#elaine bass

[ttexed]

Saul Bass: Famous title sequences from Preminger to Scorsese

"Some of the most remarkable opening titles designed by Saul Bass, sometimes in collaboration with his wife Elaine Bass. From "The Man with the Golden Arm" (1955) to "Casino" (1995), this video represents a substantial part of his creative legacy in chronological order."

#youtube #saul bass #elaine bass #film title sequences

[dare-g]

Quest (1984)

#quest #saul bass #elaine bass #ray bradbury #john abbott #noah hathaway #jay w maclntosh #talks

[lisamarie-vee]

#saul bass #elaine bass #b&w #hello kitty

[squideo]

Motion graphics is, in its simplest terms, graphics (images) with motion (movement). Unlike live-action, motion graphics is rooted in graphic design. From cartoons to memes, from animated infographics to television adverts, there is no shortage of motion graphic content on our billboards, televisions and phones. 

Motion graphic content usually incorporates additional features, such as animated text, music and voiceovers. They can also be spliced with or overlaid on live-action footage and animation. 

Using motion graphics, especially in a video, is an effective way to communicate information and capture a large proportion of modern internet users. In 2022, 82% of all internet traffic were video views. YouTube remained the second most popular website in the world and the average view time of video rose to a worldwide total of 1 billion hours every single day.

What are the Benefits of Motion Graphics?

The versatility of motion graphics and wide viewership of motion graphic video is just the start of this medium’s benefits. Whatever your requirements, motion graphics can get your message across effectively and creatively. 

1. Educate, Don’t Exterminate

At the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, there was a deluge of information trying to explain what the virus was and how the public could protect itself. Thinking back on those early months, what video helped you to understand what was going on? A short motion graphic video? Or one of Jonathan Van-Tam’s PowerPoint presentations?

A short motion graphic video easily distils a complex process, reinforcing content through imagery, onscreen text and audio. In 2021, Insivia reported that viewers retain 95% of a message when they watch it in a video, compared to just 10% when reading it in a text. 

2. Once Upon a Time

For over a century, moving images have been used across the globe to tell stories. More accessible than ever before, motion graphics can encapsulate a brand, propel a narrative and enrapture an audience. It’s not necessary to hire an A-list cast, high-budget director and sound studio to tell a story though. 

Particularly effective when paired with narration or music, graphics can be used to tell a story and reinforce the message to an audience. 

3. What’s the Point? 

A call-to-action is important with any medium, and motion graphics are no different. Creating motion graphics is an investment in time and money, as such there should be a measurable outcome. Whether its converting viewers to customers, boosting subscriber numbers or raising awareness, underline your point with a call-to-action. 

Visit our website! Subscribe! Buy Now! …You get the gist. Whatever your choice of CTA, if it is said through a motion graphic your point will be memorable. 

4. Reuse. Repurpose. Recycle.

Once made, a motion graphic can be shared repeatedly on your platforms, shortened for distribution on social media, or even inserted into new content. 

The easy reusability of motion graphics makes them an effective long-term investment, particularly when compared to live-action material. Live-action footage has the potential to quickly date, especially if it features a changeable workforce, location or branding. Motion graphics are more enduring, and easily updated if required. 

5. Sharing is Caring

In 2021, Wordstream reported that 92% of users watching video on mobile will share it with others. Video is considerably easier to share than most other formats, as they can be distributed across social media platforms, text messages and emails. 

Consider the platform your motion graphic will be uploaded to in order to determine whether it needs to be produced in multiple dimensions for ease of sharing. 

What are Motion Graphics Used For?

Motion graphics have a host of benefits, but how can you use them to your advantage? Here are some of Squideo’s tips on the most popular placements and uses of motion graphics. If you would like additional expertise, don’t hesitate to get in touch with us.

1. Advertisements

Motion graphics were, once upon a time, the poorer relation of live-action in the world of advertisements and Mad Men; used by businesses with limited marketing budgets. Nowadays, its possible to create high-quality, creative and entertaining advertisements solely with motion graphics. 

2. Explainer videos

Explainer videos are a fantastic marketing tool and can either be distributed externally to customers or shared internally with staff. Explainer videos combine a script, storyboard, background music, voiceover, sound effects, animation and motion graphics to bring together your ideas.

3. Infographics

Seeing the cost of gas soar then watching the value of the pound tumble, news channels love to put a motion (info)graphic to terrifying use. Whether you’re looking to raise awareness with shocking statistics or share the excitement of growth with charts, animated infographics make the biggest impact when brought to life with motion. 

4. Logos

We’ve already mentioned that YouTube is the second most popular website in the world, so let’s mention the first: Google. And when we say “Google!” you say “Doodle!” The Google Doodle has become synonymous with logo motion graphics, and for good reason. They’re eye-catching and fun, which makes the Google logo memorable. 

Do the same for your brand with a motion graphic logo. No longer limited to website pages, motion graphic logos can also be implemented on select social media platforms and are likely to become supported on more platforms over the next few years. 

5. Presentations

Avoid the risk of ‘Death by PowerPoint’ by adding motion graphics to presentations. Whether delivered face-to-face or virtually, motion graphics help capture an audience’s attention and add dimension to a presentation. 

6. Short films

Motion graphics can be used solely or in combination with animation and live-action to create short films. When set to music, combined with narration, or accompanying powerful imagery, motion graphics can be used to highlight important parts of a story or simplify an intricate narrative. 

For a quick overview of the difference between motion graphics and animation, look at the difference between these two videos. 

7. Title sequences and credits

You decided, despite everything, to go with live-action over motion graphics at the end of this blog. But did you really escape motion graphics? From the 1950s onward, motion graphics have been the cornerstone of title sequences and credits. Pioneered by the likes of Saul and Elaine Bass, graphic design changed these sequences from monotonous lists to entertaining segments which set the tone of an entire production. 

8. UI animations

User-Interface animation is motion graphics designed for interaction with a viewer. Simply put, UI makes graphics move either in response to a user, or to prompt interaction from a user. There are three main uses of UI animations: 

Loading and progress. Typically a loading bar or status wheel showing the progress of a download or installation. 

State changes. Commonly found on a digital form, these UIs change as information is added. Think of a red line around a box that remains until you enter the required information: that’s a state change UI animation. 

Navigation. Designed to help users find their way through a website, programme or game. It can come in the form of moving arrows or pop-up graphics and text. 

UI animations not only simplify processes for your userbase, but their interactive nature makes them more stimulating which in turn helps retain your customer’s attention. 

Get Started with Your Motion Graphics Marketing Video

Watch our video below to get a better understanding of how we can create motion graphics and motion graphic videos to suit your project brief. 

If you want to discuss how a motion graphic or one of our videos can benefit your business, get in touch with the Squideo team today!

Blog Sources:

Adobe, ‘Motion graphics explained: definition, history and examples.’ URL [Accessed 01/11/2022]

Biteable, ‘Video marketing statistics: The state of video marketing in 2021.’ URL [Accessed 01/11/2022]

InVideo, ‘What are Motion Graphics?’ URL [Accessed 01/11/2022]

UXPin Studio, ‘UI Animation – All You Need to Know and Examples.’ URL [Accessed 02/11/2022]

Video Arts, ‘The science behind the effectiveness of video in learning.’ URL [Accessed 01/11/2022]

#motion graphics #live action #graphic design #youtube #elizabeth cox #ted ed #infographic #animation #animated infographic #google #google doodle #2d animation #saul bass #elaine bass #the man with the golden arm #ui animations

[that70s-smile]

scene queen

#seinfeld #julia louis dreyfus #edm #scenemo #scene girl #scene edit #bass head #george costanza #jerry seinfeld #elaine benes #sitcoms #catboy george

[cantsayidont]

While I can't imagine most Tumblr users have even heard of this 52-year-old Otto Preminger movie:

SUCH GOOD FRIENDS (1972): Annoyingly disjointed comedy-drama, based on a 1970 Lois Gould novel, about a 30something Jewish woman (a miscast Dyan Cannon) who reaches her wit's end when her boorish husband Richard (Laurence Luckinbill), who'd been threatening to divorce her, ends up in a coma following a routine surgery, leaving her to grapple with his array of condescending, useless doctors and her discovery of a "little black book" showing that Richard has been persistently unfaithful.

Elaine May's script for the film adaptation (written under the pseudonym "Esther Dale") has some funny smaller moments, but doesn't hold together at all as a story, largely defanging the protagonist's ornery frustration (which is the whole point of the novel) and only timidly approximating the book's caustic humor and sexual bluntness. Director Otto Preminger's apparent discomfort with the material also allows the tone to waver queasily between absurdist comedy and dreary wronged-wife melodrama, particularly toward the end. It has its moments, but the point has been missed — skip it and just read the book instead.

Absurdly, Roger Ebert's 1972 review credits Preminger and May for the film's "vulgarity" and for making "a sort of black-comedy version of Lois Gould's serious novel," an assertion credulous online sources like IMDb continue to wrongly present as fact. One can only assume Ebert hadn't actually read more than the jacket blurb of the bestselling book — which is much more vulgar and far more laceratingly cynical than anything in the film — and that whoever added that IMDb trivia hasn't read it at all.

#movies #books #hateration holleration #such good friends #lois gould #otto preminger #elaine may #dyan cannon #laurence luckinbill #james coco #jennifer o'neill #ken howard #nina foch #burgess meredith #saul bass #the ebert review has created an online feedback loop of bad information #which is hard to correct because “source: have actually read the book” is not considered a valid citation #anyone who's actually read any of the novel #and still thinks it's NOT a deadpan black comedy #has either catastrophically poor reading comprehension #or a concussion #and should get that looked at #the greatest justice the universe has for otto preminger #is that he will be best remembered as mr. freeze on the batman tv show #that's cold #if you'll excuse the expression

[mother-above]

I'm Not The One For You

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has been stressed at work and decided to hit the bars with his brothers. He gets so drunk that he may have forgotten what his love looks like

Warnings: fluffy with some spicy implications

WC: 1.1k

*masterlist*

a/n: I've been writing some heavy things and needed a break. I hope yall enjoy this short fluffy piece! xx

The sound of heels clicking on cobblestone joined the myriad of sounds along the Sidra. The city was lively, and all types of music and chatter filled the crisp air in Velaris. As you got closer, the bass at Rita's was getting louder. You, Morrigan, Amren, and the Archeron sisters were glowing from the spa's lavender-scented oil and dressed to the nines. After an afternoon of well-deserved pampering and last-minute shopping, it was time to meet with the boys.

