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ollypopwrites · 7 hours

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From Depths Unknown ; Part 6

Part 1 ⚜️ Part 2 ⚜️ Part 3 ⚜️ Part 4 ⚜️ Part 5 or Read on Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Smut (PiV sex, fingering, wizards and their mage hands am i right?), confessions, background Bloodweave being dysfunctional (i love you boys but u are a mess), familial banter, Rolan being Rolan, and Tav's savior complex.

Notes: I said six chapters.... but i got carried away again. Next chapter will be the last I promise lol.

Chapter Summary:

Rolan felt the walls closing in on him. The thought of her packing her things to leave the city behind had created a painful clawing sensation in the center of his chest. He had quickly realized that were he to give any input, Rolan would be near begging her to stay. Tav should do what she wanted to, and without him being so openly upset at the prospect of her departure. But it had been days of agony keeping quiet as she played with ideas of what she ought to do and what she wanted to do. He was not sure he could contain himself any longer.

“Engaged? As in… to be married?”

“What other kind of engaged is there, darling?” Astarion took a sip of wine. “Do we not have our fearless leader’s blessing?”

Tav rolled her eyes at his pout. “No, it’s just… fast.”

“Our bond was tried by illithid fires, a more harmonious matrimony couldn’t be forged,” Gale grinned.

“Point taken.”

“Will it be a spring wedding?” Shadowheart smiled only half teasing, “with calla lilies and hydrangeas? Oh, who will be the ring bearer? I think Scratch would love to do the job. We can make Minsc the flower girl.”

“A role he would fill honorably, no doubt,” Gale chuckled.

Astarion seemed to be mulling over the idea of an actual ceremony. Then shook his head and turned back to his glass. It was still an adjustment, his new life amidst the living. He kept forgetting he actually had to eat, and as a result Tav had started slipping rations into everyone’s pockets to offer him regularly. Any spot they settled into, he would find a pocket of sunlight from a window and sit in.

After decades of hiding from the sun, and without the tadpole to preserve his formerly-undead skin, there was a slight pink tint to it. Tav watched as he pressed his fingers against the slightly sunburnt skin, the pressure making it lighten until he removed it. It warmed her heart to see him adjust, but she would never embarrass him by saying so.

“After we return to Waterdeep there will be much to do,” Gale said, “the tower will need adjustments, now that it will be our home. Once things get settled, and I face my mother’s ire, we can start to consider the details.”

“Gods, I’ll have a mother-in-law ,” Astarion realized.

“She will love you,” Gale assured him.

“I think it might be Tara who is the harder sell,” Tav said. “She’s protective.”

“As many tressyms are,” Gale hummed. “Discerning and erudite.”

“I can catch a few pigeons, maybe that will soften her up,” Astarion smiled.

“Good to know you’re still the same,” Shadowheart laughed. “What will you do in Waterdeep? Become a magistrate again?”

“No,” Astarion scrunched up his nose. “It’d be too hard now to get my pockets lined with all this Saviors of the Gate talk.”

“An easy solution would be to simply not accept bribery,” Gale pointed out.

“Where’s the fun in that, my sweet?” Astarion purred. “I have a very needy wizard to support now. How else will I pay for your quills and ink?”

“I’ll remind you I was a very established Archmage,” Gale smirked. “I have no shortage of means to supply myself with materials and whatever else you may desire.”

“Trying to buy my love now, are you? Go on, it’s working.”

“Gods, I wish you two would get your own room,” Tav grimaced.

Astarion winked at her, his smile still managed to be dangerous despite the new lack of fangs.

“Speaking of rooms.” Gale was considerably pinker, seeming to realize again they were not alone. “There’s more than enough space, should you wish to join us.”

The topic of conversation Tav kept avoiding and yet could not seem to get away from. What was she going to do next? Halsin had extended an offer to have her join him in the new settlement, and Shadowheart had made it clear she would welcome some company on her new adventures. Gale and Astarion kept insisting they take her with them like she was some kind of stray cat that needed a home. Her mother and Lottie were still in the city, but they couldn’t keep the inn closed forever. They would have to go back to business as usual, now that they knew she was alive and well after going missing.

She was overwhelmed with the options, but more than that a deep feeling of sadness came with them. Leaving her family behind again felt unconscionable. If anything she would probably have to go back and run the inn, take care of her mum and sister, and extend her offers of an always open door for her new friends. Everytime she thought of it she realized how much she wanted to do anything else and was plagued by guilt about it.

“I’ve been dealing with you two making eyes at each other for months across camp,” Tav joked, “I hardly want to stumble upon you two mid-romp around your home.”

“Your loss, darling,” Astarion grinned.

“It really isn’t,” she laughed.

“But what are you going to do?” Shadowheart asked.

“My mum and Lottie need me,” she shrugged. “I’ll probably put my hero days behind me and run the inn.”

“They seem fine to me,” Shadowheart commented. “If anything Alan needs them with how much they’ve helped him recently.”

It was true. The Elfsong was one of two pubs left standing in the area, the other being the Blushing Mermaid, and both were incredibly busy in the aftermath. But there were a couple new places that had popped up in the lower city, and things were calming down as shops reopened and homes had been rebuilt. But being the last two standing spots with food, ale, and room, both generously offering what they could back to their city, they had become even more popular than ever before.

“They won’t stay,” Tav shook her head. “That inn was my father’s legacy, humble as it is.” She played with the pearl around her neck.

“I’ll have to stop by and see it for myself,” Shadowheart said.

“You better have a good story ready,” Tav said, “you get drinks on the house if you impress the owner.”

“I helped you save the world, I think you can spare me a drink without a story.”

“We run a business, Shadowheart, not a charity.”

Rolan felt a strange sense of awe and fear as Gale held out the pieces of the Netherese Crown. He thought nothing could surprise him anymore but being presented the broken pieces of a historical relic of that nature had him speechless. The two of them had spent days trying to find the crown. Tav had been helping them earlier, but she had run off to find something else to do after using up her stores of magic for the day. It was nearly nightfall, and they had finally gotten it out of the Chionthar. Gale seemed to be hypnotized by it, and Rolan tried to find a way to break his reverie.

“Mystra will be pleased.”

The comment was purely meant to fill the silence, and not be inflammatory in any way. However, Gale’s nostrils flared and a strange half-snarl passed over his face for a moment. Quickly, he seemed to come back to himself with a tight smile but still said nothing.

“Surely it’ll be safer in her hands than here,” Rolan offered at the lack of a response.

“Yes,” Gale said quietly. “Surely.”

He felt uneasy about Gale’s mood, but he knew Gale and Mystra’s history was complicated at best. Even so, he never liked the look in the older man’s eyes when it came to anything Netherese. Rolan knew he was the last one to cast stones when it came to untamed ambition and poor choices made in its pursuit — but there was the added potential of Gale actually pulling off any insane scheme he put his mind to which made Rolan wary.

