips up. Her eyes are as black as the shadows, no sclera at all, and her hair is a tangled riot of curls. There is something otherabout her that you can smell even through the magic-suppressants of the basement.
“Help me,” she says in a trembling voice. Her eyes are human and you wonder if you were only imagining the black from before. “They-they kidnapped me.” Her gaze lights on your bandages as you step further into the light. “I can help you too.”
There’s something different in how she says that last part. Her voice doesn’t tremble. It sounds like a promise. Or a deal.
“There are magic-suppressors down here,” you say. You hesitate five feet from her cell door. You’re going to be killed if you’re found down here. But also… Why should you both die? “I’ll have to find the key. It’ll be upstairs. I’ll do it.”
“Yes,” the girl says. “Yes, help me and I’ll help you.”
You smile without humor. “You can’t help me.” It’s a lovely dream, but you know your family. It’ll be nice to help this other kid before they flay you alive. “I’ll free you anyway.” You turn to go find the key.
“I can’t…Wait!” The girl is sitting up on her knees now, hands hovering over the bars of her cell. “I canhelp you. Just tell me what you want!”
It strikes you suddenly that you don’t wantanything. You press a hand to your chest. How long has it been since you’ve wanted anything? You’ve only ever acceptedthings. Pain and ridicule and hurt. “I,” you say, “will go find the key.”
There’s the sound of scrambling. You turn to find the girl on her feet, eyes wild. “If you don’t want anything from me then…then tell me your name!”
You blink at her. What a strange person, first demanding to give you something and then demanding something from you! “My name?”
The girl nods frantically. “Yes, your name. You can call me Magna.”
The way she says that is wrong too. You can call me Magna. You can’t tell howit’s wrong through, so you shrug. “I’m Hyacinth.”
“Hyacinth,” she says behind you. Then, almost to herself, “Hyacinth.”
“I’ll go get the key, Magna,” you say. There’s a darkness in the way she says your name. Part of you shivers at the sound of it, but it’s also…comforting.
“Yes,” Magna says. “I’ll be waiting.”
——————.
“You saved my life,” you say. She’s not walking so you take the initiative, sliding around her so now you are the one leading her deeper into the forest. You squint through the dark. Do you see a light up ahead? “I don’t think I ever told you that.”
“No,” she says quietly. “You didn’t.” She follows you with careful steps. You can feel her eyes on your back, waiting to see if you’ll need support. “You didn’t tell me why you went to the basement that night either.”
You smile where she can’t see. She’s always been as quick of mind as she is quick of tongue. “I heard you. I heard you say you didn’t want to die.”
“But why did you come down?” she asks. Her free hand ghosts against your elbow when it looks like you’re going to trip. “You knew about the others your family took. Why me? Why then?”
“Because they were going to kill me,” you tell her. There’s definitely light up ahead, a soothing blue glow that almost looks like moonlight. “I didn’t think two of us needed to die.”
Magna’s rage is quick to surface. Her skin heats in your hand and then cools just as rapidly before it can burn you. “You didn’t tell me that,” she says through gritted teeth.
You shrug. “You asked me what I wanted. I knew my days were numbered. All I wanted was for you to be free in my place.”
Magna swears. “I would have—if I’d known–!” She takes a deep breath. “They are lucky I did not make them suffer.”
It had been a surprise when Magna, free of her restraints, slaughtered your family in only a few minutes. She’d left you to live in the family’s mansion, alive and free for the first time in your life.
It had been a bigger surprise when she came back.
You hum. “I was glad to have them gone.” The light is growing brighter. It doeslook like moonlight, but you are a witch of the night sky. You know what moonbeams look like. “I was never family to them. I was a burden. An experiment. I grew up my whole life living like a caged beast, free for them to use.” Your eyes slide back to see her pale face in the fake-moonlight. “I don’t ever want to be trapped again.”
Unease flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a flash. “I…know.”
“I’ve thought about it,” you say. Your legs don’t feel so stiff anymore. You hop over a vine before Magna can move it out of the way. “What would I do if my family came back? Kill them, definitely. But what would I do if they locked me up? Caged me once again?” Your voice is very quiet as the light ahead grows brighter and brighter. “I would do anything to avoid that.”
“Stop.” Magna tugs your hand until you obey her, freezing before you can take another step. She won’t meet your eyes. “Stop, Hyacinth. Just for a…just for a moment.” The magic in the air stutters.
You grin as warmth unfurls in your chest. You expected this reaction, but it’s good to see it nonetheless. It means you aren’t about to make a mistake. “What is it? Is there something wrong?” Because you are cruel, you pull her hand to your chest. “Didn’t you say we were going to be late?”
She jerks and her beautiful black eyes find yours. She searches you for a long moment. “You know?”
You step into her space, a taunting smile on your lips. “Know what? We are going to your home, aren’t we?”
“You know what I am,” she says. Her free hand curls into a fist and uncurls. The shadows on the trees darken and twist. “You know where I’m leading you.”
You’re sure she can feel the steady beat of your heart. You widen your eyes. “That can’t be true. You’ve laid so many spells on me over the years to hide the truth, haven’t you? How could I have ever seen through them?”
“But you have,” she says. She is still as a statue, as firm as the forest around her. She stopped running from you years ago. Does she even know how hard you worked to ease her fears? Her brow furrows. “You know. You’ve known.”
You nod, dropping the fake innocence. “I have. Your spells have never worked on me.”
The magic she’s been weaving disappears. The smiling, chirping Magna is nowhere to be seen and you’re left with the Other. “So you’ve been pretending.” She shakes her head and still doesn’t pull away. “Putting aside why my magic doesn’t work on you, I don’t understand. Why let me lead you here?”
“Before I tell you that,” you say, “perhaps you should be asking me a different question.” Your eyes flash and you imagine Magna can see the moon in them. “Why have I stopped pretending now?”
She’s on edge, watching you like she might watch a predator. “Because you know where I’m taking you and the consequences of walking there of your own free will,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She cocks her head to the side. “Is that the answer?” Something like hope flutters through her aura. “You won’t let me trap you and you know you can’t leave if you walk in freely. Do you want me to force you across? So you can leave?”
You reach out to thread your fingers through her hair, your other hand still holding her hand to your chest. “Not quite.” You look at her, the complete trust in the way she turns her face into your hand, seeking your heat. Even now as you throw her plans into disarray, she trusts you. It is time to reward that trust. You take a deep breath. “I have a confession.” And your words catch in your throat.
This is it. There will be no turning back from this point forward. Ha. There’s beenno turning back for for a long time. Not since Magna wandered into your home again, arms full of berries as a silent thanks for your rescue.
“What confession?” Magna prompts.
“My name is Lily,” you say without fanfare. Your thumb strokes the soft skin behind her ear. “My real name is Lily.”
Magna gasps as the power of your true name hits her. Her eyes flare with stars and the hand pressed to your chest curls, nails digging into your skin. “But you—your name—” Her eyes find yours again. “You liedto me back then.”
She sounds impressed.
“And now I’ve told you the truth,” you say. You reel her in until you can press your forehead against hers. She comes willingly. You can feel her breath against your lips. “I want you to know that, when I walk into Underhill, I’m doing it for you. Because I love you. Because you have every part of me that’s ever mattered.”
“Oh,”she says. She’s trembling now. “Oh.”She takes her head from yours so that she can grip your hips. “You love me.”
“I do.”
“That,” she breathes, “is really good news. I was worried for how long you’d hate me once you realized where I’d led you. You can hold quite the grudge.”
You laugh. “Good thing you don’t need to worry about it then.” You pull back so you can meet her eyes. “I’m willing. I’m ready.”
She grins, the beauty of it blinding you for a moment. “My family is going to loveyou,” she promises. She takes your hand again and leads you past the last few trees into a clearing. A mushroom ring glows like the moon in the center. “Though, of course, not as much as I do.”
