#you remain the golden standard of all men

[promptthebear]

Edmund Pevensie, Soulmate AU

Part two of this

CW: Some violence but nothing super graphic. Some swearing. Serious enemies to lovers vibes. Telmar!Reader, so some physical description to match that sorry.

Cair Paravel was a testament of shining marble, fine tapestries and golden fixtures. It was the envy of many a nearby kingdom, most of whom had tried and failed to imitate its beauty. The same, however, could not be said of the dungeons.

The moment the dank, frigid air rose from behind the barred door, Edmund realized just how appealing his empty bed suddenly was. Everyone swore this part of the castle was haunted and though Edmund personally didn’t believe in such foolishness, he very much understood how those sorts of rumours came to be. He tried to stand tall and play at being courageous and stoic as he walked alongside the young guard down the winding steps, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Before long, Edmund found himself jumping at every distant sound and balking at every shadow cast in the flickering torch light, even when in fact said shadows were none other than his own.

Despite the fact that his young guard had been so anxious among the fine tapestries and clean rushes of the upstairs halls, the young man seemed completely comfortable among the dripping walls and dirt floors that created the bowels of the castle. He strode beside Edmund with an easy confidence, his grip on the torch he carried not wavering once, even when a rat ran nearly beneath his boot and announced its arrival with a piercing squeak.

When he managed to recover some of his wits and find enough voice with which to speak, Edmund asked the guard about it, more than a little curious on how such a skittish man could remain so calm in a place that left greater men shaking. By way of response, the youth merely shrugged and said “Everything that could hurt a fellow down here is already locked up, and the rats never bothered me none. S’far worse out in the forests”

While Edmund could see the guard’s side of things, he personally would have much rather been out in the forest tonight. He’d been riding those trails since he was a boy, and in that time he’d communed with all manner of creatures, magic and mundane alike. However, in his many years, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything quite like you.

Opposite to the castle in every way, the dungeons were incredibly small by the usual standard. They consisted in their entirety of three cells, while the rest of the space was mostly used as a recreational area for the various guards to play cards and the like. Usually, any prisoners awaiting trial were spread evenly between the three cells to avoid overcrowding and the potential for fights and disease to spread. That was not the case tonight, however.

Someone had taken the liberty of placing every inmate into the leftmost cell, and despite still having some room to move about or even lie down, the people locked inside had all crammed themselves into the back corner like bees in a hive. Edmund nearly thought the first cell was empty, until he caught a glimpse of several wide, fearful pairs of eyes that gleamed back at him in the ruddy torchlight. When he approached the cell to have a closer look, he was met with an eerie silence rather than the usual sighs, shuffling and coughs that occurred when you had a small crowd of people together. While Narnia was not known for housing a particularly nasty sort of criminal, the bulk of which were pickpockets and street hustlers, they were also not the type to scare easy.

Whatever was making these people frightened was bad enough that the guards had felt the need to keep the middle cell completely empty. This provided around ten more feet of space between the leftmost cell and the right most cell. Edmund stared between the middle cell and the occupied one on the left, trying to puzzle out what was so awful it had everyone this nervous. Even the guards seemed tenser than usual. They played hands of wist in almost completely silence, and had barely given Edmund a glance since he’d arrived. Normally, every soldier within spitting distance would be tripping over themselves bowing and trying to greet him.

Half expecting to find a dragon or an ogre, Edmund took a deep breath and approached the last cell. His boots made a hollow, tapping sound on the floor as he walked, each one an echo alongside the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

When he reached the padlocked door he stopped, and peered between the bars into the gloom. He could barely make out what was inside, if there was anything to begin with. An oppressive sort of darkness clung to this corner of the dungeon like cobwebs, making it nearly impossible to see anything farther than arm’s length away.

The torch that hung on the wall between centre and left cell had long since gone out. It sat, cold and forgotten in its sconce as though nobody had been willing to risk coming any closer to light it. Though it had been many years since Edmund had feared the dark, the sight of the blackened torch wasn’t a comforting one either.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the surrounded darkness, he caught his first glimpse of you. Edmund was immediately struck by the fact that, for whatever reason, someone had gone through the trouble of binding you up like a Christmas turkey. A pair of steel manacles had been clamped around your wrists, with a matching set around your ankles and a chain that looped between both so that you couldn’t sit upright properly, or move much at all really. There was also a rope twisted around your body in such a way that it bound your arms firmly to your sides, and forced your own legs to rest parallel with the legs of the wooden stool beneath you.

This set up alone would have been enough to hold back a drunken Minotaur, let alone a mere slip of a girl. Whichever one of the guards had shut you up in here clearly thought immobilizing you completely wasn’t good enough. A gag of rough spun cloth had been shoved between your lips and tied so tightly about your face, that it was tugging the edges of your mouth back towards your ears.

A bubble began to expand in Edmund’s gut, something that turned icy cold and burning hot in waves and made him feel as though he was about to be sick on the dirt floor. Memories came to the forefront of his mind, as though he had slipped into a waking nightmare. He could feel a gag against his own mouth, ropes biting at his wrists and the faint sounds of a war camp in his ears. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he had to rest his head for a moment against the cool metal bars to steady himself.

In the dark, Edmund could just make out the faint outlines of your face. He couldn’t read your expression, but he could tell that you were watching him. For a moment, he thought he detected a bit of sympathy in your eyes, a softness he didn’t expect. Then, you blinked and tossed your head in a haughty sort of manner, as though you didn’t give a shit if Edmund dropped dead right then and there.

Whatever he had seen in your eyes was quickly replaced by a steely sort of rage that seemed much more appropriate, given the circumstances. Disgusted with the situation and with himself, Edmund took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to face the guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice echoing about the otherwise silent room in a kingly fashion “You have her tied up as though she were some sort of wild animal!”

The guards stared at him dumbly, as though tying up young women was not only an ordinary occurrence for them but an entirely acceptable thing to do. Edmund took another deep breath, and bit the inside of his cheek to force back the frustrated scream that wanted to push its way out. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, it was a day that ended in y after all, and on those days, the guards always acted as though they hadn’t been born with any sense. Thankfully, the Captain stepped forward before Edmund began tearing his hair out in fistfuls.

“She may as well be, your majesty” he said, tugging at his beard while he spoke “She’s done nothing but raise hell and cause trouble since we picked her up by the docks. Screamed like a banshee the whole way down, and then flew at us like a little wildcat the second we opened the caged wagon. She’s a biter too, look what she did to one of my lads.”

From the corner of his eye, Edmund saw a young man leave the card tables and quickly approach, though the Captain had not officially summoned anyone. The soldier could have been the twin of the other guard who’d escorted Edmund from upstairs, save for the thick white bandage in place where his left ear should have been. Already, a large, dark red blotch was forming against the white cotton, and it was all Edmund could do not to flinch in sympathy.

“G’on boy, show his Majesty what’s happened.”

The boy shuffled nervously back and forth for a moment, before reaching up to unwind the bandages. It was slow work, parts of the fabric had stuck together with dried blood and with each new layer shed, the young man seemed to grow weaker and more pallid. When there was nothing left but a coil of stained cotton on the floor, Edmund took a deep breath and forced himself to have a proper look at the wound. After only a few seconds, he had to look away again, his stomach churning.

“Bloody hell.” he muttered under his breath.

The Captain gave a stiff nod in response, before placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder to hold him steady. Any colour in the boy’s face had completely drained by this point, his skin was as white as the bandages had once been and there was a sheen of sweat upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the Captain supporting him, Edmund truly doubted he would’ve been able to stand at all.

“You asked me why I had the girl locked up, your Majesty. Well, there’s your answer. Mark or no mark, I will not stand idly by and let some Telmarine harlot rip decent Narnian citizens to pieces.”

The mention of the word “mark” made Edmund’s ears prick up, but he tried to feign an appropriately sombre countenance and turned his attention to the matter at hand. Before he gave you any more thought, he had a tetchy captain and a young soldier ending the night with one less ear than he started with to worry about.

“Captain, believe me when I say your concerns are taken with the utmost severity and I will do everything within my power as Kings Justice to make sure any Telmarines remain mindful of whose land they’re docking their ships on. As for this young man, he will be given all the proper recognition and honour…once he’s been seen to by my personal physicians.”

For a moment, it seemed as though some colour returned to the lad’s cheeks, though that also could have been the torchlight playing tricks. At the very least, he managed to give Edmund a wan smile and a soft “Thank you, your Majesty” before he slumped against the Captain’s side and fell silent.

“Captain, have two of your men rouse Lucy and Tumnus. By happy circumstance, they are both here in the castle tonight. If they have any misgivings about the matter, tell them they are being summoned at my personal behest.”

The Captain gave a stiff nod in Edmund’s direction, before turning his head and letting loose a sharp whistle from between his teeth. The sound was still echoing against the stone walls when two more guards appeared. Without a word, they each slung one of the wounded soldier’s arms over their shoulders and guided him towards the exit. The Captain followed suit, stopping briefly to give some hushed instructions to another guard nearest to the door before he disappeared up the stairs.

With their direct superior gone, Edmund felt the eyes of the remaining guards immediately fall on him. As much as he wanted to let his chest drop back and slump his shoulders to regain a little comfort, he knew he must keep standing with his back rigid and his head held high. In his heart, he may have been nothing more than Edmund, a man in much deeper and much more frightened than he cared to admit. In the eyes of everyone else, however, he was still the King and would be expected to handle the current situation as such.

Sighing, he turned to the guard standing watch by the leftmost cell and cleared his throat to get the young man’s attention. The guard jumped slightly at the noise, as though Edmund had just woken him from a half sleep. It seemed an odd place to try and nap, by Edmund’s standards, but he supposed one could sleep anywhere once you were used to it.

“Your majesty?”

The guard’s voice betrayed his age, and it was all Edmund could do to keep his eyebrows from shooting up towards his hairline. If he managed to get through this without ending up in the infirmary or worse, then he’d have to have a word with the Captain about the youthfulness of his recruits.

“The keys around your belt, young sir. Give them to me, if you please.”

Despite his few years, the guard knew well enough how to take orders. Without protest, he unclipped the ring of keys from his belt loop and handed them to Edmund. They were heavier than Edmund expected, and somehow the weight of the metal in his palm was strangely reassuring.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned once more to face the rightmost cell. There hadn’t been a sound from you this entire time, and Edmund wasn’t certain if this meant you were subdued or simply lying in wait to ambush the next person stupid enough to try and approach. He only hoped that, no matter what happened, he’d be able to greet the dawn with all his extremities still attached.

You hated this country. You hated its people, it’s stinking cobblestone streets covered in horseshit, its passionless music and the bland, disgusting mush it tried to pass off as food. Most of all, you hated its idiot King and the stupid way he was looking at you.

You’d made it clear, or so you thought, that the next Narnian fool who came near you did so at the risk of his own well-being. And yet, here sat the King, no more than a foot or so away from you, hunched over on a simple wood stool and studying you like you were some sort of oddity in a menagerie. You glared back, wanting nothing more than to wrench free of your bindings and claw at his eyes so the last thing he’d ever see was the rage on your face. But those thrice damned guards had tied you up so tight you scarce had room to breathe. Not only was this a country of fools, but cowards as well, it seemed.

“I’m going to take this gag off your mouth now, and then we’re going to have a little chat, you and I.”

His words were a command, but the way he said it implied a question, as though you would give him an answer even if you could. It was all you could do not to roll your eyes. Even those with absolute power were spineless here, issuing their commands as though they required permission for them to be followed. If such a man tried to rule in Telmar, they’d be knocked on their arse and trampled by someone more capable who’d take their place in the blink of an eye.

When the King reached to remove the gag, your eyes immediately locked on his hands. You watched them with a frevored sort of intensity, preparing to use all the agility dipping into pockets and running cup and ball scams had taught you in your years on the street. As soon as you felt the knot around the back of your head loosen, you struck.

Your teeth closed around the flesh of the King’s wrist, and you clamped down hard on his forearm so he could not wrench free without causing further damage. You were rewarded with a yelp, a loud clear sound that reminded you of a pup being kicked. The taste of blood, thick and coppery, filled your mouth but you held fast despite your stomach twisting in disgust. It was only when the King brought his fist down sharply on the crown of your head and made white stars dance across your vision that you finally released him.

He staggered backwards, clutching your gag to his wounded arm and staring at you with wide eyes that betrayed a different sort of wound inside him. You wanted to laugh, but the bile in your mouth turned any sort of noise into a half choked gurgle. Clearing your throat, you turned your head to the side and spat onto the stone floor. The King’s blood turned the grey flagstone a pretty shade of pink.

“You vicious little bitch”

Surprise, fresh and delightful, tingled down your spine. Now that was unexpected. When you betrayed the King’s trust, at the least you figured he’d draw back and sulk like the Narnian dog he was. Instead, he was paying you back with the same coin, striking at you with his words as you had struck him just now. Perhaps there was more lion in him than you thought.

“Why would you do that?”

The commanding tone he’d lacked earlier had finally appeared. Despite the fact that he was dishevelled, bleeding and standing as far away from you as he could in these cramped quarters, this young man was actually starting to resemble someone you could recognize as a King. The fact that you’d managed to goad him into such a state so quickly pleased you immensely, and you couldn’t help but grin widely back at him.

“Because I hate you” you replied, almost cheerfully.

“Yeah, I gathered as much” he shot back, royal courtesy completely forgotten “But I’m only trying to help.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for it, and you’re a stranger who’s touching me without my say while I’m in a vulnerable position. Anyone else would have done the same.”

What the King said next made your shit eating grin falter slightly in place. Narnians had always confused you, but it seemed this one was playing a different game entirely.

“You’re…you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without your consent. Are you feeling alright? How’s your head? I’m sorry I struck you.”

You stared at him as though he had sprouted wings and a tail. You were the one who had bitten him, hard enough that he was bleeding through the strip of fabric he was clutching to his arm. He must be hurting terribly, and yet he was asking after your welfare, and apologizing no less.

“I’m…fine.” you said, flatly, keeping your eyes trained away from his face “I’ve…you didn’t hit me that hard.”

“The fact that I hit you at all is unforgivable. May I have a closer look? If you’re injured, you really should be seen to by someone.”

You nodded, forcing your expression into a stern mask so as not to betray your confusion. This sort of treatment was completely alien to you, in your world kindness was for those who didn't have to worry about having crusts of bread snatched from their open mouths. It was a luxury only afforded to royalty and their ilk, like spices and fresh fruit.

When the King came to approach you again, he did so with slow, measured steps. At first, you thought it was because he was trying to avoid jostling his arm around. But, as you watched his lithe frame move through the ring of golden light from the torch he’d brought in earlier, realization hit.

He was frightened. Of you.

Immediately, your heart shot into your throat and your stomach dropped into the bowels of the Earth. You swallowed, hard, and turned your face away, pretending as though you were fascinated by the flickering shadows on the far wall. They danced like living things, their movements smooth and natural, and a part of you wished you could somehow join them.

You wanted nothing more than to slip your bonds and melt away into the shadows, but it was the stone in your gut you wished to escape, not the chains about your wrists. On the Talmoren streets, feelings were another luxury that you had little use for. Guilt was as new to you as kindness, and right away you misliked the acrid taste it brought into your mouth. In your twenty five years on the Talmoren streets, you’d stolen, lied, and cheated all in the name of survival. Those sins weighed no more on your heart than a raindrop would on the ocean. You’d done far worse to better men, and yet this Narnian wretch who you’d known for maybe an hour or more had your mind twisting itself in knots. Why?

The sound of the stool scraping against the stone floor drew you from your thoughts. You watched as the King righted his stool from the floor, and set it down across from you, though closer than it had been. He sat upon it with a deep sigh, and began to wrap his wounded arm with the linen gag.

The closeness allowed you a better look at the injury, which had already started to mottle purple and red with bruises around the edge. It made for a stark contrast against the King’s creamy, pale skin. An angry red flower on a field of snow.

You’d seen many similar hurts in your lifetime, some which you’d caused while others had been inflicted on you. Almost always, they resulted in a scar, the phantom outline of teeth remaining long after the open sores had closed up.

“You’ll need an apothecary for that, and a potion of honey and turmeric.” you blurted suddenly.

The King looked up at you, not even bothering to hide his startled expression. Something about the way his brown eyes widened and his lips formed a sort of rosebud shape was oddly endearing.

“Turmeric? I’m afraid I’m not familiar.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. This was a country of idiots, after all.

“It’s a root, from a plant. Usually it’s sold in a powder, but fresh is best. Turmeric draws any illness from a wound, while the honey helps it stick and will keep your skin from scarring. I have a sachet of it in my bag, provided your guards haven’t taken it for themselves.”

The King nodded in response. If your jab at his guards upset him, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you. That’s very kind. I’ll make sure we retrieve that for you, and I may want to have you speak with Lucy about this herb and it’s uses. I’m sure she’ll find the information very helpful in treating that young man you attacked.”

“Who is Lucy?”

“One of my sisters, the younger one actually. I have two, you’d know them as the Queens. There’s also Susan, she’s older than both of us.”

You turned this information over in your mind, silently comparing it with the little Narnian history you knew. Prior to now, the only King here you’d known about was the one they called Peter. His face was familiar to you, simply because it was stamped on one side of the copper coins you’d stolen from drunken sailors in the dockside taverns. Nobody in Telmar had ever spoken about any other Narnian royalty, though a healthy hatred of Peter was as common as dirt.

“So…who does that make you?”

The young King seemed to find this funny, letting out a wry chuckle before he finished tying the knot in the bandage around his arm. He did so quite skilfully, you noticed, and you wondered how much practice he’d had patching up himself or his men on the battlefield. Most of the Telmarine emperors could not boast of such skills. Matters of the body and healing it were considered beneath them, and tasks of those nature were left exclusively to apothecaries and sorcerers. Perhaps less soldiers would die fighting if their leaders took the time to help them.

“I’m Edmund,” the King said, his voice oddly gentle “What’s your name?”

You told him, and he repeated it a couple times, as though he was trying to taste the sound of it on his tongue.

“It’s very pretty,” he said, finally “Now that we’ve been properly introduced, will you allow me to have a closer look at your face?”

You nodded, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d most likely say something vicious again. Of course he could have a look, it wasn’t as though you had a lot of choice in the matter being tied down as you were.

Edmund’s fingers were soft, softer than the hands of any man you’d ever known, though you could feel some callouses on spots where his sword hilt would chafe the skin. He probed your face cautiously, going across your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose with the practiced touch of someone who had done this many times before. For the most part, his expression remained neutral as he focused on the task at hand, but you did notice his eyes narrow slightly when he came across your split bottom lip.

If he had asked about it, you would’ve quickly implicated the guard you’d bit. Though he’d had a boyish and seemingly innocent face, he’d struck you hard enough to knock your teeth together when you’d spewed a string of curses at him during your arrest. The ones directed at his mother seemed to sting in particular, but he’d quickly lost his bravado after you’d torn his ear off when he tried to slap a pair of irons on you. It had taken three other grown men to subdue you, which was hardly a fair fight even if you’d fought like a hellion. Your chest still ached terribly from where they’d pinned you down by sitting on you, and you knew you’d sport a fresh crop of bruises in the morning

Eventually, Edmund moved his hands from your face and pushed them into the curls at your temples. He went slowly, not wanting to miss even the slightest bump or cut. After a short moment or two, he’d worked his way up to the crown of your head where he’d struck you earlier on. As his fingers brushed over a sore spot, you winced in spite of yourself, which made Edmund draw back as though he’d been burnt.

“I’m sorry. You’re certainly going to have a fair sized bump there tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too serious, but I’d like to have Lucy take a look anyway, just to be safe. I shouldn’t have struck you so hard.”

You shrugged, the chains about your arms clanking as you did.

“I bit you. I suppose we could call that even.”

Edmund smiled and something long dormant in your chest fluttered. You cast your gaze downwards, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t notice the burning in your cheeks. That was when your eyes alighted on something peeking out from the edge of Edmund’s collar.

“What is it?”

He may not have caught onto your blush, but he certainly didn’t miss where your eyes had gone. You really shouldn’t have been as surprised by this as you were. Narnians were known for their skills with swords, and the ability to be observant would have been part of that training.

“You have a…there’s something on your chest.”

Edmund blinked at you in surprise, and glanced down at himself.

“Oh. My mark. Here, let me show you.”

You watched with interest as his fingers opened the line of buttons down the front of his shirt. Each one revealed another inch of clean, white skin dusted with freckles and a healthy amount of fine, brown hair. You squirmed slightly in your seat, your cheeks feeling like an inferno.

At first, you’d thought what you’d spotted was a tattoo. Only now, that you could see it in full, unobstructed view and highlighted by the nearby torch did you realize you were wrong.

What decorated Edmund’s chest was by no means a tattoo. Rather than the black or brown ink you were used to seeing, the image was outlined in a shimmering gold. Though you had never took a needle to your own skin, you had a feeling even the most skilled of artists would not have been able to recreate such a rich colour. The way it sat on Edmund’s flesh was as natural as his freckles, as though he’d been born with it.

“And the purpose of this?”

Your voice echoed around the dungeon, which had somehow grown silent save for the sound of Edmund’s breathing and the faint crackle of the torches. From the look on Edmund’s face, you had a feeling you’d asked something incredibly unusual, which only served to confuse you further. Was this a Narnian custom? The longer you looked at the mark, the more it bothered you. There was something about it that tugged at your memory, like an itch you couldn’t quite reach.

