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everlastingdreams · 6 months

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The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 2

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Traitor

Notes: /

Warnings: Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn...

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter: 2/ It's a secret.

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By the second day alone in the woods, you were starving and exhausted from the walking. A few berries was all you had eaten. With the sword, you at least had a way to protect yourself, it came in handy when scaring off predators who lurked in the wild, even if it was only by tapping the steel loudly against a rock to do so.

The circumstances weren’t good, but at least you were free from that dungeon and the Monk had killed the Brothers.

The Hidden had made you heal a traitor and left you drained. It bothered you to no end and you took consolation in the fact that the bastard had at least gotten rid of those sadistic Brothers in return.

The first drop of rain falling on your hand had you cursing to the high heavens. How long could you survive like this in soaked clothing? By closing your jacket more, you hoped it would protect your bodice and shirt from getting wet.

Minutes of gushing rain turned into hours and that hope was long gone by the time you finally reached a village in the evening.

The cross-bearing sword of the Church would draw attention in the hands of a Fey, still you would not part with the only weapon you had.

If you could ‘find’ something to eat while avoiding curious eyes it would have you one step in the right direction.

A merchant was loading baskets of wares on his wagon and you waited for the right time to run past and steal a loaf of bread. The shouting of the merchant drew unwanted attention and you ran through the streets to avoid getting caught.

It had been quite some time since stealing was necessary, being imprisoned in a dungeon had prevented you from doing so.

By hiding behind stacks of crates, you lost any pursuers and began to eat the bread.

Where were the days were you could sit in the grass with friends and family to eat together? Now a meal was eaten behind crates filled with smelly fish. The life of a Fey wasn’t easy.

The running had exhausted you further, the healing of a heavily wounded person took a lot of energy.

Across the cobblestone street, you saw a child, Fey kind.

The young boy was chewing on an apple and drawing the attention from Manbloods, if one of them snitched to a Red Paladin…

You left your hiding spot to approach the boy, quickly taking him by the shoulder. “Boy, why are you wandering the streets alone like this?”

The boy looked you up and down. “That’s none off your business.”

Oh, really?

You whispered, “Then it will be none of my concern if one of the Manbloods tells a Paladin about a Fey wandering the streets.”

“My Fey camp was attacked by paladins.” He admitted.

You understood that he had fled a massacre and ended up here alone. “I’m sorry. Are you wounded?”

Apart from a healed cut on the side of his head, the boy seemed healthy, he shook his head.

“My name is y/n, what’s yours?”

“Squirrel.” He answered, feeling less wary of you after you had shown concern over his well-being.

You thought you had misheard him. “Squirrel?”

He nodded while taking another bit of his apple.

With those chubby cheeks filled with food, you began to understand it was probably a nickname given to him. “I like it.”

“Are you here alone too?” Squirrel asked.

“I am. I just escaped the Weeping Monk.” You admitted.

The boy’s eyes widened. “You escaped too? He caught me in the woods not long ago and killed the ones who tried to save me from him. Then he let me go.”

You were astounded at the news that the Weeping Monk had let a Fey child go. “He let you go?”

Squirrel nodded. “He said to tell the Fey that he was coming for them.”

That wasn’t something you hoped to hear, it was a blatant threat to your kind from that traitor.

“Typical for a paladin to scare children.” You quietly mumbled.

“Where did you find bread?” He looked at the bread in your hands.

“Where did you find the apple?” You shared a grin.

With a mischievous smirk, Squirrel just about admitted that he had stolen the fruit too.

You proposed the idea, “If we stay together, we can help each other?”

He squinted his eyes for a moment, then agreed to it. “Sounds fine to me.”

You broke a piece from the bread and offered it to Squirrel, who eagerly accepted it.

At last you weren’t alone anymore and you took Squirrel to walk into streets that were less crowded.

While chewing, he suddenly asked, “Isn’t that the Weeping Monk’s sword?”

Once you had had your own sword, it was stolen from you by Ives, now the sword of the notorious Monk rested at your side.

“It is. I stole it from him.” You told the boy the truth.