You grin and don’t feel your old scars at all as you step into Underhill with Magna’s hand in yours.
——————End———————
Thank you for reading! I am always obsessed with the sort of intense love where both partners walk into it with eyes wide open, so I hope you enjoyed my interpretation of that in a dark fantasy way!
If you’d like to see stories like this a week earlier, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X) where next week’s story is already up! I’m really excited about it because it takes place in this (x) universe which was so fun to write before!
Next week’s story’s summary: Summary: You are a Villager. You aren’t the Hero, but when danger comes to your town, you’re ready.
❤Calestis & Adeimos in Valentines❤ My special original characters for a big project I’m working on! <3 I made this illustration of them specially for Valentines day. I also uploaded a video process of this painting, so check it out on youtube! Also check out my teasers and progress for this project on my other blogs :D
No, it’s not like she left him or anything drastic like that. Yet, he yearned to be accepted and loved by her as Fenrys was, and even Ruhn. With them, their little chaotic girl came alive. They were part of her little nebulous world, which she occupied and which Azriel wanted to visit, and stay in forever.
What he’d learned in the past week–their first week of marriage, was that Elain Archeron King was a beautiful, unexpected chaos. Or, as she called herself Elain Marie Paige Azriel King. Which was weird, but while he tried to argue with her, and explain that it was just Elain King, or, if she so insisted, Elain Marie Paige King, she wouldn’t hear of it and was convinced that the correct way to say her name was Elain Azriel King. When he tried again, and suggested that maybe she meant Elain Archeron King, she stomped her foot and told him that he doesn’t even know his own name. Or hers.
And that was that.
She was Elain Azriel King from then on.
Not that he minded at all.
If she wished to be Elain Azriel King, more power to her.
At home, she tended to wear a tiara.
She just walked around in a tiara and always barefoot–because she needed to ‘feel the earth’ with her toes. Also, according to her, she was a queen, because she was married to kings.
So be it. No one argued.
In a week, he’d learned a lot of things about his wife.
She was remarkably, adorably and unquestionably strange and somehow, she immediately fit into their psychotic trio–though that shouldn’t have been a surprise, since she clearly accepted them all and the state of the state, which was that she was theirs, and they were hers.
Even Ruhn fell under her spell. Ruhn. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Azriel was aware that Ruhn texted her throughout the day; sent her funny videos, jokes and memes, messages, photos of what he was doing or eating. If he wasn’t home in the morning, he sent her cartoon bears or puppies, with ‘good morning’ messages and “What’s my girl going to do today?” He also sent her videos or photos of his ‘work’ –with lots of blood, screaming and pleading. To which, she replied “ Go, Ruhn, go! ” or “ baby, you are doing so well! ” or “ that’s hot ”. Because just like them, Elain had a bloodthirsty streak in her and the more he learned about her, the clearer it became why she was able to take down that damn monster Hybern.
Ruhn hadn’t started his training with her yet, but they all knew that she would absolutely love it, and would probably be very good at it. If absolutely uncontrolled. Because if she killed like she danced, then the devil help them all.
*
What Azriel also found out was that Elain was a very bad judge of some of her abilities.
Curiously, things that she excelled at–cooking, for example, or baking, making truly stunning flower arrangements, having a spectacularly refined eye for design, and being effortlessly stylish–she felt insecure about. She always seemed surprised when the three of them complimented her food and when they cleaned the plates like a swarm of locusts. Any baked goods were gone in less than an hour. No matter how many muffins or rolls she made, everything was consumed, and yet, she even accused them of doing it on purpose, to make her feel better.
Now there were many things that Elain was…not good at. At all . She failed spectacularly.
Notably, those were the things that she felt that she excelled at and was ‘so good’ at.
“I am so good at languages!” she announced. “I can learn a language in three days!”
“I think a bit of an exaggeration, beautiful,” Ruhn argued reasonably.
“What languages do you know, baby?” Fenrys propped his chin on the counter and looked at her with big cow eyes, blinking like a love sick fool that he was.
“I know Italian and Spanish and French and English and many more,” she announced proudly.
Azriel, who was fluent in Italian, jerked his chin and said, “ Mi piacerebbe sentirti parlare Italiano,”
“If you want to hear me speak, here you go,” she pursed her lips and,
Well, she did speak Italian.
The problem was, she spoke like the fucking Terminator. She completely disregarded all the tenses, dropped most of the connecting words as she saw fit, and just did whatever the hell she wanted. She also randomly mixed half of the words up. Even Ruhn, who was fluent as well, winced a bit.
Yet, Elain, after concluding a long monologue about “ Abbiamo lo stesso numero di ossa nel collo delle giraffe,”
Or, how we humans had the same number of bones in our necks as giraffes, announced, “I speak so good!”
“Baby,” Fenrys, who knew about four words in Italian, purred lovingly, “you speak so so good. I don’t know why the giraffes are so stressed, but I bet you can make them feel better.”
That, actually, was a typical conversation between Elain and Fenrys.
Ruhn stroked her head and nodded his assent.
“You are very good in Italian, pretty girl!”
She beamed at the praise and then turned a challenging eye at Azriel.
“You do speak Italian,” was all he said.
“I told you I speak so good!” she concluded and puffed out her chest pridefully.
Then she attempted to speak Spanish, and yeah, she didn’t know Spanish. Though she could roll an ‘R’ like nobody’s business.
“Now speak English, baby,” Fenrys requested with the same stupid dreamy look on his face.
Azriel was very curious what that meant, and as it turned out, speaking ‘English’ was Elain doing a terrible British accent.
“You can’t even tell I am not British!” she declared triumphantly, with Fenrys nodding eagerly, like she was speaking the Queen’s English from a palace balcony. Hers was a weird mixture of cockney, that actor’s from all the Jane Austen movies, Fenrys’s, with a touch of Downton Abbey and Guy Ritchie movies. It made no sense, and yet, made every sense.
“Baby, your English is perfect!” Fenrys pulled her in for a kiss and Elain remained in her gloriously deluded state, absolutely convinced of her knowledge of languages. And the funny thing was that Azriel didn’t think that Fen was lying or trying to make her feel good–the man really thought that everything she did was magical and special. To Fenrys, Elain was perfect and could do no wrong.
Elain also succeeded in offering completely incorrect information with unflinching confidence, and then arguing that the information was indeed correct.
*
The four of them were driving to the beach the first weekend after the wedding. The day was glorious, the weather hot and the ocean beckoned. So they piled into Fen’s vintage Aston Martin convertible and headed out of the city before the sun was even up.
Between the Fenrys/Elain heated make-out sessions in the back seat, she dropped some interesting pearls of wisdom on them.
“Did you know that when you are sleeping with your mouth open a mouse can crawl in, lay eggs in there and then you wake up and there are a bunch of eggs and also baby mouses in your mouth?!”
“Mice,” Azriel corrected her.
“What?”
“Not mouses, mice.”
“I am pretty sure it’s mouses,” she insisted. “Ru, is it mouses or mice?”
Ruhn, who was sitting in the front with Azriel, offered diplomatically, “I think it depends on where you are from. The vernacular varies,”
That was another thing that they learned about her–language, in general, was just a suggestion to her. She floated within her thoughts and words, not necessarily needing anything to make sense, as long as it did to her.
Ruhn was the first person to learn how to decipher her fascinating ramblings and he just accepted them. Fenrys did as well. Her mind was a colourful rainbow of dreams and memories and aspirations. It was akin to stepping into a kaleidoscope and existing in a world of somewhat alternate consciousness.
It didn’t matter to them that mice didn’t lay eggs and that she mixed up mice and spiders, it only mattered that she wanted to share the information and found it so interesting.
So what if she named all the cars–there was Big Bessy , and Baby Blue , and Golden Boy , and Sad Muffin , and Vasily, andHedge.
A week in, and all four of them were addressing the cars by their ‘names’.