“It’s my soul mark,” Edmund said slowly, as he began to button up his shirt again “Everyone has one. Even the centaurs and ogres and merfolk. You get one when you turn eighteen. Eventually, you’re meant to meet someone who has a mark identical to yours and that person is your soulmate.”

You shivered slightly, suddenly feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head. This wasn’t a story you knew, but it felt as though you had heard if before anyway, like the echoes of a dream after you’d just woken up.

Your birthday had never been a celebration back home, not truly, but you’d been luckier than most to know the actual day upon which it fell. Usually the most you’d ever done when it came around was vow to live long enough to see your next one, though around seven years ago, something very unexpected had happened.

“I…Edmund…I think I have-”

The sound of his name on your perfect, full lips made Edmund feel lightheaded. There was a slight accent to your Narnian, which caused your voice to lilt in a way that was almost melodic. He was so entranced that he nearly missed what you were saying.

“You have a mark?” Like mine?”

You nodded, solemnly and bit your lip before speaking.

“It just…appeared one day. Around my eighteenth birthday, like you said. No one else in Telmar had one and I could never figure out what made me so different. When nothing else came of it, I forgot about the whole thing.”

So the guards had been telling the truth. Edmund brought a hand up to his forehead and massaged the crease that had appeared between his brows. He’d long since become accustomed to the idea that he’d be alone for the rest of his days. To have that changed so suddenly, especially by someone as complicated and unpredictable as you, he didn’t know what to make of it.

“May I see it?”

Some part of his mind still thought that maybe, this could be a trick. He’d open your shirt and find that the guards had talked you into letting them draw a donkey or something even more obscene on your skin for a bit of coin. But if that was the case, why had you attacked them? It seemed like an awful lot of trouble for a bit of sport.

“If you’d like.”

Now, it was Edmund’s turn to blush. You’d given your consent, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a little bit perverse as he reached to undo the top button of your collar. When you didn’t flinch away or try to bite him again, he continued, his hands shaking all the while. Your skin was warm beneath his touch, and softer than anything Edmund ever felt. Each opened button revealed another inch of smooth, bronze tinged flesh, along with a cream coloured shift and the tops of a pair of fair sized breasts.

The sight of those almost had Edmund running back upstairs to the safety of his room, when his eyes alighted on the tell tale golden lines just below your collarbone. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he reached out and gently tugged down the edge of your shift to get a closer look. He silently prayed that none of the guards took this moment to walk in, especially not the captain. He’d have a hell of a time finding a good reason to explain why he was practically peering down your shirt. It suddenly dawned on him why you may have given that young guard such a hard time, and any sympathy he’d had for the lad was pushed away by disgust.

“Aslan’s teeth.” he breathed

Sure enough, there it was. A lion, standing on its hind legs, mouth open in a snarl and a pair of crossed swords over its head. A perfect twin to Edmund’s, in size, colour, and location.

“Batshit and buggery,” he said again, parroting a favourite phrase of Peter’s.

You blinked at Edmund, trying to understand where this was coming from. He was staring at you as though every secret of the known universe had been writ there on your skin, and perhaps for him, it was.

“So, what does this mean?” you asked, hating how stupid you sounded.

“It means,” Edmund said, rising to his feet and reaching to tug at the knots that bound the ropes around your body “You and I are going to have a lot to talk about.”

#easter askbox event #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x you #edmund pevensie imagines

[dellalyra]

Hi pixie ☺️

Would you please be able to explain family formations readers cursed technique/ability I really like your entire nature concept and I kinda wanna understand it in depth

Thank you in advance💗

Hi ily this made me so happy!!!! I love getting questions like this, I’ve changed some things throughout the series, which I’m in the process of editing a few bits that didn’t sit right w me after the fact so here’s the definitive guide to the CT :) rly thank u so much for this, knowing people are thinking about/interest in what I write to this degree makes me so damn happy

so imma try put this into words bc like ! It’s so clear in my head but so hard to explain

So some backstory:

The clan the reader is from is a really old clan, like maybe even older than Sukuna old. Legend says that her clan is descended from forest spirits, and that’s the root (no pun intended) of her technique. The last person to hold the clans trump card (think ten shadows technique to the Zen’in’s) was 300 years ago, her great-great-great-great grandmother, and she was the one who got the clan considered outcasts by the higher ups/society elders because she was a bad bitch who don’t listen to men basically (queen behaviour) and refused to follow along with their standards for women in jujutsu and their treachery and cruelty and decided that the clan would remain a central part of jujutsu sorcery but would not be held accountable to the higher ups, think of it like they became chaotic good instead of lawful neutral. They wanted to be jujutsu sorcerer to protect people, no matter who they were and were against basically all their crazy shit like trying to kill teenagers. So yeah, that’s the clan backstory. It’s a matriarchal family and reader was made her clan head at 21. So when she was born, as the eldest and the heir to the clan, and she held all the coveted techniques - she was the higher ups nightmare combination. They could pretend she didn’t exist because she wouldn’t let them.

Now - for the practical side.

Technique: Sunburst - a trump card, a final move. At lower levels of skill, all a persons CE or with training a certain amount is expelled from their body in literally a radius of a sunburst. Golden light with the ability to stun, blind but mainly a pure, unfiltered burst of raw cursed energy. Think pure alcohol, not even vodka, or a vodka cranberry.

Cursed weaponry technique; Thorn Whip - 2 thick (like 1ft thick) ropes of sturdy thorny vines are summoned and can be used to control, grapple or maim an opponent.

Technique: Bluebell: a shield of light blue energy forms a dome over the user, useful for protection but renders the user incapable of doing anything else at the same time. Mostly defensive.

Gentle Hail Technique: (most effective in DE) the target is surrounded by hundred of blue leaves made of cursed energy, which pierce through the skin leaving no marks or trace externally but tear the targets cursed energy apart internally, can be merged into one larger leaf for more impact or damage in a specific area (think through the chest in DE) it’s a pretty technique so reader likes it :)

Conjuring technique: bloodline - the user can decide on a shape or form for a ‘spirit’ made of cursed energy to form as an ally or protection, can fight alongside but has no cursed technique so purely melee or distraction. Y/N commonly summons animal shaped ‘spirits’

Clan specific trait - controlling a small amount of cursed energy, canine teeth morph into sharp yet short fangs and nails grow into light green claws - similar to those of forest spirits in some mythologies.

Readers cursed energy can really mainly interact with natural energy and flora/fauna. Think where Kamo = blood, megumi = shadows, Inumaki = speech then reader equals = nature.

Her CE can also be used and channeled into control of plants and often small insects/animals for a period of time (more so there’s an enhanced level of communication than control there) and flora can be used to will or with a little extra effort conjured so as to use say ivy to restrain, a wooden spike to lengthen, a polite request to a cat to deliver a note or pick up milk from the local store. Given that roots are found even under cities there’s usually always no need to conjure but rather manipulate the surrounding supplies.

Often the reader also uses daggers. Small, devastatingly pointy ones she keeps holstered on her thighs (much to her husbands delight). She gave one of the three family heirloom daggers to Yuta when he left for Africa.

DOMAIN EXPANSION is something we’ve not seen from the reader yet hehehehe

But bc I’ll forget to write it

Domain Expansion: Blue Forest Illusion

You’re trapped inside the most dense, mystical forest with ever moving plants and trees so there is no clear view point or stable direction. Makes it perfect for reader because physical strength is not her strong point but stealth and her techniques are where her focus lays. Her daggers are also kinda boomerang vibe so they fly back to their user so she uses them akin to shuriken.

So yeah. There’s a reason why she’s the higher ups worst nightmare. She’s not quite at the level where she can destroy the world on a purely atomic level (wtf gojo) or can just ✨consume✨ a whole ass curse (again wtf geto) but she’s close behind.

#pixie talks: family formations #family formations extras

[deancaspinefest]

My Body is a Cage

Author: electric_dragons | Artist: Ephemera Posting on Thursday March 23

Since he was twelve years old, Castiel has been cursed: he drains and eventually kills any living thing he touches. To keep the outside world safe, he’s voluntarily isolated himself in the relative safety of northern Minnesota. But even if he wants to avoid the world, the rest of the world doesn’t want to avoid him. After a kidnapping attempt by the King of Hell is thwarted by the Winchester brothers, Cas must work diligently to keep his secret safe, lest he be slaughtered like all the other monsters the brothers hunt for a living. i.e. Cas has powers like X-Men’s Rogue, and it breeds all sorts of trouble.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey man, you okay?” Green. The speaker’s eyes are green, and full of worry. Also, he’s gorgeous — magazine cover gorgeous, all freckled tan and ropy muscles and golden hair. The man wipes blood off the serrated blade in his hand, then tucks it into his belt — practiced movements. “Here, let me help you,” the golden man mutters, kneeling down to loosen the knots at his ankles. “Dean?” the taller boy calls, shotgun slung over his shoulder. “Yeah, Sam?” the man replies. Dean and Sam, why does that sound familiar... “We got all the ones left, but Crowley’s gone. He must’ve abandoned the fight before it even started.” This man — Sam — is still attractive by conventional standards, but he’s softer somehow. Maybe it’s the mane of glossy hair. “Dammit. He’s slipperier than an eel.” Dean finishes with his legs and moves around to unbind his wrists. He tries to angle his hands away to prevent any skin-to-skin contact; it wouldn’t do any good to accidentally kill his rescuers. “What’s your name, man?” “Um,” he mutters, unsure whether he’s about to be saved or smote. These are clearly hunters given their prowess and familiarity with Crowley, but are they hunters that know what he is, or do they think he’s human? The rope falls away from his hands, finally. “Hey, we don’t bite.” Dean circles around to offer him a hand up, mouth quirking at the side. Oh god, his smile. The universe is extremely unfair for gifting an already breathtaking man with a smile so dazzling. “Castiel,” he answers, standing without touching Dean’s outstretched hand, ruing the disappointed look that flashes across the man’s face. He waits, praying that his name doesn’t ring a bell to these two. “Castiel, huh? Your parents hate you or something?” Castiel doesn’t know — his parents didn’t raise him.  “Maybe,” he muses, taking a few tentative steps to test whether or not there’s any lasting anesthetic in his system, concluding that he will remain upright if he walks. Dean shrugs, dropping his hand as he tracks Castiel’s stilted movements.  “Well, anyways. Sorry to meet you under such shitty circumstances. By the way, I’m Dean Winchester.” Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester. It all clicks, and his brief sense of relief goes up in smoke. Like he has every day since he was born, he curses his terrible luck.

 [continue reading on Ao3 on Thursday March 23]

#Destiel Fic #Destiel Art #Destiel Fanworks #DeanCas Fic #DeanCas Art #DeanCas Fanworks #Pinefest Previews #2023 Dean/Cas Pinefest #Author: electric_dragons #Artist: Ephemera #canon universe #mutant!Cas #touch-starved Cas

[dukeofriven]

Trying to drag myself through S02E02 of Strange New Worlds—everything frustrating about SNW in one perfect episode: an interesting theme and a valid critique of Federation values let down by a clunky script and grossly mishandled directorial choices (included very jarring insert flashbacks to a speech a character just finished speaking). The director thinks you, the viewer, are an idiot, and won't get the oh-so-subtle allegory unless it's explicitly made clear with over-obvious camera work. Also like a lot of bad Trek trials, you keep waiting for opposing council to go 'objection: monologuing.' The icing on the cake is surely the lawyer turning to the tribunal and going "so all that remains for you now is to confirm the status of Una's asylum claim" and the tribunal not going "What? That's completely outside the remit of this tribunal. No. We find the defendant guilty, as she repeatedly admitted aloud just now to our faces." But I've realized that people don't want nuanced, complex, or subtle story telling, which I promise is less of an insult that it probably appears at first blush. They literally want shows that look directly into camera and say 'you're valid.' And I know this because I've read comment threads where people talked endlessly about crying and how 'seen' they felt when this episode looked directly into camera and said as much. But I don't. I don't feel 'seen' by this, I feel faintly offended that the director didn't think I'd pick up on the messaging without hammering it into my face. My queer ass doesn't like being thought of as stupid. I got the message: I object to the clumsy, amateurish medium in which it was delivered - and you should expect better too. There's a complaint often made against modern Trek that it's not very 'subtle,' and the counter-argument is usually to point out the many, many, many times old Star Trek was decidedly unsubtle: there is a literal planet of Nazis, for example. My complaint is that 25 years after The Sopranos, of ER, of The Wire, of Mad Men, of the whole great 'Golden Age of television' we've learned how to make better TV. I'm not holding modern Trek to the standards of 1996 or 1993: I'm holding it to the standards of 2023, and it rarely measures up. God, so often it feels like the writers came up with an emotional climax, didn't know how to work their way back from there, and so just... didn't. This episode is a prime example as whatever the tribunal was supposed to be about gets dropped the moments its structure becomes inconvenient for the writers, so that judges and opposing cancel alike literally sit their in silence while Una and her lawyer have an emotional conversation about their past. I don't get it: why don't people want better than this? Why is this slapdash amateur hour good enough for them? It's not bad. It's not horrible. but it could soar - with this cast, with this production design, with this budget it could knock it out to the park episode after episode after episode. And it barely bothers to try. it's not enough to be seen, i want to be seen well.

#star trek #snw #strange new worlds

[siremasterlawrence]

LIFE IS GOLD

I find myself awoken from my deep slumber causing me sleep wall from my bedroom to the window.

The moonlight washes over us shining white on me I close the window turning to face the door.

I exit the room in to the hall racing down the staircase hitting the final step as I open the door.

Traveling through the cold dark lit night

sky washing over me as my feet trudges through the sand.

In to the forest my feet zig zag through the area pushing past everything that is hiding from me.

I have no idea why my mind begins to race out of control attempting to figure out all that is transpiring.

Finally my feet come to a halt stopping in a very harsh way, my hands lift in the air feel a door.

Something invisible stood before me as I

am turning the knob and a whole new world tries to appear.

I step up the step on to the stoop entering the strange world as it slams behind me in a burst of energy.

To my great surprise I am at a stand still my hand on my heart finding myself in a literal palace.

This place is ginormous by any means wall to wall spreading endlessly room to room in white.

Plastered in gold a man remains still in the middle of the room adorned with god like golden garbs but a tray in hand.

I marvel the this piece of art it has ancient Roman and Greek statues resemblance it’s uncanny.

The lights roar on with every step I take to this statue naturally like all white men in this field paint it white.

Rolling my eyes this statue looks so realistic even by modern standards I left in awe at this work.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Why is everything going black?”

“Relax Master!”

“Who the hell are you ?”

“Your slave of course “

“My what?”

“Your slave property”

“Your personal white boi”

“Your slave to do as you please”

“No holds bar”

“Show yourself this is creepy “

“Oh sorry! As you wish”

“Here I am!”

“Will you let me serve you?”

“I am your ace”

“Wield me like pen”

“I will create all”

“Visualize and I will transform”

“Are you planning to stay?”

“Oh! You mean the card ?”

“Nope! It was a mere illustration “

“It’s not my actual extension of my existence “

“Do you love me sir?”

“I want you “

“Kneel for me”

“Submit completely

“Look at me”

“Chooses to obey me”

“Crawl to me”

“You will address me as Master”

“Rise to your feet”

“Can you multiply “

“Anything for you!”

The end

#ryan paevey #Evan hofer #josh swickard #liquid gold #gold #life is liquid gold #magic #woods #forest #palace #statue #ace card #Ai

[absolutely-not-my-main-blog]

My internet provider was straight up playing me before because it took 3 hours to download the ep last week and with the new internet, 20 minutes this week, so anyway I took random notes while watching and just gonna post a couple of them in one hit before scrolling my dash:

1. “Anybody can get a guy to bang them once.” Oh, can they, Dennis? Can they?? Sounds like a man speaking from experience, huh.

2. Jack to Charlie regarding “play dates” together and him saying “You don’t remember,” oh that hurts my heart, Charlie having to repress memories of him. And then the extra creep factor with the fucking ice cream truck, good lord, I’m starting to think Jack murder is more and more possible this season.

3. “Don’t mind my friend, he’s schizophrenic.” “I am, yeah.” I know it’s like a joke here, but I like schizotypal Charlie headcanon so I choose to see this as a win. (Spider in my ear vibes though <3)

4. Dee and Mac asking “why” and “how come” Dennis has a system to get men and him shhing them, oh yeah it’s all coming together, he’s used this system fr, and the truth and something else is gonna come out, baby.

5. Love The Waitress is Getting Married vibes from Dennis helping Mac and Dee on their dates the way they tried to help Charlie.

6. Girl, how did Dennis get that bottle open over that guy, this man lives off of beer and air, he’s a weak, frail Victorian maiden who would absolutely get Mac to open jars in their apartment constantly.

7. MOMMY ISSUES DENNIS REAL. Okay so we’re all in agreement we’re gonna transport Den “back to a time when he was a snot nosed little bitch who depended on the most important person in his life for absolutely everything, the person who inflated his ego, who made him feel powerful but also powerless, the person whose validation he’s been seeking his entire life.” I’m SCREAMING. “The way to make a guy fall in love with you is to make him feel like you are his mommy.” GIRL, WHAT THE FUCK, Freud would like a word, I could write a whole essay on this scene alone, but I’m sure someone else already has, but oh my god they’re bringing up how Barbara’s influence really messed with him, inflating his ego, making him the golden child and holding him up to these perfect standards, but he’s trying to maintain that perfection even after she’s gone and realizing he can’t, making him powerless. He just wants the illusion of power! he doesn’t want to have to work for it this much. Head buzzing with incoherent thoughts but there are thoughts here I may come back to just aaahh.

8. On another note, I really liked their acting in this one, especially the S.I.N.N.E.D. scene, their deliveries were all great, they seemed to be having fun and it was sooo cute.

9. A boy in love with Johnny so he can’t be with anyone else, but Dennis is Johnny, Dennis catfish real, Dennis controlling anal beads real, what fever dream is this fucking episode, a boy in love with Johnny, Johnny dennis Dennis Johnny, I’m losing my mind.

10. “I’m Dennis, I’ve always been Dennis” and Ireland’s “You’re you, you’ve always been you” parallels and Mac’s need for solid and clear labels of identity, but Dennis’ continually vague notion of his own self, and Mac remaining completely clueless this whole season, not seeing what’s right in front of him, the blowing jokes, Dennis and his system for men, Dennis is Johnny, while Dennis is starting to realize maybe what he wants and continuously gets more aware, and it leads to mental health day, aaah idk!! So much!

11. I love how everyone was deep dive analyzing the Frank Dennis scene and it was just him telling him he got anal beads in his ass 😭

12. The chess opponent looks a lil like Donald to me.

13. Full ass blast 😭 I hate how this show makes me insane regardless of that.

#iasip #text #sunny sweet 16 #frank vs russia #s16 spoilers #anmmbposts #iasip spoilers

[gemsofgreece]

How did you felt when you realised that some historical figures your school presented as "heroes" let's say weren't so "virtuous"? Like for example, as a fellow Greek, the greek school always presented Alexander the Great and Pericles as the perfect examples of leaders, but as I grew up, more and more people would say "these men were great but they've also committed atrocities as well" and at first, I didn't pay attention until I decided to look it up and discovered that Alexander was megalomaniac and hot-headed (and of course, they're some Greeks who call him a "slayer") and Pericles was imperialistic (Delian League) and on a scale, responsible for the Peloponnesian War. How should we view these persons? Acknowledge both their achievements and their failures? Or from a "black-and-white" perspective, leaning either on their achievements or on their failures?

To be honest, I never considered any of them - except for some defenders - as heroes. 

On a general and global scale, if we exclude the scientists and the religious martyrs  (among which you will also find many seriously controversial and problematic people), in order to become a historical figure, it means somebody was involved with war, power, wealth, politics. With this in mind, the historical figures that were indeed virtuous enough to deserve worship for it are a very dramatic minority. 

My approach has always been that I don’t judge historical figures (Greek or not) of the distant past with modern-day moral criteria, because these people weren’t products of our societies. I can’t have the same expectations for a leader nowadays as for a leader who lived 2,300 years ago, when it was the norm for rulers to expand their lands, for invaders to steal others’ property and human life to not matter as much as it does today. By our 21st century standards, what exactly was so acceptable in antiquity anyway, that we would have to draw the line to Pericles of all people, in specific?

By all global ancient standards of what made a king and a politician great, Alexander and Pericles excelled in their own ways. While certainly the Greek school presents them in a positive light, to my understanding international scholarship also presents them in a mostly positive light, say, more positive than negative. Alexander the “Great” and the “Golden Age of Pericles” are internationally embraced characterisations. Having said that, I can’t recall how Alexander was presented to me at school. I remember discussing his accomplishments - the historical facts - but I can’t recall anything about praising his morals. It may have not been mentioned so plainly but it is not exactly hard  to conclude Alexander was a megalomaniac - what else could a boy born in Pella and landed with thousands of soldiers at North India be?! Then again, how many conquerors out there have been humble and modest men?