A yell had Rolan looking up, seeing Tav running up to them. “Did you find it?” Tav said as she got closer. She bumped into Gale’s side, leaning close over the crown in his hands, “weird isn’t it? It was the source of all our problems and now it’s just… trash.”

“This is a highly volatile artifact, it’s not trash ,” Gale’s musing was interrupted by his need to correct her.

“No,” Tav frowned, “I know all about highly volatile,” she poked at the orb mark on his chest to make her point, “this is just… a nuisance. ”

Rolan knew their relationship was nothing more than platonic. Still, he couldn’t help but wish she felt as comfortable invading his space as much as she did Gale’s. It was hardly inappropriate, but they were just at ease in each other’s space and he found himself wanting the same. It was not the first time he felt the sting of jealousy when it came to her companions.

“Nuisance. Its power is enough to transcend mortality and you call it a nuisance,” Gale muttered, putting the crown away in his pack. “You’re being purposefully bothersome”

“And you’re being weird about the crown again,” she said back. “Don’t let Astarion see you moon over it like that. He’ll get jealous.” She clapped him hard enough on the shoulder that he grunted and then turned to Rolan with a bright smile. “I ran to get us some food but Mum and Lottie are off for the night. Cal thought it might be nice to host dinner at the tower so they don’t have to cook.”

“You can’t just commandeer my tower for dinner parties,” he replied, but his irritation was mostly for show. A dinner with her and the others was far from disagreeable to him.

“But we did anyway,” she scrunched up her nose with the petulant tone. “Cal lives there too, if he wants to make everyone dinner he can.”

“I’ll remind you that you're not the hero calling the shots in my home,” he rebutted.

“Seems my wizards are in quite the mood today,” she crossed her arms over her chest. “You,” she pointed to Gale, “stop obsessing over that crown and come enjoy a nice dinner with your friends. And you,” she shifted her extended finger over to Rolan, “can join us or sulk in your study. The tower is big enough for either.”

With that she started her walk back to the city from the docks without them. Rolan watched her go, heart rate spiking at being called one of her wizards. He almost forgot to be offended that she was getting too comfortable calling shots around the tower, as if it were also her own home. And that was also a jarring thought. Not for the first time since her mother had arrived, he found his mind chanting at Tav in a desperate plea like she was some detached deity who could hear his prayers: stay with me, stay forever, my home – my heart is yours .

But she was walking away, and Rolan called after her, “you don’t get to order me around!”

“I think you’ll find she doesn’t have to give orders for you to do exactly what she wants,” Gale was grinning a little as he said it. “After you,” he gestured to begin walking, “your lady awaits.”

Rolan rolled his eyes and started walking, cheeks burning the entire time. They made their way through the city, passing through the streets which had started to become bustling again. They made it back to the Tower before night fully fell, and Lia was closing up shop with Tolna. Minsc had taken it upon himself to help out. Rolan was not sure if the ranger would do more harm or good, but Lia seemed confident enough in him. At the bottom of the stairs, Jaheira was waiting with her arms crossed in her usual stance of aloof authority.

“Ah, there is our host,” Jaheira said with a wry smile. “And Gale, looking ‘miles away.’ Did you find your crown?”

“It’s completely destroyed, but yes. The crown is in our safe hands.”

“Safe. Right.” She arched a brow at him. “You two are needed upstairs, and I need a word with the cub.”

“ This is my home ,” Rolan found himself reiterating in bewilderment.

“And you are a gracious host,” Jaheira bowed.

“How many times am I going to be ordered around in my own tower tonight?”

“Go where you please,” she held up her hands in amused resignation, “but your brother is asking for you and I still need Tav alone.”

Rolan rubbed at his face before heading up the stairs in defeat, Gale following his lead. Of the hills to die on, his friends bossing him around was one that was ranking lower on his list by the day. It was a lost cause, really, with Cal and Lia always taking their side. Truly he didn’t mind it, but it was annoying to be Master of a great tower, now well-known and revered in his city, only to be strong armed by a geriatric vigilante and forced into socializing by his little brother.

“Does a wizard good to have obstinate friends around his tower,” Gale told him, “keeps us humble.”

Rolan had no reply aside from a slight noncommittal grunt, and made his way to the kitchen. There was a dedicated dining room with an impossibly long table made of some ancient wood from an enchanted forest and an ostentatious seat at its head for the master. It was a beautiful room with large lavish paintings and floor to ceiling windows. Him, Cal and Lia never ate there, however. The kitchen was big enough to put a table large enough to seat them and all their friends.

It just felt cozier, more like a home. Inside, Cal was running around the kitchen throwing something together. Of the three of them he was the best cook, and judging by the smell, tonight would be quite the meal. Astarion was sitting in a corner, eyes looking down at the city through an open window that was framed by sun dried herbs. As usual, Gale’s attention went to the elf first and he made his way over. Halsin had gotten Yenna to join them, the young girl watching Cal cook with interest while Halsin dozed in bear shape nearby her. At the table Lottie, Tatianna and Shadowheart were looking over a map.

“There you are,” Cal said. “Where’s Lia?”

“Closing up shop, she’ll be up soon,” Rolan replied.

“Did Tav not come with you?” Tatianna asked.

“Jaheira needed her,” he sat down next to her. “What are you three up to?”

“Charting our journey back home,” Lottie said.

“I want to mark down the location of the inn,” Shadowheart said mostly to herself. “After Reithwin I may make my way towards Waterdeep to visit the House of the Moon – and Gale and Astarion, of course,” she said excitedly, “your village is on the way isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Tatianna said with a nod. “Give me your map, I’ll mark a trail you can get to from there. Fastest and with the most beautiful sights,” she said excitedly.

“Are you planning to leave already?” Rolan asked. His stomach turned with discomfort at the thought.

“The inn has to reopen sometime,” Tatianna shrugged.

“Again, I can offer teleportation,” he said.

“Lottie wants to see a few places on the way,” the older woman smiled. “We don’t get to travel often.”

“Maybe you can make one of your fancy teleportation circles here anyway,” Lottie said. “So when Tav starts shacking up with you in the tower we can see her whenever we want.”

Teleportation didn’t exactly work like that, but his brain was split between correcting her and feeling a rush of some emotion at the teasing. Hope, it dared to name itself, and he immediately tried to chain it back up.

“Lottie,” Tatianna scolded, but her smile was mischievous.

“Is she not going with you?” Shadowheart asked, sparing Rolan any embarrassment by not acknowledging the teasing. “She’s made it seem like she is.”

“She hasn’t said,” Tatianna looked at Rolan pointedly. “But she better decide soon.”

“Is everything alright?”