Her world was dreamy and beautiful–she admitted that she wanted to eat cannoli and live in the sun and read dark romance and sometimes kill people and breathe in the ocean and get neck kisses and ride in fast cars and never, ever, ever have the three of them leave her. Not even for a second. Not for a moment. They had to be together forever.
She was theirs, and they were hers.
*
On the way to the beach, they blared the radio and Elain sang along to the songs, messing up most of the lyrics. That was another thing Azriel had learned about his wife–he doubted that she knew ONE song correctly. She just continuously sang nonsense, sometimes, making up whole words, and trying to convince everyone that these were the right words.
Tina Turner’s ‘Simply the Best’ came on–one of their wedding songs, in fact, and Elain squealed with excitement. It was the song that the three of them dedicated to her at the wedding–and even lip synced it for her, as a trio. Azriel smiled, recalling how she ran to them after they were done, tears in her eyes, and wrapped her arms around the three of them, and they spun her around, attempting to maintain a sense of propriety and not kiss her in a non-brotherly manner.
Apparently though, she sang a different song entirely:
You’re simply the best
Better than all the best
Better than anyone
Anyone I’ve never met
I’m striking your heart
And hang you and every word you say
You tear us apart
Baby, I would rather you be dead
It wasn’t even close and made zero sense, but as usual, Elain was convinced that her version was the correct one and there was no arguing with her. Whose heart she was striking remained a mystery, but that was okay, because she was singing her heart out, arms waving in the air, eyes closed and it was pure joy.
And then Fenrys pulled her down onto the seat and tugged her top down, quickly freeing her plush tits from the bikini top. Ruhn twisted in his seat, turning to watch them, his hand landing on the breast closest to him and mashing it hard, while Fenrys began to lap on her other, biting her nipple and sucking all of it into his mouth.
“Boys,” she moaned, arching into their touch, not caring that they were in an open car and lo and behold, the moment a truck passed them, a deafening ‘toot-toot’ from the horn greeted her bare breasts. Ruhn flipped the trucker off, and Azriel grunted,
“Yes,” Elain moaned in the back, her legs falling apart around Fenrys’s hips as he busied himself with the other nipple, while Ruhn held the breast to his brother’s mouth.
“You gave me a good idea, Az,” Ruhn took out his phone and said, “I need this–firstly, to judge Fen’s shitty techniques,” Fenrys didn’t even pause the sucking, while he offered Ruhn the finger, “and when I am fucking bored as fuck torturing some fucker, I can at least entertain myself with Lainey’s pretty titties. Show them to me, honey,”
Elain pushed Fen away and then then had Ruhn film her semi-nude body, pausing for him, squeezing her breasts in her hands, jiggling them for him, pinching her wet nipples, until Fenrys lost his patience and pulled her up, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and rolled and tugged her nipples for the camera, until they began to visibly swell between his fingers and Elain started to moan.
“That’s right, my girl,” Ruhn encouraged her, licking his lips and grabbing a handful of the lush globes.
“Runnie,” she murmured, caressing his hand and having him squeezed her even tighter.
“Yes, love?”
“If you want to, you can film me sucking your cock,” she bit her lower lip, watching him from under her lashes. “You can always watch me and how you have your dick in my mouth,”
Azriel choked audibly and Ruhn readjusted himself in his jeans and nodded,
“I would love that, pretty girl,” he vowed. “You’ll give me the messiest blowjob and I’ll come all over your gorgeous tits,”
“Come in her mouth!” Fenrys argued.
“This is my fantasy and my blowie,” Ruhn waved him off, “I come where I want to come! You want to come in her mouth, you do you, brother.”
Elain stroked Fen’s cheek and kissed him tenderly,
“You can come in my mouth, Fen. I like it,”
“You came in her mouth?!!” the other two roared loudly and aggressively, outraged.
“Watch the road!” Elain screamed at Azriel, who turned a furious gaze at Fenrys.
“Okay, it wasone time!” Fenrys argued defensively, “she only swallowed, she didn’t even do anything,”
“She only swallowed?” Ruhn bellowed. “What else is there?”
Fenrys began to play with Elain’s hair and breasts again, shrugging impetuously and saying, “No one is stopping you. How’s that my problem?”
“I am at work!” Ruhn yelled.
“Well, then have babygirl suck you off when you are not at work,” he recommended logically.
“As a reminder,” Azriel’s voice interrupted them all, “we don’t show our woman to anyone. She is ours. Cover her tits now,” that was an order.
Fenrys had the good sense to cover Elain’s breasts with the bikini top and that was that. He kissed her and then Azriel invited them all to sing. Which they did. With Elain mangling every song and all the lyrics.
*
That day at the beach was the best day after that stupid fight that they had.
Since that day when Azriel had lost his temper and acted like a douche, Elain had chiefly avoided him. Not demonstratively, not in some petty ‘door slamming’ way, but she did and he felt it. Also, she kept feeding him shitty foods from bags and boxes–when the others got nicely seared steaks or marvelously grilled swordfish with herb butter, or mushroom and asparagus risotto, he got chicken nuggets, fish sticks and turkey meatballs from a bag. He ate it all, overplaying his enjoyment and guilting her for serving that crap to him. What pained him more than a soggy mush of a fish patty on his plate was that she certainly didn’t sneak into his bedroom anymore after that one time. She didn’t kiss him. She didn’t hug him. Fenrys lounged on her lap when they watched TV. Ruhn crossed his long muscular legs on her thighs and then inevitably, she’d curl up against him. Damn Fenrys, of course, got very very comfortable with showering with her every morning. Azriel was perfectly aware that Fen now had his toothbrush, his hair products and his shower gel in her bathroom. Which was fucking unacceptable. Meanwhile, he got nuggets.
But Azriel longed for her. Wanted the touches, the smiles that would be just for him. He wanted to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to bite that juicy ass again. He wanted so many things…Not the least of which was the constant grating desire to bury himself inside of her. He thought about it endlessly. He thought he’d have a lot more self control, and this denial wouldn’t be as painful as it was. It was actually horrible. She was right there . In front of him, in her ridiculous tiaras, those stretchy pants that drove him wild and set his imagination on fire, not to mention the days when she wore the little flowery dresses. When she rolled dough, her whole body tensing and relaxing, stretching and making some very wonderful things to her cleavage–those days were both pleasure and torment to Azriel. He had jealously watched her teach Fen how to make fresh ricotta, and then have Ruhn taste the sauce that she was making, holding the wooden spoon to his lips, as he licked it, his gaze devouring her. In the garden, the three of them played bocce, arguing viciously, running around with a ruler, measuring scrupulously and then inevitably getting into fights. He pretended like he ‘needed to work’. He didn’t. But he didn’t want to burden her with his presence.
And so, Azriel missed his wife.
*
At last, they were here, piling out of the car, getting bags and baskets from the trunk.
They found a nice spot, though while Elain was spreading their towels and blankets on the sand, a pissy lady grabbed her son, muttering loudly enough for them to hear ‘come Blake. We are not sitting next to criminals!”
Fenrys wiggled his brows at her and murmured in a sinister tone, “Lady, you don’t know the half of it. Run along, Blake! Otherwise, you might want to become like us,”
The woman added a little gas to her speedy walk, dragging Blake by the hand, while Blake was watching the three giant, tattooed muscular men with wonder in his eyes.
Elain laughed, and told him to stop scaring children and impressionable housewives. Then she added, “but she wasn’t wrong!”
The good thing was that Ruhn alone could clear out all the undesirable neighbours in a 50 meter radius, just with a look and a flip of his long hair.
All the noise and banter stopped, when Elain pulled off her tank top and then shimmied out of her little white shorts, revealing her super sexy curvaceous body to them–all her ample, soft goods tucked into a little bubblegum pink bikini.
“Boys,” she giggled, “you are staring at me like hungry wolves,”
“Girlie, you are hot as fuck,” Ruhn managed to utter, tearing off his clothes and dropping on the towel next to her.