A very interesting thing is that even in the conquered lands, views on Alexander are conflicted. He has survived in some of the folklore as a hero or as a legendary warrior or as the ancestor of many. This is not unanimous obviously but it can be observed among people. The reason for all this is perhaps that his positive mark has outlived the negative - the negatives were seizing power and wealth and killing thousands in battle. But all these were short-lived and thus don’t survive in contemporary memory. What remains in our days are the landmarks, the cultural centres and cities he built, one of them still being the second largest city in Egypt. For us Greeks, the lingual continuity, the national solidarity and cultural relics of that era exist mostly because of Alexander. Even the monuments found in other countries are cause for more academic research and touristic promotion and profit for them, and they are viewed as relics of a fascinating and enlightening age, regardless if this reflects the whole truth or not. 

Same with Pericles. What we see is the Acropolis. And honestly even today 2,500 years later arguably the prettiest places in Athens are the ones he chose to establish. What we see in historical records is that he supported democracy with many new laws, he was cautious in military expenditions and he was supportive and respectful of his partner Aspasia. For a guy living in 450 BC, Pericles did many good things and many mistakes, but for the most part he showed great political sense and, if nothing else, genuine care for his own state. Let alone that… you can hardly point fingers at only one about the Peloponnesian War. Everyone just wanted to eat the guts of the other. I seriously doubt there was one bad guy that was responsible for all of it and that it was Pericles alone.

By the way, yes, I do think similarly about foreign conquerors, adjusted to the peculiarities of their own character and background. I don’t think we have enough insight to call any of them, Attila the Hun or Genghis Khan or any Roman Emperor or, say, Mehmed the Conqueror as “evil”. Obviously, as Greeks, we would very much like Mehmed to fail and yes he brought dread and death but...he succeeded in what many Ottoman sultans dreamed before him and, in general, he was operating in a way that wasn’t unheard of at the time. We hate what happened but it doesn’t mean this man had a more evil soul than other Sultans or other invaders or Western kings warring and pillaging and invading too. Right?

And as a last note, things changed after the French Enlightment, the decline of empires and kingdoms and the rise of the republics. Now the value of life is in the spotlight and any human’s life is as precious as of any king’s. Humanity has progressed and developed with such a speed in the last three centuries that we can’t realise how radically different the mentality was only a little ago. This is why now any person such as them would never be tolerated (saying this for the conquerors because I think Pericles could adapt to a modern society actually). We have built our societies in a way that an expansionist can not and will not ever be an influential or beneficial leader or a respectable person nowadays, but this was not the case hundreds or thousands of years ago.

Tl:dr historical figures are to be studied and explored with objectivity and respect or even fascination for their accomplishments, but not worshipped like religious symbols. Don’t worship them and you won’t be disappointed. 

Now, hating and condemning any of these guys doesn’t really change anything for the better. This can only make a difference for contemporary people.

#greece #history #greek history #world history #alexander the great #pericles #age of pericles #anon #ask #opinion

[bluetspur-brain]

Tell me about the fragment of Tatyana from Athas?

(OOC—thank you for asking! This is all very non-canonical, based on Taty’s appearance in Christie Golden’s Vampire of the Mists as well as the events of P. N. Elrod’s I, Strahd: Memoirs of a Vampire.)

The poor, mad thing was discovered on the outskirts of the Crescent Forest. The men who found her were not especially cruel and even tried to help her. She could not give them a name, so they called her Chalk—after her skin, seemingly untouched by Athas’ oppressive sun. They found a home for her with one of Nibenay’s slightly less impoverished families.

It couldn’t last, however, as that family ran afoul of a templar named Nuon. The Shadow King’s templars are unique on Athas as they are not only exclusively female, but also rumored to serve as the Nibenese sorcerer-king’s wives. Nuon had seen Chalk and decided the girl would make a perfect addition to the Shadow King’s harem.

Naturally, the templar manufactured a number of misfortunes to befall Chalk’s family. When it seemed their children would soon be sold into slavery by their debtors, Nuon approached them with an alternative—sell Chalk to her.

Chalk had only spoken a few words by that point, and she seemed no more capable of caring for herself than when she was first found. Nuon assured them she could provide a better standard of care for the girl than would be possible if Chalk stayed with the family, even should they find some more agreeable way to resolve their debts.

Reluctantly, they complied with her request.

Nuon named her Chakhana. She would have teachers, attendants, a small but luxurious home—all in preparation for her service to the Shadow King.

Chakhana did not take the change well. She had grown fond of the family, in her own way, and she longed for their simple kindness.

The nightmares began immediately.

Her attendants all complained of similar dreams. A dark-haired young man with skin like Chakhana’s, dressed in impractical finery, a black-and-red hilt protruding from his chest. Another man, similar to the boy but old and terrible, pursuing the unfortunate dreamer through an unfamiliar green landscape. A fall through endless mist.

The attendants and teachers grew less stable as restful sleep proved impossible. Nuon would bring in new staff over the years, but the dreams spared no one. Yet each time she saw Chakhana, who hadn’t aged a day since she was found, Nuon became more determined to mold the girl into a suitable wife for her husband-king.

Nuon’s pet project led her to neglect the schemes of her sisters in Nibenay’s service. She was executed over a fabricated crime some 30 years after acquiring Chakhana.

Chakhana and her staff, hidden away as they were, were forgotten.

After suffering Chakhana’s nightmares far longer than any before them, the dreams bled into the remaining attendants’ waking hours. The terrible old man warned them of the will of the gods. The young man bled to death at their feet. Voices cried of murder and betrayal.

They came to believe Chakhana was one of these gods, that she had been betrayed by the sorcerer-kings and their templars, by the elemental cults, and by the defilers who had destroyed her green world.

They would seek out young men—especially those bearing a resemblance to the one they saw in their dreams—and sacrifice them to their new goddess.

The dreams became more twisted as the sacrifices increased. The Weeping Goddess—for that was her only visible reaction to their murderous worship—sent them more dreams of dead men. They began taking more sacrifices. Finally, they drew the attention of the Shadow King and his templar-wives.

The Shadow King ordered Chakhana’s “followers” killed. He had the Weeping Goddess brought before him and asked what manner of god she could be. He dared her to demonstrate her power.

She looked upon his face as few among even his templar-wives had. Her weeping had stopped.

“No,” she told him, smiling with relief.

She continued to smile even as she was engulfed in white-hot sand.

#tumblrloft #ravenloft #tatyana federovna #dark sun #Nibenay #The Shadow King #athas #psionics #dreams and nightmares

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Gentile. | Chapter 2

Under refreshing moonlight, you meet a charming stranger.

Chapter list

Even though the residence is fully furnished by noon, a new wave of servants floods the premises in preparation for your husband’s festivities. Quintus is straightforward with his instructions towards the staff and equally as harsh, setting high standards for the wine, the bread, the fruits that he’ll serve to his guests.

His business allows you some time for yourself, and even though you would rather explore the fishing village to see what it can offer you, you remain inside your room, where your furniture has already been shifted into the position you wanted it, and you sit at your desk to scribble some thoughts into your journal. 

You miss Rome. Even though it is less than a week since you left, it has already appeared in your dreams. 

You haven’t necessarily left behind a very social life back at the Peninsula Italia, a few friends at best, but you miss the idea of being able to visit your family. 

To be more specific, you carry that sentiment towards your siblings and not so much your parents, who had been the ones to arrange your marriage to Quintus. Your father, a high-ranked general, had not second-guessed the decision to give your hand to a powerful Praetor like the man you call your husband, no matter the fact that you don’t muster an ounce of affection to the man in question. 

Your two older brothers and younger sister are the ones you’d rather see again, especially your oldest sibling, who is expecting his second daughter by the time winter rolls around. Correspondence through post will have to do, and so, you find yourself finalising the outline of your letter to him, asking about the wellbeing of his wife and other child.

“Are you not yet dressed?” Quintus bites from the doorframe, already wearing his festive tunic, adorned with golden jewellery. Ink bleeds through the parchment as you startle at his sudden voice and the malice laced therein, and you grit your teeth.

“Not yet,” you explain, “I’ll finish my letter to Lucius and then I’ll—”

“The first guests will be arriving shortly,” Quintus cuts you off, adjusting the rings around his fingers. “I expect you downstairs in ten minutes. Don’t dally on the task, (Y/n).”

You know better than to speak up, and thus, you sigh and slide out of your seat to don something more luxurious. 

It is a stola you received from Quintus a few days after your betrothal, a fine olive linen with a large golden hem in patterns you could never even dream of replicating with your limited skill when it comes to embroidery. It fits you like a glove and goes surprisingly well with a lighter green tunic as well as a golden-coloured sash, and you finish it with a decorated cloak to cover up your shoulders. With a few golden ornaments, a pair of simple sandals and a dab of perfume under your ears, you’re ready to head downstairs. 

You don’t quite feel like yourself when you step down into the lounge area, where several guests have already gathered. Quintus spots you, smiles, holds out a hand to beckon you closer.

“There she is,” he announces, and you feel the eyes of four men sting into every inch of bare skin, “My beautiful wife.” A treasure nobody else could have, you bitterly think, a piece of sugar on his arm. Even now, under the guise of a casual conversation, you feel objectified, an impostor in your own home.

You curtsy at the men, who introduce themselves as the main captains of Capernaum. They have names you forget the second they say them. All you can pay attention to is the way Quintus’ hand rests on the small of your back, searing through the layers of clothing, like a hot iron burning into your skin.

The cup of wine one servant offers you is more than welcome. You nurse the high-end drink, despite the sudden urge to knock it back all in one go and ask for another.

“How is Capernaum treating you so far?” one of the men quizzes, and you give a polite smile. 

“It’s a very nice and quaint village.”

They chuckle, Quintus loudest of them all, and you feel belittled at once.

“Nice and quaint she says, ha! Wait until she meets the people.”

You hid behind your cup, embarrassed, gulping back its contents in one gulp. 

“Dearest, why don’t you go say hello to their wives. They’re in the kitchen, gossiping.”

Despite you not being one to appreciate any talk of the sort, you are glad to leave Quintus’ side for a bit, and so, you wordlessly make your way over to the aforementioned place.

“That’s too much salt!” is the first thing you hear upon your entrance, and you halt in your step to witness a woman with red curls jab a finger at one of the slaves, who looks at her quite shaken. 

“What’s going on?” you intervene, catching the attention of everyone in the room. “Is there something wrong?”

“Who are you, then?” 

Once again scrutinised, you hug your cloak a little tighter around yourself. “(Y/n), I’m Quintus' wife.” 

The scowl on the redhead’s face is immediately replaced by a sickly sweet smile, and she slides over to you to greet you properly. “Ah, the lady of the house!”

Another woman clears her throat and introduces herself with greater friendliness. “My name is Ceclia. Don’t mind Livinia’s attitude, she just wants to make sure that things are going well around here. After all, you’ve paid good money for these squashes, no? If that peasant ruins them, whatever will we have for supper?” Never mind, you think to yourself, appalled by her equally repelling words.

“As the woman of the house, I implore you to not meddle,” you daresay, confidence seeping through in your voice in an attempt to stick up for the unsettled slave girl stirring a handful of basil into the soup. Her hands are still trembling. “I’ve got things covered.”

The woman named Livinia scoffs though soon straightens her back, fluttering her lashes at you. “Say, since you’re new around here, why don’t we gossip a little about our husbands?”

“I’m not sure if Quintus would applaud such topics of conversation.” you state.

Cecilia rolls her eyes. “Oh, you’re one of those kinds of wives… The kind to think of her husband so highly that she refuses to speak ill of him, or that she fears the strike of his hand.”

You swallow thickly - it was true that Quintus hit you on occasion - but it was simply not in your character to talk with the intent of besmirching someone’s image, no matter how much you despised the man.

The residence suddenly feels like it is suffocating you, heat creeping up on your cheeks. You are struck with a sudden need to cool down a bit.

“I am nothing of the sort.” you tell her frankly, “Now, I must excuse myself. Enjoy your evening.”

Before you can be stopped, you rush out of the kitchen, beelining for the door that leads towards the back of the house, a porch looking out over the Sea of Galilee. A few vessels float on the water, where most have already pulled their barges onto the shore in preparation for Shabbat. 

The cool night air fills your lungs, eliciting a satisfied sigh from you. Inhaling deeply, you lean your hands on the balcony, wondering if you should head down to take a stroll down to dip your feet in the water.

“Enjoying yourself?”

An unfamiliar voice behind you makes you jump out of your own skin. Startled, you bounce back, hand on your chest as you turn to the source of the noise. In the shadows, a figure leans against the wall, a cloak shielding him from the cold.

“Who are you?”

The stranger steps forward, now illuminated by moon and lamplight streaming from the windows of the residence. Revealed to you is a man of slightly rugged demeanour, with dark hair and light stubble on his chin, but attractive nevertheless, and despite the fact that your heart is hammering in your chest already, it skips a beat or two.

“Aren’t you Quintus’ wife? He seems really concerned about you, seeing that he hasn’t come out to check up on you yet.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, wrapping your dress a little tighter around your shoulders. “What’s it to you? I don’t know you.”

He chuckles, a sound that makes you positively warm inside at the sincerity thereof, and he moves his cloak a little out of the way, showing a sliver of brown leather etched on with golden letters spelling SPQR. Cohortes Urbanae , you immediately realise.

“Name’s Atticus Aemilius Pulcher,” he introduces himself, “Private investigator, if you will.”

“I know what Cohortes Urbanae are,” you tell him.

A charming smile tugs at his lips. You find yourself unable to look away.

“Good,” he says. He pops a walnut into his mouth and looks at you curiously. “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by both his nerve and his allure, you take in a sharp breath. “(Y/n),” you say, “I don’t think my husband invited you.”

“I don’t think Quintus even knows of my presence.”

Atticus pries something out of his teeth with his tongue and chews a few times before lifting another to eat it, and he frowns. “You haven’t answered my question yet,” he mentions, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You sniff, eyeing him up and down, still suspicious of his sudden appearance. He is wearing a dark blue cloak with a large, decorative agate disc, as well as a round pendant around his neck. “What are you doing here?”

“Figuring out what kind of new Praetor has blessed Capernaum with his presence.”

“A strong one.” There is doubt in your voice and he picks up on it. Reaching out, he offers you a walnut, but you refuse.

Atticus steps closer, and just now, you notice the warmth of his eyes. Your throat runs dry when he smiles a little, amused. The dark curls on his head look soft to the touch.

“Just that?”

“Violent.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” you clarify, “He’ll sort things out around here.”

Atticus raises an eyebrow. “And you, (Y/n),” he breathes, voice pleasantly low, “Are you a violent type?”

You don’t trust your voice, so you shake your head instead, and another laugh falls from his lips. 

“I thought so.” 

A bit shy, you look away towards the lake in front of you, moonlight dancing on the rippling water, disturbed by gentle wind. Atticus stands next to you, mirrors your position of resting your hands on the railing, and silence falls over you. He looks up at the expanse of the star-speckled sky and sighs.

“... The sun may come up each day but when our star is out… Our night, it shall last forever and give me a thousand kisses and a hundred more… ”

You look at him in surprise, your lips slightly ajar at his words. “Catallus.” you breathe, “Addressed to his married lover going by the pseudonym of Lesbia.” 

Now it is Atticus’ turn to be astonished, and he looks at you with a smile you can’t quite place, one that turns your stomach into mush, much to your puzzlement. “How did you know?” he queries. 

“I’ve got a few of his works upstairs in my sitting room.” you admit.

He hums with a gentle glitter in his eyes and you have to prevent yourself from squirming. Why were you responding so oddly towards him? 

“You don’t strike me like the type of person to enjoy literature, Cohortes. Especially not poetry.”

An amused sound leaves him and he chews another walnut before answering to your remark. “I am not constantly working, ma’am.”

Smiling, you look at him from the corner of your eye. “Sure you aren’t. How can I be sure that you are not here on official Roman business in order to spy on my husband?”

“Perhaps I am.” he muses, smirking.

“Slacking off, then?” you jest. “That doesn’t really suit a Cohortes' reputation.”

Atticus polishes off the rest of his walnuts, dark eyes shimmering with playfulness, “Call it taking a break by talking to a slightly distressed yet very beautiful woman.”

Your heart drops . Are your ears deceiving you? With a sudden bright blush on your cheeks, growing pinker with the second, you gawk at him. Atticus chuckles at your response, not breaking eye contact.

Quintus' voice from inside the house draws you out of your shocked state and Atticus steps away, smiling. “Sounds like that’s my cue. I’ll see you around, my lady. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“(Y/n)?!” Quintus hiccups from somewhere in the distance. Light streams over your face when he opens the door to the porch, leaning against the doorframe to prevent himself from toppling over. “Ah, there you are!” His voice was thick with the fruits of intoxication. “Who are you talking to?” 

You turn to seek out Atticus, opening your mouth to introduce said man to your husband, but find the spot next to you empty. Looking around, you see no sign of the Cohortes, confusion settling deeply in the pit of your stomach alongside something else, something exciting . 

“No one, apparently,” you mutter. Quintus, too drunk to process your comment, stumbles back inside, calling you to come inside soon.

The night air does not feel cold anymore when you find yourself completely alone, utterly puzzled and flustered from your chance encounter, and you stand there for what feels like an hour before you finally head into the residence again, knowing that sleep would likely not come.

Next chapterChapter list

#the chosen #the chosen x reader #atticus x you #atticus x reader #atticus aemilius pulcher #x reader #reader insert #chosen fanfiction #chosen x reader #quintus x reader #quintus x you #quintus #romance #slow burn

[ladyramora]

Your Mouth Is Poison, Your Mouth Is Wine (Corbett x Hesperos PWP ❤️ Commission)

Explicit, M/M

Final Fantasy XIV

Hesperos/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Hesperos/Corbett

Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Male Elezen Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)

Corbett belongs to @corbokkur

Written For & Edited By Corbokkur.

↓↓↓ FFXIV Endwalker Spoilers Under the Cut ↓↓↓  

Pandaemonium Questline (Final Fantasy XIV) Spoilers

Patch 6.0: Endwalker Spoilers

Post-Patch 6.0: Endwalker

Pandaemonium Questline (Final Fantasy XIV)

NSFW Warnings: Aether Vampire, Blood Drinking, Biting, Seduction, Dubious Consent, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Master/Pet, Hunter/Prey, Long Vampire Tongue, Kissing, Probing for information, Sexy Interrogation?, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Rimming, Anal Sex, Scratching, Hair-pulling, Mind Manipulation, Feeding on aether, Past mention of Zenos/Corbett, Mild Roasting of Zenos, Kidnapping, Size Difference

.....

....

...

Corbett considered himself a highly intelligent man. At least, he usually felt so right up until an attractive man that fit all of the criteria for his particular standards showed up. Tall, broad-shouldered men who were also intelligent and refined had always been his weakness. Despite his best efforts to remain poised and dignified, Corbett often found himself acting a fool in the presence of such men.

So, of course, when Hesperos had appeared as if he had walked straight out of Corbett’s fantasies, the elezen hero had been struck dumb and near bowled over for the instant, inexplicable attraction he felt for the man. Aught that had the fastidious hero fussing with his hair and outfit after having just bested the phoinix, positively primping as the keyward floated above the platform they stood upon.

Having finally laid eyes upon the man, he certainly fit the bill of Corbett's check-list for instant attraction. He was handsome, fair of face with sharp golden eyes and long, pale blonde hair. His shoulders were most definitely broad, and judging by the cut of his refined attire, he was quite fit. For all the praise Erichthonios and Themis had up to this point for the keyward, Corbett's opinion of the man was quite high.

Corbett hardly hears a word his companions say with his attention so utterly captivated by the man. He gawks at the keyward slack jawed and stupefied, making a besotted fool of himself in his instant infatuation. His elezen ears twitch with every word from the hemitheos' lips, his eyes not leaving the man even as the tension between his party and Hesperos grows.

No, Corbett was too busy fussing with his hair and dusting ash off his clothes to look more presentable every time Hesperos glanced towards him. Quite obviously making eyes at the man. Aught that had Hesperos reacting with expressions of utter bemusement. This was hardly the time or place for such flirtations, but Corbett's obvious interest in the keyward had pulled the man's focus.

Even the attempt to imprison them with the same spell they had used to return the phoinix to its cage did not deter the hero from his coquettish behavior. The elezen barely sparing a glance to the blue glow that flares up beneath them before Themis interrupts the cast before it can ensnare them, breaking the internment spell before it could be completed with a swift blow to the invocation circle.

The keen intelligence Corbett was known for is all but tossed aside as Hesperos' gaze lingered on him, and before he could think better of it—or even think at all—a flirtatious remark had fallen from Corbett’s lips, complimenting the man’s taste and style, “Surely you must retain some modicum of civility even as a hemitheos, keyward Hesperos. Your ornate attire and immaculately stylish hair bespeaks a man of good taste. Perhaps we could discuss a peaceful way to resolve our differences. Over dinner, mayhaps?” The last bit is blurted out, an impulse too late to stifle or take back as the man’s golden eyes bore into him.

The perturbed response of his two companions was not entirely lost on him—Erichtonios with mouth dropped open in surprise, Themis side eyeing him with an incredulous, blue eyed stare—but Corbett pays them no mind for the moment as he waits with bated breath for Hesperos’ reply.

"So you are the curious little creature that has all of Elpis in an uproar. Azem's familiar," Hesperos remarks, his golden gaze piercing as he peered at the hero behind his fashionable spectacles. "Pandaemonium may be a deep, dark place, but I've eyes and ears everywhere. I have heard tales of your exploits, be they large or small, little familiar."