It piqued his interest. “Did you steal anything else?”

Well, the boy clearly had nothing against theft…

You sighed. “No. I wish I had stolen more of him. We could have sold it and used the coin for food.”

Squirrel patted you on the arm amicably. “Don’t worry, y/n. We can just steal food.”

Some merchants even refused to sell to Fey kind. “I wish we didn’t have to steal.”

The boy offered what was left of the apple and you took a single bite before handing it back to him. “Are you Sky Folk?”

“Yes. What sort of Fey are you?” Squirrel asked.

You thought of lying about it, but it felt wrong to lie to a child who was Fey just like you. “Dawn Folk.”

Squirrel was in awe, Dawn Folk were considered rare. “Really? Is it true that Dawn Folk can heal people?”

You held up a hand playfully. “Yup. I’ve healed quite a lot of people already. "

He brought up another rumor about your kind, “And you can hear the Hidden?”

It was true, the Hidden often made themselves known to Dawn Folk. “Sometimes. Hey, listen. We should find a place to rest tonight, do you know of a place?”

Squirrel did not worry about that at all. “I’ve been sleeping in a shed, it’s big enough for both of us.”

Thank the heavens for this boy and his will to survive. “Excellent. Lead the way.”

The young Fey boy showed you the way to this abandoned shed, and after ‘borrowing’ some wool sheets from around the village the two of you were able to turn it into a small cozy space to rest in.

It wasn’t much but it held the rain and cold out quite well. It was enough.

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After spending a few days with that young rascal whilst hiding in the village, you grew quite fond of him.

Squirrel sure had his wits and he often disappeared from your sight, leaving you worried sick until he returned like nothing ever happened.

The two of you worked together to ‘retrieve’ the necessary things to survive. The food you were able to gather wasn’t much, but it was enough to survive day by day.

During one of these plans to retrieve some freshly baked goods, it all went terribly wrong.

A group of paladins had been scouring the market as well and spotted poor Squirrel, the boy had to run.

You darted after the group to try and save Squirrel from them.

“Hey!” You shouted at them when they did not stop chasing the boy.

One of them stopped, took one look at you and then called out for his red Brothers, “Brothers! IT’S THE GIRL!”

How could you have known that the Monk had given them your description, what you wore and how you looked like, to find you?

By darting into the other direction, you led them away from Squirrel.

You rounded a corner, by the time you saw the paladin he was already swinging at you with the pommel of his sword and it struck against the side of your head.

It was like the light had just went out instantly, long before your body hit the ground.

The group of paladins stopped to watch you lay on the ground unconscious, the one who had struck you down quickly left and returned with the Monk.

“Is this the girl, Brother?” The paladin hoped for good news.

The Monk had awoke alone in the forest, covered in blood but alive and healed.

After the disorientation had passed, the search for you began.

His brothers had received one order from him personally, to find the Fey girl and bring her to him.

His Weeping Brother knelt down briefly, barely acknowledging his presence now. “Put her on the wagon. We return to Father at once.”

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The wheel of the wagon hit a rock on the road and woke you. That headache…

It was still daylight so you could not have lost much time, at least you hoped that was the case.

Your hands were bound in the way that you remembered they had been before. The sword at your side was missing and when you lifted your head up a little, you saw the Monk riding on his horse not far behind the wagon.

The cold steel of a sword touched your cheek suddenly.

“Stay down, Fey whore.” One of the paladins, who rode the wagon with you, warned and made you remain as you were.

The wagon hit another rock and pain shot through your head. It was like they had picked the most rocky road on purpose, maybe they had.

By the time you arrived at the Red Paladin’s camp, you felt sick.

They had to pull you up and out of the wagon, they weren’t careful in the slightest.

The Monk took over and steered you towards one of the biggest tents in the middle of the camp.

“Traitor.” You hissed at him when no other could hear.

He stopped dead in his tracks to look at your face, hatred had it’s home in the way you looked back at him.

The will to please Father overrode the fear that his secret could be exposed.

You were pulled into the tent by him and put on your knees in front of Father Carden.