You were wearing a dark blue mini dress, the material sparkled and reflected light with every movement of your body. The black strappy heels matched with your manicure and pedicure.

You were vibrant and ready for the night out with your mate and friends. Work had been tiring, especially when it was your job to organize military exercises with other Courts armies.

Excited to step into the bar, you grinned as the music vibrated all around you. Scanning the dance floor, your grin spreads when you see your blue-siphoned mate absolutely smashed and tearing it up on the dance floor with his brothers and other partygoers. Happy to see him relaxed, you go over to the bar to order yourself a drink before joining Azriel.

Despite being known as the “quiet one,” Azriel loved to dance and party occasionally. Work had been stressful lately, so he let loose and drank to his heart's content. Females and males were coming up to him all night asking to dance with him, but he refused, and if they got insistent, he’d give them the “sorry, you’re lovely but I’m married” speech. Everyone was always respectful and backed away, after all, he was the Shadowsinger.

It wasn’t even late but admittedly, Azriel drank too much, and his wild erratic dancing proved the point. His brothers and family teased him from afar, even Elain was poking fun at the drunken shadowsinger. In the corner of his eye, a female in a short blue sparkly dress approached him. Smelling like lavender, the female slid an arm around his waist and pressed her body against his.

You were about to bop to the beat of the music when Azriel stopped dancing and ripped himself away from you. The movement was so sudden, that the cocktail in your hand splashed droplets on the floor.

“Az? What’s wrong?” you asked wide-eyed.

“S-sorry, I’m taken. I’m just waiting for my wife,” he slurred as he deliberately turned away from you and started dancing again.

Startled, you looked at Cas, Rhys, and the girls and you burst out laughing. You pointed an accusatory finger toward the Illyrians.

“He doesn’t even recognize me! I can’t believe he’s shit-faced this early!” you weren’t mad at the boys, just highly amused.

Tapping Azriel on the shoulder, he turned, and you gave him your most dazzling smile. “I haven’t seen you all day and this is how you greet me? I’ve been wanting to dance with you, love.”

His eyes run down your body appreciatively, his gaze slowing around your thighs, he’s always loved your thighs. You gave him an encouraging nod, but he was still clueless.

Bringing up his left hand, he shows you the golden band around his ring finger. “I told you I’m married, see? She also happens to be my mate.”

You stifled a giggle and stepped closer to him. Surely, he would recognize your scent, right? You grabbed his hand and let your fingers trace the scars, he loved it when you did that.

In complete shock, he snatched his hand away after a few seconds.

“Look, you’re beautiful but I’m not the one for you. I would walk away before my mate gets here. She’s Night Court’s best warrior and I’m afraid she won’t let you get away with you bothering me so much,” said Azriel, his lips pressed into a line.

You started laughing, your handsome mate was so loyal. You can’t believe he would have sic’d you to flirty females. His family, who were listening to the whole thing, was snickering as well. Rhysand pinched his nose highly regretting pre-gaming at the townhouse, at the time it was a great idea.

Azriel squinted at his family when he realized they were laughing at him. “What?!”

Rhysand clapped a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Brother, you’re so drunk that you don’t even recognize your own mate!”

Azriel’s eyes furrowed as he looked at your beautiful twinkling face, your lips forming into a smirk. Azriel tugged on the bond three times, and after a short beat, you tugged the bond four times. It was something the two of you did, the first person tugged three times and the four tugs meant that the second person loved them more. Clarity burst through his intoxication and when he realized, he tipped his head back in laughter.

Moving closer to you, he pressed his lips onto your temple and murmured an apology against your skin, this was the last time he was going to drink this much. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he placed a hand on your waist and the other on your bum. You turned to place a kiss on his cheek and then his lips.

He squeezed your body, and you pressed your lips on him again. “Why do you smell like lavender? No wonder I didn’t recognize you, I hate lavender!”

“That’s the oil they used on our massage today,” you said. A slower song was playing so you swayed with Azriel. He held you tight as you gazed into his eyes, melting at the sight of the brown and greens melting together.

After a few more hours of partying, it was time for you and Azriel to go home. Smelling of sweat, booze, and lavender oil, the both of you opted to bathe together.

You relaxed and laid on Azriel's chest as he took the loofah and scrubbed your skin. He said he wanted you to smell like yourself again and insisted that the bath water was to be changed for the two of you to properly soak. Now that the suds smelled of your favorite soap, he pulled you against him and he closed his eyes.

“Az?”

“Yes, love?”

“I’m really happy to know that even when you’re shit-faced, you won’t ever cheat on me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest, his hand splayed across your stomach and held you tighter. “Why would I do that when I’ve got the most perfect person in the world in my arms?”

You blushed; he always knew how to make you feel loved. Turning around to straddle him, you bent down to capture his lips. Who were you to question his logic?

#azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction

[utterlyotterlyx]

Hi!!! I can request a modern!azriel x reader in which he likes her, but all his attempts to get close to her have been thwarted because they got off on the wrong foot. Then someone tells him that she's part of a book club and he starts joining just to get closer to her and the rest is up to you :)

Ooooooo I love this! x

New Pages

Modern!Az x Reader

Warnings - swearing, angst, pining, fluff, cutie Az

I have not proof read this so I apologise in advance for any mistakes x

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

The background of your phone screen harmonised with the words inscribed on the flesh of your arm. You were bundled under blankets, pillows cushioning your back, and your eyes scanned the plethora of words in front of you, your tea long forgotten on the window ledge.

Your sorority house was teaming with girlish laughter, the quick padding down the hallways and the dull melodic thump of Nesta's bass told you one thing, the house party Mor had insisted on throwing for Feyre's birthday was going to start soon, and you hadn't even thought about getting ready.

Would they realise if you didn't go? It was completely possible to throw your earbuds in and lock your bedroom door...

That train of thought was interrupted when the said birthday girl sprang through your door, "You're not ready?!" Feyre squeaked, large rollers were pinned in her hair and she stood at the foot of your bed with fake eyelashes in one hand and a small vial of glue in the other.

"I lost track of time," you told her, curling your legs underneath you and laying your book down open on the bed so that you could pick up right where you left off, "Also, have you ever heard of knocking?"

"We don't knock," she quipped, throwing herself down on the bed and sighing, "This doesn't have anything to do with him does it?"

"With who?"

"Oh, come on, Y/N. You know who," she prodded your side and you groaned, folding your arms over your chest whilst Feyre applied glue to the thin onyx lash line, "If it helps, I really don't think he knew you were behind that door," she blew lightly on the lash, party drying the glue and used your mirror to fix it to her right eye.

You winced at the memory, your fingers ghosting over the bridge of your nose that had only days before returned to its normal hue, "I've only just gotten rid of that bruise, all the concealer in the world couldn't hide that mess."

"Still," she blinked, "I really don't think he did it on purpose. Rhys said he felt really bad."

"Like he felt bad after the time he ran over my foot on that stupid motorcycle? I missed the Van Gogh exhibit because of that bullshit."

"Y/N..." Feyre drawled, exasperated with you and your excuses, "Please just get dressed," she had applied the other eyelash to her left eye and pushed them into place before turning to you with a smirk, "Before I let Mor in here."

"Okay, I'm up."

All of the entangled grinding bodies did little to soothe your anxiety.

You'd never been much of a party girl, and you had only joined the sorority because Mor and Feyre had insisted upon it. Lights strobed against the pale pink glittery banners and balloons that Elain had spent all day carefully throwing up whilst Nesta enlisted Cassian to get all of the booze.

The seating area in the centre of the room was brimming with all of the faces that you knew, Rhys with Feyre sat on his lap adorning a pathetic plastic tiara on the crown of her head, Mor wedged next to them with her legs strung over Emerie's thighs, Amren chatting away to Elain and Lucien on the far sofa, Nesta making sex eyes at Cassian, and then there was him.

Azriel.

The lights reflected off his smooth skin, tussled onyx short hair that looked somewhat windswept, hazel eyes and his strong jaw ticking as he searched the room before his eyes landed on you, finding you in the ocean of bodies surrounding where they all sat.

"Y/N!" A voice shouted to you over the crowd, red wine hair and amber eyes, she held her hand out to you and you clutched onto it, allowing her to pull you through into a small clearing by the stairs.

"Thanks, Bryce," she smirked over her shoulder at you, plucking two drinks from Hunt's hands and placing one in your grip.

Bryce was one of Nesta's friends that you had met when she had joined your art history class after a timetable mix up, you'd been pretty close since, you studied with Bryce in the library and Hunt occasionally joined as did Bryce's brother, Ruhn.

"Don't mention it," she clinked her glass against yours and you both downed half of the liquid, clearly you had some catching up to do from taking as long as possible to get ready, only joining the party when Nesta had sent you a snappy text about kicking your ass down the stairs if you didn't show your face in the next five minutes.

"Hey Athalar," he grinned at you, muttering a hello as he gave you a side hug. Hunt liked you a lot, you were good for Bryce, you were gentle and timid, but had a thunderous passion for the things you loved. Bryce was one of those things.

Bryce gave you a once over. A sleek white dress clung to your figure, every curve accentuated perfectly by the clean cut fabric that reached just below you ass, giving a perfect view of your legs. Black heeled boots were laced onto your feet, hair styled into effortless waves, and your makeup was simple and natural, highlighting your cheekbones and lips. Bryce approved.

Bryce smirked, noticing the pair of violet eyes that crept up behind you, they wrapped their arms around your waist and hoisted you in the air, placing you over their shoulder and twirling you around, chuckling as you squeaked in surprise, "Put me down, Ruhn!" With a light tap on your ass, Ruhn obliged and put you back on your feet.

Ruhn always looked good, long hair pulled back into a low messy bun, the sides always shaved, tattoos flowing up and down his arms, tan skin, taut muscle, tank top and cargo jeans. So good.

"Can't help myself," he slid an arm around your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful."