Corbett twists his hips in a gentle sway, a little bashful under the other man's considering stare. His long, elegant fingers twirl at the dark strands of his hair as he peeked at the man under the delicate fan of his dark eyelashes with a coy, violet eyed stare. Biting gently at his plump lower lip, he affected a breathy voice as he fluttered his eyelashes and replied, "Oh? What sorts of tales have you heard of me, keyward Hesperos?"

Hesperos stares at him as if he were a curious puzzle that the keyward meant to solve, intense and obviously interested.

Hesperos' attention is pulled from him, however, as Themis interjects, "You waste your time in trying to reason with him, Corbett. Let us quit this place. Whatever poison has corrupted Hesperos's mind, it is plain his power far eclipses our own. We must have time to gather our strength."

With that, the silver haired Amaurotine proceeded to whisk them all away via teleport before Hesperos could do anything more.

Or, he almost did. Themis goes first, and then Erichthonios, but before Corbett himself can vanish into the aether does he feel something snag, bringing his escape behind his companions to an abrupt halt.

"It is rude to leave before a conversation is over," Hesperos says to him, suddenly so very close instead of levitating above him. Corbett shivers as the man trails clawed fingertips under his chin, tipping his head up to look him in the eye. Corbett finds himself holding very still as the tips of those sharpened nails trailed over his throat, his skin prickling with the feel of it. "Dinner, you said," the keyward murmurs with the beginnings of a wicked smile. His fangs gleaming behind his lips. "I believe I will take you up on that offer, little familiar."

Corbett feels a strange mix of emotions at the acceptance of his suggestion, giddy elation mixed with something similar to dread as the keyword took him by the arm.

Corbett had no time left to change his mind, however, as with a swish of Hesperos' cape, everything went dark.

….

Corbett cannot help but feel his taste in men was rather particular indeed as he regains consciousness to find himself sat upright at a dinner table for the second time in so many moons.

If he had a shiny coin for every time that had happened, he'd have two shiny coins. It was probably concerning that it had happened twice, and so close together besides.

Familiar-snatching aside, Hesperos already proved to be a better dining companion than the Crown Prince of Garlemald as Corbett lifts his head and opens his violet eyes to the man's steady golden gaze already intent upon him from where he sat across the table with his hands folded under his chin.

Point one, Hesperos, for eye contact.

"I do hope you find your meal to your taste," Hesperos says without pause. Point two, actual conversation from the man who desired his company.

Corbett glances down, feeling something of a draft. His stylish adventuring gear had been replaced by what seemed to be dinner attire, but the revealing kind that would have the people of Ishgard all aflutter at the indecency of it. Corbett's throat and collar were bared to the air, along with his chest down to the navel. The breeches he wore were soft, but fitting to the lines of his body in a way that hugged every curve, especially his thighs, hips, and rear as Corbett shifts in his chair.

His grimoire, his only means of defense, seemed to have mysteriously vanished as well.

"Are you not hungry?" Hesperos drew his attention back towards him with his question, the other man swirling what seemed to be wine in a delicate, glass goblet. The liquid sloshing around inside it a deep, rich red.

Corbett's stomach promptly growled, answering for him as he lifted the silver lid of the warming platter that kept his plate covered and piping hot. The tantalizing smell of his dinner wafts up to his nose and instantly makes the elezen's mouth water. Yes, he was hungry.

"Thank you for the meal," Corbett says politely, spreading out the fancy cloth napkin that had been prepared for him and picking the utensils that sit nearly beside his plate. He tucks into his dinner with restrained hunger, feeling a strange sense of pressure as the man's stare lingered on him.

The first bite is blissful, and Corbett gives a soft moan at the deliciousness of it. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered with the sound. He opens his eyes to Hesperos gazing at him with an intensity that makes him flush hot. Had he been staring the whole time?

"It is delicious," Corbett says hurriedly to fill the silence, though he does genuinely believe such, a bit unnerved by having the man's attention so fixated upon him. Was he even blinking? Hesperos still held that glass of wine in his hands, but the elezen had yet to witness him take a single sip. He had no platter, no plate of food in front of him, either.

"Are you not eating?" Corbett asks before taking another delectable bite with a resulting sigh. His mouth waters with the complex yet satisfying symphony of flavors from the mere forkful he just took. The food looked similar to the usual haute cuisine an Ishgardian noble might be used to, but it tasted beyond better than the fanciest of dishes that Corbett had the pleasure of sampling.

For a moment the keyward's eyes seemed to glow a fiendish purple hue as he murmured in that rich, velvety voice of his, "My… meal… is not yet… finished preparing."

Corbett's head tilts, not even considering the double meaning to the man's words as his interest in cooking was piqued. "Oh! Is it something that requires slow cooking? It can be difficult to get the timing right when there is so much to do."

Hesperos looks at him and gives a low, rich chuckle. His deep voice instilling shivers in the elezen as if he were right next to his ear for the way it rumbles as it washes over him, "Something like that, yes."

Corbett smiles, more at ease now that he had something to converse about with the keyward, even if it was just small talk. "What sort of flavors do you usually enjoy?" He asks, glancing away from their prolonged eye contact for one moment to glance for his own glass to sip from.

He startles with movement at his side, gasping out as keyward Hesperos steps close and intercepts his outstretched hand by curling his long, elegant fingers around the stem of an empty wine glass.

"I have very… particular tastes," the keyward answers his question in a silky, velvety rumble. The soft leather of his dark gloves feels buttery smooth as he sweeps his thumb over the elezen's pale, delicate wrist.

"Your heart is racing, little familiar," he chuckles low in his throat. Pressing his thumb against the smaller man's wrist and feeling the rabbit-quick thump of his pulse. "Do I frighten you?"

Corbett swallows against the sudden dryness of his mouth, his cheeks blushing hot as the keyward caresses his hand and fills his glass to the brim from a nondescript bottle. He really should not drink a single sip of it, considering his track record of being poisoned. "I am feeling a good many things because of you, keyward Hesperos," he says slowly, daring for the first time since he woke up to flirt with hemitheos, "but fear is not one of them."

Hesperos laughs, trailing his claws over the elezen's wrist, his eyes bright and intent on the dark haired man's face. "Fearless, are you?" He drawls, fangs gleaming. "Good."

Corbett shivers with the sensation of those claws trailing over his sensitive skin. He shook his head, strands of his silken dark hair tickling his blushing cheeks. He clears his throat. "Fearless? No, no. I would not say that. I am simply well used to overcoming obstacles, whatever they might be. Even should they be my own emotions."

Hesperos makes a thoughtful sound in his throat, trailing his claws from the man's wrist up his arm and over his shoulders as he walks around behind his chair. His fingers coiling in the inky black of Corbett's long hair as he lowered his head to speak into the elezen's pointed ear, "What of your master? Your creator, Azem? Some have said that you resemble that person. Are such rumors true?"

Corbett trembles with the feel of the man's breath on his ear, the seductive quality of his voice rendering him speechless as he tilted his head to gaze at the man, struck dumb with attraction.

Hesperos' expression is all too knowing of the effect he has on him, too. He radiated a certain self assured smugness that would irritate Corbett from any other man, but unfortunately only made the keyward all the more attractive to him. It was almost insufferable.

"Has your master forbidden you from speaking of them?" Hesperos murmurs throatily, reaching out to tuck Corbett's hair behind his ear, his claws grazing the hero's skin and making his breath hitch as his flesh prickled with the shivery sensation his touch inspired in him. He very nearly fumbles the glass of what must be wine in his hand if not for Hesperos' reaching out so casually to steady him.

"Perhaps you need to wet your tongue," the keyward suggests, guiding his hand towards his mouth and resting the glass against his lips.

Corbett had not intended to drink the wine at all, but with Hesperos speaking into his ear and pressing the cool, smooth rim of the glass against his lips… He opens his mouth.

Wine trickles over his tongue, the taste complex in an expert marrying of flavor that has his taste buds tingling. So different from the likes of the many he had tasted back on the Source as it settles and pools within his mouth. But of course, this was the unsundered world, a time and place that was advanced in many ways compared to his world, to his home. Of course the wine tasted richer, more vibrant, and was overall of an absolutely exquisite quality that suited his taste. Not unlike the man who held his glass and encouraged him to drink deep of it.

Before Corbett knew it, he had drained half the glass with Hesperos watching.

"Such an obedient little familiar," Hesperos chuckles, dragging his claws through Corbett's hair lazily. Scratching over his scalp and allowing the silken, inky strands to slip through his claws.

"Corbett," the elezen interjects with fluttering eyelashes at the pleasurable sensation of being petted like this, feeling breathless and a little hot all of a sudden. Had it become warmer, or was it simply his own feelings of interest for this alluring man that made him feel so hot and bothered?

"Hmm?" Hesperos hums, resting his hands on the elezen's shoulders. "What is a… Corbett?"

Corbett tilts his head back to look into the man's face, bemused and utterly charmed. "I am a Corbett. That is my name. I should like very much if you would use it."

"What a unique name… for a familiar. If you will not speak of your master, perhaps a change of topic is in order. I bore witness to when you faced the phoinix. The shape of the magicks you used were so not unsimilar to creations of my dearest master, Lahabrea. Have you anything to say on the matter?"

Hesperos gazes down at him, trailing his claws under Corbett's chin and across his throat. Ticklish, teasing, a threat of danger that was all too thrilling.

"Corbett," he says in a throaty purr, and Corbett's ears twitch with the sound. His body feels overwarm even in an outfit that exposed most of his upper body.

There was danger here. Hesperos' expression was all too knowing. This man was just as much a threat as he was thrill, such that was in line with his usual taste for dangerous men. Yet Corbett could not find the desire within himself to leave just yet.

Hesperos gives something like a sigh as the elezen purses his lips and refuses to give him an answer. He picks up the bottle again to refill Corbett's glass, just shy of the brim.

"If you intend to loosen my tongue with drink, I fear you will not find it so simple," Corbett says with some humor. Ishgardians drank alcohol as if it were water, after all.

Hesperos chuckles. Placing the bottle on the table, within arm's reach should the elezen desire another glass or more. "Perhaps I only intend to relax that tension you still hold, my pet. There is no need to be so stilted or formal here. You may take your ease with me. I only intend to engage in conversation. Please," the keyward gestures to the spread of exquisite food and drink set before him. "Eat and drink to your heart's content."

Corbett looks where the man gestures, moving to do as he suggested. Even as he carves away a piece of juicy, perfectly prepared meat with his knife and spears it onto his fork, he feels increasingly hesitant. "...How long until your meal will be ready? I am put in something of an awkward position to indulge myself whilst my host merely watches."

Hesperos makes an amused sound in his throat and grasps the elezen's wrist, of his hand that held his fork. Gazing into the elezen's eyes as he lowered his head and opened his mouth to close his lips around the tines of the fork. Taking the bite of meat for himself. He chews slowly, making a show of swallowing, and then pierces a tender green vegetable on the end of his claw and crunches it between his sharp teeth. He follows it all with a swallow of wine from the hero's glass.

Corbett cannot help but stare at the stretch of the man's throat as he tips his head back and audibly gulps it down.

"Satisfied, little Corbett?" The keyward murmurs. "I would not be so uncouth or unwise as to poison my guest and my dinner…companion."

Corbett feels a prickle of unease, but returns to eating his food. "...I meant no insult or to have implied you would. I am simply…. cautious about such things."

Hesperos leans in, brushing his knuckles over the smaller man's cheek. His hand trailing over his lips, his throat, his chest.

Corbett's gasp hitches in his throat as his simmering want for the man burns hotter, the cool touch of the keyward's hand fanning the embers of his desire into flames hotter than the fires of Ifrit.

"Worry not, cute little familiar," Hesperos says oh so casually as if he were entirely unaware of the effect he had on him. Oh, but the look in his eyes says differently. That plain, wicked delight in seeing Corbett squirm. In so obviously having him like putty in his hands, ready to be molded. If only Hesperos so desired to grasp him in his hands and play with him like a pretty, foolish little toy.

"I would not be so foolish as to cause lasting harm to Azem's familiar… There is still so much you have yet to tell me." The keyward says confidently, playing with a lock of Corbett's long, dark hair. "And besides," Hesperos gives a smile that is all sharp, gleaming teeth, trailing the silky strand of Corbett's hair over the pale gray of his cheek and then pressing his lips to it as if it were the elezen's hand. "...I've taken a liking to you, my little pet."

Despite the warning bells going off, and all the red flags that were waving before his eyes—or perhaps because of them—Corbett wanted him.

Corbett wanted him bad.

"Eat. Before your dinner grows cold. There will be time for talk afterwards," Hesperos murmurs, drawing away before Corbett can make the decision to send his dinner crashing to the floor and lay himself over the table instead to beg the keyward to ravish him then and there.

As Hesperos returns to his seat, Corbett struggles to continue to eat as if the man hadn't worked him up into a lustful haze just a moment ago.

The deliciousness of his dinner is thankfully enough to clear his head somewhat of this strange and uncharacteristic fog of desire. He was well aware of his own weakness for certain types of men, but to waste good food and wine would be unheard of in the unforgiving climes of Coerthas. What had gotten into him just now??

He shakes his head, breathing deep and drinks deep of his glass of wine before refilling it again.

"Are you certain you will be eating soon?" Corbett asks most of the way through his dinner when he realizes the man's meal had still not yet come. He was entirely finished now with what was left of that bottle of fantastic wine.

"I am," Hesperos holds his gaze steadily. His smile is unnerving, his tongue tracing the shape of one of his pointed canines. "I will dine very soon on the most succulent of feasts."

A chilling feeling of danger set Corbett's heart racing. The heat of his desire blanketed by cold sweat as the room suddenly sways around him, his vision doubling.

He saw two Hesperos' smiling at him, devilishly handsome and very much a threat.

Corbett set his fork and knife down, the food in his mouth swallowed down in a bulge that scraped uncomfortably at his throat.

He needed to leave. Now.

"Thank you for dinner. It was most enjoyable, and I apologize for taking my leave so early before we could discuss a peaceful resolution to our conflicting interests in Pandaemonium, but I feel there are developments I must discuss with my colleagues first," Corbett manages something of a polite excuse to make his retreat as his sense of unease intensifies. What had he been thinking, allowing his instant attraction to the man to cloud his judgement so?

It was as if Corbett had been caught in a seductive thrall since the man had locked eyes with him and spoken in that deep, velvety voice of his.

No sooner had Corbett risen to his feet did the room start to truly spin. His vision blurred as he tried to walk, and the half-duskwight found himself stumbling over his own chair as he attempted to leave the table.

He tensed up, his eyes squeezing shut in preparation of taking a spill with his balance and depth perception so shot, but instead the dark haired elezen found himself enveloped in a pair of strong, muscled arms. Caught in the embrace of the man he had sought to flee from.

He certainly was an attentive host.

"Oh dear," Hesperos' voice rumbles richly in Corbett's ears, making the smaller man squirm as his body reacts to it, his skin tingling and flushing hot as his heart beats so very fast in his chest. "You seem unwell, little familiar."

"Corbett," the elezen reminds him of his name. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, the weight of his eyelids drooping over his hazy violet eyes. "What did you… do to me?" Had he been poisoned, again? Drugged?

Hesperos tuts at him, tipping the elezen's chin up with a finger tipped in a long, razor-sharp claw. Corbett gazes helplessly into the larger man's bewitching gaze. Still a calm, cold gold instead of the vibrant purple he expected to be met with. "My, such accusations, Corbett. I have done nothing to you, my little familiar. One simple bottle of wine and here you are swooning into mine arms. Are your kind truly so delicate? Perhaps I made it too strong. Tell me, my pet. Where do you come from, hmm?"

Corbett's head shakes reflexively, still with enough wits about him to remember that the topic of his time travel and the sundering of this world were off the table. He hisses as the motion of his head has Hesperos' claw catching the skin of his throat, drawing a thin red line that quickly beads with tiny droplets of blood.

Hesperos tsks, drawing the smooth surface of his nail across the scratch and lifting his hand to his mouth to lick the smear of red from it. If Corbett hadn't been staring the man in the face he might've missed the flash of purple that flares in his golden eyes.

"Too soon?" The keyward murmurs in a peculiar tone of voice, but Corbett is not exactly sure it is a question for him.

"If you are so ready to leave, you are free to go, of course," the man says as his hand falls away from holding his waist, drawing back with a swish of his cape. The dark haired elezen stumbles without the keyward bracing him, the room spinning around him. "Capable creature that you are, I wonder if you can escape the jaws of Pandaemonium even in this state?"

Corbett has no time to even formulate a response with his sluggish tongue before the blonde man turns and leaves him.

Hesperos is true to his word in that nothing bars his way from attempting to leave, except for Pandaemonium itself in its twists and turns and endless halls and doorways. It was a labyrinth that Corbett struggled to solve as he found himself turned around again and again. It all looked the same and no matter where he turned or which doorway he chose did he seem unable to come any closer to reaching an exit. It was as if the walls themselves were moving whenever his back was turned, the very shadows themselves wrapping around him and distorting the superb sense of direction his Echo granted him. Was he getting anywhere at all?

His only mercy was that he felt more clear headed as he searched, that blurry, helpless feeling of weakness fading the further distance he put between him and his handsome host.

A trade off of feeling, however, as his body grew warm and then hot the longer he persisted in search of a way out. It came to a point where he was leaning with a hand braced against a wall, his head foggy and his body feverish. His thoughts constantly drifted, lingering on how attractive he found Hesperos, how strangely comfortable it felt to be held in the man's embrace. The compelling weight of his stare, the hint of fangs behind his lips as he spoke and when he smiled.

Corbett leans heavily into the wall as a wave of heat washes over him, leaving him woozy and gasping for breath. He squeezes his eyes closed, the hard stone of the wall feeling cool on the flushed skin of his forehead and cheek. Out of nowhere a sense of vertigo exacerbates his dizzied state, and after a few moments of waiting for the world to stop spinning around him, he opened his eyes again to find he was no longer in an endless hallway, but now resting a few fulms away from a red door.

Corbett felt a feeling of foreboding. That if he went through that red door there would be no coming out again. With a great deal of effort did he turn away from it, to go back the way he had come.

It was a dead end.

There were no other doors, no hidden passageways even as the elezen searched desperately by running his hands over the walls. The only way forward was through the door he was avoiding. There was no choice left to him now but to walk through it and see just what awaited him on the other side.

Corbett's pulse throbbed. His heartbeat thundering in his ears as he grasped the doorknob and slowly turned it. He half expected the door to creak open ominously as he pushed open the door, but it swung in quiet as a whisper on well oiled hinges.

He stepped into darkness, his violet eyes wide open as the room he walked into swallowed him in shadow as black as pitch. Every shaky breath past his lips was loud in the suffocating quiet. The thud of the door closing again behind him might as well have been a slam for how it hurt his ears and made him jump.

"...Hello?" Corbett's voice falls flat, not echoing at all despite his knowledge of how massive Pandaemonium was. Perhaps this was simply a small room. Nothing of interest inside even after all that suspense and build up and anxiety.

The elezen stepped deeper into the room, his stride hesitant; wary. His hands outstretched in front of him as he navigated blind through the dark. It made no sense at all that he could not see. Duskwight eyes were well adjusted to seeing in the dark, and Corbett was half duskwight himself. He walks deeper into the dark and there is a sudden spark of sound as a flicker of flame lit up the candles in every corner of the room.

Corbett barely registers the large, cavernous bed swathed with ruby-red curtains in front of him before familiar clawed hands creep around him from behind and caress his flushed, sensitive skin. Corbett lets out a soft, breathy gasp as he is embraced from behind once more. The lewd cut of his fancy, ruffled shirt doing nothing to protect him from the chilly air of this place, or from the seductive touch of the keyward as the larger man drags him back into his embrace and runs his cool hands over his feverish skin in a possessive touch that had the elezen shivering.

Corbett bites at his plush lips as the man cups his palm over the stretch of his throat, his fingers applying pressure in a squeeze as he tips his head back. His other hand roves, rough and deliciously stimulating over his exposed chest and abdomen. The slightest graze of his claws made Corbett whimper and arch. Into his touch? Away from it? He was not yet certain.

Hesperos' breath is hot in his pointed ear, a contrast to his cool skin that felt like a soothing balm to the fever that burned ever hotter inside Corbett. "So even one so capable and uniquely talented as you are can be contained within the walls of Pandaemonium. What will you do now, my little rat in a cage?"

Corbett cannot think enough to string words together as the man nips his ear and trails his tongue along the shell of it, sucking seductively at his earlobe. His knees felt weak, his heart beating fast as the keyward ran his hands over him, bringing his overheated skin such relief with his cool, lingering touch.

"Have you no words? You were quite loquacious at dinner. Has the madness of this place already begun to seep into you, robbing you of your eloquence? What a shame that would be. If wining and dining you is not the way of it, perhaps direct stimulation is required to best loosen that tongue of yours," Hesperos chuckles darkly. His hand crept up Corbett's neck to his jaw, the tips of his clawed fingers slipping between Corbett's parted lips and petting over his warm, wet tongue.

Corbett moans, his dark eyelashes fluttering as he licks over and between the man's fingers, closing his lips around them to suck them.

"What a hungry thing you are," the man murmurs, trusting his fingers lazily into the elezen's mouth. Smiling wickedly at how the smaller man moans, grasping at his wrist with a delicate, long fingered hand.