“Is this the girl?” The priest looked at his Monk with expectation.

“Yes, Father.” The Monk replied obediently, then told you, “Speak your name.”

The priest cared not for your name. “Her name is of no importance. Tell me, girl, is it true you can heal the wounded?”

The cloak of silence fell over you again, you weren’t willing to converse with that paladin scum.

Father Carden was not impressed. “Ah, she is stubborn. Bring her along.”

The priest walked out of the tent and towards another large one, the Monk had a strong hold on your arm to make you follow.

Once inside this tent, it was clear that this one was used as an infirmary for sick and wounded paladins.

One was chosen, a large blood stain on the paladin’s stomach had ruined his robes.

“Heal him, or you will burn like the rest.” Father Carden threatened.

The Monk placed you next to the cot with the dying paladin.

This would hurt. The heavier they were wounded, the more energy it took from you to heal them.

You didn’t even notice how much you were shaking until you had to place your hands on the paladin’s chest.

The paladin’s breathing rattled, he was dying.

You wanted him to die.

They must have seen your hesitation and reluctance.

The Monk came close enough to whisper, “Heal him. Set your anger aside or it will cost you your life.”

A murderous glare was send his way and you wished he had died in that forest so you wouldn’t be here now.

You were anything but gentle and pushed on the wound a little while letting your magic flow to heal.

When it was over, you were on your knees on the ground and shaking heavily while the paladin looked like he had never even been wounded.

“God smiles on us today, my son.” Father Carden expressed his joy to the Monk. “The girl will serve her purpose here. After she has healed all, bring her to the tent, make sure she cannot escape.”

The priest grabbed hold of your chin, demanding you look up at him. “You serve the Church now, girl.”

By spitting in his face, you brought across your opinion on the matter.

Not a tear went to waste when he slapped you in return, the Brothers had gotten you used to it.

Father Carden left the tent and wiped off his face with his sleeve.

The Monk hooked an arm under yours and helped you to your feet again.

That bruise on your cheek must have just healed and now another was in it’s place.

This defiance would bring you no gifts from Father.

“Heal them. The weakest ones first.” He steered you to the ones who had lost a lot of blood from various injuries.

By the time you healed the last one in that tent, you could barely stand.

The sun had gone down about an hour ago.

The Monk walked you out of the tent and you lost the strength in your legs just outside the entrance. The cold grass under you wasn’t helping in the slightest.

There was some form of mercy from him as he let you remain on the ground for a while to regain your strength.

You were exhausted, hungry, and parched for a sip of water.

The mixture of discomfort had you into a state were your head felt oddly light.

With a distant look in your eyes you stared at the ground, and it almost felt as if the energy of nature was very slowly healing you through the soil.

In the meantime, the Monk stood beside you and waited. There was little trust, because his hand never left the pommel of his sword as it rested at his side.

A little while later, he touched your shoulder and then pulled you up.

He brought you to a tent guarded by paladins and walked inside with you.

There was a pathetic wool blanket on the floor, stale bread and a tankard of water you doubted was clean. And still you let him sit you down on the spot, the short walk was already too much.

All you wanted to do was sleep and hope your energy was returned by morning.

He was looking down at you, seeing you suffer after using your powers.

Had the healing truly weakened you so?

Was this what had happened after you had done it to him?

You turned to face away from him, weakly calling him, “Traitor.” again.

At that, you heard him walk away and leave the tent.

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They did not even allow you time to sleep until you were rested. Paladins came to collect you at dawn and brought you back to the infirmary where a fresh batch of wounded paladins waited to be healed.

Why had the Hidden cursed you with this power?

At least they did not appear to be as wounded as the previous ones had been.

It didn’t cost much energy to heal them and you did it slower.

One made a filthy comment, “I know someplace else she could put her hands.”

Around his throat to strangle him?

His Red Brothers laughed, further fueling your hatred for those drapes.

Only when your eyes glowed green upon healing, did they fall silent.

“Witch…”

You heard them utter the word among each other.

A paladin entered the infirmary tent. “Brothers, Father ordered for the girl to be taken to the monastery. Others are waiting to be healed there.”