The elder sibling had always pined after you, he would wait in the courtyard outside of the art building to walk you back to the house, he'd bring you breakfast on a Sunday, he'd even taken you to your first football game.

"Thank you, Ruhn," you leaned into him and smiled, tuning back into the conversation between Bryce and Hunt, and the newly arrived Tristan Flynn, paying little attention to the burning hot hazel gaze that branded into your back.

There had been too many times where Az had fucked up.

Running over your foot was an accident that led to the spiralling mess that was your relationship, and every time he had tried to make up for it, it just kept on getting worse. Chocolates? Turns out you were allergic to nuts and blew up like a balloon. Coffee? He'd spilt the oat chai latte all over your brand new summer dress and ruined it. The movies? He had miscounted the group and forgot to get yours, and by then there were no tickets left. And then the door. That stupid fucking door. Azriel was so busy talking to Feyre about you that he didn't see you on the other side and smashed it right into your face.

Every time Azriel tried to talk to you, to voice how sorry he was and how stupidly in love with you he was, he fucked it up.

So yeah, he didn't blame you for hating him.

"Wanna stare a little harder, Az?"

Azriel turned his head slightly, forcing himself to look away from Ruhn's arm around you and his lips by your ear, whispering who knows what to you. At least the bruises under your eyes and around your nose had cleared, enough that you no longer winced when you smiled.

"She seems a little off today," he said to no one in particular, letting his words float into the air in hope someone would tell him why.

Azriel had spent a good amount of time studying you and your little quips, the face you'd make when you were concentrating, how many cups of tea you'd make after leaving them somewhere and forgetting about them, even your morning routines on your way to class.

Mor threw herself down beside him, the sofa cushion hissing out under her weight, "She missed book club tonight, she loves book club," Mor's eyes were glazed over, a sloppy smirk pulled at her lips.

"Book club?" Azriel asked, he knew you loved reading, but he never knew that you went to an actual book club.

"Yeah, you know, a place where people talk about the books they've been reading?," Nesta scoffed when Azriel flipped her off, she continued, "This week was meant to be the first session about The Perks of Being a Wallflower, it's her favourite," Nesta stirred her drink with her straw, "Just in case you wanted to make a gesture."

Azriel nodded, his eyes finding you again, "Thanks, Nes."

Azriel was fiddling idly with his fingers as people began to file into the room clutching copies of the book you loved so much, the same book that he had rushed out to get the morning after Feyre's party so that he could read it in time to talk to you about it.

Walls of books lined the room, dainty oak tables and arm chairs scattered around in a circle with blankets folded neatly over the arms. Warm fairy lights lit the ceiling, and Azriel understood why you must have been sad to have missed the last session.

He heard your laugh before he saw you, he saw the edges of your skirt that kissed the floorboards and allowed his sight to roam upward until he found your eyes wide and full of surprise, stuck in the doorway. You soon shook off the surprise and took a seat at the other side of the circle, looking to him occasionally with confusion.

"What quote resonated with you the most, Azriel? There are a lot to choose from."

You had looked to him then, really looked at him, not with hatred or any form of disgust, but with pure curiosity, bright shiny curiosity.

"It's much easier to not know things sometimes. Things change and friends leave. And life doesn't stop for anybody. I wanted to laugh. Or maybe get mad. Or maybe shrug at how strange everybody was, especially me. I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and then make the choice to share it with other people. You can't just sit their and put everybody's lives ahead of yours and think that counts as love. You just can't. You have to do things. I'm going to do what I want to do. I'm going to be who I really am. And I'm going to figure out what that is. And we could all sit around and wonder and feel bad about each other and blame a lot of people for what they did or didn't do or what they didn't know. I don't know. I guess there could always be someone to blame. It's just different. Maybe it's good to put things in perspective, but sometimes, I think that the only perspective is to really be there. Because it's okay to feel things. I was really there. And that was enough to make me feel infinite. I feel infinite."

Azriel had recited the passage perfectly, he didn't even need to open the book and turn to the page. He just knew it. His voice was so deep and spoke emotion into every word, like he was in a trance.

The session had wrapped up and you had kept your distance during the breaks, seemingly lost in a world of thought, so Azriel thought it would be best to leave you alone. If the baby step in your relationship simply was having you look at him with anything but hatred, then he'd take it, he didn't want to push it.

"Azriel, wait!" Your voice called to him and he froze on the grass outside of the art building, turning slowly to face you as you jogged across the plain toward him, your skirt flowing in the wind behind you.

You looked pretty, you always did, but in the moonlight, with your hair tied back and loose threads falling over your face, with the two sizes too big jumper drowning your figure, he thought you looked ethereal.

"I didn't know you liked reading," you had said once you stopped in front of him, holding your favourite book to your chest.

"I don't talk about it."

"Right, it's just Feyre never mentioned it," you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and smiled up at him with a tilted head, examining him.

Azriel took a step toward you, one hand in his pocket and another holding onto his own copy, "Why would Feyre mention it?"

"I, I don't know actually," you mumbled, slightly flustered, you were adorable when you were flustered, "Is that your first time reading it?"

"Yeah, it was great. I see why it's your favourite."

"How do you know that?" A smirk tugged at your lips, ones that he wished he could taste, just once, so that he could tell the devil he had been to heaven without ever stepping foot there.

"Nesta may have said something."

"Ah," you kicked the air, shivering at the cold breeze that brushed past you, "Would you like to borrow my copy? I left notes in the margins that you might like."

Azriel glanced at your outstretched hand, he looked at the book with the dented spine from the countless times it had been explored, the frayed edges and the faint hue of blue ink that peeked out from one of the pages. He took it from you with a smile, "Can I, uh, walk you back?"

A moment of silence beat its heart and you hummed, "I think I'd like that."

"Right, great," he told you as you began to walk off, quickening his pace to fall in line with you.

You smelt of summer rain of freshly cut grass, of jasmine and orchid, a mind altering scent, "You know that I never meant to run over your foot last year right?"

"Or spill coffee over my dress? Or smack my face with that door?"

"Yeah, I haven't been very smooth," you laughed, actually laughed at him, with him, and it was an intoxicating sound, one of pure joy and happiness, "I never meant to hurt you."

"I believe you," the stars shone in the sky and you looked up at them, a smile ghosting at your lips, "I'm ready to turn a new page if you are?"

"I'm all about turning new pages."

You leaned into him, nudging him softly with your elbow, "Let's see what you've got then, Shadowsinger."

Authors Note

I really hope this is what you were wanting!

#fanfiction #imagine #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #mor acotar #maasverse #rhysand #feyre archeron #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #nesta x azriel #nesta x cassian #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #crescent city imagine #crescent city #ruhn danaan #bryce quinlan #hunt athalar

[hugh-lauries-bald-spot]

rewatching seinfeld in the year of our lord 2023 is just:

[most sexist take youve ever heard] *funky bass* man people really go apeshit for kramer. man elaine is so pretty. man fuck jerry. this is just like curb. george (affectionate). george (derogatory). newman. this is like if iasip were marginally less toxic and codependent. this is JUST like curb. funny ending *funky bass* [second most sexist take youve ever heard]

#seinfeld

[vviccearcheron]

IN MY HEAD THE BATBOYS ARE IN A BAND...

Feyre, Mor, Elaine, & Nesta are having a girls night bar hopping in Velaris. Amren was too busy tangled up with Varian. Nesta's just sipping water. She really only came for the music. Mor and Feyre are trying to convince Ellaine to try a beer. She scrunches up her nose and says it smells like old boots. She instead flags down a waiter and asks for a scotch extra neat. Feyre and Mor go stiff and give each other a side glance. Nesta gasps, "Ellaine!" Ellaine says shyly, "What?! Daddy use to keep it in the study." The waiter returns and sets her drink in front of her with a nod of approval at her choice. She brings the glass to her lips and takes a long deep inhale of the liquor. "It smells like him." she says, without taking a sip. Nesta tries to hide the relief on her face as she glances toward the stage. She sees Cassian there, smiling back at her from ear to ear, positioning himself behind the drum set.

"What the hell is he doing?!" Nesta exclaims to the others at the table.

They all turn to see Rhys and Az walking on stage holding electric guitars. Rhysand gives his guitar a wail and leans in to the microphone. "May we have your attention please." The crowd goes silent as they realize the King of the Nightcourt, his Commanding General, and the Shadowsinger are now before them. Mor yells, "Woooo! Fuck 'em up Your Highness!"

Rhysand gives a devilish grin. "My brother has something he'd like to say." He backs away to the right, giving Azriel center stage as he adjusts his guitar strap.

Azriel looks out on the crowd with menace in his gaze. Anyone who was previously standing, has now found themselves a seat.

From the back Cassian yells out, "NESTA I LOVE YOU BABY!" then begins stomping his foot down on the bass drum. He raises his drumstick and strikes them together in time with the bass. And then..... Azriel inhales.

#acotar #batboys #azriel shadowsinger #nessian #rhysand #boy bands #punching bag #in my head #Spotify

[nightcourtseer]

Read on A03

Summary: The IC heads to Rita’s to blow off some steam after the events of ACOSF. And someone gets jealous.

Pairing: Elriel

Warning: Explicit

………

The band playing at Rita’s was so loud that Elain felt the bass reverberate in her chest like a second heartbeat.

It was her first time at the dance club, and initially she was somewhat shocked at the sensualness of it - so many bodies writhing in time to the music on the dance floor, red velvet booths lining the outer walls for guests who merely wishes to observe the revelry.

Nesta, Cassian, Mor and Azriel had invited her to join them, while Feyre and Rhys stayed behind with Nyx.

They all needed to blow off a little steam after the past 6 months.

After two drinks each, Mor had dragged them all to the dance floor. She had almost had to physically drag Azriel there, while he avoided Elain’s gaze almost entirely.

As the group paired up, Elain was left alone - but not for long.

A towering high fae, nearly as tall and intimidating as Azriel and Cassian, made his way through the crowd to Elain.

He was handsome, Elain noted, with pale blond hair, tan skin and cerulean eyes. Pointed ears poked through the way of the hair curling slightly around them.

“Hello,” he said, with a wide smile, looking Elain up and down in a way that made her flush as pink as her dusty rose gown.

“Are you looking for a partner?”