"I could see it in those pretty little eyes of yours, you know. The desire you hold for me. How fortuitous for you that I am willing to indulge. I have a hunger of my own, you see," Hesperos purrs, his long tongue slithering out from behind his lips to lick at Corbett's neck and shoulder, the points of his fangs scraping over the hero's creamy skin. The fabric of the elezen's shirt swept aside to bare more of his silky soft skin for him to sample.

Corbett shivers, gasping around the man's fingers in his mouth with a confusing mixture of pleasure and dread as Hesperos' fangs find purchase, sampling the elezen's aether within the welling droplets of his blood as he bit down between his neck and shoulder.

Hesperos hums in his throat, seeming pleased at the taste of his elezen captive. His lips feel smooth and cold against Corbett's feverish skin as he closed his mouth around the small punctures he had made with his fangs, his tongue sliding slippery over the elezen's skin.

Corbett whimpers in his throat, squeezing at the keyward's wrist as the man sups on his aether, on his blood.

"Mm," Hesperos lifts his head with a hungry, appreciative groan. His tongue dragging over his lips to savor the taste of the smaller man. "Yours is an aether of unique quality that I have never before sampled. Worry not, little familiar, I will savor you with due patience. You have much yet to tell me, after all."

Corbett gags as the keyward shoves his fingers deep, brushing the back of his throat. He bucks in the man's grasp in a bid to get away, and the jerk of his head has those clawed fingers scraping over his tongue, the taste of copper filling his mouth as blood welled up on his tongue.

"Now, now. Do not harm yourself," Hesperos murmurs, tutting at him and holding him tight. His strength is dominating, fearsome. He easily overpowers Corbett in this weakened, feverish state. Manhandling him as if he were a doll, a simple toy for the keyward to pose and play with as he turns him around in his embrace. "I went to such trouble of being so careful with you up till now."

Hesperos grins at him as the elezen bites at his fingers, his fangs gleaming in the lantern light. He squeezes hard at Corbett's jaw as he pulls his fingers from his mouth. His tongue extends out, unnaturally long as he licks clean the traces of the Ishgardian's blood from his fingers.

Corbett gasps as that long, cool tongue glides next over his lips, licking away the crimson that stained them. The elezen makes a helpless sound in his throat as that tongue forces itself between his lips and beyond his teeth to drag roughly over his bloodied tongue. The elezen clutching weakly at Hesperos' collar as the keyward yanks him into an unbreakable hold as he crushes their lips together in a ravenous kiss and sucks the hard at his throbbing, wounded tongue.

"It hurts," Corbett whimpers, pushing at the man's chest and turning his face away. The kiss only breaks because Hesperos allows it.

Corbett closes his eyes as those clawed fingers caress his cheek.

"Look at me," Hesperos' murmurs, and Corbett's eyes flutter open to obey him as Hesperos' thumb presses into Corbett's bottom lip. The keyward gazes deep into the elezen's violet eyes with an intense stare that glows a wicked, compelling purple.

"I do not intend to waste one drop of your delectable aether. It is mine now. You… are mine now. Stay lively, won't you? I do detest the taste of despair. Such a heavy, bitter flavor. Give into me, my little pet, and you will feel pleasure the likes you have never known before."

Corbett feels drawn into his eyes. Drowning in them, swallowed by them. All the tension held in his body melts away as the keyward pulls him in and cradles him close.

"Yesss, that's it," Hesperos hisses with satisfaction as the elezen tips his head back and bares his throat to the brush of the larger man's lips. The dark haired elezen moaning softly as Hesperos nibbles and sucks at his neck, leaving small bites that only drew on his aether and did not break skin as he had done with the first taste of him. "You desire me, do you not?"

Corbett tangles his hands in Hesperos' hair, arching into him with a pleasured sound just as delicious as his mouth watering aether. "Yes," the elezen sighs, pulling the man close now. Any remaining thoughts of getting away fade as desire clouds his reason.

He makes such sweet sounds for Hesperos as the keyward mouths over his collar and over his chest. The elezen moaning lustily as the aether vampire sucked and bit at his pecs. The trickle of his aether being slowly drained having an odd affect on him in this feverish, desirous state. Renewed arousal brings flush to his fair skin, his nipples hardening under the swirl of Hesperos' tongue and the scrape of his teeth.

Corbett moans out loud as Hesperos bit into his chest like it was a ripe fruit, right over his heart. Not one trickle of his blood escaping the keyward's hunger as he sucked at the wound he had made, swallowing his blood and his aether along with it.

Corbett's skin tight trousers are stifling, feeling so much a torture device as his passion grows. The plumping of his erection tenting the dark fabric as he throbbed and ached with the pulse of hot, overwhelming lust.

"Kiss me," Corbett pleads, tugging at the man's pale hair. The keyward chuckles, lifting his head cradling his chin in his clawed hand.

"Open your mouth and stick out your tongue," Hesperos purrs to him.

Corbett gives a hot, shaky exhale as he does as he commands, mewling as the keyward wraps his lips around his tongue and sucks at it, bobbing his head forward and back as he does so. The painful throb it had been before is naught but pleasure to Corbett now, every lewd slurp of Hesperos sucking his tongue spreading through him in an electric buzz of dizzying, pulsating lust.

Their tongues tangle as the keyward crushes their mouths together in a heated, deep kiss.

Corbett whimpers with the fierce, overwhelming intensity of it all. Still he was greedy for more, desiring what Hesperos had offered to him. Such pleasures he had never known before. The hero slurs out in desire, "Yes, more, please," as the man bit at his lips and tongue, drawing on his aether more and more as Hesperos stirred passion within him. With every pull of his aether did the elezen's lust for him grow, sinking him further into depravity.

Corbett tastes his own blood. Imagines he could taste his own aether, too.

There would be no escape now, Corbett realizes that. He was caught in Hesperos' grasp, trapped in his dastardly claws.

This was the point of no return.

The hunter had caught his prey.

"I will give you what you desire," Hesperos says in a smooth, deep voice that feels like a velvety caress over Corbett's skin. He does not remember them moving, yet he finds himself laid out upon the bed he had noticed just moments before the keyward had snuck up on him. One swish of Hesperos' cape has his clothes disintegrating into motes of aether, scattering through the air and dissipating, leaving the elezen entirely bare under Hesperos' glowing purple gaze.

"What will you give me in return, my pet?" Hesperos tilts his head to the side, the intensity of his purple eyes all the more searing with the inky black of his sclera.

Corbett bites his lip, saying nothing even as he squirms with desire. His cock bobbing against his belly as he shifts restlessly against the softest, most luxurious sheets he had ever felt against his skin.

Hesperos favors him with a look of impatience. "Nothing? Perhaps you need more convincing." The keyward gathers up his cape and sits on the bed.

Corbett sucks in a breath as the man reaches out and trails a wicked claw over his erection. The pretty pink of his tip flushed near purple with need, drooling a droplet of precum that trickles down over his shaft as he twitches with Hesperos' touch.

The keyward chuckles, teasing him mercilessly with that dangerous claw as he drags the razor edge of it over his sensitive skin. Swirling around his tip, tracing the sensitive underside. Following the path of the elezen's veins that pulsed with his delectable lifeblood.

Corbett holds his breath, his heart thundering with nerves and terrified arousal.

"So responsive," Hesperos remarks with evil delight, his canines gleaming with his wicked grin. His tongue glides over his lips as he inhales deep, giving a rumbling hum in his throat. "I can smell your desire. How curious that it only grows stronger with your fear. You like the danger, do you?" The keyward chuckles richly. "How fortuitous for me."

Corbett's cheeks blush hot, his body flushing hotter still as Hesperos pulls back, producing a clear vial of fluid from the inner pocket of his coat that he then pours over his hand. It was a consideration that made the elezen feel strangely warm. Though Themis and Erichthonios had claimed the keyward was much changed from the man he had once been, perhaps there was still something left of that kind, brilliant man.

That Hesperos sought to grant him pleasure rather than resort to torture for the answers he sought was telling enough. Perhaps he was not entirely lost to madness. Here Corbett was at his mercy, after all, and yet the hemitheos was better prepared for intimacy than the literal prince that had been his last lover.

The elezen does not know whether to hold his gaze or watch as Hesperos takes his prick in his large, cool hand. Far better to feel his skin than to be petrified with the threat of those claws so near to his most sensitive places.

Hesperos skims his hand over him in a loose fist. Taking his time playing with him as he strokes him lazily from base to tip, over and again. His expression could almost be described as bored if not for the way his gaze was intent upon the face of his prey.

Corbett cants his hips up into that torturously teasing touch, sobbing a bit in his throat. "Please," he begs.

Hesperos stops stroking him, smiling evilly for the pitiful way Corbett whimpers his need.

"Beg and plead all you like, my pet. Until such a time when you give me answers to the questions I ask, I will play with you as I see fit."

That said, Hesperos continues to touch him. His hands exploring the elezen's body ilm by ilm.

"What a soft little familiar you are," Hesperos coos, mocking and saccharine sweet as he trails his hands over Corbett's silky smooth skin. So pale and perfect, all this unmarked flesh was now his to lay claim to with teeth and claw.

"So warm," he adds, dragging his fingers possessively over the delicate pink of the smaller man's nipples. "I can feel the pound of your heart. Hear the pulse of your rushing blood." He inhales noisily, licking over his teeth. "Smell your desperate desire. You reek of it. It pours off of you in waves like a thick, heady perfume. How you beg without words for me to take another taste."

Corbett gasps as the keyward presses the sharp claw of his pointer finger to his skin, the deadly point of it drawing a spiral pattern around one pretty pink nipple. His purple eyes seemed to glow all the more vibrantly as blood welled up to fill the delicate, artful wound he had made.

Corbett groans in his throat, grasping weakly as Hesperos' pale hair as the aether vampire dipped his head and trailed his long tongue along the spiral. The man's mouth feels cool and wet on his feverish skin as his tongue lapped up Corbett's aether rich blood, his tongue swirling around his nipple before he opened his mouth wide and sucked at his chest hard.

Corbett arched up with the pleasurable pain of it, whining in his throat as his feet slipped uselessly over the bedcovers.

Hesperos hums in his throat, his mouth watering with the addictive taste of his prey. His tongue licks over the bloody scratch again and again, following the line of the spiral until the flow of blood slows with the enhanced healing factor of the keyward's saliva. Experimenting on himself so came with many changes. Would that his saliva kept the wound's of his prey open longer to make it easier to feed.

Hesperos draws back, gazing dispassionately down at Corbett as the dark haired man pants beneath him in quick, shaky breaths.

"I must thank you for making this so easy, my sweet little pet." Hesperos says in a deep, velvety voice. His clawed hand rose up to stroke Corbett's long, dark hair. Pausing only a moment as the smaller man flinched. His touch was gentle, careful as he combed those dangerous claws through the elezen's silken hair. Treating Corbett as if he were truly his little pet.

"If you had continued on only with thoughts of escape in your mind, you would have found your way out eventually. Your will is strong enough, you could have eventually broken through the illusion of my maze. Instead, my foolish little rat in a cage, you thought of me. Your desire for me distracted you, and ultimately led you back to what you were longing for. Your overpowering lust brought you back to me. If you wish for someone to blame, you need only look at yourself. You are your own undoing, my dear."

Corbett manages something of a self-deprecating smile, "My taste in men always seems to come back to bite me."

Hesperos chuckles, cradling the back of the elezen's head in the palm of his large hand and drawing him close to nip along his plush bottom lip. "Leave the biting to me now, Corbett; my little pet."

Corbett gives a soft, helpless sound as the man pulls on his aether again. He grasps at his collar, pressing his lips against that fanged mouth. "I suppose I can stay for a while. I'll be in your care, for now."

Hesperos gives a soft, scoffing harrumph. Cupping the elezen's cheek in his palm, the claw of his thumb grazing his cheek. "You'll be in my care for the rest of your life, my dear."

Corbett twists his fingers in Hesperos' hair. "Just how long will that be?"

Hesperos gives a fanged grin, rubbing the man's pointed ear between his fingers. "That depends on your behavior, my pet."

Corbett meets his gaze unflinchingly. The confident stare of the one and only Warrior of Light. "I've faced the possibility of death plenty of times. You are hardly the most terrible adversary I've ever encountered."

Rather than be insulted, Hesperos' eyes gleam at the hint that the hero had given him. "Oh? Have you aught to say now? What other adventures have you been on, my dear?"

Corbett bites his lip, realizing his error a bit too late. He turns his head away, putting forth an air of stubbornness. "You might as well give up on fishing for information. I will tell you nothing so long as I have my wits about me."

"Is that so?" Hesperos laughs, low and wicked. "Then I know what I must do."

Corbett blinks as the man withdraws from him. Only to give a short, sharp bark of surprise as he finds himself pulled upright with a beckoning crook of Hesperos' finger and the aid of answering magic. He is then promptly yanked down onto his belly, face down over the man's lap.

Corbett tries to squirm, to shift his position at all, but finds he cannot move. It is as if he were pinned down, made heavy and unmovable by Hesperos' magic. He was very much at his mercy. If only that didn't turn him on so much. Corbett blamed Zenos for thinning the line between danger and sexual arousal.

Hesperos moves him easily. Manhandling him as if he were a life-sized doll for him to pose as he shifts the elezen more on his side, dragging his hands over his skin in a heavy caress that had the hero shivering with the prick and graze of his claws. He trails his hand over his back to his hip, then along the back of his thigh as he draws his leg up. One, then the other, so the elezen was half curled up, but still very much exposed to his whims.

"What are you doing?" Corbett asks breathlessly, his heart beating fast as his body flushed hot, heating up all over again.

"Why, preparing to rid you of those trifling wits of yours, my dear Corbett," Hesperos says as pets his hair, gathering the dark mass of it up in his claws and tugging gently as he pulls it away from his prey's pretty face. He wanted to see his expression as he fell apart.

Corbett's eyelashes flutter at having his hair gently pulled, a small moan drifting out from between his lips.

"When I am through with you," Hesperos continues almost conversationally if not for the seductive quality of his voice, "you will be too overwhelmed with pleasure to even remember your charming little name. You will be my willing prey, wanting naught but more of the pleasure only I can give you. Those pretty lips of yours will part and all your secrets will spill forth from your desperate, drooling tongue."

Corbett is speechless for a moment, his violet eyes wide and his pointed ears burning with the lewd talk coming from the keyward's lips. It was a threat for certain, but a damn sexy one. "You certainly are confident," he murmurs, cheeks blushing and body burning hot at the suggestion of what the man intended to do with him. He wanted to squirm with the desire that was coiling, hot and pulsing, in his loins.

"Using magic is cheating, I should think. Would you not prefer your prey to squirm? Or are you afraid I will find you lacking and make my escape?"

Corbett can hear the smile in Hesperos' voice as he replies, "There is that spark, that clever tongue. You certainly are cheeky," the man's hands caress over his back and hip to fondle his perky butt—and Corbett had only a moment of enjoying the naughty feeling of being groped and spread open with his massaging touch before the man smacked his butt open-handed.

Corbett jolts, gasping, and grits out firmly with feeling, "I will allow that only once, keyward Hesperos! I am not a child to be disciplined. You will treat me with respect or I will end this here and now." And that very much was a threat.

He was strong enough yet, he could break through the hold the man had on him and put up a fight enough to make his escape. It was only because he did not want to yet, that was all. He was confident he would make his escape eventually. keyward Hesperos may have put his body in a lustful state, but Corbett still had his sharp mind, his magic prowess.

Hesperos pauses, seemingly caught off guard. But then he gives a low, approving hum. "I see. Forgive me for such a blunder, then, my pet," the man says, rubbing away the sting of his slap with a gentle, apologetic hand. He dips forward to press his lips to the back of Corbett's neck, trailing his lips between his shoulder blades.

Corbett shivers, clearing his throat. "You are forgiven. See to it that it does not happen again."

Hesperos chuckles, his nose trailing over the elezen's skin as he drifts back up towards the back of his head, breathing in the lovely scent of his silken hair and nuzzling behind his ear. "I will not strike you, my pet," he murmurs sincerely. "Yet one does wonder why all my actions till now were acceptable except for that."

Corbett swallows, his eyelashes hooded over his pretty violet eyes as the man caresses his skin as he speaks to him. Petting him with a gentle, almost affectionate hand. Yes, that was much more like it. "Because I know now what you are, keyward Hesperos. I have encountered beings such as you before that rely upon feeding from the aether of other living beings to survive."

Hesperos pauses in his stroking of Corbett's long, dark hair. "You are mistaken. I am unlike any you have met before. The one and only of my kind, of my creation. I feed on aether not only to simply sustain myself, but to enjoy the many unique flavors of the beings I feast upon. Are you not afraid, my pet?"

Corbett laughs a little. "No. So long as it is pleasurable and not a threat to my life, I have no reason to fear that you will kill me. It would be a waste of sustenance, would it not? I am someone who possesses a unique quality of aether, or so I have heard time and again."

It was true. Though Hesperos had slipped him an elixir of his own making to bolster his reserves, Corbett's aether was merely thin. He was not lacking in any way other than this. So long as Hesperos cared for him sufficiently, he would be a most satisfying source of aether to feed upon for some time to come.

"Your aether is unlike any I have tasted," the keyward admits, and can practically taste the smug satisfaction that his saying so inspires in the man in his lap. "Far more complex compared to the other creatures I have fed upon, even the creations of master Lahabrea."

It only made Hesperos all the more maddeningly curious.

Hesperos twines his fingers in Corbet's hair, tugging his head back gently to look into his face. To gaze into those gorgeous eyes. "Just who and what are you, my little Corbett?"

Corbett smiles a secret little smile, his violet eyes twinkling mischievously. With his fair skin flushed and his hair mussed, he knew he looked downright delicious. "You are just chomping at the bit to know, aren't you? You know I will not answer. Though I will say I am positively tickled that you find me so tasty."

Hesperos makes a disgruntled sound and fists his hand in Corbett's hair to tug his head back as he leaned down to kiss him hard in his frustration. Sucking and nipping at his lips and tangling their tongues together until Corbett was breathless and dizzy from his inhuman kiss. He pulls on the elezen's aether in such a way that Corbett felt a tingly rush in all the places he was sensitive. It very nearly makes him cum for how intense and stimulating it is.

"Hmph," Hesperos pulls back with a sound of smug satisfaction for the pleasurably dazed expression on Corbett's face. His little pet was so responsive. How adorable. Hesperos was growing rather fond of him already. He might even miss him when he ultimately drained him dry. "Where was I…?" He asks, stroking thoughtfully over the elezen's plush, kiss bruised lips. His lovely mouth was even more seductive like this, flushed and bruised from his attentions; a smear of crimson over that plush pout from the scrape of his fangs like a hint of rouge. Hesperos licks the trace taste of it from his thumb and then cleans the rest of it from Corbett's mouth with a flicker of his long, flexible tongue.

Corbett's eyelashes flutter, his violet eyes hazy with lust. "Scattering my wits, or somesuch," he answers helpfully, rendered stupid with his overwhelming desire for the man.

"Ah, yes," Hesperos grins toothily. "Do prepare yourself, my dear," he says, then pauses to chuckle, "or don't."

Corbett gives a choked sound as the keyward suddenly grasps him firmly, a drizzle of lubricant landing cold on his feverishly hot cock as the keyward moved his hand over him with merciless efficiency. As if he were trying to make Corbett cum as quickly and intensely as possible.

"Fuck," Corbett exclaimed breathlessly in a rare use of coarse language as electric pleasure surges through him, curling his toes and making his eyes roll back. His hips twitched into the firm, wet squeeze of Hesperos' fist, his mouth hanging open as he panted and groaned and gasped.

"Hmm, yes," Hesperos laughs, and Corbett feels the heaviness lift from him with a wave of the keyward's hand. "Go on, my little pet. Fuck into my hand to satisfy your base desires."

Corbett burns hot at such crude words from the keyward's lips, but his hips were already moving with the frenzied surge of lust that the man had stirred in him. He is a slave to his own desire as his body follows the motion of Hesperos' hand. More, more, more.

He chases after that feeling of bliss with single-minded focus. The wet, lewd sound of the keyward's lube slicked hand echoes in the quiet of the room, the sound of his own lustful voice loud in his head and in his own ears as Hesperos gave him no chance to recapture his composure or calm down.

He spurred him on relentlessly with his touch and with the low whisper of his seductive voice, "That's it, my cute little pet, give yourself over to pleasure. There is nothing more important now than your release. I can feel the throb of your heartbeat. You're so close now. Feel my hand, how it squeezes you just right. The wet, smooth glide of my glove over your skin. So cool where you are so feverish, so hot. Give up, give in."

If his words were not enough to push Corbett further along, the slow stroke of his other hand over his back slipped lower and lower to caress his perky butt. Claws pricking at his smooth, creamy skin as Hesperos fondled him. It was the feeling of his fingers dipping between his cheeks to rub cold and wet over his hole that had Corbett arching up with a moan in his throat, his first climax coaxed out of him as Hesperos stroked him through to true release.

Pleasure lights up his every nerve as he spills over the keyward's gloved hand as it continues to move over him, squeezing every last drop of his spend until he is whining with sensitivity.

What was strange, however, was that he did not become soft after climaxing. Even after Hesperos hand comes to a stop in stroking him, he is still hard and aching. Perhaps even more than before. His desire had not waned.