Your heart sank at the announcement, if they forced you to heal others today it could result in your health declining rapidly after yesterday.

The entrance of the tent was unguarded for the first time when the paladins were too distracted by talking to each other.

They really did underestimate you…

When you sprinted out of the tent, they no longer ignored you.

You didn’t stop running and collided with others in your track, baskets with fruits your stomach so craved fell over as you bumped into them.

A couple of horses stood tied with their reins at a hitching post, loosely tied…

From experience you knew that the black steed would not let you get on, so you aimed for the brown mare.

The mare’s reins were untied swiftly, you put your foot in the stirrup and began to pull yourself up into the saddle.

A firm tug at the back of your vest had you falling backwards into the Monk’s chest.

He had been busy caring for Goliath when he noticed your escape.

Freedom was so close and your will to fight returned, you tried to claw at his face.

He must have anticipated it, the bastard moved you a step back and used his lower leg to make you lose your balance.

You were on the ground, looking up at the Monk who had yet to draw his sword.

The paladins rushed over to aid him.

With a gesture of his hand, he ordered them to stay where they were.

Surrounded by enemies, the Monk seemingly offered you the chance to surrender.

He came closer and tried to take hold of your arm, you smacked it away bitterly.

“Bastard!” The insult was thrown at him.

With an agitated sigh, he ignored your protest and roughly pulled you up from the ground.

The paladins bore witness to how you tried to hit him.

It was far from an equal opponent, he had your arm blocked behind your back within seconds, your back against his chest again. You hated having the enemy breathing down your neck, it was instinct to be unnerved by strangers being behind you.

“Bring the wagon!” He barked the order at his red brothers.

They scurried off to do his bidding.

When you didn’t stop struggling, he used his other hand to grab your throat, it stilled you instantly.

“Stop it.” The Monk was far calmer than you were.

He was quiet for a moment, and then you heard him inhale close to your neck.

You recoiled upon sensing it happen, he stopped immediately and acted like nothing strange had occurred.

As a woman being held a prisoner in a camp full of men, it scared the living daylight out of you when something like this happened.

The Monk let go off your throat when noticing the fear in you. “You will heal those at the monastery. Do as you are told and I will see to it that you will not sleep with hunger tonight.”

By trying to step on his toes, he took that as a ‘No.’

“I see you have made your choice.” There was disappointment in his tone.

A paladin who had returned piped up, “Hit her, Brother!”

The Monk gravely disliked to hear how a paladin tried to command him now. “Why? Can you not handle one Fey girl?”

It was to remind them who had let this happen in the first place.

Once the paladin was put in his place, he ordered for a rope to be handed to him.

He bound your hands in front of you again, it made you think that he preferred to be able to easily see them, just in case…

The wagon was brought forth and the Monk placed you on it, then appointed the two paladins himself who would travel on the back of the wagon with you.

After the Monk went to retrieve his horse, the red priest came out of the large tent and seemed oblivious to what had transpired moments ago.

It would not surprise you if they all kept information from the priest in fear of repercussions.

The mist that hanged in the air made the weather feel colder than it actually was, your trousers, vest and worn down boots did little to shield you from it.

This time the paladins on the wagon weren’t as hostile, alert yes, but not as aggressive.

Considering you would be forced to heal more at the monastery, you took the liberty of trying to get some sleep against a bag filled with linen to be washed. A time would come where they would be distracted again, and you would flee the hell you had found yourself in.

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everlastingdreams · 11 months

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Weeping Monk x Reader : The Patience Of A Heart Chapter 26

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Story Summary: After fire claimed the lives of your family, the monastery of your Uncle Carden becomes your new home. As the niece of a priest you are expected to behave prim and proper, but not even the watchful eyes of the Weeping Monk can see all. An ancient magic returns to life when love and duty begin to blur.

Chapter Title: The Seas Of Love

Notes: This one is smutty.