Elain froze, until she saw Cassian looking at her from the side, giving her a teasing smile and an encouraging flick of his head, even as he turned Nesta in his arms. Her sister spinning effortlessly under his arm, lost in the music.

Because why wouldn’t Elain accept the attention from this male? Even though she had a mate, they had not accepted the bond. And with each passing month, Lucien’s attentions seemed focus elsewhere.

“Yes,” Elain affirmed with a nervous smile, eyes flicking toward Cassian as he gave her a thumbs up before disappearing once more amid the revelers with Nesta.

A weight lifted off her shoulders as he disappeared, but that still left the male before her, who now held a hand out to her expectantly.

As she went to took it however, it was sharply pulled back.

Looking up at his face, in confusion, Elain saw his focus was now directed elsewhere. His eyes locked on something, or someone, behind her.

Elain whirled around, just in time to see an Illyrian male standing with his arms crossed, glowering at the male in front of her. A fallen angel among a crowd of ordinary fae.

“Do you know him?” The blond male asked hesitantly.

Elain spied Cassian through the crowd, making his way closer to her once more.

“Barely,” Elain breathed, reaching out to grasp his hand before he pulled it away completely.

“Let’s dance.”

………….

Four songs later and Elain was out of breath, frustrated heat rising from within her each time she spied Azriel sending daggers to the male turning her.

At last, Elain saw an opening to leave the male, claiming the need for a rest and some fresh air. The male offered to accompany her but Elain politely declined, slipping out the front door of the bar before he had a chance to protest.

Cool air embraced her overheated skin as Elain escaped into the late evening stillness. She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, delicately wiping away the beads of sweat that she found there.

Her dress was beautiful, but somewhat impractical for an overcrowded bar and a warm summer night. Granted, it did show more skin than Elain would typically allow. A deep vee dipped all the way to her navel, thin straps balancing on her lithe shoulders to support the weight of the layers of tulle on the bottom half.

When she heard voices from farther down the street, Elain ducked into the nearby alley which was mercifully empty, save for one figure at the other end, nearly entirely shrouded in shadow.

At the sight of the imposing figure, darkness cloaking his features, Elain ran.

And then she was in Azriel’s arms, fingers raking through his dark hair as she kissed him as if he was the last source of oxygen in Prythian.

Azriel gripped underneath her thighs as if it was nothing - he didn’t even stumble as she launched herself at him.

He frantically began pushing up the tulle of her dress skirts, her weight balanced in one arm while she reached down as well to undo his trousers, yanking them past his arousal.

“Please, I need you now, please,” heat flushed Elain’s pretty cheeks as she begged for him.

Azriel let out a low sound, something crossed between a growl and moan as his eyes rolled up slightly.

“Fuck, Elain…”

Finally, Elain’s skirts were bunched up enough above her belly to reveal that she wore nothing underneath.

Azriel swore when he looked down, at the wetness gleaming back at him in the glow from the solitary alley light.

“I need you,” Elain breathed, her voice shaking with desire as she writhed in his arms - the source of what she needed so close.

Even though she knew they were enveloped by Azriel’s shadows, invisible to any passerby who happened to stumble past, the thrill of discovery gave Elain a new sense of heat swirling in her lower belly.

At her show of desperation, a dark smirk tugged at the corner of Azriel’s mouth. He forced himself to breathe, to slow his own rush for her.

“You hardly know me though, Elain.” He stilled, thumbs lightly caressing small circles against the top of her thighs where he held her. Close, but not close enough to where Elain needed him.

Elain cursed herself for saying it to that male.

A fresh pool of arousal gathered and then slipped between her parted legs.

She didn’t have to wait much longer, as Azriel entered her with a long, slow thrust. Bottoming out and then pulling back to continue a languid, but shallow rhythm.

Elain clenched around him, her breath hitching as she looked down to where he entered her. Her arousal coated him from base to tip more thoroughly with each stroke through her tightness.

“But you know my cock pretty well, don’t you?”

Elain’s rose colored lips parted as she looked up at him, a pretty blush flushing from her cheeks all the way down the vee of her dress, between her breasts.

“Who gives you his cock whenever you need it?” Azriel’s voice was a low, sultry growl pressed against her ear.

“You,” Elain whined back, arching her back, trying to pull him in closer, trying to maneuver herself to better meet his thrusts, to encourage him to increase his pace.

“Who would die for you, Elain?” he breathed, holding her firm even as she writhed in his grasp.

“You.”

“Who would kill for you, Elain?”

A shiver ran up the length of her spine, the edge of pain from the brick wall against the naked skin of her back the only thing that seemed to satisfy the itch. She hoped her unbound hair would cover any red scratches until they healed.

“Who loves you?”

Elain stilled in Azriel’s arms, looking up at him through dark lashes as he pulled away from her ear to look at her, her brown eyes blown wide, tears of desperation and need beginning to shine in the corners.

“You, Azriel.”

At the sound of his name, Azriel sunk in all the way and Elain threw her head back against the wall. He barely had time to lift a hand to cradle the crown of her head, to keep her from earning a nasty headache.

When he fucked her then, it was not slow, nor lazy.

Elain clawed at his back, tilting her hips and neck to give him better access to both. Azriel nipped and kissed at the exposed column as he increased his steady pace until it was maddening, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.

The only sounds in the alley came from Elain’s choked whimpers, and the pulse of the music from the other side of the wall.

When Azriel slipped a hand between them, Elain knew she was about to fall. A scarred finger traced around where they were connecting, where he never lost his rhythm, and then dragged upward, circling her swollen bud.

His lips pressed against her neck, whispering praise into her ear that would make the heroine’s in Nesta’s romance novels blush.

“I can feel you, Elain. I know you’re about to come.”

Elain let out a strangled sob even as she tried to wait for him.

“Let go, Elain.”

His encouragement was all she needed as she clenched around him, pulling him in impossibly further as she fell apart in her arms. Wordless cries disappeared into the damp skin of his neck as her body was wracked with pleasure.

She didn’t have to worry, as Azriel followed her, his own pleasure spurred on by the way she tightened around him like a vice. He silenced himself by muffling a choked moan on her shoulder, and then with slow kisses as they both stilled.

“I love you,” he ghosted across her exposed collarbone, breath uneven as he tried to catch it.

“I love you,” she echoed back to him, shrugging him away so that she could kiss him fully, the shadowsinger gone and in his place, her sweet Azriel from the garden.

“We better get back inside before the others notice we’re gone.”

Azriel let out a low sound of complaint, slowly easing her back down to the ground, ensuring she was steady on her feet before kneeling before her and pulling a clean cloth from his shadows, as some made their way back from their sentry post.

He lifted the tulle of her dress once more to carefully clean their mess from between her thighs, and Elain shivered at the sensitivity.

When he was finished, he pressed a lingering kiss to her center and then stood to tower over her once more.

“Do you think you fooled Cassian?” He asked, a gleam in his hazel eye as he referred to her theatrics in the bar.

“Almost sure,” Elain affirmed with her own secret smile. “Nesta on the other hand… may suspect something.”

“Maybe I’ll have to take things into my own hands then,” Azriel offered, as he walked Elain to the front door.

A small warning growl of jealousy from Elain.

“Only if you’re prepared for the consequences.”

She gave him a sultry smile, watching as his hazel eyes darkened once more before she turned to walk back into the club.

Tag List:

@ultadverb

@reverie-tales

@illyrian-dreamer

@impossiblescissorspeachpaper

@123moiaussi

@demarogue

@gracie-rosee

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar fanfiction #pro elriel #elain x azriel #pro elain #elriel fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #elriel fic #elriel smut #forbidden romance #secret relationship

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Art Tatum :: Tenderly

+

Song of the Day - “Tenderly”

70 years ago today, December 29th, 1953, the brilliant piano man Art Tatum had an impressive recording session.

Tatum, who was universally seen as a genius pianist, never seemed to have a successful career commercially. He always worked, and is cited by most every other piano player of the era as being a teacher and an inspiration. But he just never had a career commensurate with that stature.

Tatum also had a terribly unhealthy lifestyle, drinking vast quantities of beer while only exercising enough to get himself from one club to the next. By 1953, Tatum’s kidneys had started to fail.

But the smart impresario producer Norman Granz decided to do right by Tatum, by at least immortalizing him forever on record. He signed Tatum to one of his labels, Clef Records, and on December 29th, 1953, booked Tatum a studio, open-endedly, put a few cases of Pabst on ice, and told Tatum he wanted to record his entire repertoire… or really just whatever the heck Tatum felt like putting down. Tatum obliged with recording an astonishing sixty-nine acceptable tracks - by midday.

One of the tracks was this one, “Tenderly”, which was composed as a waltz by Water Gross, a pianist and a conductor at CBS Radio in the 30s and 40s. Years later, the lyricist Jack Lawrence added the lyrics. But Gross always said the song was meant as “pianistic” and that Tatum’s performance of it was/is the ultimate interpretation ever.

This is classic Art Tatum, who really may indeed “own” “Tenderly”…

The album Granz made out of this day of tracks recorded, was titled “Tenderly”… and the whole album is sublime, all standards… each one outdoing the last… On the other tracks, Granz added in sidefolk - some drums and bass… But “Tenderly” needed none…

[Thanks to Mary Elaine LeBey]

#music #songs #Tenderly #Art Tatum #jazz #piano #Mary Elaine LeBey #Youtube

[needed-as-a-grace-note]

Azriel x Reader - The Fall

Warning: panic

It happened so fast. 

The moment you looked in his eyes, you knew you had fallen for him. Bodies writhed around you, the bass pumping into your bones as you stood stock still, heart pounding, eyes widening, lungs surging open for breath. 

He stared at you with intensity across the room, he shadows dancing about him. He rose from the table, not noticing how Cassian glared at him as he knocked his beer ajar, not noticing how Rhysand sent him a confused gaze. 

The words practically sang through the air around you - Mate. Mate. Mate.

He stepped forward, mimicking your movements as the crowd seemed to part to let you reach one another. 

It happened so fast.

He snatched you off the ground at the river house, letting out a rough chuckle at your screech. You could hear the laughter of the inner circle follow you on the breeze as he took you higher and higher. You giggled as he swept in a large arc, letting the wind ruffle your hair out of your braid. Throwing your arms out, leaning your head back, you relished in the momentary feeling of weightlessness before the two of you went soaring down. 