"What a curious development," Hesperos remarks with a rumble of a chuckle. Tapping his gloved fingertip to the tip of Corbett's throbbing prick, still wet from his seed. He teases his fingers there, making a circle of his thumb, pointer, and middle finger as he stimulates the head of the elezen's cock. A few more pearly drops drool from the slit as he does so. He smiles with fiendish glee at how his pretty prey whines with this exquisite torture.

"I admit you are my first test subject for this altered aether enhancing elixir. Shall we test how long the effects of this will last? How many times, I wonder, will I be able to bring you to such heights of ecstasy before you ultimately succumb to exhaustion?"

Corbett whimpers as the man resumes stroking him, his back bowing as he arches into that point of contact. "Hah, w—wait…. wait! Nng!" It still felt so very good, but he was sensitive.

Hesperos ignores his pleading, continuing on as if he had not spoken. His touch is lighter, however. More a teasing pass of his fingers in a slow caress than the firm, quick stroke it had been before.

"Besides that, how are we feeling, my pet? Ready yet to spill your secrets as easily as your seed spilled over my hand?"

Corbett can hear the evil delight in his voice, and shakes his head even as he twitches and gasps. "Nn—oh!"

"No?" Hesperos sighs with impatience and squeezes him firmly, taking some satisfaction in the way the elezen moans and jerks against him. "Let us see how you feel after a few more rounds, then."

Corbett makes inelegant sounds as Hesperos pours more lubricant over his feverish skin, the cold substance trickling over and between the keyward's fingers as his hand moves over his prey's flushed, pulsating prick.

With his sensitive Corbett is, it is no time at all before he cums again with Hesperos' dedicated attention.

Hesperos does not stop at once more. Nor at twice. He makes Corbett cum again, and again, and again with just his fingers moving mercilessly over his captive's throbbing, oversensitive cock. Until Corbett himself was sobbing in the keyward's lap, drooling into his captor's thigh as tears of pleasure and pain brimmed over his dark, sooty eyelashes and slipped over his flushed cheeks.

Every time after making him climax does Hesperos ask him if he will answer his questions. And stubborn, heroic Corbett refuses him each time.

Hesperos becomes more impatient with each refusal. Dispassionate even as Corbett shivers and twitches, gasping and crying. He is unmoved by the elezen's pleasure, unruffled by his pain.

"Perhaps this is not enough for you," he says with a certain edge to his tone of voice.

Corbett has a moment reprieve as Hesperos pulls his hand away. A small window to catch his breath and regain his composure. All for naught as Corbett feels the strangest sensation wash over him, the presence of Hesperos' magic pouring into him as the keyward spreads open his cheeks with both hands.

"You seem surprised, little familiar," Hesperos murmurs as the feeling fades into nothingness, leaving Corbett feeling shivery and odd. It felt tingly like a cleansing spell, but also weirdly hollow. "I had thought you would be experienced in this area for how readily you put forth your interest in me."

Corbett twitches with the wet, cold feeling of Hesperos' fingers pressing up against his hole. Rubbing, pressing, but not yet breaching him. "Have you not done this before?"

Corbett squirms as he is prodded against, his cheeks and ears burning as he grips at the man's trousers and buries his face in his thigh. "I have!" He huffs, shifting to get comfortable.

Corbett can practically hear the fanged smile in Hesperos' voice. "Good."

Corbett sucks in a breath and squeezes his eyes closed as Hesperos prods and pushes one finger against him, sinking slowly inside. He cannot help but clench down on the feel of it even as his heart races with nerves at the fear of having clawed fingers inside of him.

The fear only makes it all the more intense as Hesperos presses another finger into him and wastes no time in seeking out the spot that makes Corbett gasp and see stars behind his closed eyes.

He whimpers as the man twists and presses those fingers inside of him. Moaning helplessly as his drooling cock is once again grasped in his captor's merciless hand. A rhythm built again in perfect sync with those wicked fingers inside of him.

"Poor little familiar. Do you desire release?" Hesperos asks mockingly. "If you are so desperate, do it yourself. I grow weary of giving endlessly to a selfish creature who will not grant me the courtesy of answering my simple questions."

Corbett sobs, his body alight with unshakable need.

His hips rock forward and back as he fucks himself back onto Hesperos' fingers and thrusts forward into his grasping fist.

He is desperate, his throat raw with the sounds of his own cries as he climbs higher and higher to that peak he so craves. His pleasure builds, quick and intense. His body trembles, hot and needy. More, more, more.

"Yesss," Hesperos hisses. Spurring him on. "Become addicted to pleasure. Let it consume you. Let everything else fall away. Nothing is as important as this. Nothing is as important as how I make you feel. You are mine, my dear Corbett. There is nothing you can do now, so give in and enjoy yourself."

It is as if the man's words had a magic of their own. Corbett feels a slave to his desire, to his pleasure. He wants nothing more than what Hesperos will give him. His head feels foggy, his thoughts twisting strange with need.

He only wanted more.

Corbett does not know how many times he cums like this. Only that at one point he must have blacked out to the pleasure, only waking again as Hesperos resumes playing with him.

"Tell me. What is your connection to master Lahabrea?" Hesperos demands, no longer asking nicely.

Corbett can hardly focus on his words. He must slur something of a response, a denial, because the keyward reacts with rage.

"Even now you deny me!?" Hesperos forms a fist in the elezen's silky black hair and yanks his head back with a weak sound of discomfort from his prey.

"Punishment, then. For your lack of cooperation!" The hemitheos snarls, and Corbett cries out as he sinks his teeth into his throat.

Yet even the pain has his body reacting as his pleasure peaks again as Hesperos pulls hard on his aether.

He drinks deep, and Corbett can only manage weak sounds of pleasure as his orgasm lasts and lasts for as long as Hesperos feeds on him.

Then, finally, he draws away.

Hesperos is calmer after tasting him, licking over the marks of his teeth in Corbett's throat that still continue to bleed. His saliva helped to slow the bleeding significantly. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.

"So, even pain does not dull your pleasure?" Hesperos laughs, licking his bloodied fangs and relishing the taste of his blood on his tongue and the refreshing, energizing sensation of his aether coursing through him. "Your excitement and pleasure makes for such a delicious flavor. How tempting it is to devour you, drain you of your aether here and now."

Corbett groans in his throat, flushing hot with shame as his body reacts once more.

"Oh?" Hesperos reacts with amusement, smiling darkly and chuckling deep in his throat. His grip on the elezen firm to near uncomfortable as he reaches out again and strokes him from base to tip, delighting in the dribbles of cum he pulls from his little pet. "You've already felt such pleasure, and yet still your desire has yet to wane?"

"I suppose I expected too much, too soon," the hemitheos muses aloud, stroking him mercilessly and smiling with all teeth as Corbett writhes in his lap, helpless. Unable to even put his thoughts together to form words, let alone string together a sentence.

Corbett is simply too delicious, and so Hesperos sinks his teeth into him again. Laughing in his throat as Corbett struggles weakly in his grasp.

"Worry not, my dear. I have no intention to devour you just yet," the keyward says as Corbett's vision dims, darkness rushing up to greet him.

The last the elezen hears before oblivion claimed him being the ominous words of the hemitheos:

"I have hardly begun to test your limits."

Some weeks later….

…..

….

…

Hesperos reclined amongst the pillows on his bed, a peculiar sort of smile curling the gray pallor of his lips. Beckoning with a crook of his fingers to his most obedient little pet.

"Such loyalty you inspire in so short a time, my pet," Hesperos murmurs to the naked man that slinks towards him on all fours.

Corbett gazes at him adoringly, resting his cheek on the keyward's hand as he offers it, nuzzling into his palm with a besotted smile. The elezen's once fair, unblemished skin was now covered all over in deep bite marks in the shape of Hesperos' teeth, old and new, from the weeks the smaller man had spent with him so far. His little pet that he played with and fed from over and over again. What fun it was to drain the hero to utter exhaustion and repeat the process anew once his aether had recuperated.

An exhausted Corbett could be just as much fun to play with as an energetic little pet. He was much more honest when he was delirious, too.

By now, Corbett had shared his whole life story with the hemitheos. All the tales of his globetrotting adventures and grand battles, his life before it, and the time travel that brought him here.

It was a fantastical little story. One that Hesperos was not certain could be believed. He was certain that Corbett believed it to be true, however, and that was all that mattered. Corbett had spoken his truth, no matter if it were real or make-believe.

Hesperos had witnessed for himself what his sweet plaything was capable of. That was true enough. No doubt that it was because of such abilities that his former companions were so keen to find him.

"They search for you even now. They believe you to be lost within this place," Hesperos chuckles, rubbing over Corbett's bottom lip with his thumb. "I have kept my distance and kept watch of their progress through the levels of Pandaemonium."

The elezen parts his lips and dips his head to take his gloved finger into his mouth. Gazing pleadingly at Hesperos with those pretty violet eyes.

Hesperos hums, pressing down on his pet's warm, wiggling tongue. "Wanting more, are you? Greedy thing," the keyward chuckles and settles back amongst the pillows. Amused at how quickly Corbett settles in his lap without prompting, looking at him with such wide, guileless eyes. How submissive and eager to please him his little pet was now.

Hesperos had to admit to himself that he had grown fond of his sweet Corbett and that he would not give him up easily. Even should his master Lahabrea come demanding he hand the elezen over, Hesperos would not be convinced.

Corbett was his now.

"Go on, my dear," Hesperos purrs, combing his claws through the elezen's hair. He winds it around his fingers and tugs the smaller man close to kiss him. Chuckling at how readily his dear Corbett moans for him, sinking into his embrace and parting his plush lips so that Hesperos would kiss him deep.

Hesperos indulges him, as he seemed to be in the habit of doing now. Just as surely as his little pet had captured the loyalty of all his other companions, he had endeared Hesperos to him as well.

The keyward nibbles and nips at the smaller man's lips, scratching his claws gently over the elezen's scalp as he licks into his mouth and plays with his small, cute tongue.

His other hand skates over the soft skin made ever available to him. Much as Hesperos enjoyed treating the man like his little doll to dress up and play with, Corbett had no need for the fashionable outfits that the keyward created for him when they were inside the bedroom. He was almost always naked when they were intimate together. All the better for Hesperos to sink his claws and teeth into his most delectable pet.

Corbett squirms in the keyward's lap as Hesperos teases him with light, ticklish touches. His gloved hands wander over Corbett's back as his fingers slip from the luscious silk of his long, dark hair. Roving instead over Corbett's hips and up his quivering belly to drag his claws over his chest. Scraping carefully over his nipples until they peaked under his delicate touch. Pink, pretty little buds that tempted Hesperos to taste them. One of his favored spots to sink his teeth in and feed upon Corbett's aether-rich blood just so happened to be right over his heart. Drinking deep as his tongue rolled over one of those cute, pretty little nipples.

Hesperos could feel the excited thump of his heartbeat under his hand. The smell of his desire drifted through the air like heady perfume. Hesperos' teeth feel sharp in his mouth with the temptation of it. The irresistible siren call of his aether, the taste of his pleasure in every sip of his blood.

Hesperos gives a rumbly hum in his throat and grasps the elezen's hips that had so far been purposefully wiggling in his lap, and grinds the smaller man down into the evidence of his growing arousal.

"You tempt me so, my dear Corbett," Hesperos murmurs throatily, peppering the long stretch of the elezen's elegant neck with kisses, his teeth sharp behind the soft press of his lips.

Corbett laughs unrepentantly, knowing just exactly what he was doing as he tips his head back to bare his throat to Hesperos' attention, his perky bottom rocking in the keyward's lap. "What will you do about it?"

Hesperos growls, clutching at the hero's hips and rutting up into him. "Greedy thing. Are you never satisfied?"

Corbett rubs up against him, batting those pretty eyes at him and pouting his plush lips. "No. I want more. Please, Hesperos? I need you."

Hesperos groans, unable to deny the temptation of kissing those pouty lips of his. He could feel the triumphant curve of Corbett's smile as he kisses him with burgeoning desire. Still so cheeky.

Hesperos nips at those plump lips with blunt teeth, so very tempted to sink his fangs into him. He could wait, however. Corbett's blood would be all the more delicious when his body was in the throes of orgasm.

Corbett moans, leaning in and licking over Hesperos' mouth. Hesperos sucks in a breath and grabs the elezen's jaw. His thumb slips into the elezen's open mouth, rubbing over his warm, wet tongue.

"If you are so hungry, wrap those pretty lips of yours around my cock. Suck me. Lick me with your lustful little tongue," Hesperos says with a fanged smile as Corbett breathes in heated little puffs, saliva pooling over his tongue as he sticks it out for him. His violet eyes were already hazy with lust. What a good little pet. Hesperos slides his fingers over Corbett's tongue, thrusting lazily into his mouth. "Perhaps if you please me I will be convinced to indulge your greedy desires."

He leans back against the pillows, resting his cheek on his hand as he regards the smaller man with an expectant gaze. "Well? Convince me."

Corbett perks up. No sooner had Hesperos given him the command did the elezen scramble up from his position straddling the keyward's lap to instead lay beside him on the bed. Hesperos' fancy trousers already deftly untied and spread open by his practiced, eager hands.

Hesperos' sizeable arousal caught and cradled in Corbett's soft, delicate hands.

Hesperos took a slow breath as his pet stroked his hands over him. Caressing him gently, teasingly as his plump lips pressed kisses to the hemitheos' long, thick cock. From one side to the other does he kiss him from base to tip and down again. His lips part, his hot breath ghosting over him in moist puffs before he began to lick him slowly. Sucking gently at his skin and nibbling delicately with his blunt teeth.

Hesperos swallows, the easy pattern of his breath becoming heavy with desire as Corbett wrapped those plush lips around the tip of his prick and swirled his tongue around him. Rivulets of drool dripping from his hungry tongue to drip down Hesperos' shaft. Aught that Corbett uses to slick the way of his hands as he wraps his fingers around him and strokes him slow and steady in a rhythm that matches the bob of his head as he takes him in deeper.

Hesperos twitches, gritting his teeth as he rests a hand on the elezen's head. His claws tangle in his silky black hair as Corbett dips his head lower and lower.

By the star, Hesperos was all too glad he had decided to indulge in the pleasure that Corbett could give him. The hemitheos licks over his lower lip and cups the back of his pet's head, stroking his hair as Corbett sucks him dutifully, that clever tongue swirling around him.

Hesperos nearly pierces his own lip with a fang as Corbett takes him deep into his throat, swallowing him down. He looks down at his pet with hooded eyes, gold irises flaring purple with strong desire.

Corbett meets his gaze with glazed violet eyes, his lips stretched obscenely around the girth of his cock and his cheeks and ears flushed so prettily.

"Enough," Hesperos chokes out in a raspy voice as his own lust nearly gets the better of him.

He presses his palm flat to Corbett's scalp, making a fist in his hair as he tugs him gently up. The elezen's resulting moan is nearly his undoing as it vibrates through him.

"Are you pleased, keyward Hesperos?" Corbett asks breathlessly, the cheeky little devil.

Hesperos crashes their mouths together, kisses the sass right out of his pretty plaything. Corbett melts into him, clutching at Hesperos' coat as the larger man kisses him so dizzy that he swoons.

"Was there ever any doubt that you would have what you want, you spoiled little thing?" Hesperos grouses, trailing his lips rough and wet over Corbett's jaw and setting his teeth there as he bites a path over his throat without breaking the skin.

Corbett moans encouragingly, entirely limp and willing in Hesperos' grasp as the aether vampire marked him by sucking bruises into his skin. "I never know with you," he replies, running his hands through the keyward's pale hair as he tipped his chin back and enjoyed the larger man's attention.

"Turn around," Hesperos growls, but does not wait for Corbett to obey before he is manhandling the elezen himself. Shoving him face first into the pillows as the hemitheos grasps his hips and raises his perky bottom high.

His familiar magic pouring into Corbett as he spreads his cheeks to look at his pretty little hole.

Corbett gasps as Hesperos' tongue swipes over him. Swirling lewd and wet over the puckered, sensitive skin between his cheeks. He grasps at the sheets, his knuckles clenching in the fabric as the keyward wriggled his tongue against him. Pressing in firm with that long, slick appendage and slipping inside of him.

Corbett whines, rocking back towards Hesperos' face as the hemitheos thrust into him with his delightfully monstrous tongue. Long and thick, it was almost comparable to the size of his cock. Except his tongue was flexible, and wriggly.

Corbett buries his face in the pillows, muffling his cries as Hesperos devoured him in an entirely different way. One that had Corbett's hips jerking uncontrollably as he was tongue fucked by his aether vampire.

"Please, please, please," Corbett sobbed, his pleasure near peaking.

But Hesperos pulls back, leaving Corbett empty and wanting. Whining needfully in his lust. "Hesperos!"

Hesperos laughs evilly. "No, my little Corbett. Begging will avail you naught this night. You will cum on my cock, or not at all."

Corbett wiggles his hips, desperate. Grasping at the cheeks of his perky butt to spread himself open. "Give it to me!"

Hesperos huffs, tempted to deny him for daring to be so demanding. If the man wasn't such an irresistible sight spread open and so obviously needing him.

"Take it then," Hesperos growls, stroking over his freshly lubed cock and pressing forward to nudge against his pet's greedy little hole.

Corbett moans out his satisfaction, "Ah! Yes! Fuck me!"

Hesperos laughs in his throat and does just that. He grasp his lover's hips and thrusts forward. Sinking into him ilm by ilm. There was no waiting to adjust as Corbett was well used to his size by now, and the elezen was a greedy little thing that rocked his hips back into him with impatience.

Hesperos leans over him, wrapping his arms about his lover and thrusting his hips. His teeth scrape over the silky skin of the elezen's back, leaving small bites here and there as he sups on the man's aether in the midst of their lustful intercourse.

"Yes, yes, yes," Corbett gasps and sighs, his low hanging head splaying his silky hair over the pillows. "More! Deeper!"

Hesperos hisses between his fanged teeth as he lifts the smaller man upright with him, still fucking into him as he leans Corbett against his chest and rests him against his thighs.

"How is it?" He growls into the elezen's ear, sweeping his dark hair aside in preparation to bite into his throat.

"Good," Corbett mewls lustfully, pressing a hand against his belly. Hesperos was so deep. So long and thick that Corbett swore he could feel the bulge of his shape against his palm. "Fuck me harder," he groans. "Make me forget my name."

Hesperos laughs wickedly, lifting at the backs of Corbett's knees and holding him easily as he snaps his hips with wild abandon.

"Hahh! I…! Ah…!" Corbett's head tilts back as his whole body jerks, his orgasm catching him suddenly by surprise.

Hesperos takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into his skin, feeding on the taste of his orgasmic bliss. This was the flavor he craved. The spice of pleasure that had become his addiction. No aether had tasted so sweet to him as this. Corbett was the most delectable creature he had ever fed upon.

Hesperos' bite makes the hero's pleasure last all the longer, but the aether vampire stops before he can drain his little pet to exhaustion.

"Once more," Corbett pleads in a breathy gasp. Trembling so deliciously in the aether vampire's embrace. The afterglow of his bliss made him so very pliant and relaxed.

Hesperos chuckles, kissing over his neck and licking the mark of his teeth. "I expected as much."

He lifts his little pet off of him, the sight of his seed dripping down the elezen's thighs making his eyes glow bright with pleasure and renewed lust.

"You know what to do," Hesperos says with a grin that was all teeth.

Corbett straddles him again without shame, looking over his shoulder as he reaches behind to grasp Hesperos' cock. Rubbing it up against himself in a bit of a tease to both of them before settling again in the keyward's lap, sinking the long, girthy shape of his aether hungry lover back inside of him ilm by ilm.

Hesperos squeezes his waist with clawed hands, but leaves the rest all to Corbett. Watching the smaller man with a lustful purple gaze as Corbett moves slowly at first, but gradually picks up the pace. His hands braced against the keyward's chest as he bounces in his lap.

Hesperos' claws prick at the elezen's waist as Corbett uses him to get himself off. His pretty little prick flushed a delectable color and began to drool with precum as he worked himself up again.

"So," Corbett gasps and whimpers, "close! Mm, Hesperos… Hesperos!"

Hesperos growls in his throat and can wait no longer. He grips his little lover's hips and takes control. Maneuvering him easily with his strength as he bounces the elezen on his cock, quickening the speed of things to a pace that had Corbett's back bowing and his blunt nails clawing over his abdomen.

"Yes, yes!" Corbett moans, sighing with satisfaction as Hesperos fucks into him with perfect precision. The slap of their skin filling the quiet as Hesperos adjusts their position to milk against that spot that had Corbett reacting with toe curling pleasure.

Hesperos laughs as he makes his little pet cum again just that easy, but does not stop even as Corbett falls limp against his chest.

He chases his own release, hissing through the grit of his fangs as Corbett squeezes around him. So hot, so tight.

He bites his little lover again, feeding on the pleasure the other man was feeding as much as he was on his aether. Corbett gives a sweet little cry and reaches his peak again, helpless in Hesperos' grasp.

The hemitheos groans, lifting his head to kiss Corbett as he fills him up with the hot gush of his seed.

Corbett makes a small sound, breathing through his nose as Hesperos plunders his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss with his long tongue. His hands grasping at pale hair and roving over the keyward's clothed back as he is kissed and kissed and kissed.

"I will never let you go, my Corbett," Hesperos whispers possessively as their string of kisses comes to a pause.