Warnings: There’s a list of warnings for this story: Murder. Violence. Death. Angst. Sexism. Strong Language. Trauma. Childhood trauma. Survivor’s guilt. Mentions of child maltreatment. Threat of Sexual assault. PTSD. Misogyny, Self-flagellation. Gore.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Pining. !Smut!. Spicy content. Little Slow-burn.

Word count of this fic: +130K

Chapter: 26 / 27

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Something inside you had fled at the confidence in him, while leaving you helplessly behind to fend for yourself “Like a man not raised as a monk?”

“No.” His voice dropped down into that husk, as if he knew what it did to you “As a former monk who wants to bed his woman.”

How could one’s eyes be so alert and intense, while also clouded by a daze of pure carnal lust?

You let him bring you in closer.

His jaw graced along yours until his breath was in your ear. He quietly stated what he so desired “Will you have me?”

“I think I did a little too well on your back.” You quipped, feeling the nerves crash into you.

He flashed that charming smile “You did very well.”

You barely avoided the kiss he was trying to start “Are you sure about this?”

By tilting your chin, he made you look into his eyes “I am.”

It was surprising to see how calm he was, apart from the barely visible pinch of nervousness, he seemed comfortable.

You were glad to see that he trusted you enough to be open about what he wanted.

You cupped his face fondly “I would love to have you.”

The corner of his brow lifted a little, as if it still stunned him to hear it.

Your nose touched his, a playful encouragement.

He gave the most tender peck to your lips, voice down to a husk “I love you.”

You weren’t given the chance to say something back, that sweet peck had only been the introduction to what came next.

The declaration was also the explanation as to why he let some self-control slip.

With your face cradled in his hands, you were at the mercy of his lips.

He threw caution to the wind, his lips trapped yours while selfishly stealing the breaths of air that you were so desperate for.

There were times when he thought he was hurting you, especially when he pressed himself into you more or when his teeth grazed those soft lips of yours, heaven forbid he would ever cause them to bleed. But you never recoiled or flinched, you met his actions with an equal passion and he believed he found everything that was missing from his life by it.

The content deep groan that went up from his chest and passed into your mouth had your heart leaping for the hills.

It had sounded almost primal, a wolf finally catching it’s prey and enjoying the reward.

You began to steer him backwards, toward the bed, and pushed him down by his shoulders to sit.

A look of innocence flickered in his eyes as they looked up to you.

By moving the nightgown up a little, it made it easier to straddle him, the wet fabric fell over his trousers and cursed them to the same faith.

No complaints came from him and you made yourself comfortable on his lap.

His arm moved around your back to hold you in place.

Like this, there was no denying that the view of you in your soaked nightgown had indeed quite an effect on him.

The desire to tend to his need grew, his eyes were constantly searching your face and you loved to see how they searched for guidance with you.

Over and over again did he replace his hands, never knowing what was correct and what was not.

You quietly hushed him “We’ll go as fast or as slow as you are comfortable with. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

He moved his hand up your back and brought you closer to kiss down your neck.

You reached down between your bodies and hooked a finger into the waistband of his trousers.

“I can offer you a guiding hand.” You sweetly purred into his ear.

There was no room for misinterpretation when you slid your hand down to rub him through his trousers.

“I-” His breath caught in his throat.

You hummed, nudging his temple with your nose lovingly while slipping your hand past the fabric.

Without using any pressure, he grew harder by the light hold around him.

Well, there was nothing for him to be insecure about regarding his manhood, on the contrary.

Of course you were nervous too, but by taking your time and pretending that you weren’t you hoped to give him something he would remember fondly, he was untouched and you wouldn’t rush him through this.

Two slow light strokes and he emitted a groan that vibrated from his chest against yours.

“Good?” You continued the action.

His fingers pressed into your back more.

There was no doubt in his mind that you knew exactly how to bring him to his release, something he had not experienced yet.

The guilt he felt over just trying to stimulate himself once had been enough to make him banish the thought all together.

It was one of the sins that warranted judgment by the lashes of a whip.

Suddenly you felt him tense up and halted your actions “Are you alright?”

He did not meet your eyes, but appreciated that you had stopped to see if all was well “I uhm…”

Patiently you waited for him to speak, or a signal that would tell if he was alright or not.