“What he said,” Fenrys agreed.
“You’ve all seen me much nakeder than this,” she reminded them with a laugh, while Ruhn stroked her back and snuck a kiss to her hip.
“That’s why the beach sucks,” Fenrys sighed dramatically. “We could be home and you’d be way, way more naked than this and we can touch you too.”
“Well, I love the beach!” she announced.
“Let me lather you up, babygirl,” Fenrys offered, taking out a tube of sunscreen. The next moment, a scarred brown arm shot out and wrapped around his wrist, as Azriel said, “allow me”.
Fenrys pouted, but opted not to argue and handed the sunscreen to Azriel. Then he rose and announced that he is going for a dip! Ruhn sighed and decided that he’d go as well.
Azriel stood, waiting for her to go after them, but Elain remained seated, her eyes glued to his nude body. He just stood there, letting his woman look at him, enjoying how her eyes roamed over his chest, the tattoos that slithered from his neck, to his pecs, and down his muscular arms. He had fewer than Ruhn, but still plenty, and done in a different style–all black, many resembling flames–a memory that was forever etched on his skin in ink and in scars. On his right hand, the tattoos wrapped around his forearm and slithered all the way to his hand and his fingers. He left most of his left arm undecorated, so that all the scarring was plainly visible.
In her usual manner, she just reached out with her finger and traced the outline of his deep V, running her finger to the edge of his swimming trunks.
“They call it Apollo’s Rope, you know!” she told him.
He smiled and stroked her head, gently cupping her face.
“I think it’s the Adonis Belt, my darling,” he said.
She frowned and shook her head, “No, It’s Apollo’s Ro-”
“You are right,” he agreed, because why not?
She kept studying him, and normally, he wouldn’t have been comfortable with such close scrutiny, but with Elain, he actually enjoyed it. She was so odd and so innocent, that he never had to be embarrassed with her, or expect any judgment from her.
“Az,” she said quietly, looking up at him, “you know, you are the most beautiful.”
He didn’t know how to respond, but also knew that she wasn’t finished.
“You have the most beautiful face,” she informed him thoughtfully. “You look like a gorgeous dragon,”
“Gorgeous dragon?”
She nodded, “yes! The most stunning and wonderful dragon. And your feet are also most beautiful! And your hands too,”
He looked down at his sand covered feet. His feet were fine, he supposed, but,
She reached down into the sand and drew her palm over his feet, his toes, before sliding up and over his calf.
“Fen thinks he is the most beautiful,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but to me, you are. Always you.”
Something warm and soft bloomed in his chest. Because Fenrys was the handsomest man of them all, or at least, the most conventionally attractive. Yet an admission like that, from Elain, made Azriel’s heart beat faster, and there was a wave of heat that washed over him.
Then, she quickly added, “but don’t tell Fen, okay? Promise?”
“Okay, I promise,” he smiled. God he loved it when she touched him. Those little hands on his legs, his feet – they did something to him and made him both lustful and insanely protective over her. Because she was his and he liked her just the way she was; strange and loving and vibrant.
“May I?” he asked, showing her the tube and she nodded.
He squirted a bunch of coconut-scented cream on his hands and then sat behind her, which was probably wise, because his cock kept hardening, especially when she touched him and when he couldn’t tear his eyes from her full cleavage, and those sweet silky soft globes which were gently cradled in the hot pink fabric.
He hesitated for a moment, before touching her immaculate skin with his gnarly, burnt hands which had done unspeakable things, things that she had no idea about. Azriel had killed, and he’d tortured, and he’d fought, and his hands were covered in the blood of his enemies.Truth be told, he wasn’t terribly broken up about the violence that he’d inflicted on others. He was rational, practical and pragmatic–he understood that some people had to die, and he knew that some people had to be punished. There was information that needed to be beaten or cut out of some people, and fists and knives and guns had to be used to resolve issues and disagreements. He did not enjoy killing or maiming, but he also didn’t cry about it. Sometimes, it was his turn to suffer and bleed and he accepted that as well. He’s been shot five times, knifed at least a dozen times, his knuckles were like an elephant’s hide, and more scars peppered his body than he cared to count.
But his sweet flower girl was something else. She was innocent and pure, and not only sexually, which was the least of his concerns, but mostly emotionally…unique in her approach to life, where she always saw magic and light, where she existed without knowing how to play games or how to be malicious. And he wanted that light for himself, wanted to preserve it and bask in its glow, because it was so precious.
“Az, are you gonna do it?” she demanded, jerking her shoulder.
He smiled and couldn’t help himself, as he planted his lips on her shoulder and then the back of her neck.
He’d made a mistake once with her. He wasn’t going to do it ever again. Not like that. Because even mild rejection hurt like a bitch. Cut his heart. Destroyed his well-being for almost a week. He couldn’t sleep, barely ate (and it wasn’t because of the chicken nuggets), was so irritable, everyone was attempting to avoid him, and when they couldn’t, they tried to get out of his sight as soon as possible. He might be a scary, violent, brutal dude, but his men liked him, and trusted him and were exceptionally loyal. He didn’t want to break that trust because of his terrible mood and his domestic squabbles with his wife.
“Are you going to lotion me or give kisses?” she demanded.
“I am going to start by giving kisses,” he decided, as he kissed the tender spot behind her ear, and watched her nipples pucker beneath the bathing suit. Slowly, he rubbed his hands over her arms and then began working on her back, while kissing her cheek and her neck, making her gasp softly.
“Am I forgiven?” he murmured in her ear, gently biting the lobe and pulling on her little diamond earring with his teeth.
“I am not sure,” she breathed. “You’ll have to do more,”
“Then I will do more.”
“More good stuff,” she warned.
His hands wrapped around her stomach and he tucked his face into her shoulder, kissing it and promising, “whatever you want. Also, it’s Adonis Belt,” and he bit her neck playfully.
“No it’s not!” she argued and pushed at him, as he laughed, and lathered her belly with the sunscreen. “It doesn’t even make sense because it’s not a belt!” she argued.
He laughed into the warmth of her braid, and then crawled around her, so they were face to face. He grabbed her by the hips and tugged her closer to him, forcing her thighs apart, as she wrapped her legs around his.
“I wanna do you,” she offered, an adorable blush spreading over her cheeks and her neck, and he watched the progression as it flooded her chest.
“I hope so!” he smirked.
She blushed even more and pushed him with her foot, but he caught it in his hands and brushed the sand off the sole, before pressing a kiss to her toes. He drew his hand up and down her smooth thigh, whispering, “just taking care of my girl,”
“Rogue,” she murmured with a smirk, but he knew that she liked the attention, and if her soft moan was anything to go by, she liked his touch even more.
“Give me your hands,” he ordered, and she bit that delicious lower lip of hers and gave him full jazz hands, which made him chuckle. He squirted lotion on them and then moved even closer, so they were just about chest to chest, and he wrapped her thighs around his waist, holding her close. Elain’s soft little hands smoothed over his shoulders first and he almost gritted his teeth as a tidal wave of blood rushed from his brain to his dick. Firstly, he was at a public beach, with kids around, so sporting a massive boner was ungainly and inappropriate. Secondly, he didn’t want Elain to know what sort of insane reaction she caused in him with her closeness. He hasn’t gotten his dick wet, well, he didn’t remember when the last time was, if he were being honest, but it’s been a while. And his flower was sweet and ripe and ready for the plucking, if the heady, glorious aroma of her arousal was anything to go by, and those perky nipples straining against the bra. But, she already had the upper hand in everything–he was totally bewitched by her and would do absolutely anything for her. He was fine with that, but he didn’t necessarily want everyone else to know where his great weakness lay. Because Elain was an unexpected and enormous weakness in his armour, and it scared him just how much power she held over his whole being. He already knew that should something happen to her, he’d burn down the world and destroy everything in his path to save her. But if someone decided to use her against him, he’d be powerless, for he would sacrifice everything to make sure that she was alright.
