fairiewines

[fairiewines]

the quietness of the bed chamber was punctuated only by the languid flipping of the pages from the book eleanor read and the crackling of the fire before her. with no true idea of where castiel was she contented herself with reading awful poetry that made her eyes roll. as the doors opened the queen stood, gaping at the bloodied sight of her husband. "what on . . . gods, what happened to you?" she had assumed he was conducting court business, not taking part in grisly battle. "you're lucky i do not smack you stupid with this horrible book", the lady glowered, slamming it shut before her approach. "is this yours? the blood?" gods, he was a mess and her heart mirrored the view — examining him for any visible injuries.

another closed starter for @fairiewines because i figured we could start something short and more recent for both?!

the blood had already dried by the time he made it back to their chambers, caked on the underside of his arm and all down his side, across his face and even on his leg where the fabric of his trousers had been sliced open. his arrogance got the best of him, and though he won the little battle with the others, he hadn't come out as clean as he would have liked. a sigh fell from his lips when he walked through doors and the first person he saw was her. "my queen—" he chuckled, almost nervously before jumping into the assumption that she'd perhaps freak at the sight of him like this. "ah, before you get all worked up and start scolding me like one of your handmaidens, just take your place at my side and help me undress, yeah?"

[fairiewines]

what was home to mikale was unfamiliar territory for ysara, especially the parts of his castle that accommodated warriors and weaponry, from their conversations he knew women in her lands were unwelcome in sweat slick and bloodied yards such as his own. "the only danger you pose right now is to yourself", the king reminded her with a playful grin, a low laugh in his chest as he watched her approach. "and that is why we begin with training swords for everyone, lighter and less prone to ... accidentally stabbing yourself." because princess or not, down in his training yard they were all the same.

closed starter for @fairiewines because i figured we could start something short and more recent for both?!

he wasn't supposed to have taken her seriously and yet, their conversation from the first day their met had led her to the dirt packed training yard. weeks had passed since she first arrived here, but at least this would serve as a distraction for now. it was nothing more than a bandaid to the agony going on in her mind, but it would suffice. “you took me at my word. dangerous move, your majesty.” she drew a breath, gaze finding his as she approached him. “just… don’t laugh when i drop it.”

[fairiewines]

the weight of expectations upon their union had burdened eleanor, the not so secret and pointed glances toward a stomach that remained as soft yet flat as the day she had stood before her new husband for the first time, swearing loyalty and love toward a man she had yet to truly understand — but now the thoughts of carrying castiel's child in her womb filled the lady with nothing but want, a salacious and entirely impure desire to have his milky seed take root inside her fertile body, a body that would swell and develop to become a symbol of what they had done, how they had ravaged one another. to have him impregnate her upon that throne of his was a vivid aspiration that had the queen panting softly. smooth and hot thighs part further to accommodate his wandering hand, how it so easily found home against her drenched folds. "a coronation of our own creation", she was awash with urges, rolling her hips in time with his motions, head tilting to give her husband access to the elegant curve of her neck. "let them watch, let the gods look on us with pride as we usher in a new generation on the very throne they supposedly created." hues rolled and lips parted as that spongy spot inside of her was rubbed, was smoothed and caressed by such talented fingers. "mm, they will surely wish to take my place when they witness how well you own me — dear husband, i fear they may lift their skirts and pleasure themselves if given enough time to get over their ridiculous modesty." the way he worked her body was nothing short of holy, how a single hand could have eleanor's heart racing and lips drying. "n — nobody but you, my king. i wish to only feel you inside me . . . f — fucking a baby inside of me, leaving me dripping for all to see." the sudden roughness of his movements had her grasping for his arms, digits curling around the forearm that played with her cunt so perfectly. she was a slave to castiel, to those three thick fingers that stretched her rarely used hole wide. "i — i understand, my king. gods just . . . just like that." in title she had been his since the day they exchanged vows and promises, yet tonight she eleanor fully gave herself over to castiel. he now held every part of the queen in his hands. "shit! sh — ugh . . . ugh gods, pl — please." what she was pleading for eleanor did not know, yet as her abdomen tightened and her cheeks warmed she welcomed her second orgasm of the night at the hands of her husband.