It happened so fast. 

Azriel was suddenly upon you, hands dancing over your body, his empty plate tossed to the side. You barely heard it shatter as his lips met yours. The bond sang as you pushed harder against him, seeking any kind of contact to relieve this burn you were feeling - the both of you were feeling. 

He pushed you against the wall, rattling the paintings that hung there. You didn’t register the shout of surprise, followed by complaint, from Cassian until Azriel’s hand unwound from your hair to flip him off before kicking the door shut. 

It happened so fast. 

One moment you were watching Nyx soar through the sky where Azriel taught Feyre to fly when the arrows went whizzing past your head. A mass of black moved through the trees, rattling the ground you stood upon. 

Time slowed as you heard the woosh of Feyre winnowing away with Elain gripping her shoulder, and Nyx wrapped tight in her arms. You saw the glow of blue and red from the corners of your eyes as you reached for the swords you stored in between. With a roll of your shoulders, time returned at full force as you ran forward with your family, taking on the mass of black as a unit. 

It happened so fast. 

You met his eyes across the felled trees and bodies. His pride, seeing your chest heave for breath, sweat dripping down your forehead, arms hanging limply at your sides - A warrior - sang through the bond. He started toward you, perfectly illuminated by the setting sun behind him, golden rays shining as his shadows swirled around him. You couldn’t help but smirk, being able to feel exactly what he wanted to do to you now through the bond. To show you how proud he was of you. You took a step forward, needing to feel his skin on yours. You stepped ove -

It happened so fast.

You didn’t even have the chance to take a breath to scream as a solid wall - no - a body? - crashed into you. You couldn’t even turn to see what had tackled you before you were… weightless. You were staring at the sky above you, completely enamored by the swirls of pinks and purples and yellows and oranges the sun's rays made dance through the clouds. You blinked, and the weightlessness left you. You blinked, and you were staring directly down at the sea, white tipped waves crashing against the ragged shore line. You blinked, drew a breath, and screamed. You blinked, and the dancing rays of color were back in your vision. Blink. Ocean. Blink. Sky. Blink - 

It slammed against you. You waited for the water to enter your lungs, only to be met with air. Solid hands wrapped around your body, crushing you to his bloodied leathers. Him. Your mate. Azriel. You didn’t need to see him to know he had you. You threw your arms around his neck as he rounded up, wind whooshing through your ears. You gasped and gasped for air, nothing seeming to enter your lungs. Your head was pushed into his neck by the force of the wind as his wings sent a mighty beat behind him, and only then could you breathe. Only then could you hear his heart beating in tandem with yours. 

Only then did you let out a sob. A slight thud, and you had landed. Azriel’s knees hit the ground as they gave out - as a result of the adrenaline or the relief, he did not know. He clutched you to his chest so unbearably tight, you barely had a chance to take in the breath that cleared you head enough for the sounds of the world to come rushing back. The sounds of footsteps pounding on the earth, nearing you. The slight breeze whooshing past your ears. And then, roaring louder than anything else, the sob Azriel released as he slouched, folding himself over you. He shook, arms winding impossibly tighter around you, as you shook with him. 

The next moment there were arms on the both of you, soothing, tightening, the mix of worry and relief flooding through their fingertips into your body. 

Azriel leaned back, his hands slowly sliding up your back, your shoulders, and settling on the curves of your cheeks. He lightly pulled your face to his, foreheads touching as you breathed the same air. 

You blinked, the haze of tears leaving your eyes. Blink. Clearer. Blink. Clearer. Blink - 

The moment you looked in his eyes, you knew he would always be there to catch you.

#azriel #azriel x reader #acotar #acomaf #acosf #one shot #velaris #azriel shadow #acotar one shot #acotar reader #azriel acotar

[bibliophiliaxvignette]

Okay hear me out….

I’ve got WIPs, but I’ve also got an idea for an elucien fic, and by idea I mean basically just vibes. And the vibes are lumberjack!Lucien and floral designer Elain.

Snippet below the cut? Sure.

As Elain comes around the bend and spies the back of the cabin, her heart stops. There, tucked beneath towering Grand Fir trees is the most impressive male specimen Elain has ever laid her eyes on. He appears to be a…lumberjack? He looks to be several inches over six feet, with bulging muscles and broad shoulders. He’s holding an ax, swinging it at a huge log in front of him. He swings, breathes, swings, breathes, swings, over and over again, in a hypnotizing rhythm. Elain can feel the impact of the ax on the log in her chest, like a bass string being plucked repeatedly. He’s wearing jeans that look like they were made to exist on his thighs and a tight white henley, rolled up over impressive, inked forearms. His auburn hair is pulled off of his face and wrapped in a haphazard bun at the nape of his neck, but unruly strands still fall into his eyes. 

His face is the most striking of all. He stares at the log like it has personally offended him, brows furrowed in intense concentration, strong jaw tensed and clenching. His full lips are turned down at the ends. He has a brutal scar bisecting the side of his face, running from his eyebrow, down his cheek, almost to his jaw. It only adds to his dangerous beauty. Elain thinks she should probably be afraid of a giant strange man holding an ax in the middle of the woods, but she finds herself wanting to move closer to him, study him. Suddenly, his russet eyes cut up to her. She startles, her hand flying to her chest.  

“Elain?” He asks, breathing heavily.  She clears her throat, trying to pull herself together. You’ve seen beautiful men before, Elain.

#elucien #elucien fanfic #potentially? #who knows if we'll ever get there #the word fanfic is very generous here #when I say vibes I mean VIBES #acotar #acotar fanfiction #lumberjack!lucien #also tattoed!Lucien #lucien x elain #elucien fic #lucien vanserra #elain archeron

[djservo]

elaine benes lookbook

1: hair - earrings* - vest - acc top - jeans - acc bag** - socks - shoes

2: hair - earrings - top - acc jacket - jeans - shoes

3: hair - dress - acc tied shirt - socks - shoes

4: hair - earrings - dress* - acc jacket - socks - shoes

5:  hair - earrings - blazer* - acc top - skirt - shoes

* = TSR

** = simsdom

thank u CC makers!! [funky bass riff]

#kindred spirits as we both shove people + say GET OUT!! over the smallest things #ts4 #ts4 lookbook #ts4 cas

[separatist-apologist]

I'm Going Out Tonight

When I walk in the room, I can still make the whole place shimmer

Summary: He rolled his neck and Elain paused, drinking him in. Even with his red hair plastered to his face, sweat soaking through his thin band t-shirt, Lucien Vanserra was the hottest man she’d ever seen.

And bass players were so her type.

“What did you say?”

He grinned, resting a broad hand over his muscular chest. “I asked if you had a man.”

Her mind flashed an image of Graysen. Too busy with work and the woman he was sleeping with on the side. She was there to pretend she didn’t know about that, wasn’t she? Did Graysen ever answer that question honestly, besides?

Holding up her drink, Elain ran her tongue suggestively over the straw. Lucien’s smile sharpened, those russet eyes darkening with obvious want.

“I don’t remember.”

Read on AO3

For as long as Elain Archeron could remember, she’d been making plans. Written on lists, tallied in her mind, Elain tried hard to leave nothing to chance. Born out of her chaotic home life, Elain craved the stability that came with knowing the future. She felt a sense of purpose, of control knowing where she’d be in fifty years.

Up until that exact moment, Elain could have laid out her entire life start to finish. Married to her longtime boyfriend Graysen, with two children. They’d have a modest home in a good school district—he’d keep working in finance, and she’d continue overseeing her bakery. Maybe, once she had her children, she’d sell it and stay home full-time. Elain had contingencies for both.

She knew exactly what daycare she’d put her kids in, should she decide to keep working.

What Elain couldn’t predict was Graysen. She thought she could. He was dependable. 

Reliable.

Fucking another woman in the bed they shared.

That last point was brutal. Elain had gone out of town for her youngest sister's wedding. Graysen had begged off, trapped in the office on some miserable project that had been keeping him late–forcing eighty hour weeks on him. She’d been nothing but sympathetic.

As it turned out, his project wasn’t so much a what as much as it was a who. A who with, by the looks of it, tacky taste in shoes and cheap lace bras. Elain had come home early, jealous that both of her sisters landed men that were willing to propose. Men who seemed silly and stupid with love. She wanted that, too.

Elain heard them before she ever saw them. Graysen, who was so fucking quiet in bed she could have heard a pin drop even when he was balls deep, was having sex with a screamer. 

“God, yes, just like that—!” Was the first thing Elain heard when she opened the front door of the apartment they shared. 

“You like that?” Graysen’s voice groaned in reply. She scoffed without thinking, embarrassed by how stilted he sounded.

The anger came second. Elain froze, eyes sliding around her immaculate living room. Two pairs of shoes were kicked off in opposite directions. Heels scuffed, clearly worn enough to rub away the knock off label on the bottom. A bra hung from the side of a chair, along with Gray’s suit jacket. 

Elain could follow the trail of clothes peeled off in passion down the hall. The bedroom door was flung open, giving her a front-row view of the beautiful blonde riding her fiance. She watched for a moment unblinkingly.

And then turned and walked out. 

“Why didn’t you confront him?” Arina Vanserra asked, pouring a glass of red wine in front of Elain. “Call him a bastard, throw his shit at him?”

Elain put her elbows on the table, resting her head in her hands. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Clearly,” the blonde retorted, leaning over the swirled marble counter with jewel-bright eyes. “But now you do know, and you can have a little revenge.”

She only sighed. “I don’t want revenge. I just want an explanation…and maybe to slap him.”

“And he gets away with it?” Arina demanded, pulling the elegant knot of blonde hair from the nape of her neck. 

“A slap is hardly getting away with it,” Elain protested.

“We both know you won’t slap him,” Arina insisted, shaking out the strands with a soft moan. Elain’s best friend worked as a curator at a museum, living some absurd sex in the cityesque fantasy, what with her wealthy husband who oversaw a slew of companies up and down the country. He still had time for Arina.

Elain would have bet all the money she didn’t have that Eris Vanserra would have saved Arina the time and cut off his own balls before he ever slept with another woman. He always seemed just a little afraid of her. 