Jaheira’s expression had turned serious after Rolan and Gale made their way up the stairs. She guided Tav far enough away that none of the specialists in the shop nor Lia could hear them. She looked around to ensure they were alone and offered her a soft smile.

“Rest, Cub, there are no villains that need smiting just yet,” she said. “I simply wanted to speak with you.”

“Alright.” Tav frowned.

“Your story has spread, not unlike mine or Minsc’s, and you will feel the pressure to live up to that story,” she began. “If I am right, this journey has shown you what you are truly capable of.”

“Oh, Gods, a pep talk. Are you dying? Did the years finally catch up?”

Jaheira let out a short laugh. “Watch it,” she warned with a mirthful smile, “I’m offering you a chance to use your capabilities. My numbers have dwindled, but the Harpers never stay down long. And I hope to add you to their ranks.”

“Oh.”

“You will get to stay in Baldur’s Gate, there is still plenty to do. Though I’m sure the chance for running around Faerûn will present itself again,” she told her.

“Aren’t Harpers spies?” Tav frowned. “Hard to do much spying when everyone in the city knows your name.”

“A challenge both Minsc and I have managed to overcome,” Jaheira smiled wryly. “We don’t just collect information, we act on it. Your skills would be invaluable, not to mention your influence.”

The idea of having influence over anything as serious as the Harper’s dealt with made her chest squeeze with nervousness. It was, she supposed, nothing new given the final battle against the Absolute, but Tav still had trouble wrapping her head around it. Jaheira seemed to sense her trepidation.

“Do an old woman a favor and simply think about it. You would do good here.” She put her hand on Tav’s shoulder with a slight squeeze. “Now, let’s grab some food.”

As they made her way up, she had questions. And a strange sensation of excitement. Since the defeat of the Absolute she had thrown herself into rebuilding the city, not sure what else to do in the face of no longer having a goal. This was an opportunity, a purpose , and she felt the possibility of it like a strong beacon of hope. She could build something for herself in the city.

When they walked through the doors, everyone was in full conversation as Cal started serving. She sat between Gale, who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, and Lia who was chatting with Rolan about the store. She locked eyes with Rolan, seeing his slip away from hers the moment he was caught. Lia turned to glance at what had his attention while she was still talking and smiled. How she resisted the urge to tease her big brother was beyond Tav’s understanding, given the way she normally tormented him.

Cal’s impromptu dinner had been a success, the younger tiefling beaming about it with every compliment. From what Tav knew, for a while it had just been the three siblings, and she could see Cal’s joy at a gathered group around a table. It was very domestic, she realized. The ease in which everyone seemed to settle in, the welcoming way everyone had greeted her mother and sister — it made her quite happy.

Her companions she expected no less from, if she was honest. Gale was always welcoming, Shadowheart’s change over the past few months had made her less suspicious and more inclined towards the warmth that had always been lurking beneath. Astarion was still Astarion, and more recently quite retrospective with his new mortality but her mother was easy to get along with. Lottie was just enough of a smart ass to make him giggle, and Tav knew he didn’t mind their presence.

The tiefling siblings, however, had been an unknown concept. Cal was very open hearted, always the least of her worries when it came to interpersonal interactions. Lia could be brash and maybe a bit intense, but she was at her core kind. Rolan had been her biggest surprise.

Even now he was chatting almost easily with her mother. When he had shown up to the Elfsong with them in tow she was shocked, and a little nervous. Rolan, as much as she adored him, took some getting to know before his charms made an appearance. But it seemed her worries had been for nothing: Lottie teased him easily, and Tatianna was never put off by his sometimes brusque tone or his facade of extreme pride.

Tav thought she may like to see more of them all gathered around a dinner table.

Her musings were interrupted by Astarion abruptly stepping away from Gale and walking out of the door. Gale had a frown on his face, lost in thought, clutching his bag with one hand. No one else seemed to have caught whatever lover’s quarrel the two had, but old habits die hard and Tav was out of her seat to make peace before she even realized it.

Rolan’s eyes flicked over to her, and she smiled at him. It was a regular occurrence, he seemed to be hyper aware of her presence whenever they were in a room of people. As comforting as it was frustrating, since he never seemed to act on this magnetism that had pulled at them. But she had a former-vampire to check on.

Astarion moved nimbly, even without his inherent vampiric attributes. Silently and quickly he was walking out of the tower, and Tav realized how loudly her footsteps were as she ran to catch him. She said nothing as she caught up to him, and he rolled his eyes when she did but said nothing. They made their way out of the tower and went back to the Elfsong, where it was bustling with the night time rush.

“If you insist on following me around like a puppy you may as well buy the drinks,” he said haughtily.

“You really know how to charm a girl,” Tav said back as they passed the bar. “Mermaid whiskey, Alan, please.”

“Oh, you are trying to butter me up,” Astarion said.

“You seem like you need it,” she replied while Alan disappeared to find the expensive bottle. “The drama of walking out like that, you’ve outdone yourself.”

“Surprised you noticed,” he crooned. “You’re always so busy making eyes at your wizard. Have you ever considered bedding him or do you simply enjoy being pined over?”

“That’s harsh,” Tav’s eyebrows flew up. “Don't talk about my wizard when you're obviously crossed with yours.”

Alan came back with the bottle and some glasses. Tav dug into her hip purse and tossed more gold than it was worth, but she hardly cared. Neither of them acknowledged that she had called Rolan hers , but she did feel a little embarrassed. No one else was there to hear her, yet she wondered if that was too presumptuous. She led the way to their usual spot, away from the crowd and secluded as could be in a busy pub. Astarion sat down and shot back the first pour of whiskey much too fast, he hissed slightly at the burn.

“Gods, I have to remember not to do that,” he said.

“Could you not taste it before?”

“It was like it was a ghost of a flavor,” he looked at the brown liquid when she poured him another glass. “The only thing that ever had any real taste was blood.”

Tav hummed curiously. “Lots for you to adjust to then.”

“I keep scaring myself when I walk by mirrors,” he mumbled. “And you were right, I do have laugh lines.”

“And they’re very becoming,” Tav smiled.

Astarion scowled.

“It’s okay to be a little overwhelmed,” she told him. “So much has happened in the past few weeks alone.”

Astarion didn’t answer. Tav sipped the whiskey, grimacing at the taste. Sure it was high quality but she much preferred wine. Astarion seemed to enjoy sipping at it, however, his pale eyes darting around the room. She let him take his time, let him decide whether or not to share his feelings. Early on Tav had realized simply being present seemed to be enough for Astarion to open up eventually, pushing him to have a genuine conversation almost always backfired.

“It’s the damned crown.” He said without preamble.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to be a god?” Tav asked in shock.

“We discussed it,” he said. “We discussed it.”

“And?”