he breathed, slow and reverent like prayer or blasphemy - though at this point, what was the difference? he felt his cock twitch at the thought of pouring his seed into her womb, fucking her until she was with child. his child. then as her belly would grow, he'd get to fuck her harder. watching her bounce, the swell of her belly and breasts so full and heavy, nipples swollen and begging for him. his mouth watered as his lips met her neck... tongue dragging over her damp, warm skin. he tasted her, sucking, nibbling, leaving his mark as he pleased. his free hand slid over her waist, holding her firm, pulling her closer, and when his fingers finally slipped between her folds, he moaned at the feeling of her slick and wet heat. "right in front of the gods, my dear wife. and the ghosts of the castle, and every poor fool who ever thought you were meant to be a doll behind glass. i’ll ruin you on royalty. i’ll crown you with my cock inside you and a baby growing in your belly.” his poetic onslaught would never cease, not when his mind was constantly filling with fantasies of her. "i cannot wait to have you, all of you." his fingers slipped inside her, curling, finding that spot that would have her seeing stars. "and when your handmaidens get to play witness to our debauchery, i shall make sure you scream so loud, all they feel is envy and warmth between their legs - wishing it was them who were on display for the king." his thumb worked over her clit, the heel of his palm grinding against her mound. his pace was slow, lazy, a steady rhythm as he fucked her with his fingers. "but it will never be them. only you, my queen. only you will receive this." his gaze was dark and his smirk ever growing. he would never let anyone else touch her. she was his. and while she was a queen, he was her king. and that meant her heart, her soul, her body, her life. everything. "you're mine, eleanor. as i am yours. no one else will touch you. no one else will taste you. no one else will have the pleasure of bringing you to orgasm." his motions inside of her increased, waves of water forming as his hands plunged harder into her, fucking her with now three fingers alone. his lips brushed against her ear, teeth nipping at the delicate lobe. "do you understand me? you'll know only one cock, and the hands that will bring you release will be mine and mine alone." pushing harder and harder, castiel wasted no time, his palm rubbing her clit, his fingers plunging deeper, faster than even before when he had her up on the vanity. he was ruthless in the way he fingered her, rough and relentless, and refusing to ease up, even if it started to hurt.

[fairiewines]

"every person who begins is likely to stab themselves", the king reminded her gently, a hint of a smile cresting his lips. "nobody begins knowing everything, that would defeat the purpose, don't you think? but i can assure you of this at least ; we teach our trainees how to hold their swords on their first day, the risk of a self inflicted stabbing is close to zero." because if you did not begin at the bottom how could you ever strive to reach the top? the hardest part was beginning, showing up and putting those niggling anxieties to rest. "you can be whatever you wish ysara, in my kingdom at least. so if you wish to learn how to hold a sword or defend yourself from a surprise attack then that is what you will do ... but also, if you wish to remain indoors and read that is entirely your choice too. i have taken too much of you already, i refuse to take who you are." he would not work any further to convince her, if it was something ysara truly desired then she would take his invitation without him pushing and prodding. "not all marriages are loveless, yes, they can be for power and unity but love should not be discounted immediately", her views on the workings of the world are almost entirely at odds with his own, a very telling descriptor of what her life was like with her father. he deserved the ire in her tone, the sharpened words that managed to hit their mark — mikale had done what he had been raised not to do, to use the prospect of marriage as a bargaining chip. "you have barely known me for two days, actually", his counter is playful and smooth, yet there is no hiding the regret in his gaze. how he wished things were different, for both of them. "if you remain true to who you are then you will be an amazing queen, ysara", he can truthfully voice his opinion, a slow nod to punctuate the statement. raising his brows at her admission the king reclined on his chair, at ease now she was obliging and eating for his sake. "she would love to meet you, ciara has been hounding me to bring other women around since i became king --- she complains about the masculine energy here constantly", words delivered with a laugh, "my men mostly help by cleaning their plates with their mouths and making a poor attempt at washing them afterwards, she would appreciate the introduction." for the sake of being a pedantic little shit mikale adjusted his posture, leaning toward the princess to glance down in to her empty bowl. "good girl, you can follow the right instructions --- ones that help you instead of cage you. you might think me stupid but ... i will sleep better, knowing that you are comfortable at least." yet the guilt of bringing her here would still haunt his dreams, turn them from hopeful wishes into terrifying nightmares. "i deserve your anger, ysara. i pride myself on being a good king for my people, at the very least i hope you see that of me while you are here."