“Look, hear me out. My brother-in-law is in a band. He’s got tons of hot friends. Put on something sexy and come out with me.”

“Is his music good?” Elain asked, already disinterested. 

“How should I know? The front man is hot, though. I’ve met Jurian and I’m pretty sure he’s still single.”

“Well I’m not,” Elain retorted without thinking. 

Arina arched an immaculate brow. 

“Not yet,” she amended.

“Don’t make me go alone. Eris is feeling guilty since their dad died and it turns out his youngest brother has a different dad. He’s doing all this family stuff, but his brothers are insane people,

Elain. You can’t even tell Lucien has another dad for how he acts. Just as stupid as Eris, but without any of Eris’s interest in money.”

“Maybe he’s smart,” Elain replied, glass to her lips.

“Very funny,” Arina said dryly. “Please? I’ll buy all our drinks.”

“I’ll go if Eris buys all our drinks,” Elain said, certain this was a terrible idea.

“We share a bank account, so that was always a given. Where something sexy—”

“I’m not sleeping with the band,” Elain informed Arina firmly. “I’m not sleeping with anyone until I figure out what to say to Graysen.”

Elain didn’t figure that out all week. By the time she got home, Graysen had cleaned up the apartment and himself. Elain didn’t dare ask if he’d cleaned the bed, and when he asked why she was stripping the sheets, she just shrugged. As if he questioned it at all. He was hunched over his phone all night, fingers flying. She wondered, in a moment of icy jealousy, if he was texting that other woman.

Making plans. They hadn’t set a wedding date. She laid awake that night wondering if he was planning to end things, or if this would just be her life. If he meant to marry her, but would always have someone else on the side. 

She wasn’t proud of herself when, at four am and unable to sleep, she went through his text messages. Elain sent them all to Arina, who was up that early for reasons Elain never wanted to know about.

Just dump him.

But she didn’t. Even with pages and pages of screenshots from a woman named Emily–several of which contained pictures of Graysen’s rather mediocre penis—Elain wished him well that morning before she went to work. 

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the next day. 

Until finally, Elain had to admit that maybe Arina had a point. Maybe she was angry. And maybe she did want just a little revenge. 

Graysen, who had barely noticed her all week, finally looked up from his terrible phone when she walked in the room. His brow furrowed at the sight of her in that strapless blue dress, so short there was no way for her to bend over without showing everyone what was–or wasn’t, to be more precise–beneath her dress.

“You look nice,” he commented, eyeing the tall shoes she wore. Shoes far too tall to ever wear on a date with him, given his complex around being five foot seven. Elain wasn’t trying to impress anyone, save for Arina who would never have spared Eris’s ego when a perfect pair of heels were in question. 

“Thanks,” she replied, tossing a long piece of her golden brown hair over her shoulder. “I’m going out tonight.”

“I guessed as much. Where?” he asked, rising from the couch. Elain almost asked if he wanted to know because he was jealous, or if he was trying to figure out if he had enough time to bring Emily over.

“All night. I’ll stay with Arina,” she added, feeling the slightest twinge of guilt. Why couldn’t she just be a little cruel? Rub it in his face, humiliate him? She almost turned around and rubbed all the make-up off her face. What was the point? He was back to staring at his phone. 

“Have fun,” he told her, not bothering to even pretend he’d miss her. It irritated her the entire way to the concert venue—more nightclub, than anything. Located in a dirtier part of town than

Elain was used to, she found she rather liked the atmosphere. The moment she walked in, all heads turned to look at her—nearly all with appreciation. Her shoes stuck to the dark floor, sticky with what she hoped was alcohol and nothing else. 

The room itself had the faintest smell of cigarette smoke clinging to the walls. She walked to the bar, hips swaying, as she drank in a packed room of men with tattoos holding cheap beer and women in tight jeans and tighter dresses. How many had come for Eris’s brother's band, and how many had come for a night of dancing only to realize it would be a night of loud music? Arina was in jeans and winged eyeliner. She grinned when she saw Elain, beckoning for Elain to join her at a high-top table just beside the bar. Eris was there, absurdly out of place in his black slacks and buttoned-up shirt. Even with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, Eris looked like a day trader who’d accidentally stumbled into the wrong bar. 

“You look insane,” Arina praised, twisting in her chair for the bartender's attention. She had it, though likely not for the reasons she wanted. Eris, too, glanced over at the dark-haired man looking at his wife with lurid appreciation.

“Thanks,” Elain said with a heavy sigh. The stage, at the far end of the room, was already set up though no one occupied it. She assumed the group of women loitering just at the front were familiar groupies, flanked by more men in shirts with the sleeves ripped off. Graysen would have laughed at all of them.

Graysen was probably sullying her sheets again.

A beer was put in front of her. Elain didn’t argue with it, though she wasn’t exactly a beer drinker. Next time she’d get her own, would put it on Eris’s tab. 

“Did you confront him?” Arina pressed, ignoring the way her husband was still staring the bartender down. 

Elain shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m waiting on.”

That drew Eris’s attention. She’d always liked him, though she’d never admit that out loud. He and Arina had been married by the time she met her friend—to hear Arina tell it, Eris took her on three dates and then just decided they’d be married. It would have been strange were it anyone else. Elain sometimes thought they’d just spawned from the ground together.

Eris’s mind worked like hers did. He liked plans, liked contingencies, and sure things. And when those amber eyes lighted on her, she knew that Eris understood exactly why Elain was so reluctant. 

“The future isn’t knowable,” he informed her. Arina narrowed her eyes.

“Who asked you?” she demanded. Eris only smiled, winking at her before he picked up his drink and took a sip. 

Elain had to resist the urge to rub her eyes. “I know. Just…I end things and then what?”

“And then you sleep with someone here.”

Eris snorted, looking around with exaggeration. “Yes, any one of these men would make a fine brother-in-law. What about him?”

Ignoring that Eris considered her a sister, or likely a sister to his wife, Elain and Arina both looked at the man in question.

“Elain could have him if she wanted him,” Arina declared with a sniff, though Eris had certainly chosen the most unwashed individual in the dim establishment. “Why would she, though?”

“You brought her here,” Eris replied reasonably. “I don’t think anyone here is her type…but it’s fun imagining what you thought would happen, all the same.”

Arina glared daggers. Elain took the opportunity, given a red-haired, curly woman had come out on stage to begin setting up. “Is your brother's band any good?”

Eris grimaced. “They’re certainly loud.”

It was easy enough to figure out which of the four people on that stage was Eris’s brother. The long, red hair tied off his face and a tight, thin black t-shirt that showed off his muscular, tattooed body were a dead giveaway. His skin was a golden brown that gleamed beneath the overhead lights and privately Elain thought he was much better looking than Eris. For one, he looked as if he spent more time laughing than making the people around him cry. She considered asking Eris how he’d gotten the trio of scars over one of his russet eyes before she thought better of it—she didn’t want them to think she thought anything about Lucien Vanserra at all. 

Not even when he picked up that red bass guitar. And certainly not when he offered a smile to the crowd, lighting up his truly beautiful face. It was a cruel sort of beauty, but overwhelming all the same.

“I’m gonna need another drink,” Elain said, sliding from her chair.

“You and me both,” Eris grumbled, trailing just behind. 

Lucien’s band was called Band of Exiles, and despite what Eris said, they were pretty good. The redhead sang, while a blonde worked the drum kit and Jurian, who was not half as handsome as Arina made him out to be, played guitar. Elain tried to pretend she wasn’t staring at Lucien’s broad hands fingering the thick strings of his bass, that she wasn’t wondering what they’d feel like touching her.

That was made all the more difficult when he happened to look over between songs. He was looking, at least at first, for his brother she assumed. Instead, he found her. Looking at his sweat slicked body with what she imagined was an embarrassing amount of interest. He’d smirked, jerking his head upwards as if to say caught you. 

Cocky like his brother. 

Elain ordered a third drink in a tall glass, reminding herself to take it slow. Standing at the bar, back to the band, Elain swore she could feel Lucien’s eyes burning against her back. She leaned over the wood and let the bartender flirt with her, even though his eyes kept sliding down her cleavage. Elain offered him a fake smile, laughing just a little too loud even when he told her that she had a moonstone aura, whatever the fuck that meant. 

She was delighted when she returned to her seat to find Lucien, still playing his guitar, looking a little less smug than before. It felt good, in a twisted way. Having his attention, when it was so clear the crowd at his feet was dying for it. Knowing he couldn’t have her, that she could wreck his night…all of it was intoxicating in a way the alcohol in her hand could only hope to be. 

Arina had gotten up to dance, which meant Elain had to, too. She hadn’t counted on that when she picked out her shoes. Still, that was at least fun. She forgot about Lucien, about Graysen, about the man behind her who tried to grope her ass and got an elbow to the gut for his trouble. When was the last time she’d had fun? 

The music ended around midnight, much to Eris’s delight. “Let me go congratulate my brother on pissing off our father, and then we can go home.”

“You’re so old Eris,” Arina called after his retreating back, a grin on her face all the same. “I’m getting old, too. My feet hurt.”

“God, same,” Elain agreed, grateful to sit. She watched Eris wade through over-eager women and clap his brother on the shoulder.

“You know,” Arina began, pressing her shoulder against Elains. “Lucien is single.”

“Shut up,” Elain said automatically.

But she’d been wondering. 

Right on cue, both Eris and Lucien turned to look at Elain, and she wondered if Eris had told his brother the same thing. Arina waved, earning an easy smile from Lucien. He waved in return, eyes back on Elain. 

“I won’t say anything if you don’t want to come home with me,” Arina told Elain, sliding from her chair. “Just saying.”

Leaving her alone, and at Lucien Vanserra’s mercy, Elain realized. She didn’t smile when approached, offering her a calloused hand.

“Hey.”

He hadn’t done any singing, which was a tragedy given how deep his voice was. Elain nearly melted at his feet. Holding her glass, she forced herself to be cool.

“Hi.”

“So you’re the Elain Archeron. I’ve heard a lot about you,” he told her, still standing though he could have taken a chair. Sweat dripped down his forehead, sliding over the thick, muscular column of his neck. It was fucked, how much she wanted to taste him. 

“All good things, I hope.”