“I don’t want the rest of our time together to be about getting back at Her .”

Tav offered a soft hum of understanding.

“But now that he has it…” Astarion trailed off, his eyes looking as if he were somewhere else entirely in his head. “What if he does it? What if he leaves me here?”

A pang of hurt stabbed at her heart, all of his quietness made sense now. Tav cautiously put a hand out, palm up, letting him decide if touch was on the table. Astarion looked at it, then placed his hand in hers. She squeezed gently. It was still strange to feel warmth in his hand.

“That’s not in his nature, he would do anything for you,” she said with a soft smile. “But even if he does, you won’t be alone. You will always, always have a place with me, I’d never let you go through that alone.”

Astarion looked at her for a long while. “And what’s your nature? Naive, trusting, bleeding heart fool that you are.” His lips quirked up a little as he teased, only emphasizing the genuine way he added, “we really were lucky to have you through all this, you know.

“I would have been long dead before I even got to the grove if it weren’t for the lot of you,” she countered.

“Are you sure you won’t come to Waterdeep?” He ignored her comment.

“To visit, of course, but I… “ she sighed. “I can’t be your crutch every time you disagree, Star. You two are getting married . You’re going to have to learn to talk it out without me.”

Astarion made a face like he could wretch. “It’s all so new. I’ve never had anyone like this before.”

“You’ll make it work.”

“More than that,” he said. “I’ve never had anyone… to miss.” He scrunched up his face. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you or to Shadowheart or even Halsin.” He drank some whiskey, she suspected he needed something to do besides feel vulnerable. “It’s not just having a… fiance, I have friends . What am I going to do without you?”

“Make new ones?”

“Gods forbid.”

“I get it,” she laughed. “Almost everyone in my life besides mum and Lottie have just passed through. All I’ve ever known is back in some small village no one knows the name of. Now… now everything is just different.”

“If Gale leaves me for Godhood we aren’t staying in some pub,” Astsrion muttered. “We’ll adventure. Go see the world.”

“We still can even if he doesn’t ,” she squeezed his hand again. “But we just saved the world, we deserve some rest. Some time to figure out who we are now.” Tav grinned, “hells, you’re mortal . You still haven’t figured out you need to eat at least three times a day. Take a moment, enjoy it.”

“I keep thinking of Karlach,” he nodded. “All she wanted was this. She’d be furious if we wasted it.”

“And Wyll,” Tav said, “he’d be so happy for us. And so proud of you.”

“Lae’zel would be horrified at the idea of rest and relaxation,” Astarion mused, “all the more reason to do it, I suppose.”

“Keep your daggers sharp in her honor,” Tav shrugged, “she left that damn whetstone. Take it with you, never know when you may need to stab someone.”

“Oh that does sound fun.”

His mirth was back, the mischievous glint in his eye. Gods, she would miss him.

She lifted her glass, “to friends.”

“Ugh,” he rolled his eyes but clinked his glass to hers. ”if we must.”

The suite was far too big to house what few of them were left. Wyll, Karlach and Lae’zel left so urgently that their stuff was still by their bunks; no one had the heart to go through it yet. With most everyone gone and busy, Tav had taken it upon herself to start.

Karlach’s best weapon had been on her person, as had her toughest armor. There were a few enchanted weapons left behind but Tav figured Halsin’s group of refugees could make use of them on the road if there was trouble. She saved Clive the Bear, not willing to part with it. There was no part of her that believed they would be stuck in the hells forever, and Tav would be sure to keep Clive safe for Karlach until she got back. Things like spare armor and blankets could be donated or sold.

It was much the same for Lae’zel, who had no keepsakes from their journey. Which, although was somewhat sad since Tav wanted something to keep of her, made perfect sense for her Gith friend. The only thing Tav felt she should keep was her stuffed trophy heads; the illithid one was particularly important to her, she knew.

When she made her way over to Wyll’s things it occurred to her that he was the only one who had family to receive left behind belongings. His map of the sword coast was notated, and she found herself delicately rolling it up to keep. Perhaps Shadowheart could make use of it on her travels. He had letters and journals, but it seemed he packed as lightly as the other two. It made sense. He was running around the coast being a hero before the tadpoles got inserted, he would have needed to travel lightly.

She kept only one of his journals. It included their journey, but she was sure not to read too much of it for the sake of his privacy. The last entry was from the night before the final battle. He had full confidence they would all make it, and that they would be victorious — Tav felt tears sting her eyes. Wyll’s clothes, his tales, his small trinkets could all go to Ulder Ravenguard, but the story of their journey through his eyes she wanted to keep. The book still had empty pages, and she wanted to be able to give it back to him for continuation.

The scratch of tiny claws on wood grabbed her attention. She looked over to see a rat, scurrying across the room. Despite her first instinct to launch a firebolt in its direction in order to scare it off, she watched as it climbed over to Jaheira’s bunk and deposited a folded up paper. It met her eyes, tilted its head, and then ran away again. Probably a good thing Tav didn’t incinerate it then, it would be hard to explain that she had immolated one of Jaheira’s spies.

It was welcome, if it was there on Harper business.

Maybe one day she would have her own informants, Tav found herself thinking. Immediately after she shook her head, she was going back home. She had to go back home. There was no way she could abandon her family again. Last time it had been completely beyond her control, she could never do it of her own volition.

As if to further prove the point to herself, she set aside the chest of Wyll’s belongings to send off to the Ravenguard estate later and moved toward her own bunk. Unfortunately, she was a bit more of a collector than most of her companions. There was a lot of stuff to go through in her own personal belongings, and the camp chest would also need to be dug through. To her credit, she did try to focus on the task and not let her mind give way to fantasy. But it was not long before the idea of the offer Jaheira had her thoughts running away with excitement.

A Harper, in Baldur’s Gate, working alongside two legends and a small army of just as heroic everyday people who didn’t want their names in any ballads. Tav could only imagine what she would see and learn as Harper, what places she would go to before returning to the very city which brought her into the world of adventuring. How much good could she do? How much tyranny could she thwart? And all with good friends to come back to.

In her mind’s eye she could imagine coming home to Rolan and his siblings. Cal and Lia would embrace her, they would trade stories about what they had been up to while she was away. Rolan would wrap her up in his arms, kiss her like she had been gone a hundred years and scold her for any new bumps and bruises and scars she got from playing hero. Oh, and wouldn’t it be so fascinating to have those three on an adventure with her.

Packing up her things suddenly felt impossible. How could she leave? But she had to. She was sure she had to.

Looking out of the open window, she caught the glimpse of the tower she could see from there. She looked at it often at night, after everyone was asleep and her mind wandered. Rolan was just there, she could imagine, and then her mind went to imagining what things he could be doing up there alone or with her. It hardly mattered, it was enough to get her through a lonely night.