He stroked her thighs, his fingers slowly, but determinedly crawling over her silky skin and towards her tempting ass, until he clasped it in his hands possessively and pushed her even closer to him.
“I am busy, you are messing everything up,” she complained, undeterred by his sensual machinations and his extremely close proximity, though her heartbeat galloped so audibly he could actually hear it, despite the waves of the ocean and the noise around them.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice so low and deep, it sounded crazy even to him. But he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand not tasting her, not being even closer to her, not touching that wonderful body.
She looked up at him, finally tearing her eyes from his chest, over which she was smearing the lotion now, and the brown eyes blinked, regarding him seriously. And he prayed that she didn’t find him wanting.
Then, unexpectedly, she leaned forward and smacked her lips low on his chest, to the left. He looked down, brow furrowed in confusion, because that’s not what he meant,
“I kissed your heart, Rogue,” she murmured, and kissed it again, in the same spot. “Now the ice is melting around it…I can feel it come alive and beating strongly!”
“So you have,” he instinctively placed his palm on his chest, trying to hold on to her kiss. She smiled at him and then, Azriel couldn’t help himself any longer. He crushed her to his chest, squeezing her so tightly, he figured that he was probably hurting her, but he couldn’t stop. His lips descended upon hers, smashing into her soft, willing mouth and he battered through her meager defences, sweeping his tongue inside and pulling her into his lungs, stealing her moan and her breath. Her arms wrapped around his head, and she gave into the kiss, clinging to him, kissing him with a hungry desperation of days lost. He pulled them down onto the blanket, so the two of them lay on their sides, in each other’s embrace, and he held her close, without breaking the kiss. Her lips were rows of plump cherries, all snuggled together and he couldn’t help but nibble and lick them, losing his very sanity in the process. He grabbed her soft, round ass cheek and thrust his hand under the bikini bottom, pulling her closer to him, his solid cock pushing into the warmth between her thighs, nestling comfortably into her wet pussy. Her hips jerked and she pulled away from his lips for a second, watching him wide eyed, as he gently drove his dick along the seam of her folds, letting her familiarise herself with it. She stroked his face, watching him, as he kneaded her bare flesh, and then went back for another kiss. She tasted of sea brine and strawberry lip gloss and she tasted like…his wife.
For a moment, he wished that theirs would be a normal courting, with dates and gradual falling in love and all the experiences that neither one of them had with each other. And he wished that he could’ve dropped on one knee in front of her and proposed properly–surprising her, making her all flustered and adorably shocked and excited. He supposed that bypassing all of that in favour of actually having her as his wife was worth it, yet still, there was something to be said for the tidings of an ordinary life.
“Well, well, looks like the Mr. and the Mrs. have patched things up!” Fenrys laughed, standing and laughing above them, dripping water all over the place and making Elain shriek.
“You know, it’s a public beach,” Ruhn reminded them, suddenly Mr. Prim and Proper. “You are basically inside of her,” he arched his brow, nodding at Azriel.
“My man,” Azriel groaned, as he released Elain just a smidge, “if you think that this is being inside of someone, it’s been a while since you’ve experience the sensation,”
Fenrys laughed and slapped Ruhn’s back.
“Ruhn here is like 9/10 in looks, and 3/10 in game!”
“Excuse me?” Ruhn whipped his head to the laughing Fen, and threw a fist in his kidney.
“Auu,” Fenrys doubled over, but couldn’t stop laughing. “Hitting me won’t change the fact that you have no game!”
“Fuck off,”
“Snapping your fingers at girls so they rush over and suck your dick isn’t ‘game’ my man,” Fenrys argued.
“Isn’t that the very definition of ‘game’?” Azriel turned on his back and tugged Elain to him, holding her close.
“No, the definition of ‘game’ is having ladies swoon over you. It’s not just pounding into them and leaving them be. That’s why you don’t date,” Fenrys shrugged and began rummaging in a large bag that they brought with them.
Ruhn crossed his tattooed arms on his naked chest and pouted,
“I do date!”
“You have never been on a date.”
Elain was laughing softly at their bickering.
“That’s why,” Fenrys took out a ball from the bag and rolled it between his shoulders and then started bouncing it on his head, “your idea of a date with Ellie was to take her to Subway!”
Elain was laughing, and so was Azriel. Fenrys had a point.
“He also took me to a museum,” she protested, “and that was very nice and romantic,”
“Exactly,” Ruhn waved his arms around.
“Nah, she is just cock blinded,” Fenrys argued. “So she thinks that Subway is an appropriate place to go for a first date,”
“I am absolutely not cock blinded!”
Just then, a few cute young girls in revealing bikinis passed by, giggling and giving both Fenrys and Ruhn very obvious and unrestrained looks of interest.
“See, I can have them,” Ruhn nodded smugly, once the women were out of earshot.
“Yeah, probably,” Fenrys kicked the ball expertly with his feet, like a footballer, before catching it with his shoulder, then his head, bouncing the ball over his back and returning back to his feet.
“Show off,” Azriel muttered, watching Elain watch Fen with amazement.
“But will they come back for more?” Fenrys now bounced the ball on his broad chest, then his abnormally sculpted abs, making all the females in his vicinity pause what they were doing and watch them. “Because, unless that’s all they are looking for, most women don’t just want the D,”
Elain rubbed her foot over Azriel’s ankle, snuggling closer to him, as she watched Fenrys definitely show off, and asked,
“And what do women want, Fen? Have you figured it out?”
“They want to be romanced,” he said simply. “And heard.”
“Hmm,” Elain hum-phed her agreement. Azriel looked down at her briefly and then kissed her hair.
Fenrys positioned the ball on his hip and then asked,
“Alright, babygirl, do you want to play ball? Volleyball? Or do you want to make out with Az?”
“Make out with Az,” Azriel immediately proposed, but Elain sat up and then eagerly exclaimed,
“Yes, I am super athletic, you know, so I think I would be really really good at volleyball!!”
Azriel and Ruhn exchanged looks, because ‘super athletic’ was not how anyone would ever describe Elain. But she was already up and jumping around Fenrys, who raised the ball up in the air and she was attempting to grab it.
Fenrys was laughing loudly at her miserable attempts, while she pushed at him aggressively and then latched onto his neck and literally began climbing him. He still managed not to let her reach the ball, but she kept climbing him, even as he started walking, wrapping his other arm around her.
“Are you coming?” Ruhn asked Azriel, who still lounged on the blanket.
“Nah, I’ll watch the great athlete from here,” he chuckled and Ruhn laughed loudly. Unlike Fenrys, he shared Azriel’s amusement at Elain’s boasting of her non-existent talents.
“So…you all good?” he asked just in case, eyeing Elain, who was riding Fen’s back, still without having gotten to the ball.
Azriel shrugged, “We’ll see. She kissed me and that’s good enough.”
Ruhn jogged towards the other two, snatching the ball away from Fen and causing a cry of outrage from Elain.
*
Azriel leaned on his elbows and watched the three of them.
As expected, Elain was ridiculously terrible at volleyball, and he was sure that she’d never played before. What she lacked in skill though, she certainly compensated in sheer enthusiasm. She totally didn’t care that she was losing the ball or hitting it way off side and often into the ocean, so that both men were drenched, having to go and fetch it from the waves. She yelled and laughed happily, and Azriel was pleased that he was able to offer her this experience. It was Ruhn’s idea and at first Azriel didn’t know if Elain would be interested, or how the whole dynamic would work, but here they were and it seemed to be going well.
Fenrys’s comments from before made him think though.
Elain was his wife, and she satisfied him plenty–and they haven’t even had sex yet. He knew deep down that he would never cheat on her and as unglamorous as it was, he was a one woman man. After Morrigan had died, it took him a long time to recover, though truthfully, he didn’t think that he ever would. Following her death, he swore off any long-term, monogamous relationships and only ever had casual flings, too terrified of pulling yet another innocent woman into his net and having her end up dead or maimed because of him.