His eyes darted between yours and the wall at the other side of the room “I have never let myself experience any of this.”

He hoped you would understand what it meant.

You waited until his eyes were on yours before slowly letting them travel down.

He understood the quiet conversation and gave a slow nod to answer it.

Oh…

Were you going too fast? Was it hurting him? Was he scared?

In a calm manner you spoke about it “Are you uncomfortable?”

“No, only…” He couldn’t describe it well.

“Sensitive?” You guessed.

That was indeed a good way to describe it “Yes.”

It would not come as a surprise if he was quick to have his release and you sensed that he would want to delay that from happening.

With one little flick of your thumb over the tip of him, causing him to take a sharp breath, you withdrew your hand “I can tell.”

That little smirk you had was what eventually caused him to grab hold of your hip and flip you over, your back hit the sheets.

He cupped your neck and kissed you, slow and preserving, but with a restrained hunger of a hunt that had lasted days.

The hand on your neck wandered down, touching every inch of you that was in it’s path, it was the first time he’d ever touched your bosom and he did it so light that you wondered if it was accidental or not.

It came to a halt to rest on your stomach, where his fingers scratched playfully until it had you squirming under him.

He was merciful and stopped doing it, his palm rubbed softly over your abdomen.

He did not touch more than what was deemed allowed.

And it was that that was driving you desperate for it “Lancelot…”

He never heard that tone in your voice before and a hot flare went up his back and neck at the sound.

In return he kissed you like he wished to taste it on your lips.

What he got was a quiet wistful gasp when your bottom lip became center of attention.

Your lips chased his when they threatened to flee even if it was just to draw a breath.

Still they broke free, like the man himself had done, and fled to the curve between your ear and jaw.

You took hold of his shoulders, he was moving over your body, covering it with all that he had and was.

The mark he had given you was warming up and it’s silver pattern became visible. The warmth was spreading from your arm to all over your body, it was hearing his call…

Your skin burned for him, you took his hand and placed it over the curve of a breast, letting him decide whether or not it would remain there.

A change in his breathing and pace…

Digits ghosting over what had been so kindly offered…

No wonder many succumbed to carnal desire. A fever had overcome him, it was burning him up inside and all it needed was you to save him from it.

It was hard to speak when your mind was so clouded “You may touch me… if you want…”

How could he hold back when his lover was so encouraging?

Those heavenly seas fixed on your face, his hand closed around your breast.

Pulling him into a searing kiss led to the fondling that ensued.

Considering he would only touch what was undeniably offered, you guided his hand until it found it’s own path.

He had hooked his arm under your knee and made room for himself between your legs, letting the wet nightgown slip to your thighs.

No one had ever been so thorough when exploring your skin and his fingers glided smoothly over it. He tended to your neck and collar bone with the same thoroughness using his mouth instead, his hand now busy with undoing the knot in the cords of his trousers.

The edges of his scars were smooth under your fingers, the salve had soothed them. And you began to believe that touching them was only surging his desire.

Eager to help, you aided him in removing his trousers and it earned you a love bite near your ear.

Once he was freed, you resumed your guiding role and pushed until he was under you again.

Your lips slowly traveled a path down from his neck to his abdomen. Inch by inch, your warm breath teased his skin.

You would take your time with him, offering him the chance to be guided along step by step, like one untouched deserved to be.

Under your palm, his abdomen rose and fell in a quick manner. You didn’t have to look up at his face to know he was enjoying it, your mouth and hands moved over him with unyielding fascination and wonderment.

He was art that spoke to all your senses.

It was no use to try and fight the response his body gave. Those affections had heated him whole and the fever it brought was never so inviting.

He burned for you.

Even with no experience, he knew what sort of urges sprinted through his thoughts.

He wanted to grab hold of you, to be between those warm thighs he could feel against his legs and return what you were doing to him.

And yet it thrilled him to feel you push him down under you again every time he tried to even slightly move.

His hand skimmed over your thigh, wandered under your nightgown, higher and higher.