With a frustrated huff she closed her trunk and walked away. Nothing would get done while her mind was oscillating between dreams she could never claim and the one person it would be the hardest to say goodbye to. Gods, besides her companions he was the only one who understood what she had been through. The only one who knew her shame and her fears and her flaws and never seemed to let it change how he treated her. A hard earned closeness that was different from the one she had with her traveling group, one that had to be forged by actively choosing vulnerability and trust.

Thinking of leaving that bond behind, leaving him behind, it made her feel so hollow.

She needed air. She needed a distraction. Her feet took her down the stairs and out into the street. There were still plenty of books on the hells she could read back at Ramazith’s tower, where her path seemed to be leading her without really thinking. She still had a mind to find something worth reading on infernal engines, even if she could not understand it, maybe she could work with Dammon to find something. Just a few hours of reading, then she would go back and start packing her things.

Tav waved at Cal behind the counter before making her way up to the portals. Rolan was going to eventually stop using them in favor of the arcane elevator, but for now it was the quickest way to the study. It was empty when she got there, a small pang of disappointment making her sigh before she began looking through some of the books.

There was a loud whoosh and footsteps on the tile.

“Please, let yourself in, make yourself at home,” Rolan said sarcastically.

“I always do,” Tav said lightly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I just needed some time out of the Elfsong,” she shrugged. “I was packing and I got overwhelmed.”

“Packing?” Rolan repeated. There was an unusual look on his face, his jaw working overtime grinding together. It looked painful. “So you’ve decided?”

“Yes,” she said, then reconsidered. “No? I don’t know.” Tav heaved a sigh, “I won’t be going to Waterdeep, that much I know. I could go with Shadow, I suppose but… Jaheira offered me a position in the Harpers, here in Baldur’s Gate. I keep thinking — just can’t get it out of my head. Me , a Harper.” She shook her head in slight disbelief.

“Seems apt, given your enjoyment of swooping in to save the day.”

“She seems to think so,” Tav said, noticing the abruptness in his tone.

“So,” he said expectantly, “what do you want to do?”

“I should honestly just,” Tav winced, “go back and take care of mum and Lottie.”

“I didn’t ask what you should do,” Rolan said harshly. “I asked what you want to do.”

“What I want is hardly the point,” she shook her head.

“That is entirely the point,” Rolan insisted. “It’s your life, Tav, no one else’s.”

“That’s — why are you getting angry with me?”

“I’m not,” Rolan bit out.

“You are,” she frowned

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” he snapped.

“I — “ she flinched a little at the tone.

As normal as his tendency towards harshness at her had been once, she had not been faced with it for some time. It hurt. Especially when she had no idea why he was behaving that way. What had she done to make him upset?

At his resounding silence she huffed, “is it because I came up without asking? I just thought —“

“No, that’s hardly it,” he cut her off. He grimaced slightly, “You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Then what is it?” Another beat of silence. His tail was flicking behind him in sharp movements she knew to be a sign of barely repressed anger. “Okay,” she sighed resignedly, “I’ll leave. I came here to clear my head, not to deal with whatever the hells this mood is.”

Rolan said nothing, a pained look on his face. Tav put the book in her hand away, painfully aware of the silence in the room and the intensity of his gaze on her. Avoiding eye contact she made her way towards the portal through which he just came in. She only made it a handful of steps past him before he spoke again.

“Don’t go.”

Rolan felt the walls closing in on him. The thought of her packing her things to leave the city behind had created a painful clawing sensation in the center of his chest. He was trying to do what her mother had asked, to let her decide what to do. He had quickly realized that were he to give any input, Rolan would be near begging her to stay. Tatianna was right, Tav should do what she wanted to, and without him being so openly upset at the prospect of her departure. But it had been days of agony keeping quiet as she played with ideas of what she ought to do and what she wanted to do. He was not sure he could contain himself any longer.

“Don’t go.”

She turned towards him. “If you want to be alone, that’s alright. You don’t have to —“

“No!” He said urgently, he kept cutting her off but she was just not understanding him. And how could she? He had hardly made himself clear. “I mean — don’t leave Baldur’s Gate,” he pleaded firmly, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “I’ll make it so you can visit home whenever you like - I’ll figure something out. Just don’t — Don’t go so far from me.”

Tav’s shock was written on her face. But she did not say anything.

He winced slightly, but his mouth was going before his mind could stop him. “ I think it’s what you want too — I think you want to join the Harpers: you love stupidly risking your safety to help people and the Harpers will give you that and more. You’re so good at all of this, Tav, you shouldn’t waste it. I may go gray prematurely worrying about you but if that’s the price for you to be here and happy I’ll pay it, with minimal complaining. Only minimal, mind.”

It was a poor attempt at levity since he was completely off his footing, half-ready to scream and unsure what to do since she was just gawking at him. Rolan knew he was neither disarming nor would many find it fit to call him charming, but gods was he trying.

He barreled on, “I won’t pretend it isn’t selfish of me to tell you stay — I’ve tried to give you space, to keep all of this to myself so you would choose what you wanted but there is no avoiding it: I am in love with you and the thought of you leaving —” He finally cut himself off, forcing a self-deprecating short breath of a laugh when the admission tumbled out of his mouth, “it’s agonizing. I don’t know what spell you’ve put on me but it can’t be avoided any longer. You have to know the truth, or I will never stop thinking about what could have been if I was brave enough to say it.”

“Rolan —“

“It doesn’t even have to be for me, you could tell me to sod off and I’d still think you should take Jaheira’s offer,” he added quickly, not ready to hear a rejection or any kind of let down. “If you force yourself to go back you will regret it. I know it.” He heaved a breath, trying to steady his heart beating so wildly in his chest he could hear nothing but its heavy thumping, “Tav, please, think of yourself just this once”

Rolan felt emboldened now that it was out. There was every chance he had made a fool of himself, she liked him, surely he didn’t doubt that. Love was another thing altogether, he knew. But that was fine. As long as she was happy, he didn’t care if he looked like an idiot.

“Did you just say you’re in love with me?” Tav licked her lips.

“I did - I am,” he shook his head, “I couldn’t hide it, even if I wanted to.” He gestured widely at the study, “I only have any of this because of you, Cal and Lia would have been trapped in Moonrise, I would have been dead on the side of the road.” He swallowed hard, “I really tried to talk myself out of it. You’re nosy, meddlesome, absurdly soft hearted and idealistic not to mention sentimental — I only just learned your full name, and you seem to make it your life’s calling to bother me —“

Tav gave a bewildered breath of a laugh. “Only you could manage to insult me in a moment like this.”

“Sorry,” he said with a wince. Gods, he was horrible at this.