In the past year, he was mostly fighting off his father’s demand that he marry and solidify an alliance with a powerful family. He was offered many a bride, from every family–Italians, of course, two from the Mexican cartels, the Irish mob, the Russians, the English, and Italian Italians. All were terrible choices and he was so fucking stressed for the past seven months because of these endless negotiations, which were going to directly affect the rest of his personal life, as well as the lives of his brothers, that his sex drive took a nosedive.
And now he was watching his wife, and it was like a dream.
This ethereal, beautiful, remarkable oddity was his–truly his, and he couldn’t believe his luck. Every night he got up and walked to her room, and watched her sleep. He’d sit in the chair by her bed, shivering in the cold night air, but needing to make sure that she was there, and that she was real, and that she was his.
But, he did need to think of his brothers. Both of them had voracious sexual appetites, particularly Fenrys, though Ruhn wasn’t far behind. Right now, Elain was a novelty. She was undiscovered and amazing and a nut to crack. However, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when the nut did crack. Would they return to their usual ways? And how would it affect the dynamic between the four of them? How would Elain feel if she knew that Fen, her beloved Fen, of whom she couldn’t get enough, screwed her, and then went off and fucked someone else?
At least he’d made them all get tested before the wedding, to make sure his virginal wife was protected. Because she sure wouldn’t have been thinking about it, and neither would Fenrys probably, in a rush to claim her. Though he needed to give his brothers credit where it was due–they always wrapped it and were careful.
The ball bounced near him, having sailed allllll the way here from where they were playing it, right by the water. Wow. She really was bad at this!
Ruhn jogged toward their spot, and when he reached Azriel, with a moan he groaned,
“Senza parole!”
At that, Azriel barked a laugh.
“Perché?” he asked, though he kind of suspected what the answer would be, since Ruhn was speechless.
“Non sa giocare !”
Ruhn was correct, she really couldn’t play.
“I don’t know if she’d ever touched a ball?? Let alone played with one,” he was shaking his head in disbelief.
“Well,” Azriel pursed his lips, frowning, “according to Fen, she’s been playing with his.”
“Ugh, Fenrys is as delusional as she is,” Ruhn waved his hand. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what he says. I mean, she also thinks that she is a great athlete!”
He tossed the ball to Azriel and commanded, “Go, take her for a swim. I am an old man, I’ve been shot 12 times, and I have no energy for the Elain King version of volleyball!”
Azriel was laughing at him, but he got up and ran to Fenrys and Elain.
“I told you I was really good at volleyball,” she put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest.
“You are! He is wiped out,” Az took her by the hand and said, “come swim with me,” though just as soon as these words left his mouth, he waited with bated breath to hear her say what an amazing swimmer she was. Because if she did, then he’d know that she’d sink like a rock the moment she stepped into the water. But Elain waded into the ocean and dove right in, and he went after her, to make sure that she was okay. But she bobbed up to the surface and began swimming confidently and Azriel chose not to say anything.
They swam further, beyond the pale of screaming kids and housewives in ugly swimsuits. Elain flipped to her back at last, and spread her arms, soaking up the sun with a smile on her face.
“This is the best day,” she breathed.
Azreil stroked her cheek and then gently kissed her lips.
“What was your favourite day, Az?” she asked, looking at him, her smile wide and bright and content.
He took her in his arms and she wrapped her arms and legs around his body, her breasts pressing into his chest.
“I don’t mind when you call me Rogue,” he winked and she laughed.
Then she kissed him and said, “yeah? Are you a rogue?”
“I sure am, ma’am,” he affirmed, stroking her wonderful behind in his palms.
“Well, then you will be Rogue, when you do something naughty,” she promised, and he fastened his lips to her neck, sucking and kissing until she buckled in his arms and threw her head back, moaning.
“I can be very naughty with you, flower,” he warned.
“Answer the question!” she ordered, while he kissed her along the collarbones, his nose disappearing in the salty water, and he didn’t even care.
“What was a happy day for me?” he repeated thoughtfully, pondering. Recalling unhappy days was much much easier, because he’s had so many of those. But a happy day…
When I met you , he wanted to say. The night when you greeted me in that velvet cobalt dress and my world changed forever.
He didn’t say those things though and instead, shared with her,
“I was a teenager, 16-17 I think. We went to England, with Fen. And I went to see Cream , at the Royal Albert Hall,”
“Cream?”
“You know,” he began, but she interrupted him,
“Yeah, Clapton, Ginger Baker,”
“You know Cream?” that was a surprise.
She winked at him and said, “I know a lot of things,”
“Well, that’s good, because that was probably the best day of my life. Just listening to them, dancing in the aisles…Fucking glorious!”
“I am jealous! I wanna see them too!” she pouted and he smiled, squeezing her chin, “You would’ve been a baby back then. Maybe 9?”
“So what! I never get to do fun stuff,” she winced and sighed.
Azriel wrapped his palms around her head and looked at her, before he asked,
“Flower, tell me, are you on the pill?”
She shrugged and shook her head no.
“No, I am not sick!”
He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers, as they bobbed slowly in the waves.
“It’s not what I meant,” he murmured.
Finally it dawned on her and she blushed, and quickly said,
“Oh…no. No I am not. Should I be?” she asked nervously. “Should I not be? The anti-baby pill,”
He burst out laughing and repeated, “ Anti-baby pill ?”
“Nesta said I wasn’t permitted,” she explained and at that, his brow furrowed and his hazel eyes lost some of their warmth.
“What do you mean she said that?” he demanded.
Elain’s blush deepened, but he kept her close, arms caging her, as he waited for an answer.
“She said I wasn’t allowed to make that decision. That my husband would tell me,”
“What the fuck, Elain?” he growled. “It’s you body,”
She bit her lip and asked,
“Are you mad? Should I be on it?” she stroked his wet hair and said, “don’t be mad. If I have to,”
“No,” he snapped, interrupting her, “it’s not about me , Elain. It’s about us, and it’s our decision,”
She looked at him, uncertainty clouding her chocolate eyes,
“But Nesta said I have to have a baby,”
“How about we fuck Nesta?” he proposed icily. “I don’t see how it’s Nesta’s decision?”
“She said I have to give a baby to my husband to solidify the alliance. My father said the same thing,”
“Is that what you want to do?” he inquired, calmer now, though his heart was aching for her. It didn’t seem like she was ever allowed to make an independent decision, without the interference of her sister and father. Forceful interference.
No wonder she lived in her head, in the never-never land of free choice, where she could dance and sing and excel at everything! Where she was an amazing athlete, and a great card player (she wasn’t, and Ruhn vouched for that), where she drove fast cars and had the freedom to simply be, without judgment or expectations.
Timidly, she whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Elain,” he pressed, “it’s a simple question–do you want to have a child right now? With me?”
She stroked the back of his neck with her cold fingers and then answered at last,
“No. I am 24 and I don’t want to have a baby right now. But I want to have a baby with you. But I want to live and experience life and be with you, and them,” she nodded vaguely towards the beach, “and…” she thrust her face into his neck then muttered against his skin, “can I, Azriel? May I?”
He pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked at her,
“Do you forget that you are my queen?”
She shook her head.
“And do queens ask for permission?”
“No,” she said boldly.
“That’s right. Queens rule! What’s the most important piece in chess?”
“The Queen,”
“Exactly! You are the neck and I am the head. Whichever way the neck turns, the head follows. Never forget that, flower.”
“Yes,” she was nodding eagerly, eyes shining.
“We are going to go and get you an IUD, flower, and then we can fuck around for as long as we want, until we are all ready for that baby. And then we are going to make one with love, when we all want it.”
She squeezed him tightly, kissing him wildly, his face, his lips and ears and his hair, blazing with joy and complete happiness.