You gave a coy tease upon feeling it and sensing his intention “Curious are we?”

It did not discourage him, on the contrary, your playful response put him more at ease and fueled his confidence.

The response you got was receiving his other hand on your behind, where he fondly began to brush over it along with a cautious squeeze that had you jolt up in surprise a little.

That little jolt had only brought his other hand higher and closer to where it was wandering off to.

When it finally cupped your heat, you swallowed thickly.

His touch was careful, but no less curious and the evidence of your arousal was clear for him to feel.

There was a pensive hum from him and it was an innocent action to him when he moved a digit against your warmth to feel it.

You hadn’t expected it yet and gasped, hand flying down to catch his wrist.

When he locked eyes with you, you knew he thought he had made a mistake.

Quickly you explained “I’m really sensitive there.”

He had halted all his actions “Did it hurt?”

You quipped “Very much the opposite.”

The signal for him to continue was when you brought his hand back to where you had so abruptly interrupted it.

He was forward about it “I love the scent of you.” then carefully he slid two fingers into the wetness.

You were shaking on top of him, it only got worse when he discovered the sensitive bud.

You used his shoulders to keep yourself steady “Fuck… that feels good.”

Never before had he heard such foul language from you and gave the lighthearted scolding.

“Such foul language.” He tsked and proceeded to put attention where it clearly pleased you.

Your face contorted in pleasure, eyes falling shut, all you could do was place your hands on his chest to keep your balance.

You bit back every curse that threatened to spill while he enjoyed himself by doing this to you.

Moans flowed out instead and you felt his hard length twitch against your inner thigh.

If he did not stop soon…

It was a struggle to warn him “I…wait…I am…”

He needed no explanation to understand what would happen if he continued pleasing you with this, he had heard stories “Unraveling?”

With the way he was winding you up, there was no doubt about it.

You nodded and grabbed his hand from where it was trying to achieve the goal “I want you.”

The scent of you, the feeling of your wetness, and now this.

He did not know exactly what to do, but his body knew precisely what it wanted.

With a nod, he brought his hands to your hips and encouraged you to have him as you pleased.

You nodded back, reached down and palmed him again “Are you ready?”

The arching of his brow was comedic “Can you not tell?”

It broke some of the tension and settled down the nerves.

You leaned in to whisper “You’re such a twit…” and gave him no time to find a smug reply.

With a teasing stroke along his length you positioned yourself and aligned him.

Could he tell that you were trembling just like him?

Slowly you guided him inside, drawing a deep groan out of him.

He let you settle yourself on top of him, the slickness eased the way and a surge of heat went through him. The hold on him was nothing he could have imagined.

You hadn’t often given in to carnal desires as these, so a moment to get used to him was taken.

He felt good.

Especially after how generous he had been towards you before.

He trailed a hand up your waist and cupped your jaw “Alright?”

You detected the hint of worry in his tone and hummed “Very.”

To prove it, you moved a bit until a comfortable method was found.

Lancelot barely swallowed a curse at the sensation that shot through him.

You slowly began to slide along his length.

After only a few times, he sat upright, took the hem of your nightgown and moved it over your head to free you from it.

The burning in your cheeks was to be expected from being exposed so sudden, you never thought he would take the initiative to undress you.

He looked a little apologetic, until his eyes wandered over you, they lifted up to yours for a second.

Then he leaned in to trace his mouth over a breast while fondling the other.

Your fingers curled into his locks and held him close. This time he was the one to tug at your hips and cause you to move.

Thankfully so, because his fingers had worked you well and left you aching.

You rolled your hips, determined to ride him until he experienced what life outside celibacy had to offer.

“Don’t stop.” He grunted into your ear and kneaded at your behind.

To hear him so overtaken by lust had the knot tighten in your abdomen.

You quietly moaned while holding on to him for dear life.

And when one of those moans rang loud into his ears, your back met the mattress again.

He never disconnected and was quick to make himself at home between your legs.

Your hands traveled like a gentle wave from his neck down his chest, to hold his waist.

His lips locked on yours, a breath shared for every thrust.