"i think you give me too much credit," she muttered, fingers idly tracing the rim of her bowl. "i’m more likely to stab myself than an enemy. and even if i wanted to learn, i doubt anyone would take me seriously." she shrugged, a small, almost bitter smile curling at her lips. "not when they’ve spent their whole lives being told women belong in silk and embroidery circles, not in training yards." perhaps it was foolish to be so pessimistic and bitter, but given the past few days she had, she felt it was within her rights to be a bit somber and dismal. "well, i would like to not make their mistakes, but my mother and father have taught me much about marriage. duty, honor, and a loveless one, at that. and now i sit here, across from you, and have to think about the possibility of spending the rest of my life bound to you, when i have not even known you for a week." her words came out sharper than intended, and the silence that followed was deafening. she wanted to take it back, to say anything that would bring them back from whatever edge they were standing on. "i just hope, when it does happen, that i am a good ruler." her voice was smaller, eyes dropping back down to the bowl. there was at least that to hold on to. that no matter who she were to marry, she would hold some sort of title, some sort of power beside her husband, and if she wouldn't have a marriage of love, she could at least love the people she swore to lead. with her focus now deep in the soup, ysara didn't have much choice but to listen to him and do as she was told, after her little commentary. taking a spoonful, she sighed at the warmth and the taste, a faint smile forming. "well, you should let her know that she's done a wonderful job. i would like to meet them tomorrow and offer my gratitude. i always remain close to the cooks back at home. though i cannot kneed bread for the life of me, i am quite talented in tasting everything ahead of time." it was an attempt to ease the tension she caused with her earlier statements. though he was the source of her frustrations and the reason she was there, he didn't deserve her ire. finally, she began to finish the meal, and after a couple more bites, the bowl was empty. "there, see? a full stomach. you can rest assured that the leader will be getting his beauty rest tonight."

[fairiewines]

eleanor had grown tiredly accustomed to the way lovers tended to her, feather soft touches and countless pauses to affirm she was perfectly fine, as if being fucked anything other than slow and weak would snap her in two. it was a rather ironic and gods blessed revelation that her husband was the first she had encountered who simply took, who respected eleanor enough to give her what she so deeply craved. "oh i am sure you will remind me time and time again", the lady remarked with a wry smile, a heat in her gaze that simply refused to ease. he had driven her to orgasm, bruised the tender lining of her throat and emptied himself across the ivory map of her skin and yet eleanor felt herself yearning for more. "mm, i believe i could be persuaded to remain by your side — the dutiful wife", she conceded as his hand found home between her thighs, a startled gasp slipping free, back arching from the warmed copper of the bath. "g — gods", lids fluttered as her mouth gaped, hips seemingly working off their own accord to push toward his harshness. "on the throne? oh, now that is a very intriguing idea. the perfect place to put a baby inside me, don't you think, dear husband? have me bent over, riding you ... " some may look upon the filthy act as a slight against the royalty that had built this castle, that had ruled this land for decades and yet eleanor's cunt pulsed at the images he painted in her mind. guided by his hand the woman's gaze locked on his thick cock, how he stroked it to hardness as if she had not just led him to release with her mouth and throat. once he joined her the queen eased back against his strong frame, sighing in bliss as the water soothed her muscles. "mm, they truly should. perhaps they could witness how a wife should serve their husband?" her throat dried as his hands explored, clit throbbing and legs spreading. "i think it would be very informative for them, my king. i feel they should watch their queen sit on her other throne." her ladies would no doubt be appalled, such a private scene showcased to them without embarrassment — but perhaps they would feel a warmth spread through their own bodies too. "i believe that, you filthy brute", the femme chided with a soft laugh, hand rising from the water to press against the back of his own, encouraging his exploration of her breasts.