“Promise me one thing though,” he grinned at her, kissing her hard and bruising her already swollen lips.
“What do you want, Rogue?”
“Rogue wants to request that he no longer eats fish sticks and chicken nuggets!”
Elain smiled, pretended like she was thinking about this and then nodded,
“Okay. But you are on thin ice, buddy.”
They swam back at a slow, leisurely pace.
*
Unsurprisingly, as they approached the beach, Azriel noticed a gaggle of girls who surrounded his brothers. The girls giggled and posed, while Fenrys showed off his ball handling skills, and quite a few eager fingers were skimming over Ruhn’s massive arms and tattoos. The girls wanted attention, clearly splitting in two almost equal groups–those who favoured the brash, bright, blond Englishman with a ball, and those who fell under the charms of the dark and mysterious, handsome gangster type bad boy.
Azriel was pretty sure that they were demanding or offering phone numbers.
Just as his toes hit the soft sand beneath the water and he pulled his wife to him, he was surprised–and pleased–to watch Fenrys, of all people, laugh off another pass from an overly eager female and raise his left hand, pointing to the platinum wedding ring that he now wore. Ruhn followed his example and waved his own finger at them, clad with a black carbon ring, which, ‘shockingly’, he designed himself.
There were disappointed frowns and moans of dejection from the women, but Ruhn opened his arms and shrugged apologetically.
It was Thursday night and Azriel had a plan.
He was pretty sure that it was going to work. And maybe, eventually, it would get him laid.
He had a long and boring day, with no-joking 9 meetings! Truthfully, it was eight meetings too many, but he’d managed, though his mood worsened as the day progressed. Yet, after five, he got his second wind and began plotting. His last ‘meeting’ of the day was in fact in one of their buildings. He took one of the unmarked elevators down, walked through the basement, then down again, and punching in the code, he finally entered Ruhn’s bloody domain.
This is where Ruhn conducted his nefarious deeds–the Dungeon, as he liked to call it–contained a few cinder block rooms, where he made people talk, or punished them. Before Azriel could enter, Ruhn opened the door and greeted him with a satisfied smile.
“Got the info!” he pulled off his black gloves, which were dripping blood and said, “you don’t need to go in there–you’ll mess up your suit.”
“Okie dokie then,” Azriel didn’t argue. “Let’s go to our girl,”
The pitifully moaning man was left behind and forgotten, while Ruhn pulled out his phone eagerly and showed Azriel a photo of a cake.
Almond cake for my boys it said and Ruhn smiled, saying, “pretty girl baked! I fucking love almond cake!”
Azriel chuckled. He wasn’t aware of Ruhn’s particular passion for almond cake, but if ‘pretty girl’ baked it, it was guaranteed to be good. On their way out, Ruhn barked orders to the guys to clean up and deal with the man in the room, and Azriel was glad that his tenth meeting of the day was rather short.
They went upstairs, and while riding in the elevator, Azriel said, “We need Enalius”.
“What do we need that gluttonous chunker for?” Ruhn was barely paying attention, scrolling through his phone, which was filled with photos of Elain, in various states of undress, smiling, as he elbowed Azriel, “look”.
Elain was naked, or looked naked, holding two doughnuts over her breasts, her lips porno-pink and smeared in powdered sugar, which also resembled cum.
“Jesus fuck you two are weird,” Azriel shook his head, looking at the photo, though some part of him was a little envious, because he didn’t get pictures like these from Elain.
They came inside the office building and then Azriel called out,
“Enalius! Come here, big guy!”
“He is not gonna come,” Ruhn shrugged.
“He’ll come,” Azriel rummaged in his pocket and then called out again, “En-nali-us! Come, big boy. I got tuna treats for you! Your favourite!”
Ruhn gasped, grimacing and muttered, “tuna treats smell rank!”
“I am not asking you to eat them,”
They waited for a couple of minutes, until Ruhn pointed to the left and smiled,
“Ohh, ohh, he comin’!”
A portly white cat hurried down the hall, making all kinds of dangerous turns and skidding on the polished terrazzo floors, but he galloped towards tuna treats like a young pony.
Azriel caught him and tucked him under his arm, and fed him a treat for his arrival.
“Yaeh, like he needs more tuna treats!” Ruhn was shaking his head, while Azriel hefted the cat and they strolled to the courtyard and toward the house.
“You know, you can just fuck her,” Ruhn noted calmly. “She is your wife. Wives are supposed to fuck their husbands,”
Azriel bummed a cigarette from his brother and popped it between his lips.
As Ruhn lit it for him, he took a deep drag and then said, “I don’t want to just fuck her.”
“Then what do you want?”
Without glancing his way, Azriel said quietly, “I think I want her to love me”.
*
As soon as Ruhn opened the door, the two of them were faced with loud ruckus, and Elain flying by them, with Fenrys at her heels. He leapt over one of the sofas, trying to cut through the vast sitting room, but she made a Tom Cruise-worthy slide on the floor and rounded the corner of the dining room table. Like a sprinter, Fenrys bounded over a chair and landed belly first on the counter, but Elain screeched and scrambled away from him, escaping the reach of his long arm and screaming ‘Sucker!’
As she raced past Ruhn and Azriel, she yelled, ‘who is that?” pointing to the cat.
Azriel let Enalius jump down on the floor and Elain screamed, “time out! Time out!”
“There are no time outs!” Fenrys lunged at her, but Az stood in his way and Fenrys landed in his embrace.
“What is wrong with you two?” Ruhn moaned.
“Fuck you guys!” Fenrys cried with desperation. “If I was going to catch her, she was going to learn how to give blowies!”
By now, Elain was on the floor, petting Enalius, brushing his luxurious white fur, while huffing with indignation,
“I promised no such thing!”
“You did too!”
“I did not!”
“Did too!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Liar!”
“You are!”
“No blowies!” she shouted.
“Yes, blowies!”
Azriel ignored them and squatted at Elain’s side, tipping her chin up and then smiling at her,
“How are you, beautiful wife?”
“I am good, husband,” she smiled back and wrapped her arm around his neck, bringing him closer to her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, flower,” he whispered and lightly touched her lips with his.
Elain kissed him deeper then, wrapping her large soft lips over his and lightly licking him with the tip of her tongue. He parted his lips for her and she slipped her tongue inside, caressing his, sucking gently, her arm tightening around him. Damn right that’s how she should greet him everyday! With Enalius hissing, because he was squashed between the two of them, Azriel wrapped her in his arms tightly and lowered her on the cold marble floor, without breaking the kiss, while he cradled the back of her head in his palm, so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Enalius hissed his annoyance and escaped, running towards his favourite–Fen.
“Come on, fella,” Fenrys scooped the cat and looked at Elain and Azriel who writhed on the floor, lost in their kiss. “They don’t care about your pretty innocent eyes!”
Azriel’s hand travelled under Elain’s skirt and he wrapped her leg around his hip, kissing her ravenously, absolutely giving no fucks that Ruhn and Fen, and Enalius, were right there, and lazily watching them and the show they were putting on.
“Pretty girl, do you want to clean my sword?” Ruhn called out, as he undid his belts and straps, and went to make himself a drink. “Or should I do it?”
Elain tore her mouth from Azriel’s and turned to take a look at the sword,
“Is it bloody?” she demanded, while Az kissed her cheek, slowly migrating down to her neck and lightly sucking a playful mark into her tender skin.
“Very,” Ruhn winked at her and licked his lips.
“Then I will clean it!”
This was Elain’s new favourite task–cleaning and caring for their weapons. As with the cars, she named them all, and had different wiping clothes and polishers for each type of weapon–swords, knives, guns, hammers, bats…
Azriel smiled at his little bloodthirsty wife and then lifted himself off of her and gave her his arm.
“Are we ever gonna eat?” Fenrys was pouting, seated on the sofa, with Enalius lounging in his lap, “or do I just have to watch your makeout sessions?”