He rolled his neck and Elain paused, drinking him in. Even with his red hair plastered to his face, sweat soaking through his thin band t-shirt, Lucien Vanserra was the hottest man she’d ever seen.

And bass players were so her type. 

“What did you say?”

He grinned, resting a broad hand over his muscular chest. “I asked if you had a man.”

Her mind flashed an image of Graysen. Too busy with work and the woman he was sleeping with on the side. She was there to pretend she didn’t know about that, wasn’t she? Did Graysen ever answer that question honestly, besides? 

Holding up her drink, Elain ran her tongue suggestively over the straw. Lucien’s smile sharpened, those russet eyes darkening with obvious want. 

“I don’t remember.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I could help with that.”

“Oh, I don’t think I could forget about you.”

“I’m counting on that,” he replied. “Give me fifteen?”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “Let me take you back to my place and make you something to drink.”

He kept his gaze firmly on her face. Elain nodded. 

“Fine. But no promises.”

Lucien held both hands up in surrender. “If I’m a shitty mixologist, I’ll send you home in a cab, no questions asked.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Lucien’s smile never faltered. “Oh, I’ll bet you will.”

He left her at that table, all but swaggering back to the stage to put away equipment and let a group of women flirt with him. 

“His ego will be intolerable after this,” Eris grumbled, causing Elain to start. She hadn’t seen him standing beside her. “You couldn’t have rejected him? Humbled him a little?”

“The night is still young, Eris.”

Not so young that Graysen wasn’t awake. Elain stared at her phone long after Arina and Eris left. She felt a little like the groupies lingering, hoping to be chosen to go home with the band. 

Awake?

She’d sent that, foolishly. 

Angrily.

And she’d gotten a response.

What do you need?

Nothing. It was a cowardly move, sending him one of the screenshots she’d stolen from his phone with a kissing emoji.

More cowardly still to add, I’m not coming home. 

Still, it absolved her of the evening she was certain she was about to indulge in. Lucien returned, shaking off the women to make his way to her.

“My car is out front. Do you care if we stop for something to eat? I’m starving.”

“I never say no to food,” Elain assured him, trying to shake off some of her anxiety. Going home with a stranger, even if he was related to her best friend's husband, wasn’t part of any plan. In fact, Elain had never been with anyone but Graysen, and up until a week before, had been perfectly content with that.

Lucien seemed like he had experience. Like he might expect her to be a lot better at any number of things than she actually was. Her steps slowed when they reached his rather nice two door sports car, held open by him. 

“I can take you home,” he offered, catching the way her body shifted. Elain shook her head.

“Forgive me for being nervous.”

His smile was softer beneath the orange of the streetlamp. “I could forgive you for any number of things, I’m certain. Nerves, though, don’t require any forgiveness. I’m nervous too.”

“Shut up,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

He shut her into his car, jogging around the front before locking himself in with her. “You don’t believe me?”

“Absolutely not,” Elain retorted, ignoring the way her heart thumped at the thought. 

Lucien glanced over, pulling into the sparse traffic of the late night. “When we get home, remind me to put you in front of a mirror.”

“Stop it.”

He only chuckled. “Sure. But you know I’m right.”

Lucien didn’t comment on her appearance again, though he did put his hand on her bare knee while they waited in a drive thru line. Rubbing idle circles over her skin, he’d bought her a chicken sandwich and a milk shake, and hadn’t said a fucking word about if he thought she ought to be eating that.

Graysen never could help himself. 

Maybe Lucien didn’t care because he immediately shoved two cheeseburgers, one after another, into his mouth while he drove home, with a third in a greasy brown bag when they parked. He had a nice place–hardly a starving artist. As they took the elevator up, Lucien, still eating fries from the bag, said, “I have a day job.”

“Doing what?”

“Data analysis,” he told her with a grimace. “It pays the bills, though.”

Lucien? In a suit? Elain thought she might die at the thought. It prompted her to run a finger over the brightly colored tattoos on his arm. He glanced down. “With all these?”

He smiled. “No one cares as long as the work is flawless.”

Elain was certain everything about him was flawless, though she didn’t voice that out loud. Instead, she followed him into a glass-lined hall, all the way to the very end. Lucien slid his key into the lock and pushed it open with his shoulder. 

“Home for the night,” he teased, flipping on a light. 

His apartment was lovely and open—immaculate in a way she could appreciate. Faux brick walls and wide windows, coupled with exposed pipes made it seem much older than it was. His dark furniture and hanging plants made everything seem cozier and brighter. Elain liked it all immediately. 

He set his bag on a kitchen island, kicking off his shoes while she walked around the living room.

“It’s not much, but it's mine.”

“It’s wonderful,” she disagreed. That was enough to convince him to abandon the rest of his food in favor of coming toward her. Hands slid up her arms, brushing the strands of her hair off her neck. Elain shivered when his lips ghosted over her neck.

“I need to take a shower. Will you hang out for a few while I do that?” “Where?” she dared to ask. Elain could feel his smile against her skin.

“My bed, if you feel so inclined. Make yourself comfortable anywhere you like, though. I won’t be long.”

He released his hold on her, his eyes brutally dark with lust. Elain followed after him, reaching for his hand as they walked down the dark hall. Lucien laced his fingers with her own, thumb rubbing the back of her hand. 

His bedroom was just as inviting as the rest of his apartment, made more so by how rich the scent of him was. Elain wanted to bury her face in the ruby red bedding and inhale, wanted to rub it all over her until she could smell him long after he’d left.

Instead of acting like a cat in heat, Elain sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes.

Lucien watched, hand on the doorknob to the bathroom. “Keep going,” he said, eyes fixated on her legs.

“Aren’t you supposed to be showering?”

“I’m seconds from begging you to join me,” he admitted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Elain had to pretend she wasn’t in danger of drowning in her own arousal.

“I might. Maybe you should get undressed, so I can make an informed decision.”

His shirt was over his head in a second flat. Elain’s heart pounded in her throat at the sight of his sculpted chest. He ran his hand over his flat stomach, that smug smirk back on his face. Elain’s eyes traveled over his muscular torso to the strip of copper hair that vanished into his pants. 

His movements were exaggerated, drawing out the moment between unfastening his pants and pushing them over his hips. She could see the prominent bulge in his dark boxer briefs–nothing mediocre about him, she supposed. 

Elain swallowed hard when his fingers hooked in the band of his underwear, and then they were gone, too. Lucien stood in all his naked, tattooed, sweaty glory. He needed a shower undeniably, and Elain thought she might scream if he walked away from her. 

“I’ll shower with you,” she whispered, rising to her feet. Without her heels, she was comically shorter than him. There was no way in hell sex was going to be possible standing up, and fuck if she didn’t want to try all the same. 

“Will you help me?” she asked, perfectly capable of unzipping her own dress. She’d zipped herself into it just fine hours before, determined not to let Graysen touch any part of her. Lucien nodded, and she swore his hands trembled as he swept her hair over her shoulder. 

“What am I going to find beneath this?” he asked, pulling the metal inch by inch down her spine.

“Nothing you won’t like,” she replied. That was a lie given Lucien very clearly didn’t like the strapless bra, if his insistent fingers pulling at the clasps were any indication.

He tossed it to the floor before he ever finished taking off her dress, revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze. 

“Just as I suspected,” he whispered when she stood before him naked. Elain didn’t dare move, though part of her wanted to reach for the cock jutting between his legs and feel it in her hands. Wanted to see how he’d react if she stroked him, if she got on her knees and took the thick, large length of him into her mouth—

“Perfect.” He interrupted her thoughts with his near mindless appreciation. 

“Don’t be silly,” Elain replied, a little embarrassed by his assessment. It was impossible not to compare him to Graysen, who had never once said anything half as nice. And she’d been prepared to marry him. 

Lucien shook his head as if he were trying to clear it from some fog. “I’m not. You…wow.”

She was in danger of crying. Elain nodded towards the darkened bathroom door, swallowing all the nerves fluttering through her.

“Are we going to shower or what?”

“We’ll try,” he agreed, fingers twitching without touching. He turned as if it pained him, the muscles in his back, his ass, his thighs, all flexing at the same time. Lucien was not the only one resisting the urge to touch. This was hell, she decided. Pure hell. 

Lucien flipped on the light and the water, holding his hand beneath the spray to check the temperature before gesturing for her to step inside. Elain swallowed, well aware she could not take back what happened next. It was all well and good to let him bring her home, to let him buy her food, and hell, even look at her naked. But this was something. Something real, something rebellious, even. 

It was closing the door on meticulously made plans and a future she had wanted so badly, she couldn’t leave Graysen even in the wake of his infidelity. Some small part of her balked, demanding she go home and fix things with Graysen.

A louder part screamed to get under the water. Elain reached for the glass door and did exactly that, and as the steam curled around her body and warm droplets slashed over her face, Elain decided this could be a new plan. A blank slate. She could have this night with Lucien, and in the morning she could reform her life without Graysen.

Lucien was just behind, closing them in the shower. She could feel his erection pressed against the curve of her ass, his hands dancing up her spine.

“Tell me you don’t have a man,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder blade.

“What if I did?” she questioned, arching her neck so he could have better access. 

“I might cry,” he said, tongue liking the length of her throat. “I might beg you to reconsider.”

His teeth tugged at her ear lobe, drawing a soft gasp from her lips. 

“And if I don’t want to reconsider?”

Lucien’s hand slid against her stomach, pulling her back against his chest.

“Then I might drive to his place and tell him how well I fucked you…and depending on his reaction, fight him in the parking lot.”

She burst out laughing. “I might like to see that.”

He went still. “So you do have a man?”

“I don’t,” she assured him, surprised by how good it felt to admit that. The only guilt Elain felt was how soon she’d ended things. She turned and wondered the wisdom in admitting to him she’d ended things an hour before. He might change his mind.

Lucien sending her home, hurt and disappointed, meant she could try again in a few months. Not telling him and wrecking whatever happened in the morning seemed far worse. Elain calculated quickly before reaching for the base of his cock to squeeze. Lucien gasped.

“I broke up with him tonight,” she told Lucien, drenched beneath the steady spray of water. Lucien blinked. “He’d been sleeping with another woman and I was waiting for the right moment to end things.”