her confession only made him hunger for her more. to hear that he was the only one to touch her in such a way, to ruin her like this? it was the greatest honor he had received in a long time. the smile that crossed his lips was smug, full of pride, and it stayed there as he was leading her towards the bath. "you are hardly fragile. and i will show you just how not-fragile you are." and now, as she slid into the tub, the water sloshing and the steam rising, castiel was ready. his gaze darkened, the smirk on his lips still prominent, and his body was stiff, his cock already hardening again. "run away?" he repeated, voice smooth, a little amused as he stepped toward the edge of the bath. "sweetheart, after tonight, you wouldn't dare." castiel was down to his knees now, his hand slipping into the water, swimming toward her and finding her thighs. the moment she was between his fingers, he gripped, and his eyes lifted, staring up at her. "i'm a selfish man, wife. i'll have you any and every way. i'll take you on the throne, in the dining hall, on the castle steps. and after," his voice dropped, chuckling, "i'll take you here." the thought forced another throb through his length, imagining how tight, wet and perfect she'd feel when he finally got to fuck her. "but not yet." his hand reached out, cupping her face and forcing her gaze toward him. when he rose again, he let his hand grip around his cock, stroking slowly, lazily. he let her look for a moment longer before he finally stepped into the bath, the hot water licking up his thighs, his waist, soaking him as he sat across from her. "they should expect every night to entail something like this, if they have any idea who they are serving." reaching for her, castiel tugged, pulling her to him, his legs spreading to fit her body between. "and if they so wish, they are more than welcome to watch." he wasn't even careful with the way he suggested such a thing, but he was the king and if he wanted his entire court to witness his wife cum on his cock, then so be it. it wouldn't stop him. he'd still take her, fuck her, ruin her, and then take her again. "how would you like that, my love?" a hand sunk deeper into the water, finding her breast, thumb running over her pert nipple. "letting your ladies in waiting watch as their queen is fucked senseless?" the smirk never left his face. he was enjoying the conversation far too much, the thought of showing her off, putting her on display? it had him salivating. "i know i'd enjoy it."

[fairiewines]

Twisted Lies, Ana Huang

[fairiewines]

Devious Obsession, S. Massery

[fairiewines]

LEO SUTER as Harald Sigurdsson Vikings: Valhalla, Seven Years Later (3.01)

[fairiewines]

plenty of people have approached him with whispered desires, said all of the right words in order to dredge something up from within him — yet alaric could count on one hand the amount who have succeeded. it was rather ironic that nissa was one of them when she had yet to fully verbalise her want, although to the high lord it was evident in every look, every sharp yet silky word spoken to him. there was a hunger within her, for what alaric did not know, not fully. "you believe that a high lord could not afford the price you ask?" brows lift, an amused smile playing across normally flat lips. "now you have me curious, nissa. what could you possibly want that would be deemed too dangerous for me to agree to?" given the earlier remarks about torture and repaying the people who had slighted and betrayed her alaric would wager that her option for payment veered toward the more ... unseemly, perhaps something best suited to the court of nightmares. "you showed up at my party, spitfire. dressed like a present made solely to be unwrapped. i would consider that an offering, would you not?" and although breaking through a window was rather startling it was not entirely unexpected, given her personality. "oh, how free you are with your words in the presence of your high lord — a man who most would say has done everything and more for his people, do you not agree?" playfulness infused his words, a dare for them to argue against it, to assume that he has not flayed himself open countless times over to provide for this court. "i can assure you, there is nothing little about me, spitfire. so you calling me little alaric would be nothing but you attempting and failing to get a rise out of me ... although you do succeed at that in other ways." hues lingered upon their delicate features, palm curving toward the warmth of her cheek. "and it will remain that way until i am confident you will not bite it off to spite me." to speak of the heartbreak he has suffered is akin to reopening a healing wound, allowing blood to seep down his skin, his soul. "so tell me, little one --- why are you truly here? to tempt me? to proposition me? or to stake out my home for further night visits?"