“I am sorry, you were just chasing after her, looking for a blowie,” Azriel reminded him, as he took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Elain skipped to the bar and poured him a couple of fingers of whiskey, handing the heavy tumbler to him.
“Thanks, love,” he kissed her again.
“I wasn’t even looking for one,” Fenrys kept pouting, having been cruelly thrown off course and having zero chances of receiving the said blowjob. “I was going to teach her,”
“With a banana or your dick in her mouth?” Ruhn smirked, landing on the sofa too, gulping his drink down. He’d washed his hands, but the aura of blood and violence still clung to him.
“Well, not a banana,” Fenrys started, and Azriel interrupted,
“Then you did want a blowjob!”
Fenrys waved him off, while Elain plopped on the sofa next to him and started playing with Enalius.
“Is it my kitty cat?” she asked.
“No, babygirl,” Fenrys handed her the cat. “This is Cassian’s cat. He is obsessed with him. Enalius lives where the guards live, and he needs to go on a diet, because they consistently overfeed him,”
Elain laughed, wondering, “What kind of name is Enalius for a cat anyway?”
“Oh, Cassian reads all kinds of military books, and apparently Enalius was some hero who defended some mountain,”
“Aww, I love it!”
“And Cass is convinced that he is this Enalius’s descendant,”
Ruhn was laughing, adding,
“And he named his furry son after his hero.”
Azriel jogged down the stairs, taking two at a time. He had changed into gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and was barefoot.
“Do we eat?” he asked loudly, “or do we have a dance off?”
Elain stilled, wide eyed and demanded, “What dance off?”
Azriel dropped on the floor and did like a dozen pushups for shits and giggles, before announcing, “I am feeling energetic!”
“Clearly,”
“So,” he rose and stretched his arms and shoulders, “I figured we can have a dance off,”
“You are going to lose, Rogue!” she said immediately. “I am a really good dancer!”
A smile twitched in his lips and he agreed, “I know! You are an amazing dancer. That’s why I want to dance for a prize,”
She rushed to him and got on his tiptoes with excitement, bouncing up and down,
“What prize, Rogue? What’s the prize?”
Azriel put his hands on his hips and offered,
“What do you want, if you win?”
She paused the bouncing and stopped to think. She thought and thought, and finally said,
“I wanna go on a job with you!”
“No,” he said immediately.
Ruhn winced, anticipating an argument.
“You said anything !” Elain snapped.
“I didn’t,” Azriel reminded her coolly. “I asked what you wanted?”
“That’s what I want! I want to go on a job!” she pressed.
“Elain,”
“Azriel,”
“It’s not up for debate,” he insisted, while Ruhn was shaking his head behind her.
“Then I am not dancing off, and I don’t care!” she grunted, and turned on her heels, ready to walk away.
Then, Azriel’s heavy hand lay on her shoulder and he squeezed and pulled her back.
“Fine,” he gritted out.
She turned around violently, eyes sparkling, cheeks pink.
“Truly?”
“It’s going to be at my discretion,” he warned. “I’ll decide what the job will be at, but yes, if you win the dance off, then you can go on a job.”
“You are not lying?” she frowned.
“I am a man of my word.”
She squealed loudly and clapped.
“Do I get a gun?” she asked immediately.
“Don’t push it,” he cut her off.
She pouted, but didn’t press her luck.
“What are you going to get if you win? Which you will not !”
“I totally will,” he assured her confidently.
“You will not. I am a great dancer! And there is no way you’ll win!”
“Well, when I do win, you will be going on a date with me.”
She stared at him, slightly confused, but then tsked and said,
“You won’t win, so no date.”
“We’ll see,” he sang lightly.
Elain scratched her head, and asked, “Who is going to judge?”
“Well, certainly not those two,” he jerked his head toward his brothers, who were watching this battle of wills from the sofa, both scratching Enalius’s back. ”One wants a blowjob, and another wants to pound you,”
“Umm, excuse me,” Ruhn protested feebly.
Az ignored him and rubbed his chin, before proposing, “Enalius will judge. Once we are done, he can decide who was better,”
“That’s stupid,” she argued, “Enalius doesn’t understand dancing!”
“He very much does. Trust me. Now, are you up for it?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. Snapping her fingers at the brothers, she ordered, “Make sure that Enalius watches closely.”
“Of course, pretty girl,” Ruhn nodded.
“Choose a song, Fen,” Azriel ordered and Fenrys started looking on his phone, while Az suggested, “clear out and give us some room…When this goes down, it will be,”
“Yeah, hot!” Elain made some kind of a Spice Girls pose, jutting out her leg and lifting her arm.
“Alright Posh Spice!” Fenrys clapped, whistling.
Sofi Tukker’s ‘Best Friend’ came on and Azriel immediately lunged into a handstand, and jumped and twirled, leaving Elain gaping at him with amazement. But then she emerged from her stupor, and hopped on the couch, before sliding unsexily down on the floor and lifting and crossing her legs, and then crawling under the coffee table, swinging her hips to the beat.
Both Ruhn and Fenrys were huddled in the corner, moving to avoid the twirling Azriel, who threw himself on the floor and did a fancy spin on his back, while Elain, not to be left behind, jumped on the coffee table and slipped, almost falling on her ass, but recovered quickly and waving her hands, she whipped her hair dramatically, making sure that no one noticed the fall.
At that time, Azriel claimed the middle of the room and with one elegant jump, he leapt on the vacated coffee table and started rolling his hips, hand on his hips.
She bit her lip and frowned. Shit, he was good!
So she saddled a padded sofa back and proceeded to ride it like a mechanical bull, attempting to roll her hips just as sensually as freakin’ Azriel, but it looked like she was bouncing on a pogo stick instead of doing a sexy hip swirl.
Undaunted, she tried to do a cartwheel, but succeeded in pushing a bunch of books off a side table with her foot, spooking Enalius, who lurched in Fenrys’s embrace and almost jumped out, but Fen held tight, watching Elain roll on the floor as she recovered from her cartwheel. Jumping up, she shook her hips and drew her hand down and between her breasts, going into a dip a little too aggressively, and falling back, but undaunted, she did another roll on the floor, while Azriel went into a full plank, and did some crazy one arm press-ups, before shaking his ass and simulating a full sex act with the rug. That display threw her off her game, and she stared at the gyrating man in front of her, as he displayed spectacular pelvic thrusts.
The song was winding down, so she gave it her all, throwing her legs as high up as a Rockette, as she added YMCA hand signs and full jazz hands to the number. Azriel did an Elvis hip thrust with an arm windmill and then slid the length of the room on his hip, finally coming to a stop and dramatically throwing his head back. She dropped to one knee and stilled in a fancy pose, with
So I finally completed my new book Brimstone and it’s available to read for free on Inkitt and Wattpad. I’m looking for some people to beta read for me and would appreciate any feedback!
Kasdeya Angelov can’t seem to escape the prophecy that surrounds her unique pedigree, being the child and true heir to Lucifer’s realm. Held in isolation behind the walls of Brimstone Preparatory School, Kas discovers a sinister plot behind her coming of age ceremony where she is to gain full access to her abilities. Struggling to accept the darkness within her, she’s plagued by dangerous psychic attacks, monstrous demons, and ancient secrets that threaten to resurface.
But before she can reach her ceremony, she must endure the trials of Brimstone that prove to be just as deadly. In a race against time, Kas forms alliances with fellow students to aid in the battle to forge a new destiny for herself, one that doesn’t include the influence of her esteemed father. With the balance between the realms at stake, Kas must make the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect those she’s grown to love, an emotion a demon never thought was possible.
it’s always cutting mangos in tiny slices or peeling bananas for them so they won’t have to, but what about combining those two fruits and making a smoothie for them?
book buying and simply strolling through a bookstore, exploring and touching your favourite books and having a faint thought of maybe buying them but realising you’re broke are two entirely different things.