Tav came up to him, grabbing his hands in hers. All Rolan could do was watch at first, letting her take his hands, the warm glow of hope raging violently in his chest beyond his control. She ran her thumb over the tops of his knuckles, looking at them as she seemed to gather herself and figure out what to say. It was impossible to not bring their joined hands up to his lips, to duck his head and kiss her skin gently.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he assured her quietly, lips just barely pulling away from where they were pressed against her hand. “I — I couldn’t let you make this choice without knowing the whole truth of it. Whatever you need to lessen the burden, I’ll do it. I swear. Stay, please.”

The last bit was a truly desperate whisper, but he could never let pride get in the way of saying what he needed to. It was as liberating as it was terrifying, to have it all out. Spurred on by her gentle but firm grip of his hands, and the fact that she was not pulling away: he could not find it in himself to be embarrassed.

“Are you done ranting at me?” Tav smiled a little.

“I’ve held my tongue for weeks,” he breathed, closing his eyes.

“I can tell.”

Despite the words her tone held nothing but softness. Even after his fumbling she only met him with gentility and understanding, he could only begin to hope he could strive to deserve her affection. When she pulled one hand away to cup his cheek he sighed, turning his face into her palm. Gods, that alone was enough to satisfy him. Such a soft and gentle touch, enhanced only by her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He kissed her palm, eyes still closed against the onslaught of comfort and ease her touch inspired in him. Rolan was half certain he was dreaming, that he would wake up and she would still be in her suite at the Elfsong – the entire scene a fanciful imagining. His eyes were still closed when he felt her lips against his, an experimental but firm kiss. He felt a cut off sound leave his throat as he gripped her hand tighter.

“Say it again,” she whispered against his lips.

He replied automatically, not needing any clarification on what she needed to hear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Rolan’s eyes opened abruptly, searching for a hint that she was lying - looking for signs of pitying him or simply appeasing him so as not to hurt him. Instead he just saw her smiling, eyes sparkling with happiness despite the slight bewilderment in her expression, but she was being earnest. Some kind of euphoric urgency took over him, moving him to kiss her. His lips half formed on another apology when their teeth clacked sloppily together, but they found an easy push and pull quickly.

At first it was just kissing, him pulling her as close as he could, with her tugging at his hair and his tail curling around both of her legs. Despite being pressed directly together, he wanted her closer. His grasp on her was desperate, and frantic. There was the slightest tingle of electricity on her tongue when it touched his for the first time, not enough to be painful but enough to make him exhale in surprise. How excited must she be for her powers to slip like that?

His hands reached to grab at her, cupping her bottom and pulling her closer so her breasts pressed tight against his chest. Tav gave a high pitched noise of surprise and a slight jump. Instantly he pulled his hands away. He was getting far too ahead of himself.

“I swear I had no other intentions — do you want—? We don’t have to—” he quickly tried to find the right thing to say, sentences stumbling out half formed as he tried to recompose himself.

“I was just surprised,” she assured him with a soft laugh.

“I’m sorry — I should ask, I shouldn’t just be pawing at you,” he scolded himself with a wince.

“What a gentleman,” she teased. There was the slightest hint of mischief in her eyes as she tugged him back to her lips, kissing and then taking at his lower lip gently between her teeth as she pulled away. “Do you want to stop?”

“Gods, no,” he shuddered.

“Good.”

Tav guided him to step backward, her body pushing his back with small steps and he let her lead. They shuffled backwards until his back hit one of the bookcases. His tail was still wrapped around her legs, tripping her up at the last moment. She fell into him gracelessly, with a squeak and a laugh. He grunted at the wood of the shelf digging into his back with her weight shoved so abruptly into him.

“That’s what I get,” she laughed as she righted herself, “for trying to be some smooth fairytale heroine, whisking her prince off his feet in his high tower.”

Rolan laughed too, cupping her face. “I’m hardly princely.”

“No,” she hummed in agreement as she kissed his jawline, “you’re the grumbling, reluctant damsel, more like.”

“Oh, that’s cruel.” He grinned.

Using his tail to his advantage, he shifted his body, tugging at the back of her legs as he did. It was hardly seamless, but he managed to spin them so she was now the one with her back pressed into the shelves. Tav had gasped in shock, gripping him tight for fear of falling. Just when she was about to say something, Rolan dove into the crook of her neck. He loved the way she squeaked when his breath tickled the skin of her throat, and the taste of her skin as he dragged his teeth over her, ever mindful of his sharp canines.

“I assure you I’m anything but reluctant.”

She gave a sharp gasp, her grip on his arms tightening, and he felt his confidence soar. Slotting his thigh between her legs, he pressed into her, the evidence of his eagerness already pressed against her stomach. He sucked kisses into the skin of her neck until she tugged at his horns to get him to kiss her again. Her hips rolled, grinding her against his thigh and she gave the slightest whimper.

Immediately his hands dug into her hips, gently pushing and pulling her over him. Tav broke the kiss, head thunking gently against the books behind her as she tilted her head back with a slack jaw.

“Good?” He asked.

“Very.”

It felt like some urgent cannibalistic hunger, the way he wanted to taste her skin, pulling aside her shirt to get more access to her chest. It was messy and intoxicating, as they were grinding against each other against a bookcase in his study, like something out of a dream. And it was tantalizing, the friction between them enough to make them both grunt and moan but not enough to truly satisfy with all the clothes in the way.

Her shirt was half off, the plain cream bustier she wore exposed and she tugged at the fastenings on his robe. He was hardly going to stop her, only pulling his hands away to shrug it off, leaving him in only a thin sleeveless tunic and his trousers.

Tav’s hands slid up his bare arms and he shuddered. Such an innocent touch but he was always so covered up, it had been so long, too long, since anyone had seen this much of his skin. He surged forward, hips grinding into hers to roughly it was almost painful. Tav was panting, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt, he let her remove it and tilted his head back in bliss when she leaned forward to press open mouthed kisses to the skin of his chest.

Her tongue traced over infernal ridges before sucked at the flat expanse of skin, making his nails dig into her clothing until he felt the fabric split beneath them. Scrambling to pull her tunic off, he was blindly grabbing at her, maybe too roughly, he thought in the back of his mind. But she never winced or flinched from his nails across her skin. When her hand slipped between the waistband of his trousers he gasped, going still at the feel of her hand wrapped around him.

It was entirely too good, the feeling shooting down his spine, making him throb in her hand.

“I can just barely see the tower from my room at the Elfsong, you know, just the stained glass windows of the study,” she cooed almost shyly, quite the contrast in tone given the way she was stroking him, “after everyone goes to sleep, I make myself come — looking at the tower and wishing it were you touching me.”

By the Gods, he nearly finished there in her hand.

“Zurgan ,” he hissed. “A bed. I need you in a bed.”

“No, next time,” she insisted. “I want you right here.”