“And that was tonight?” he managed.

“I wanted a little revenge,” she admitted. “Arina was right—it would have felt good to pay him back. But then I saw you and…”

She stoked again, confident Lucien wasn’t going to stop her.

“And?” he rasped.

“I wanted you more.”

“Oh thank God,” he breathed, yanking her slick body against his own. There was no space between them when his mouth slanted against her own, rubbing every golden inch of his body against her own. Elain scrabbled for him, digging her nails into his tattooed shoulders to keep from falling to the floor.

He tasted like old alcohol and somehow, sweat combined with something distinctly masculine. She liked it, was immediately addicted to the softness of his lips and the way his tongue slid over her own. Elain could have kissed him forever just like that–his tongue tasting her, his cock pressed against her hip. Her hands twined around his neck, fingers tugging the ponytail from its holder until it cascaded over his shoulders. 

She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him, a fact he was blissfully unaware of until he turned her, a careful maneuver even if they weren’t in a small, wet glass box. Elain gasped, nearly tumbling to the ground.

“Sorry,” he gasped, sliding his hand beneath her ass and lifting her. He made it look easy, which only aroused Elain more. She wrapped her legs around his hips tightly, back against the cold tile. The angle was perfect, though probably not sustainable long-term. She had no intention of having sex with him in the shower, though she couldn’t pretend the wet rub of his body wasn’t absurdly erotic. 

“Lucien,” she panted, arching her neck under his hot mouth. “Lucien, I—” she yelped when the spray of water hit her body, the nozzle held by him. When had he pulled it off? How had he managed such coordination when she was half sliding down his body? 

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing towards the little tile bench at the very end of his shower. “I have to clean myself. Hold this.”

“Lucien–”

He pressed the metal into her hand, closing her fingers around the nozzle. “Spread your legs,” he said, stepping back into the waterless shower to watch. “Show me what you like.” Insecurity flooded through her for a moment—Elain nearly gave him back the shower head. She hesitated when he wrapped a hand around his straining cock and pumped himself in encouragement. 

They were having fun.

Going slow.

She wasn’t used to someone who wanted to prolong things. Wanted to draw it out. She wanted to be the kind of woman who did this–who could just have fun. Lucien released his cock, a half smile on his face when he realized she wasn’t going to play along. He took half a step towards her, earning a spray of water to his face for his trouble.

“Wash yourself off, Lucien,” she ordered, pleased when that sultry grin returned. “Nice and slow.”

He reached for a bottle of body soap in the caddy behind him. Elain almost forgot what she was supposed to be doing with the shower head when he ran his hands over his slick chest, creating suds over his skin. Lucien groaned the moment she turned the shower nozzle on herself. Elain intentionally avoided her clit, though the vibration of the pounding through her. 

“I’m starting to think you’re a daydream,” he told her breathlessly. 

“Come see for yourself.”

Lucien did, but only to take that nozzle from her. Elain enjoyed the view—Lucien was the hottest man she’d ever seen, especially when his muscular body was dripping water. Elain kept her thighs parted, running her fingers up and down without ever touching her pussy, eyes locked on his face. She almost screamed with delight when he turned off the water, his hair untouched, which was just as well. Lucien beckoned for her, so absurdly hot she almost died.

“You think you’re hot shit, huh?” she whispered when he snaked an arm around her waist. 

“I do right now,” he agreed, hauling her up against the marble sink edge. “Most nights I come home alone and jerk myself to the thought of someone half as gorgeous. And now you’re here…” he sank to his knees, spreading her legs wide against the counter ledge. “And you’re wet…”

“You do not go home alone,” Elain panted, squirming when she felt his breath against her skin. “I saw the groupies.”

“Cut me some slack,” Lucien teased, nipping at her inner thigh. “I don’t bring home everything with a pulse.”

His mouth inched higher and higher, tongue teasing and dancing over her body until Elain was close to plunging her fingers into his hair and shoving his face against her. Graysen hadn’t gone down on her since before they moved in together—said it wasn’t his thing. Elain had gone along with it, though she missed being touched this way. 

She didn’t even have to ask. 

“I would,” Elain lied, bracing her foot against his broad shoulder.

“Is that all I am to you? A big cock and a willing mouth?”

“Shut up, Lucien.”

He looked up and the sight so indecent, so erotic that Elain shivered. “Make me,” he whispered.

She hooked her legs around his neck and pulled him closer. Lucien groaned, his tongue sliding up the center of her before she’d fully pressed him into her body. Tugging at his hair, Elain leaned back until her shoulders were pressed into his mirror. 

“Is this what you wanted?” she asked, unsure what gave her the courage. Shut up and enjoy it.

“Yes,” he managed, sliding two of his fingers into her. Lucien’s breathing was ragged and wrecked, his pupils blown out. “Up on that stage, it was all I could think about.”

“Liar,” she tried, but Lucien’s lips were back on her pussy, sucking at her clit to shut her up. There was certainly merit to his claims, given the enthusiastic way he was eating her. Lucien’s fingers pumped out of her, his other hand holding her tight against him until there was no conceivable way he was breathing. Elain was on fire. Arousal skittered over her skin as her release gathered along her spine. 

“Lucien,” she panted, trying so hard to slow herself down. It only excited him, prompting him to lick and suck faster. “Lucien, I’m goin—”

The rest of her sentence was a mangled scream everyone in his building likely heard. She couldn’t stop her bucking hips, rolling over his face as wave after wave of pleasure washed through. Golden spots of light blinded her, leaving her tethered by her iron grip in his hair.

Lucien had her in his arms, limbs flailing, in a heartbeat. 

“Fuck me, I want to see that again,” he said, kissing her roughly. The taste of her own pussy in her mouth made Elain feel electric—wild and new all at once. She barely noticed when he dropped her to the bed, his body pressing her into the blanket just beneath. Lucien was painfully hard, the head of his cock rubbing her inner thigh with near mindless need. He leaned over her, reaching into a side table for what she realized in retrospect was a condom. Elain had forgotten about that right up until Lucien was rolling it over his erection. He managed to make even that look sexy, though it could have been the out-of-control lust burning through her. 

“I hope you weren’t planning on going home tonight,” Lucien whispered, spreading her so wide her hips ached. He rubbed his thumb over her still quivering clit, smiling when it jumped. 

“Big talk,” she taunted breathlessly.

“If I come fast, I’ll just fuck you again,” he retorted breathlessly. Cock in hand, Lucien rubbed it up and down her slick pussy as if acclimating himself to it. Elain lifted her hips in invitation, urging him to just take what he wanted. All the teasing was intolerable when he’d built her up as hot and hard as he had.

Gripping her knees against his chest, Lucien slid in, and in, and in. Elain could barely breathe, her body balking at the stretch it took to accommodate him. Lucien threw his head back, eyes rolling into his skull. 

“I hope you don’t have plans for the rest of your life,” he whispered, pulling himself out a few, slow inches. She might have laughed had that next thrust into her not felt so exquisite. Elain gripped his thighs, digging her nails into his skin with each new push of his cock. Lucien whispered soft obscenities, prayers to gods she was certain no longer existed. 

Elain pushed at his chest, laying him back against the bed before straddling his waist. “This is better,” she whispered, needing the changed angle if she wanted to get off again—and Elain desperately wanted to come around his cock. 

“Fuck, yes, Elain use me,” he whispered, gripping her hips as she sank back onto him. She rolled her hips and the pair exhaled in time. Elain hadn’t realized it was possible for sex to feel like this. Elain was filled, was drowning in pleasure so warm and sweet she hoped she never surfaced. 

Digging her nails into his chest, Elain asked, “Tell me you like this.”

“I love this,” Lucien replied quickly, arching his hips to meet her. “Don’t stop—please don’t stop.”

As if she could. Elain, who barely came once without the aid of a vibrating toy, was in danger of coming twice in the span of half an hour. Had she once thought she was hard to please? Lucien seemed to find getting her off easy. 

He barely seemed like he was paying attention to what he was doing at all, if his blown-out eyes and his head thrown back. Elain hadn’t realized men arched their backs at all—or that they liked being fucked like this. Not hard and fast, with punishing strokes, but with the rhythmic, steady roll of her hips while she ground herself against him. The copper thatch of hair trailing over his stomach was slick with her arousal, gleaming in the dim light from the nightstand lamp. 

“Your pussy is so fucking tight,” he praised, fingertips all but surely leaving bruises imprinted in her skin. “You’re my pretty fucking girl, aren’t you?”

A rush of heat flooded between her legs. Elain whined in agreement. Was she pathetic for wanting someone to say something nice about her? 

“My good girl comes on my cock, doesn’t she?” Lucien continued, clenching his jaw as if he, too, were fighting the need to release himself. “She makes a mess of me.” His words were all talk—he was panting, chest heaving. He was going to come and Elain was desperate to watch him unravel.

“You come for me,” she whispered, trying out this new persona. Polished, glittering Elain–not sad, complacent Elain. The Elain who climbed into a strange mans shower and fucked him senseless. 

“Elain,” Lucien whined. She was so punishingly close. One more, one more, one more, she swore, nails dug so hard into his chest she might have drawn blood. “Elain, please, I—”She came as he shot upwards, burying his cock in her so deep she saw stars. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” Lucien moaned, his own release going on seemingly forever. He reached for her, holding her tight against his still slick chest. “Holy shit, baby, that…fuck.”

Burying her face in the crook of his neck, Elain nodded. “I know.”

“Give me ten minutes,” he panted, sliding her off his body carefully. Elain crawled up the bed and buried herself in the sheets that carried his distinct, masculine scent while Lucien disposed of his condom. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked when he padded back into the room.

“Aren’t you supposed to wait three days so you don’t seem desperate?”

“Oh, I am exceedingly desperate,” Lucien assured her. He slid beneath the blankets beside her, pulling her into his chest. “I thought you knew that.

“I was giving you an out,” she teased, poking him in the stomach.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked again, softer this time. “Let me buy you breakfast. And lunch. Dinner, too.”

He brushed his fingers over her jaw, tilting her face upwards for a kiss. 

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “Say yes.”

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll fuck the yes into you,” he promised, shifting until half his body was pinned against hers again. 

“Aren’t you tired?”

Lucien pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Of you? Never.”

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