their flirtation was oddly comforting, and she felt it like a welcome hand, outstretched and ready to capture her and all of her ill intentions, and almost… embrace them? no, alaric most certainly would never seize and caress her and all of the ugliness that bubbled beneath her enticing surface. even if the two of them unshielded their vulnerability and took the other purely carnally, he’d always have one hand on a blade, ready to defend whenever she struck. and he’d be smart to do so, as nissa would preparedly act the same. despite it all, though, she still let her lips curl up into that delicious smirk she savoured just for him. “i’d coax you to find out further, my dear high lord, but i do not think any price i’d present would be a fee you’d pay. even complimentary, i would wager you’d find the risk outweigh the reward.” he was more intelligent than to let his guard down just to wet his dick, when others less perilous offered themselves tenfold. “still? unless you count your broken window as an offering, i don’t believe i’ve brought you one thus far,” they laughed lightly. “besides, the only beings i bring offerings to are those who bid me luck in return. you, alaric, have yet to promise me anything. care to change that now?” eyes narrowing amidst their folly, it was still obvious nissa detested the name. “must you insist on calling me that? how would you feel if i referred to you as little alaric?” it surely would insinuate something else. breath steady, she dared turn towards his hand, letting his scent float around her as her cheek brushed his skin. “i have utter confidence in your morality, alaric, though your cock remains a mystery,” the fae winked, suddenly boring of speaking about someone who once held his heart captive, “i suppose that i’ve never experienced a heartbreak that ruptured me as deeply as it appears to have hurt you, therefore i’ll allow you to win this argument. only this one.”

[fairiewines]

"yes, you know ... required?" ever since arriving it had been brutal, warriors came through in waves with injuries that may turn a less trained healer's stomach. yet niamh had gone in to that space inside herself that was calm, that could place her hand upon the bloody stump of an arm and murmur peaceful and reassuring promises to the patient as the skin sealed and knitted together. "thank you", a curt nod is his reward for laying the man on the only spare cot, hues studying his physique as she nears his side. "sorry?" blinking her attention turns to lachlan. "i cannot leave any more than you can, lachlan. i was ordered to come here, i cannot disobey and i do not want to — you need help. stop being such a brute and go grab me bandages, liorna left some beside the next cot over."

"needed ?" he questions, laugh stark as his siphons glow with frustration. it was clear that this war required numerous fighters and healers, but it had not occurred to lachlan that she would be amongst those called for reinforcements. it was as if the male had forgotten that a battle was raging outside the tent or that he'd been carrying a grown man on his shoulder. he follows orders like a good soldier﹔setting the wounded illyrian down on the cot. "you need to leave here, niamh." words are more akin to a demand than a plea.

[fairiewines]

"i can assure you that it was not something i had control of, inez. i believe you have felt similar urges, if you even thought to demand that of me." it was as if encountering the high lady for the first time had awoken something within him, it would not settle without her near, he could not be calm in her court without laying eyes on the high lady — without the knowledge that she was present and free from any harm. "nothing to offer?" her words bemused the illyrian, brows bunching together as he listens. "inez, there is nothing about you that i could ever grow tired of. even reading. i would happily have you read to me. pick up one of those dusty tomes and let us settle in for the day so i can prove my point. to think i could only have you once and be satisfied is the most outrageous thing i have ever heard — is that what you truly believe? that i only chase what is between your legs? that i hunger solely for being inside of you and nothing more?" she could not think that, not really. not when every beat of his heart is likely in sync with her own. he has never chased a woman before, never been so desperate for a single glance in his direction. inez was tilting his world, burning the old to ashes and creating something new within him. "i care of what harm comes to you, inez. i care and i will destroy every person who has ever so much as threatened your health or safety, do you understand me?" he would become this court's villain if needs must, be the scary story teenagers whisper across a burning fire, be the thing people fear in the night. when their mouths come together he falls apart, a need so intense it almost brings the warrior to his knees, grasping the high lady around her slim waist. "i have never stopped needing you, inez", the male groans against her lips, hand against the small of her back guiding her closer toward him. "i will never stop craving you, all of you."

"you directly disobeyed my wishes," she points out flatly, "i asked you not to see me." mostly because inez could not trust herself alone with him. hiding had been her only reprieve while being raised by a conclave of high priestesses, though they'd always managed to locate her. for all her effort to remain un - found, it appears inez cannot conceal herself. whether that be from her tormentors or the illyrian before her. "you will," she assures, "eventually you will realize that i have nothing left to offer, and you will grow tired of me." it was a belief she'd mentally reiterated over and over again. "i appeal to you because i have something you want — something you know i cannot give you." if she had given - in to him, would gabriel still be pursuing her so deliberately ? the high lady is not certain. nobody before him had dared to touch her, let alone court her. head shakes emphatically as he questions who possesses power over a high lady. and for all the torment she could withstand, knowing gabriel may be a part of it is too much to bear. "i care very little what may be done to me . . . or the suffering i may bring upon my court for failing to uphold my vows," she admits woefully, "but if you were to be harmed . . . gabriel, i could not survive it." as his rough hand moves to cup her cheek, the femme instinctively leans into the warmth of his touch. it's as if something blooms deep within her soul, trembling hands moving to reach for his jaw. "i cannot resist you. i've tried to maintain any sort of distance between us," she breathes out, "but this longing is insatiable." without pause or warning the femme desperately presses her lips against his, tongue sliding along his bottom brim. "please, i need you," she begs against his mouth, body pressing against his as her grip on his jaw tightens.