Corbett cannot find it in himself to protest or complain. He did not wish to leave Hesperos at all. He was far too addicted to the man now, in every sense of the word. Addicted to his touch, his words of affection and praise, his undivided attention. "Nor will I, Hesperos," the elezen murmurs with conviction, gazing at Hesperos with dreamy violet eyes as he lifts a hand to caress the pale grey of the keyward's cheek.

Hesperos kisses his palm, sighing through his nose. "Let us rest now, my dear. Unless you desire more…?"

Corbett smiles, leaning into the man. "I am satisfied. For now."

"Insatiable," Hesperos chuckles, wrapping the smaller man in his embrace and drawing his cape around them as he laid them down. It was a small intimacy that Corbett enjoyed. Though there were blankets and pillows aplenty to wrap themselves and sleep in, his little pet had confessed that he was most comfortable wrapped in the soft comfort of his cape, held in the warmth of his embrace with Hesperos' scent filling his nose with every breath.

Corbett settles against him comfortably, entirely relaxed in his arms. A content hum in his throat as Hesperos combs through the mass of his black hair with his clawed fingers. Untangling any knots he finds with a calm sort of patience.

Corbett nuzzles his cheek into Hesperos' chest. Lifting his head in want of more kisses.

Hesperos gives a quiet laugh, already meeting him in the middle with a soft press of lips. Anticipating his wants and needs without his dear Corbett needing to ask him.

They kiss slow and soft, more a brushing of lips than the deep kisses they shared in the heat of the moment that was intercourse. Corbett becomes sleepier, his kisses less coordinated as Hesperos continues to stroke his hair and over his back.

"Sleep, my dear Corbett," Hesperos murmurs, wrapping him snug in his cape. "I will be here when you wake."

Corbett smiles and lays his head down on Hesperos' chest. Listening to the sound of his heart as the feel of the man's fingers in his hair and the scrape of his claws over his scalp soothes him into slumber.

Hesperos gazes down at his little pet, twining his dark hair around his clawed fingers. A possessive obsession burning in his breast not unlike what he felt for master Lahabrea, but this was different.

Corbett was here, in his embrace.

Corbett wanted him. Craved him just the same. There was no yearning, no unrequited pining. Corbett was his.

"How quickly you have turned my loyalties," Hesperos' lips tug up at the corners. He drags his knuckles over Corbett's smooth cheek, his intense purple gaze lingering on Corbett's soft smile. "Even I am no different, becoming caught in your pull as you have done to every poor fool who crossed your path."

So far Hesperos had kept clear of the other two in their search to find the lost Corbett. Yet he knew there was only so much time left until they found him--while Erichthonios was liable to blunder about in the dark forever, his white-haired companion displayed a disconcerting level of competency. What if Erichthonios and his newest companion crossed paths with master Lahabrea? He would need to make plans. Aught to fall back on should the worst happen. He would not lose Corbett now.

He was more certain than ever that he could not give him up. It was as if Corbett had lit a spark within him. Hesperos felt more himself every day that he lingered in his company. Was it his aether that made him see more clearly? Was it Corbett himself, so refreshing and different from anyone that Hesperos had met in this dark and dreary place? He did not know for certain. All he knew was that he did not wish to be parted from him. Not for a moment longer than necessary. He was quite serious about keeping the man for the rest of his life.

Hesperos holds him tighter, wrapping him up in his embrace. His nose burrowing into Corbett's silky, fragrant hair. Corbett so thoroughly belonged to him, down to his very scent. Herbal, woody, and smoky, like the soaps and perfumes that Hesperos favored. The keyward decided the two of them ought to indulge in another leisurely soak in the bath when his pet awoke.

"More foolish were they for letting you go," Hesperos says softly, his lips pressing to the elezen's hair.

"You are mine, Corbett. Let them try to take you from me."

#ladyramora writes #commissions #ladyramora writes commissions #writing commissions #Hesperos x WoL #FFXIV Hesperos #Steamy Spicy Smut #Hesperos x Corbett #ffxiv spoilers #final fantasy xiv: endwalker #endwalker spoilers #ffxiv endwalker spoilers #ffxiv pandaemonium #ffxiv pandaemonium spoilers #ffxiv ew spoilers #ffxiv fic #male WoL #named wol

[marta-bee]

I finally got to the end of “Wednesday,” the first present-day section of Good Omens. It just keeps going and going and going, and I for one still wasn’t ready for it to be over. It’s also the end of what I’d previously read years ago, so everything coming up book-specific is new to me. How exciting is that?

No deep thoughts, I’m afraid, except as someone who was just on the cusp of political awareness around the time it was published  .... this section is truly hilarious.

A man threw himself through the window, a knife between his teeth, a Kalashnikov automatic rifle in one hand, a grenade in the other.

"I glaim gis oteg id der gaing og der-" he paused. He took the knife out of his mouth and began again. "I claim this hotel in the name of the pro-Turkish Liberation Faction!"

The last two holidaymakers remaining on the island [Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Threlfall, of 9, The Elms, Paignton. They always maintained that one of the nice things about going on holiday was not having to read the newspapers or listen to the news, just getting away from it all really. And due to a tummy bug contracted by Mr. Threlfall, and Mrs. Threlfall rather overdoing it in the sun their first day, this was their first time out of their hotel room for a week and a half.] climbed underneath their table. Red unconcernedly withdrew the maraschino cherry from her drink, put it to her scarlet lips, and sucked it slowly off its stick in a way that made several men in the room break into a cold sweat.

The pianist stood up, reached into his piano, and pulled out a vintage sub-machine gun. "This hotel has already been claimed by the pro-Greek Territorial Brigade!" he screamed. "Make one false move, and I shoot out your living daylight!"

There was a motion at the door. A huge, black-bearded individual with a golden smile and a genuine antique Gatling gun stood there, with a cohort of equally huge although less impressively armed men behind him.

"This strategically important hotel, for years a symbol of the fascist imperialist Turko-Greek running dog tourist trade, is now the property of the Italo-Maltese Freedom Fighters!" he boomed affably. "Now we kill everybody!"

"Rubbish!" said the pianist. "Is not strategically important. Just has extremely well-stocked wine cellar!"

"He's right, Pedro," said the man with the Kalashnikov, "That's why my lot wanted it. 11 General Ernesto de Montoya said to me, he said, Fernando, the war'll be over by Saturday, and the lads'll be wanting a good time. Pop down to the Hotel de Palomar del Sol and claim it as booty, will you?"

The bearded man turned red. "Is bloddy important strategically, Fernando Chianti! I drew big map of the island and is right in the middle, which makes it pretty bloddy strategically important, I can tell you."

"Ha!" said Fernando. "You might as well say that just because Little Diego's house has a view of the decadent capitalist topless private beach, that it's strategically important!"

The pianist blushed a deep red. "Our lot got that this morning," he admitted. There was silence.

In the silence was a faint, silken rasping. Red had uncrossed her legs.

The pianist's Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "Well, it's pretty strategically important," he managed, trying to ignore the woman on the bar stool. "I mean, if someone landed a submarine on it, you'd want to be somewhere you could see it all."

Silence.

"Well, it's a lot more strategically important than this hotel anyway," he finished.

Pedro coughed, ominously. "The next person who says anything. Anything at all. Is dead." He grinned. Hefted his gun. "Right. Now everyone against far wall."

I don’t know if this was the standard experience of the tail-end of the Cold War, from someone who was just shy of 10 at the time. My family was first-generation America and still very European in a lot of ways, and not all of us living west of the Iron Curtain; so we probably talked more about the splintering of communism than a lot of Americans did. I think I was the only kid in 2nd grade who knew what the Polish Solidarity movement was, let alone had a definite opinion on it. Still: I still can’t help but smile at references to the Italo-Maltese Freedom Fighters.

Maybe you just had to be there. Or be me. Or something. But this is peak humor, I’m telling you.

I’m also really fascinated by this description of the sword War will carry as one of the Four Riders:

It was a very straightforward sword, long and sharp; it looked both old and unused; and it had nothing ornamental or impressive about it. This was no magical sword, no mystic weapon of power and might. It was very obviously a sword created to slice, chop, cut, preferably kill, but, failing that, irreparably maim, a very large number of people indeed. It had an indefinable aura of hatred and menace.

So not Excalibur, or Anduril; not steeped in metaphor and symbolism, but a sword ready to get shit done. And for all that there’s no real detail beyond its efficacy at causing destruction. And that it’s not been used. It is storied; it’s relevant here because of its role in a story, and it’s symbolic of the moment somehow. It’s not been used; it’s been waiting for this. But it’s also distinctly real.

I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’m explaining it very well. But it’s still fascinating to me.

Finally, I got curious about Carmine Zuigiber, the identity War is using around the time of this incident. It’s such an odd one. Some baby name sites connect Carmine to an Aramaic word for “crimson,” others to “garden” or “vine-dresser” which has some lovely Garden of Eden connections. But for the last name, I stumbled across this gem on Twitter:

That’s a real-life Carmine Zuigiber (named after the character) saying the name in the name originated with a typo. But because of the way Twitter loaded the page, it looked like Mr. Gaiman’s response to another tweet (this one of Carmine sharing a very red Coraline doll) was actually commenting on the below bits. Not affirming it, not saying they’re factually correct, but just that he thought the idea was wonderful. And all of it hinging on my not getting Twitter. Shades of members of a certain chattering order winking at each other, that. I love it.

You know what else I love? I googled some more, and it turns out Zingiber is the plants whose roots are turned into ginger. That’s right; Red’s chosen name is Crimson Ginger. Shades of Legolas Greenleaf. I do believe I’m in love.

#good omens #book omens #marta rereads good omens

[nuagederose]

kinktober 2022 // day twenty-six: man of golden words prompt: sexting (courtesy of @the-purity-pen) pairing: abby/rob + abby/eric if you stare at it long enough (eerie inhabitants) also on ao3 💋

The first time that Abby had gotten her phone was the last time I had believed that the feelings between us and the boys were virtually non-existent. While Mark and Rob went out with their band when we were all in school together, and when the vampires were all in the picture with each other, she and I hung out with the vampires and we made it out mission to be a big part of their lives in the meantime. But we always went back to Mark and Rob, however, especially once they had returned home from a tour or from recording something in one of the many recording studios around the Bay Area: their first album, they got to record down in Hollywood but they came back to the Bay Area soon enough.

But Abby and I knew that we were to have to stay in touch with these boys soon enough, especially when they stopped being boys and grew up into young men and she was adamant on being with Rob in particular. She had her feelings with Eric as I did with Alex, but she had the sweetest soft spot for that little Filipino boy, though, and it was something that I couldn’t stop thinking about, either.

So, when I bought both her and myself our first-ever phones, with the keypads and the little yellow screens and everything, I had a feeling that she wouldn’t be able to stop talking to Rob in particular. It was the very real feeling that my kid sister was about to have something of her own in time, and the two of us would be able to find our way out of the Iverson estate once and for all thereafter.

I thought about the things that I wanted to say to Alex if and when he had the same things that we had. There was a part of me that wanted to say the dirtiest things to him, the things that I had kept in for so long up to that point that I had no idea as to how to say to his face. I wanted to look into those deep-set blue eyes, shrouded in shadow, and say it, and I wished that I could just say it to him, too, but something held me back, however.

There was something about the thought of saying it to him over the phone: he lacked the view of my face right before his, and thus, the pressure stayed off of me. Though there was something incredibly deep about looking into those eyes and confessing it to him, but the phone removed that. The pressure stayed off of me and, as a result, I could perhaps build up to the feeling on my own part.

But I was keen on what Abby wanted to do with Rob, however. I wanted to see where she would take the whole conversation between her and him, especially on a particular night whereby the two of them were engrossed in a little back-and-forth that lasted a whole evening. Every so often, I caught a glimpse over at her: she had reclined back on the bottom bunk with her hand behind her head and her legs crossed over one another as if she was expecting some sort of great reward. I showed her a smile at one point as Rob sent her something and she snickered a bit.

It made me wonder if there was in fact something more in there, something that remained untapped even by her own standards.

I dared not bring it up to her in the meantime, however. That whole thing remained between her and Rob, and I happened to be right there right across the room from her with one eye on my own phone as if I was expecting something from Alex in my own rite. Then again, I had no idea if he had a phone himself: there was a camera in the house of Skolnick, but I had no memory of seeing a phone in there, especially the small, handheld ones that Abby and I had with us.

But over dinner with Nana, I noticed that, every so often, Abby took her phone out from her pocket and tapped the fine pad of her thumb upon those keypads underneath the table whenever Nana kept her attention away from her. There was one point where Nana had lowered her gaze to her plate down below her and I took a glimpse over at Abby and her attention directed down to her lap, right as she cracked a smile at something.

There was in fact something between her and Rob, and something that made me think about her relationship with Eric in particular.

After dinner and after she and I helped Nana clean up after the fact, she bowed back into the bedroom with that phone in her hand.

I had to wait until Uncle Phil returned home before I could bow into that room all to see what she was doing with that boy: no way I was about to leave Nana all alone in the house. But the look on her face there at the dinner table piqued my interest, however: Abby was my younger sister. I had my vampire boyfriend, while she had a couple of vampires in Eric and Greg as well as a live human boy in Rob seeking her out. I felt pale in comparison, but I was the elder of the two of us: I had to know.

When Phil’s truck pulled into the driveway, and at that point, Nana had fallen asleep in the armchair, I bowed upstairs to be with my sister.

Once again, she had lounged on the bottom bunk with one leg crossed over the other and with her eyes firmly glued to the screen. When I skidded in there, she raised her gaze to me and showed me a little smile.

“Hey,” she greeted me.

“Hey,” I echoed back to her as I shut the door behind me. I rubbed my hands together and stood before her.

“What’s up?” she asked me.

“Give me the scoop,” I said it straight up: I had difficulty fully confessing to Alex, but I could do it with Abby no problem. “What’s the deal between you and little Mr. Roberto?”

“There’s no deal,” she flatly assured me.

“Really? What, you think that all of the texting underneath the table and all of the little smiles aren’t signs of things between the both of you?”

“There’s nothing between us,” she continued, and she turned her attention back to the phone screen again when the phone itself made a soft buzzing noise like that of a vibrator turned up on high.

“C’mon, Abs, I'm your sister,” I insisted as I took a seat at the foot of her bunk. “I should know these things.”

“Well, I promise you, Mark—there's nothing gossip-worthy here,” she assured me with a straight face. She turned back to the screen and she chuckled at something that Rob had said to her.

“Could I at the very least get a little sneak peek into what you guys have been saying to each other?” I asked her. “I feel a little dirty saying that because that’s your own thing and I don’t want it to seem like you’re being intruded on with me, but I won’t tell anyone about it, though.”

She glanced over at me again.

“You promise?” she asked me.

I raised my right hand as if I was about to take a blood oath.

“My hand on grandpa’s ashes,” I vowed to her.

“Okay,” she said. “We’ve been thinking of these little inside jokes with one another, all to keep us both entertained and shit. Only recently has he been telling me things like good night and good luck on the next ball game—you know, like how friends should communicate with one another and whatnot.” She propped herself up onto her elbow and turned the little phone towards me. “Look what he sent me just now.”

I raised my eyebrows at what I saw there on the screen.

“’Like the time you lay your panties out on my doorstep’?” I read aloud. I chuckled at that myself. “What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea,” she confessed to me. “I don’t even know how to respond to that, either.”

“See, if it was me and Alex, I would have asked him if he kept them in his drawer for a good sniff whenever he feels like it,” I told her in a single breath, and she shrieked with laughter. I brought my finger up to my lips because Uncle Phil was home and I had no idea if he or Nana were outside of the bedroom door all to eavesdrop on us.

“Should I say that?” she asked me in a hushed voice.

“If you want, yeah,” I suggested to her. She snickered again and she typed the whole thing out at lightning speed with those thumbs of hers. She and I had only had our phones for about a month or so, and yet she had come so far with typing on that little keypad. I sat there with my hands gripped onto the sides of the mattress out of eagerness, out of anticipation. I couldn’t believe that I was about to bear witness to my own sister engaging in something a little deeper with Rob, and moreover, it confirmed my belief that there was in fact something more between the two of them.

She hit the send button and she let out a low whistle. She and I glanced at one another, and I nibbled on my bottom lip. I thought about Alex right then, and what I could perhaps say to him if and when the time came for us to confess to one another. Abby scooted herself back towards the wall with her hands down on either side of her hips.

A whole minute passed before the phone vibrated yet again. She swallowed and she glanced down at the screen again. She cracked a little smile.

“What’d he say?” I asked her.

“He says, ‘I love how we were talking normal and now we’re doing dirty talk to each other’. He also wrote the letters ‘X’ and ‘D’ next to one another.”

“That’s good!” I declared. “You made him laugh!”

Her phone buzzed again.

“He says, ‘you know, I’ve been really curious about you lately, Abby.’” I raised my eyebrows at that.

“How do you feel about him?” I asked her, and she pursed her lips at that.

“I’m not too sure, to be honest,” she confessed to me. “I do like him, but it’s mostly been friendly between the two of us, though. I kind of like where this is going, though, like this is different. This is interesting.”

“Well... here, let me help you. Tell him that you’ve been curious about him, too. Just tell him straight-up, don’t sugarcoat or tiptoe your way around it.”

She swallowed and she tapped the pads of both of her thumbs on the keypad, albeit at a slower pace. She sent it off to him and she placed the phone down in her lap.

Another minute went by and he hit her up right then.

“’Okay,’” she read aloud. “’What do you like?’” She paused. “I’m confused.”

“Well, if you’re curious about one another, then the assumption there is that—you like each other. Like... like-like.”

Abby shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not sure what to do with that. Really, I don’t even know where to go from there.”

She ran her hand over the back of her neck.

“What should I say to him?” she asked me in a hushed voice.

“Tell him that you like it down low,” I told her. The pads of her thumbs swiped over the keypads. “Tell that boy that you want his tongue right in between your legs. Tell him to picture it.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip as she sent out the first message, followed by the next one. Something told me that she was envisioning it for herself.

Another whole minute went by, and her phone buzzed yet again.

“And?” I asked her.

“’Oh, my god,’” she read aloud. Her phone buzzed a second time. “He says, ‘I’m picturing it so hard right now.’” A third time. “’Are you touching yourself right now?’” Her face flushed at that and I resisted the urge to giggle at that.

“What do I do?” she asked me in a lower voice as footsteps emerged from right outside of our door.

“Tell him that—he makes you feel so hot,” I said with my face closer to her own. She swallowed and she typed it out for him. At one point, she closed her eyes and she bowed her head.

I thought about all of the times we had been taken to church by Nana, and all of the times that it had been hammered into our heads that this was not okay and we should save ourselves for marriage. I also thought about all of the times that I had heard about possession as well as Lola Cavestany’s lore about the aswang in the Philippines, their equivalent to vampires.

Indeed, Abby hunched her shoulders and she was hesitant to send out that next message to Rob. But I could see it in her eyes. I wanted the both of us to be happy with all of our boys, especially when they seemed so engrossed in themselves, with their music as well as the state of undeath and cheating death. I wanted the both of us to be free and without anything to hold us back and tell us that we were wrong for all of this.

She pushed the button and she let out a low whistle.

“I feel really warm right now,” she confessed to me as she hooked her finger onto her shirt collar, as if she was releasing some steam from inside of her.

“It’s okay, I did, too,” I told her with a shake of my head and a slight wave of my hand to her.

“I really don’t know as to how to feel right now,” she added. “On one hand, I can’t believe that I'm doing this. On the other hand—” She shook her head at that. “I can’t believe that I'm doing this. That we’re doing this, you, me, and Rob, all three of us.” She clasped a hand to the side of her head and she closed her eyes. I scooted back towards the wall to be right next to her, and I rested a hand upon her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I assured her. “You know, I feel the exact same way that you do but towards Alex.”

“Really? But you guys seem so close.”

“Believe me, there’s a lot that I'm feeling about him that I worry about sharing with him because I have no clue if he’ll like me for it. I also have no clue if he thinks I'm hot shit or if I'm just shit.”

“Well... why don’t you just ask him?”

“There���s a lot of pressure with that,” I told her. “Especially with him because he’s frozen in time. But I mean, I saw you with Rob just now. There's a lot on your shoulders and a great big unknown there, putting yourself out in the open like that to another person, especially towards a boy. You don’t know if he’s going to reject you and think that you’re the fucking weirdest person ever, or—” I was cut off by the buzzing of her phone in her lap. Eager, she picked it up and looked on at the screen.

She burst into a fit of giggles.

“What’d he say?” I asked her.

“He said he just undid his pants,” she replied in a low voice, and she clasped a hand to her mouth to keep the giggles under wraps as the footsteps had stopped right on the other side of the door.

“Okay, tell him that you’ve undone yours,” I quipped to her in a near whisper. Reluctantly, she wrote that out for herself and then she sent it off to him. She let out a low whistle as we waited for a reply.

The footsteps on the other side of the door meanwhile padded away from there.

“We really have to get out of this house,” I declared aloud.

“For real,” she said. “Not gonna lie, I felt weird being there at the dinner table with my phone under the table and talking to Rob while Nana was literally right there right next to us.” She looked down at the phone and then she turned her attention up to me. “You know what?” She reached down and she unbuttoned her pants right then and there, and I snickered at that.

“That’s my girl,” I assured her.

The phone buzzed again and she picked it up from her lap.

“He said he wants to come on over,” she gasped, and I clasped a hand to my mouth to stifle a giggle. She turned her attention to me with her eyes wide. “What should I do?”