Like this, it soon became clear that he did not use all of him.

And you needed all of him “Don’t hold back. Please.”

He did bury himself inside fully after the plea, kissing your temple and jaw as if he wished to show his gratitude for allowing it.

His pace began to increase along with your moans.

“Fuck…” He fell to the same crude curse upon feeling his impending release.

When you brought a hand down between your legs to help yourself to your unraveling, you felt his fingers around your wrist to move away your hand and replace it with his own, his thumb circling over you matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

The pressure in your lower abdomen grew beyond control.

“I’m going to-” You couldn’t think anymore.

His next thrust send you over the edge and you clawed at his arms as the feeling crashed over you.

Lancelot slowed his pace, feeling you experience your unraveling was bringing on his own.

A few more thrusts was all he needed to spill himself, leaving him twitching and panting for air while his body trembled uncontrollably.

You pulled him down to your chest, allowing him to come down from it without straining his arms so.

He much preferred this, it made it all the more easier to brush his lips to your skin.

The side of your face received the most affection, his hasty breaths had slowed down by the time he was at your jaw.

Your head fell to the side, letting him gain easier access to it “How are you feeling?”

The slightest movement of him still had your body responding to it.

His thumb traced your mouth “Impressed.”

That was nice to hear, it was your intention to leave a lasting impression.

You brushed a stubborn stray hair away from his eyes “Yes?”

“Uhuh.” He gave that rare boyish smile and stole a kiss “And you?”

Like him, you too were impressed “I did not expect to feel this kind of ecstasy tonight.”

He met your eyes, the question visible in his own would not roll from his tongue.

You answered what he must have been curious about “In the past, I did not feel this way unless I helped myself.”

The cheeky remark accompanied his smirk “You offered me a guiding hand, it is only fair if I offer the same.”

You shook your head at his foolery, quietly giggling.

With a polite peck to your cheek, he carefully withdrew himself but remained in the comfortable position.

Your fingertips traced his jaw “Thank you for trusting me. I hope you will remember this experience fondly.”

He was forward about it and sounded fearful of rejection “It can become more than only one memory.”

You pretend to think about it, doing so well that he ended up looking away from your face.

“So eager…” You ran your fingers through his hair.

Mischief sparked in his eyes and he proved you right by bringing his lips down to nip at the valleys of your breasts.

His hand skimmed over you, fingers tracing every inch of your skin “I will know when you will be eager.”

It took you a second to understand, then you closed your legs, forcing him to move away. He didn’t hide the smirk on his face now and laid down beside you.

Almost had you banished that fact to the back of your mind “Good heaven, don’t start again.” you laughed “I still can’t believe you can sense that.”

His palm brushed over your stomach “That way I will know when my beloved wife needs my attention.”

You hid your face in your hands “Ugh.”

The quiet chuckling filled the room, he continued to softly stroke along your body.

When you moved away and got out off the bed, he looked at you with a slight panic.

“I am just going to clean myself up a little. I’ll be right back.” You eased his worry.

He gave a respectful nod, cheeks turning a slight pink.

The space you had in your own room for cleaning yourself was bigger than this one, but at least he had a door to separate it from the rest of the room instead of a curtain.

Minutes later you returned to the bed, offering him a clean wet cloth and a dry one as well.

He accepted the offer knowing that if you were to help, his manhood would waken again.

To protect some of his modesty, you looked away when he freshened himself up and afterwards he discarded the cloth under the bed to handle those later.

You had picked up your nightgown from where it had landed on the floor, the fabric was still wet.

“Leave it to dry.” He beckoned for you to return to his side.

You draped it over the foot of the bed and hoped the night would be enough to dry it completely, then you climbed back into the bed and nestled into his side.

“There is a promise I made you.” Lancelot whispered against your hair.

That single burning candle on the dresser still kept the room in it’s mystical green glow. Ashes broke free and broke into the same flames they were born from, soon they traveled around the room like stars in the night.

The sight of it felt like a dream, their soft glow was stunningly beautiful.

You watched them dance around the room until you fell asleep.

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