[fairiewines]

"trust me, i'm very well aware of how often they fuck — i share a wall with a particularly active girl", devon grimaces, although right now a part of her wishes she was like the female in question, a temporary partner ready and willing to help devon burn through this aching desire inside of her. "and don't pretend third years aren't the same, i've heard what you all get up to." shooting him a knowing look the cadet shifts once more, attempting and failing to find friction. "well, i'm already on most people's kill list so what's another? although i think cadoc would burn me alive if i got a weak signet. he's so damn proud." devon's spine straightens as darkness envelops her before realising what, and who, was causing it. "oh i think i do", voice drops as his gaze reaches her own, seems to delve into her inner thoughts, her secret wants. "hm ... " teeth nip at her pillowy lower lip as she mulls it over, all the while sensing his presence beside her, a constant temptation. "all of the females? maybe a guy or two as well? a sneaky little threesome when that adrenaline gets too much?" gods above, she should not be talking right now. his question leaves her breathless, lips parting and gaze unknowingly drifting toward those annoyingly sensual lips of his. "i ... " a devilish droplet of sweat trickles down her temple as her brain turns to liquid. "that question is completely unfair, kade", the dragon rider announces, although it's more of a whimper than a proclamation. has she thought about fucking him? yes. even before tonight, alone in her bed with the hours trickling by, devon has thought about it, spread her legs while wondering just what kade could do to her. groaning she fusses with her frustratingly thick tresses, tossing them down her back as it arches slightly. "is that all it would take, wingleader? for me to say 'please fuck me with your fingers right now?' or maybe these shadows of yours are good for something other than privacy?" it was dangerous territory, allowing those hidden desires to be spoken.

"have you met some of the first - years ?" he questions with a laugh, head shaking slightly, "some of you fuck like rabbits . . . guess it's all that adrenaline." not that the second or third - years were any better. though, kade had managed to remain celibate for the better part of this year ⸺ the reason for that still uncertain in his mind. "get used to it," he replies with a shrug, knowing he'd accepted his fate long ago. "the shittiest signets are the ones they kill you for," he states mindlessly. words fall from his mouth before he pauses. without another word, the shadows around them encircle the pair so their conversation and presence is more private. "you must think you've got me all figured out," he questions as head ducks to catch her line of vision. it's apparent the femme is running hot, and there was certainly an itch kade couldn't quiet scratch tonight. why not have a little fun ? "how many of my peers do you think i've bedded, corsas ?" ⸺ "give me a number." head tilts with curiosity as the femme objects to any notions of being interested in sleeping with him, thumb moving to wipe along his lip to conceal a grin. "so, you haven't thought about it, hm ? what it would be like to fuck your wingleader ?" words are meant to toy with her, though kade was certainly curious now. "you want help with that, devon ?" he questions in a low town, "say please, and i'll make it all better for you."

[fairiewines]

in previous years alaric had purchased gifts for his friends, had searched for items that represented them and their bond to him — but no gift hunting could compare to the journey he had taken to find the perfect artist for aeryn. he would accept nothing less than sheer perfection, than a painting that almost looked real. "i did, cauldron bless me it was a trip, but there was only one way for the painting to be as realistic as possible." raising his brows the high lord laughs, "oh no, my love. you would not have enjoyed my version of this beautiful painting — it would only be fit to use as kindling. i have the artistic capabilities of a two year old." and he had absolutely no shame in voicing it, in showing the less than perfect parts of himself to his mate. "nothing is too much for you, aeryn. you should know this by now." glancing down to her outstretched hand the male studies the box, easing it open to examine the contents — those two rings nestled so sweetly upon the cushion. "it is not minute, aeryn. it is a tradition and while i love you as fae i would love you just as fiercely as a human." and so he plucks the smaller band from the box, motioning for his mate to give him their free hand. "you know how greedy i am for every single part of you, human or fae i will take any promise you give to me." he had vague recollections of the human tradition of ring swapping, how it was a sign of commitment and love, a union weaker than the mating bond but profound regardless.