In the back of his mind, he knew that if she ever found out he could deny her nothing it would prove to be very troublesome for him. The concept of there being a next time had him momentarily stunned. He barely had time to banish the portal that allowed essentially everyone they knew access to the study before she stopped stroking and started unlacing his trousers enough to pull them down his hips.

He tugged down the bustier, just as she was slipping off her own pants, only getting one leg truly free before he was on her again. There was too much of her to touch, he wanted to be in between her thighs, he wanted to grab and grope at her breasts, to make her come on his fingers before he took her.

He didn’t have enough hands.

Murmuring the spell against the skin of her lips, without warning, two mage hands hovered on either side of him. He had one lift a leg, with her surprised chuckle being drowned out by a kiss while the other slipped the other leg of her trousers and underwear off. When she was naked from the waist down, both mage hands hoisted her up by the thighs, lifting her up against the bookcase so he was at the perfect height to put one of her nipples in his mouth.

“Show off,” she gasped as he teased the peaked bud with his tongue.

For the first time, Rolan had the upper hand.

If Tav was honest, she could do without the foreplay. She felt how wet she was and knew he could slip inside of her easily, but she felt no need to stop him either. The mage hands supporting her thighs were just corporeal enough for her to feel them holding her, but it still was akin to floating nearly helpless against the onslaught of his attention. His mouth was hot on her breast, tongue moving over her in ways that had her cunt throbbing.

He only broke away to kiss the soft, pliant swell as she arched her back to press her breasts out towards him. A sharp sting on the flesh of her breast had her hissing slightly, just painful enough to catch her attention as he sucked on the skin.

At the sound she made he unlatched his mouth and murmured something she could still barely hear with him so close, all she caught was, “…forget myself.”

He kissed the same spot gently, a wordless apology. When he pulled away she was surprised not to see blood, but a shiver of excitement had her rolling her hips when she realized there were indentations of his teeth in her skin.

All she could do was hold on. One hand gripping the edge of the bookcase, the other firmly wrapped around one of his horns, she was unable to do much else. And he seemed to like it that way as he bit into her skin over and over again. There may be marks on her skin for days, she realized, but it occurred to her that he may have been trying to make sure there was.

Nails dragged down her stomach, just light enough to make her entire body break out in goosebumps, for a moment she saw him sigh at the full bodied shudder it created in her. Without saying anything, he ran his fingers through the hair between her thighs before impossibly warm fingers cupped her cunt. Rolan moaned, the sound muffled by his lips pressed to her chest, before he looked between them.

He watched, and she felt his fingers spread her lips apart before experimentally rubbing. “You’re so wet,” he whispered. “Gods, you —“

The way he looked down at her while he rubbed his fingers through the slick folds of her made her swallow hard against a needy moan. His pointer finger danced over her clit, and the sharp jolt of sensation had her tugging on his horn in surprise. Her mouth practically began to salivate with the desire for more, and the abrupt reaction seemed to take them both by surprise.

“You’re going to break my neck, doing that,” he said but he hardly seemed to mind.

“Sorry,” she breathed, letting go of him and grasping instead at his hair. It was soft, she thought, as it slid easily between her fingers. “Please, don’t stop.”

At first he was slow and gentle, mindful of his nails, feeling out what had her writhing. Tav was certain he was doing it on purpose to tease her, but when she looked down at him he was watching her, intent and focused. Studying. She could have laughed, and made a joke about his studiousness but he found a rhythm and pressure that made her incapable of more than a pathetic whine.

“Like this?” There was the slightest hint of pleading in his tone, not teasing her but searching for approval.

“Yes,” she quickly said. “Yes, like that, you’re –ah – so good – pulling me apart.”

Rolan moaned, hiding his face as he leaned forward. The hot swipe of his tongue over one of her nipples made her shudder, his free hand keeping a tight grasp on the other. Despite what he said earlier, there were no complaints when she grabbed one of his horns again, desperately trying to keep him exactly where he was. His eyes flicked up to her face and she felt herself start to tip over the edge. She warned him best she could, moaning out that she was close, pleading with him not to stop.

For the first time since they had met, he heeded her orders without complaint. Twitching she felt the wave of anticipation crest and crash, her skin warm and thrumming with each heavy roll of her hips against his fingers. Giddiness bubbled up in her, a sense of satisfaction that had been lacking when she touched herself making her so thoroughly pleased that she could have started to giggle.

Rolan slowed his fingers at a sharp jerk of her hips, her clit sensitive and cunt twitching. “Too much?”

“Need more,” she breathed, tilting his head up so she could lean down and kiss him. “Want you inside of me.”

A full body shudder passed over him. The mage hands lowered her enough that she could meet his lips easier, and the ridged length of his cock rubbed against her. They both moaned into each other’s mouths at the sensation. His magic did most of the work to keep her up but she tilted her hips still as he rubbed against her, his forehead pressing against hers as he panted.

“I’ve wanted — “ he started, “I’ve wanted this so badly,” he breathed, “can hardly believe it’s real.” He laughed a little, “you love me?”

“I do,” she breathed. “I love you. I’m staying. I’m here.”

Rolan slipped inside of her, a slow but steady push with a little resistance that had her eyes rolling back a little. The last time she had anyone inside of her was a one night stand on the road months before being taken by the nautiloid, the stretch at first was overwhelming. Rolan seemed to be in a similar state of being overtaken by the sensation, his hips pressed hard against hers as he started to pant against her. For a moment, his hips were only twitching as if on some uncontrollable instinct and when he started to move consciously he thrust slowly, and evenly; brows drawn together and upwards in a quiet reverie.

“Is this okay?” He whispered.

“It’s perfect.” She said back.

He buried his face in her neck, breath tickling her sweat sticky skin. Pressed so close to her she could feel the ridges on his skin, and see the freckles that painted his shoulders. Her arms were wrapped around him, legs doing the same, ankles resting on the base of his tail. At the pressure he whined, and she shivered at the sound.

The slap of their bodies made the books behind her shake, the sound of their skin colliding echoing slightly off the vaulted ceiling. The sun was going down, its light shining through the windows in a technicolor glow that made the entire place look hazy like a dream. But the weight of his body against her was so real, she was in a state of rhapsody, torn between the illusory feel of the room and floating by the mage hands with his very tangible body pressing into her.

When she came to the tower that day she hardly expected it to end up like this: Rolan laying his heart out for her and eagerly offering hers in return. Only to end with her back pressed into a bookcase with him rutting into her. His thrusts were becoming more urgent, his hand coming away from the needy embrace to grip the side of her head and guide her to kiss him again.

“I want you to co - fuck- come with me,” he grunted out, “ please .”

Tav felt her cunt clench around him, her body threatening to let the waves of another orgasm flow over before she could stop it. She loved him like this, raw and open. The feeling must have been too much for Rolan, his sudden expression of awe making him slack jawed. But it also broke his concentration.