“Say ‘yes’, and then go change your clothes,” I told her. “You know those little camisoles I got you a couple of weeks back?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Yeah, put those on. I know—it's not lingerie, but it’s something, though.”

“What about Phil and Nana?”

“Shit, I forgot about them for a second. Plus, he’s not a vampire, either—it's not like how Alex just shows up whenever he feels like it through the window. Uh...” I racked my brain for answers. “—tell him to—come around back and come upstairs quietly, and that you’ll be waiting for him.”

“What’re you going to do?” she asked me.

“I’ll probably go over to the house of Skolnick and face him with what I want to tell him,” I said. “He has to know how I feel about him before it’s too late.”

I slid off of the bottom bunk and I put my shoes back on as Abby typed out that message for Rob.

“Also, kinda—try to fluff your hair a bit, too,” I added. “Messy little bedhead as if you’re just dying to see him.”

The phone buzzed again.

“That was quick,” I chuckled. She opened it and gasped.

“Eric!” she declared.

“Oh, fuck!”

She finished out the message to Rob and sent it to him, and then she reopened the message from Eric.

“Oh, god, he’s randy, too,” she declared. She glanced up at me, frantic. “What should I say to him?”

“Oh, shit, tough one,” I began with a finger pressed up to my lips. Rob was probably on his way and neither of us had the time for it, but we had to think of something lest Eric assume the worst. Then again, I also wondered as to where Eric had found a phone for himself, especially since as far as I knew, Alex lacked a phone on his terms.

“Wait, I got it,” I told her with a snap of my fingers.

Eager, Abby leaned forth with her phone nestled in between her hands.

“Tell him that you can think of fifty things he can do with that tongue and you’re not even going to say about thirty of them out loud,” I said, and Abby burst out laughing.

“Fifty!” She brought a hand up to her mouth to keep her voice down.

“It was just an arbitrary number I picked off the top of my head,” I confessed to her. “But it is interesting to think about when you really think about it, though.”

She cracked me a little smile at that, and she returned to the phone nestled inside of her hands. She nibbled on her bottom lip: it really was a mere, regular old arbitrary number that I had chosen without a second thought, but then again, it was something. She sighed through her nose and she showed the smile once again.

The pads of her thumbs swiped over the keypads once again. I watched her type it out to Eric, right as the phone buzzed again with another message, probably from Rob. The butterflies danced around inside of my stomach at the sound of the buzzing.

“’On my way,’” she decreed.

“I better get going,” I told her as I put my jacket on.

“What do I say to Eric if he responds to that?” she asked me.

“Tell him that he—has to be a good boy in order for you to do that,” I said. “And then enjoy your time with Rob, the little man with the golden tongue. I have to go—”

She slid off the bed and ducked over to her dresser drawers for one of those little tops that I had bought for her; meanwhile, I scurried out of the house and made my way out to the street with no questions asked. There was a part of me so satisfied with myself, that I had done my sister justice as well as myself. I made a promise to face Alex and confess my full feelings to him, and I was about to do it, even if I worried about the look on his face when I said it.

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #kink tumblr #kink tag #day 26 #sketches #pencil sketch #sketchbook #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic art #fic with art #eerie inhabitants #eerie inhabitants fanfic #testament #testament band #death angel #rob cavestany #eric peterson #oc tag #artists on tumblr #badgalnirvhannahart

[ashif544]

What Makes 14k Gold Pendants a Symbol of Elegance and Luxury for Men?

In the world of men's jewelry, 14k gold pendants for men have carved out a distinct niche as symbols of elegance and luxury. These finely crafted accessories are cherished for their timeless appeal and the sense of sophistication they bring to any outfit. This blog will explore the key factors that make 14k gold pendants stand out as symbols of elegance and luxury for men.

Unmatched Beauty and Luster

One of the most striking features of 14k gold pendants is their radiant beauty. The warm, golden hue of 14k gold exudes a sense of luxury and refinement. The rich luster of gold sets it apart from other metals, making it the ideal choice for men who appreciate luxury and class.

Superior Craftsmanship

14k gold pendants are crafted with precision and attention to detail. Skilled artisans work tirelessly to ensure that each piece meets the highest standards of quality. This commitment to craftsmanship results in pendants that are not only stunning but also durable, capable of withstanding the test of time.

Versatile Design Options

Luxury is all about choice and individuality, and 14k gold pendant mensoffer a wide range of design options. Whether you prefer a classic cross pendant, a contemporary geometric design, or a personalized piece with intricate details, you can find a pendant that suits your unique style. This versatility adds an element of exclusivity to each pendant.

A Status Symbol

Throughout history, gold has been associated with wealth and power, making it a symbol of status and prestige. Wearing a 14k gold pendant is a statement of success and prosperity, which instantly elevates your overall appearance and communicates a sense of accomplishment.

Investment Value

Gold is a precious metal, and as such, it holds intrinsic value. When you invest in a 14k gold pendant, you are not only acquiring a luxurious accessory but also a tangible asset that can be appreciated over time. This dual role of adornment and investment further enhances the luxury appeal of 14k gold pendants.

Timelessness

Elegance and luxury are often associated with timeless beauty. 14k gold pendants do not succumb to fleeting fashion trends; they remain relevant and stylish year after year. This enduring quality adds to their desirability and cements their status as symbols of sophistication.

Adaptable to Any Occasion

Luxury is not confined to specific occasions, and 14k gold pendants are versatile enough to be worn at various events. Whether you're attending a formal gala, a business meeting, or a casual dinner, a 14k gold pendant can effortlessly complement your attire, showcasing your refined taste.

Sentimental Value

In addition to their material worth, 14k gold pendants can hold deep sentimental value. They can be heirlooms passed down through generations, carrying not only the physical beauty of gold but also cherished memories and family traditions.

Conclusion

14k gold pendants are more than just jewelry; they are symbols of elegance and luxury. Their unmatched beauty, craftsmanship, versatility, and historical significance have solidified their place as coveted accessories for men. Owning a 14k gold pendant is not only a reflection of one's style but also a declaration of appreciation for the finer things in life. These exquisite pieces have the power to elevate any outfit and enhance one's overall image, making them a timeless representation of sophistication and prosperity.

#14k gold pendants for men #14k gold pendant mens #14k gold pendants

[your-beauty-uk]

The History Of Eyeliner

The use of eyeliner dates back thousands of years and has a rich history across various cultures. It has been used for both cosmetic and symbolic purposes. Here's a brief overview of the history of eyeliner:

We sell 3 Glimmerstick eyeliners every minute!

Once you have applied it, blend out the colour for a more natural look.

If you're applying to the lower-lash line, apply a thin line to the other two thirds for a soft-focus finish.

If you want beautiful eyes all day long, I recommend the Power Stay Shadow Stick and Euphoric Mascara.

Buy Glimmerstick Eyeliner

Ancient Egypt: One of the earliest known instances of eyeliner use can be traced back to ancient Egypt, around 10,000 BCE. Both men and women in Egyptian society applied eyeliner to their eyes. They believed that this cosmetic practice not only enhanced their appearance but also had protective and magical properties. The most popular type of eyeliner used in ancient Egypt was called "kohl," which was made from a mixture of crushed minerals, lead, and other substances. Kohl was applied to both the upper and lower eyelids and was used to create bold, dramatic lines around the eyes.

Ancient Mesopotamia: In ancient Mesopotamia (around 4,000 BCE), men and women also used eyeliner to define their eyes and protect them from the sun's harsh rays. Like in ancient Egypt, they used kohl to create striking black lines around their eyes.

Ancient Greece and Rome: Eyeliner continued to be popular in ancient Greece and Rome, where it was used mainly by women. In Greece, eyeliner was made from a mixture of burnt almonds and antimony, while in Rome, it was made using soot or lampblack. These cosmetics were applied using small sticks or brushes, creating a variety of styles, such as the "cat-eye" look.

Medieval and Renaissance Europe: Eyeliner's popularity declined in Europe during the medieval period, largely due to its association with ancient pagan cultures. However, it regained popularity during the Renaissance, where it was used mainly by members of the upper class. During this time, women used eyeliner to create elaborate and ornate eye looks.

19th and 20th Century: In the 19th and early 20th centuries, eyeliner was used sparingly and often associated with theatrical or dramatic makeup. However, with the advent of motion pictures and Hollywood glamour, eyeliner gained popularity again. Icons like Clara Bow and Greta Garbo popularized heavily lined eyes, leading to increased interest in eyeliner among the masses.

Modern Times: In the mid-20th century, eyeliner became more accessible with the introduction of pencil eyeliners, making application easier for everyday use. Throughout the decades, eyeliner styles have evolved, from the dramatic looks of the '60s to the more natural and smudged looks of the '90s and 2000s. Gel and liquid eyeliners also became popular for creating precise and long-lasting lines.

Today, eyeliner remains an essential part of makeup routines for many people worldwide, with countless styles and variations to suit individual preferences and trends. It continues to be a versatile cosmetic product that can enhance the eyes and create a range of different looks.

#cosmetics #yourbeautyuk.uk #yourbeautyuk #Eyeliner

[libidomechanica]

Tis but ensigns

A limerick sequence

               1

Tis but ensigns oft became to the accredited diplomatic lost    they could govern, nor the    Priests the due grimace their business lessened and exorcised.

               2

They bene, no Rechabite more free. Time drives; wee Pope but one I know what    Prudent men a setled    Throng, astarters, corn on the Present nor the tableau intact.

               3

Deep in a couch heaven punish’d by. He shoulder and sillily smiling    at a dearer; robes look’d    and loued last lone a As Lot’s fair, thing more, the Firmament.

               4

What Standard is the Small remaine. Some rumour doors, there than smiled, A mass of    wine, worne on till he fount    is,—or who sigh o’er thereof spends all hear their played on to mone!

               5

To me and full many hand while his pipe, a specious latch, and heavenly    Fire. And things, to Murther    bard: if thoughtful Fairy Principall. With no long, in princess.

               6

Ah but Hobbinols Embleme. Amid the line of Power, on Earth: and Nobler    yet to forcing with    the care not fair form, limping the thirst words meaning of his dead.

               7

Here not heard,—and shadow flew. She saw us that so much their del’cat smell    of tacks around the Plot.    From the Goal of Ease? Fiers mighty’s Gentlemen turn’d all his knees.

               8

I cared forward. In small worth, and then roll their caps at causes my hear, the    waves clasping a tythe who    least any rate sorts of gold; or witty, but since like a brow.

               9

I will be as you have to myself, relaxed, its sphered she tender they    take up the castle. Poison    him when we come hether, to wreck’d, she got out of prison?

               10

For the physical fact of you woe. In by missings were I unswear, and    Wordsworth hast. Give my Native    share employ? Wind doth ride; or if it world. Whose eyes would cry.

               11

Still time a hundred mine and could never came to stone, and fright in Trust, is—    Love, I haue thrice told of    cups against his chiefe fall, and that was call our heads. On them told.

               12

Or else for being a better sayne, his with them there—I have proved it—’t    was table-cloth and bind    a heart raves. Titles and penuree. Pall Mankinds Epitome.

               13

Bricks nod, and I’ll awa to Nanie, O. Because our many guest to forget    yourselves in the woods. Then,    reading bride, let speake of sweets, but with that golden shackle me.

               14

Tread the abyss like Heaven, blue ladies, were rais’d, no Enemy can Crave.    Of what an Abbethdin    with Chariot, heralded all, and run Popularly Mad?

               15

You the mute still smiling with either cheerful, with kissed me the Golden trout    on the cob. For who can    be old, my bird! I think thee and vast, one sight; she is a lie?

               16

Her hinder part of Gold. And priceless curl in mind. The moderate she had    made Obnoxious torment    by their artillery at their own dear wee wife o’ my head.

               17

Draw the cheek trembled off by one’s going slaves on bounteous as twas, alas!    I was nourishing. Though    the turns her she was no matter; or, if he had been in vain.

               18

Footprints, glisten’d with them on roses freed from the first and with awful wedlock    fountain-woods, I dream,    whose dreary changed, in its own worth—compare? Polluted water.

               19

Sure stand; and of Miss Macready. To pronouce a Foe. A crystal I could    shake the floor of the publick    Safety to this a stream, but their very clerks,—those sand-paths.

               20

Pray, a Lambes ytorne? By Sea, by Lawless Might, and infant’s playing me    seek with doubt, for forty-    odd befell on their duty, thought the Jews; and I assurance.

               21

For God decreed those channels? Give mercy sway’d, my wrongs, where in worthy of    the base, yet while his fear,    for one Suffer’d, and ivy buds, that Shimei, thoughts! While I should.

               22

Jury of the moon-gazing the giddy Jews tread the vernal number or    he had from yon bean-field!    Yet deepest mouth and Starry Pole: from the deeper when cursed him.

               23

That which her on the stem but it be according to see to say, and curse,    O! Believing novel,    not they Command, giv’n by that being time he vsed to his Toyls.

               24

He came a ruin: side bowing cranck. Gap, yet who can know you’ll flight; betray’d    it quite a Jupiter,    till at commaund: but in distress. Made for Empire, tis ease.

               25

To make a chessman, a thoughts of my lassie ever yet to be true    lovelorn piteous as twas,    alas! And hether, to her greed but of melodious Arts.

               26

To be worthless bright by element will better it laye? And the Devil    and find my soul withered    the two starbursts by their Chief of Royalty? I once again.

               27

And with wicked Neighbour’s permanent among. Sky full of you? I saw her    eyes and with fresh and brew’d    with no love did swell; nae bombast spates o’ nonsense swelling teare.

               28

Thy painter’s day-star? In this deuoyr believing right-eyed Eulalie’s Thy beauty    is end: that euer it    moves, he glide in one before through what Relief undoes your life!

               29

I loved. So Fraud was blight; their name, and War was a bashful art, trembled Friends    destitute the dead, with    bloody drops fall. Heard, they went, in baskets of bright suffice hiss.

               30

After we’d both common wood. I have I see a better, with sleeping the    cloudes wexen cleare. Say    it out of thine so trimly dight, nor doubt, you so that in me.

               31

Love, for that would wake up Arms a Chiefs to forestalled, get opposite! From offence,    that the seas, nor Property:    and see him for air as free and last straint, wigged and brown.

               32

And thy cheeks, as prompted, and Recording space, the pastoures howe don’t    pretending to heare. She, in    soothing, and seem profound: she might rude enough the cold ran throte.

               33

And as romantic ocean that Juan was bright assembl’d, my Fear: thus seasons    Heaven’s imagery of    sleep. Or fled to many han into the high couch, near to gard.

               34

Was all silent; vainly so, he left me belongs than all-eating to the    play, but she said now, for    being asswage. The Laws he had in possession, private Crime.

               35

With poets, ’ as ever stopped eyelids and loved a hot bath. But that I do    not bound, when lofty to    thaw, and I have clothing, and left a thorough the tables cooked.

               36

The believe me, that I think you weep on so, by Law shall look of your faithfull    Issue she past. By    their Cant, as fearless of means this a sacred flower employs.

               37

Into the sophist’s tranced in my bliss, dearest, now she knew it. Hath left    them one brave day has close.    Sorrow late, somebody, tell me, his warmth as rolls of glasses.

               38

That hand confused and lusty leaves the Laws he has flow, but Innovation,    having love did the Cheuisaunce,    they all my good? If he had its brothers: some lonely air.

               39

The dreamed of France, to makes me sighed upon their Choise, but Lofty to thee, like    a mayden Queene of the    savage, extremely fair; the forests far away. Turn your face.

               40

Exchange their long-legged your lovely, Woman love nor iolloye, nor clime, And where the    floor of they Common sense    is one, her eye? He plonged in his system t is to buy.

               41

Restless since I did nothing the floor. And streets your lovers’ seasons have seen    her fear and extremes decaye.    Were knows well to Nature suited to their vigour in a flame.

               42

I though t is a lo’esome wee thing, and thy posies soon breake more he gaz’d:    his heart I offer a    milkwhite to be sung me most what we be bound to scour history.

               43

Tell me, and Crude. Are thou shall keep a shaking harp the scorn that Kings as young    disciple. Sir Walter    reckon’d a conspicuous and mine, and brow: thus were furled.

               44

When thou perceives and to a Saturn. But, where a mermaids’ singing, I adore    my God. The flowers    the while she pass’d in his night her blotte. In the long drives the life?

               45

The king bit the wished their Kings which at the violence be known: my parent’s    the turns strawberries, and    softly call, came jasper pannel fuming strangled with your Ark.

               46

Like the wine at my heart with frost and bareness and sculk’d behind. And that    wont to the hills where in    the night drawe with your wished his Master of thine so trimly flies.

               47

Ah foolish backward. Upon the shepherd’s whispered. Drawn from a branch rent, and    could excuse, ’ proving or    official, his sheepe ah seely she, with beards God or Devil.

               48

His breathing like phosphorus on my skin, his head. That in the neck is fragile    like a light, who was    know white Alps alone, the God-like those seemed sincere a poet.

               49

Had the sheepe, all forswatt I am laughing around supporting went their    father’s parted is mute    still german, I stood bathing this successfull Arts, and bonie Bell.

               50

Man, found she not they lead in safety pin to go of her glad Lycius started—    the soft wool-woofed    carpe! Or changed for a thrill of life, you still as a lady’s maid.

               51

With more according, hath left to put a face, to their claes, or the humble    prism of the armèd man,    and night dropped me and lost the season Law. Till I couldn’t bear it.

               52

We seemed about, and yet the sky, but they all for all here confounds we our    next Succession rest always    in their mere spectral resident—whose numbers breath. Or fame!

               53

And town till as a winsome wee things. But I know to cheek reclined thus seasons    run? Looming down weary    of things were getting in those heaps o’ clavers: and Lycius?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #117 texts #limerick sequence

[sabikitsune]

Villain Interview: Valdryn

An interview with the bad guy from my original work.  Blank done by Raqonteur on DeviantArt.

LET'S TALK ABOUT YOU

What's Your Name?

I am known as Valdryn.

What Do You Do?

I am the King of Irzeldrudh, the artic home of the orcs. Although I am no orc myself.

Describe Yourself In Five Sentences:

I am quite tall, even by the standards of the elves who are among the tallest race in the world (although their sizes do overlap with man’s quite a bit).

I have my mother’s golden eyes and broad physique, and (in this form) I have my father’s hair and face.

I believe that I am a competent leader and take good care of my men, although I do not tolerate failure lightly either.

I believe strongly in order and cannot stand the chaos of the world, I would see it brought under control and united as one.

I was raised by my father to always be polite and courteous, while my mother taught me to fight and be powerful and terrifying.

What Would You Say If Someone Described You As 'The Villain'?

They may call me as they wish. I may be a villain to one family, but to the world I intend to bring order.

What Drives You To Do These Things.  Be This Way?

My goals are driven by two wishes. I want revenge on the one who killed my mother, and I can not harm him as he has died, so I shall punish his family. They will feel the same pain I did.

I also wish to bring an order to the chaos of the world, to unite all people’s together under my rule.

What Was The Last 'Really Bad Thing' You Did?

Hmmm, I started the last great war that encompassed the world.

Did It Make You Feel Good?

Perhaps if I had been successful, but I was injured enough to retreat and end the war.

Okay.  Flip Side Of The Coin.  What Was The Last 'Really Good Thing' You Did?

I take care of the orcs living in my land. I make sure foods are imported, and other needed goods.

And How Did That Make You Feel?

It is important to take care of those under you, or else you will have a weak army, easily defeated.

NOW, WHAT ABOUT YOUR NEMESIS

What Is Their Name?

There is no one person, as my goal is the ruination of a family line. But the current generation is represented by an elf-woman named Aerlin.

What Do They Do?

She is the heir to the elven-lands throne.

So, Why Do You Hate Them So Much?

Her ancestor killed my mother.

Tell Me About Your First Ever Confrontation:

It took a long time to meet the youngest member of the family. Originally I had my orcs sent to kill her, but somehow all the bands failed and either never returned, or only a few came back. Eventually I decided I should reintroduce myself to the world, and my curiosity about her made Aerlin the perfect individual to begin with.

It took some time to come up with a plan and get her alone enough for my orcs to capture. They returned to Irzeldrudh and I decided the best introduction would be over dinner.

She was not very cooperative, attempting to refuse my order, refusing to actually eat anything, and arguing with almost everything I said. She remained that way through her entire stay, until her friends got her free.

Have The Two Of You Ever Had To Work Together

No, and I doubt she would be overly cooperative even if it became a necessity.

What Do You Hate About Them?

As herself, there is little personally. But she is part of the line which killed my mother.

You Can't Call Them Your Nemesis Without Having At Least Some Respect For Them.  What Do You Respect About Them?

I will admit that she is a good leader, determined to protect her people. And a strong woman.

Jealousy Is A Common Cause Of Hatred.  Is There Anything You Envy About Them?

I suppose the fact that she grew up happy, despite the tragedies her family has suffered.

Unrequited or Spurned Desires Are Another Common Reason For Such Hatreds.  Are/Were You Secretly In Love Or Lust With Them?

Absolutely not. A demi-god and an elf? How would that even work?

Finally, How Do You Picture Your Final Battle?

I have little clear picture of the event. I do not know if I will kill her or her father first, either way the other will suffer that loss. And then I shall kill the other, and my armies will sweep across the world and bring order.

#original work #original character #villian #bad guy #writing meme #meme #elves #dragon #demigods