The mage hands disappeared, dropping Tav so suddenly she almost didn’t get her legs underneath her in time. Luckily, Rolan shoved forward keeping her upright against the bookcase, as she found her balance. He had slipped out of her, and the shock of the near fall made her giggle slightly.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a self-deprecating smile and a wince. “You — I can focus on nothing else when you’re near.”

“Don’t apologize.” She kissed him. “You’ve been doing all the heavy lifting, lay down.”

Rolan tugged her hand so she came down with him, and she straddled his hips as she removed her bustier. It was only fair she removed his trousers past where they had settled on his hips in their haste. Both fully naked in the rainbow glow of the stained glass windows, she climbed on top of him. Tav rubbed herself over his ridged cock, breath catching as she did. Her mind conjured up the idea to simply grind against him like this until he spilled all over his stomach and the friction against her clit made her see stars.

But Rolan’s nails dug into the flesh of her hips, a gentle bite of pain, and he sucked in a sharp breath when she planted her hands on his chest. She needed him inside of her, and she knew he felt the same.

Lifting her hips, lining him up again, Tav sank down. Full once again, she sighed happily as Rolan’s head tilted back, eyes closed while his hips tried to thrust up into her slightly. Giving him what he wanted, she started an easy rhythm up and down. It was satisfying to a point that nearly scared her, his length rubbing so sweetly inside of her and hitting her at a truly sinful spot in the new position.

When Rolan looked at her again, his sharp teeth were worrying at his lower lip, needy little grunts escaping him. One of his hands came up to grab at her breasts, bouncing with each of her movements. The other dipped between them, rubbing over her clit making her lose her pace for just a moment before she chased the sensation further.

“Beautiful,” he grunted out, “so fucking beautiful, Tav.”

“Gods,” wass as all she could utter as body grew tense and her mind blanked out to anything but chasing the high that was quickly approaching.

“I won’t last — “ he warned. Shaking his head, eyes full of awe. “You’re — I’m going to —“

“Fuck, Rolan,” she gasped.

He toppled over first; hips thrusting upwards harshly, making Tav lose her balance. She tipped forward onto his chest, just as quickly feeling his arms come around to hold her close. She ground out her own release, the ridges of his skin seeming to do just as much towards stimulating her clit while he pulsed inside her. Tav hit her peak with abrupt intensity, and she heard her moans echo off the high ceilings until they deteriorated into truly pathetic whines against his skin, as she rode her orgasm out as long as she could.

“Oh, oh ,” Rolan choked, the sensation of her clenching around him making his eyes shut at the overstimulation after his release.

“You okay?” she murmured, going to lift herself off him.

“Yes,” he tightened his grip on her. “D-don’t move, please.”

For a while it was still, as they caught their breath. Tav was a little nervous whatever bubble they had created was going to burst as their bodies calmed down. She felt him lift his head and press a kiss atop her head, fingers dancing over her back.

“I was here when the nautiloid got me,” Tav said quietly. “Just another passing traveler in a city of more faces than I had ever seen in one place.” She lifted her head to look at him, leaning into the hand that came up to her cheek. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Not particularly,” he said.

“Me neither,” she smiled. “But it’s strange isn’t it? I’ve come full circle, and… what were the odds of me finding you time and time again?”

“The gods did do me the greatest favor ,” he murmured, “keeping me intertwined with your madness.”

“Don’t give them the credit,” she said. “It had to be something more.”

“More than the gods?” Rolan’s lips quirked up.

“Yes,” she nodded. “They’ve never done me any favors.”

“Don’t go inciting any more godly intervention, my dear,” he rumbled. “I’ve just gotten you exactly where I want.”

“Naked on the floor of your study?”

“Yes,” he said with pure self-satisfaction. “One of my many achievements, having the hero of the city whining my name.”

“Oh you’re going to be insufferable about this, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am.” He grinned. “I am the master of a world famous tower, a wizard of great renown — as I predicted — and now have the object of all my desires right on top of me.”

“I’ll have to get creative about keeping you humble,” she laughed.

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

“We should start now,” Tav licked her lips, “I think you mentioned something about a bed?”

Thank you for reading!

#rolan x tav #rolan x reader #rolan fic #bg3 fanfiction #holy rolan empire #olly writes #rolan bg3

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gojorgeous · 4 months

Text

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off.

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all.

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it.

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married.

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags.

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding.

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times.

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying.

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance.

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold.

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income.

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me?

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of.

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.”

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before.

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.”

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you.

“Yes, my lady?”

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?”

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps.

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you?

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness.

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing.

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home.

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come.

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly.

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning.

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags.

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle.

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and-

“Do you like them?”

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie.

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him.

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained?

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.”

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.”

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips.

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.”

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling.

“Of course… Satoru.”

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet.

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies.

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.”

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever…

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.”

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming?

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.”

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue.

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?”

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks.

“Not tonight.”

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch.

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence.

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone.

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened.

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed?

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense.

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person.

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all.

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking.

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?”

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver.

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.”

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.”

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains.

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in.

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you.

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again.

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse.

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas.

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume.

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.”

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind.

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.”

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.”

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin.

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.”

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?”

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.”

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room.

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough.

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue.

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.”

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.”

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?”

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?”

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

He chuckles. “My pleasure.”

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight?

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you?

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse.

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone.

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon.

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare.

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge.

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he?

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you.

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right?

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there.

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”.

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye.

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.”

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further.

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages.

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.”

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph.

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe?

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.”

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second.

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.”

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening.

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.”

No, no, no.

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru.

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows.

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense.

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting.

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine.

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?”

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.”

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you.

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further.

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…”

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you.

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does.

“About the estate?” he asks.

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?”

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.”

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.”

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-”

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why.

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him.

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…”

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch.

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine?

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?”

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real.

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point.

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper.

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in.

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.”

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him.

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?”

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.”

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.”

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight.

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago.

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?”

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?”

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be.

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?”

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe.

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.”

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?”

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone.

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin.

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt.

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.”

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has.

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less.

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning.

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long.

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked.

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity-

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips.

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re–

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature.

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.”

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper.

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust.

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb.

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.”

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further.

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?”

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer.

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?”

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch.

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.”

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod.

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth–

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing?

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire.

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.”

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is.

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move.

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop.

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake.

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.”

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision.

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer.

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done.

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation.

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.”

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp.

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts.

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–”

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin.

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants.

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do.

“Yes,” you whisper.

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath.

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments.

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…”

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come.

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull.

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens.

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like.

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants.

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago.

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave.

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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