"semantics," she laments with a playful huff. still, she is grateful for his generosity and, above all else, his patience. aeryn was still settling into their new home﹠fae form ⸺ a process that had yet to be completed. would it ever ? "you . . . went back there," aeryn surmises as they inspect the painting further. such detail came from a recent glimpse at the old dwelling, not from her prior musings of the past. "i would have loved it either way," they assure before setting the painting down on a nearby table. a soft pang nestles deep in the fae's heart at the realization they would never return to the mortal lands they knew so well. and yet, aeryn can find no desire to leave prythian or the high lord. "those were your orders," she reminds, "you've done far too much for me . . . but i wanted to give you something. a token of my appreciation." she reaches into the pocket of her coat, fingers extending a small, velvet box housing two gold bands toward alaric. "and my commitment," they explain, "it's a human tradition . . . exchanging rings. i suppose it seems minute in comparison to accepting a bond, but it's a promise nonetheless."

[fairiewines]

"in that case you are a very convincing actor, those ladies will be dreaming about you for nights to come." try as she may airlie cannot help the bitter note that taints her words, how she stupidly wishes to be something more than a lowly servant. "their presence does not irk me, their lack of compassion for the rest of this court does — how can you not think the same? you know how hard it is for people out there, how the possibility of each meal balances on a knife's edge." of course he would suggest she leave, why was she surprised to hear it? "i have been through a lot more suffering than serving pompous high fae, caspian. it will take more than that for you to truly push me away." because deep in her soul that is what she believes he is doing, attempting to build a wall of ice between them. "ah yes, on calanmai they will fuck in the hallways as opposed to in a darkened corner of the gardens ... " hues roll at the patronising words he throws at her, "i am not leaving, caspian. they will be far too busy chasing their endless highs to notice me." although she does wonder about her high lord, about whether he would seek out pleasure as spring is ushered in. he would take part in the great rite, airlie knew that ... but who would he seek out? "why have you done this, caspian? why have you ... why have you deemed me to be a nuisance all of a sudden?" it hurt more than words could describe, an ache so deeply rooted inside of her that airlie fears it is poisoning her, slowly draining the life from her.

"i do not," he clarifies, "i do not enjoy it, airlie." in fact, the high lord loathed the parts of his rule that required catering to a greedy﹠power hungry nobility. of course, her words sting. how could they not ? hurting the fae before him had not been something caspian took pleasure in. he stands there as she verbally lashes him, fingers clasped behind his back in solemnity. "if you know what games i must i partake in, then do not be surprised that i do," he replies cooly, "if you cannot stomach what must be done — if being here amongst high fae sickens you, i suggest you find another means of employment." an idle threat, really. even if airlie had decided to leave, the male would have made sure she and her family were taken care of. perhaps it would easier for the both of them if she went away. though, such a notion makes his heart crack in two. "calanmai approaches in two weeks time," he reminds, "and i suggest you leave before then if smiles alone causes you discomfort." gods know what he'd do if she was anywhere near these grounds.

[fairiewines]

should everyone not be taught to defend themselves? whether you were leading a battalion to war or tending to newborn children mikale viewed it as a necessity, as basic a skill as learning to bathe. "in that case i may have lost some good men, i have no doubt that you could be a fierce fighter if you wished it." she certainly had spirit, he would openly admit that much. it came as no great surprise to hear that her father deemed women to be seen and not heard, to spend their days shackled to their hearths with a baby on their hip. "because he feared what would become of his rule if women had a voice, if they had options", the king remarked quietly, "my father was very much the same, a firm believer that to give power to anyone but men was to risk his grasp on this country. i fought tooth and nail to allow women to train, to learn how and where to stab a man where it hurts the most — it was not an easy change, but it happened regardless." marriages could be strategic, of course they could, mikale could have given himself to another country, a king unwed with land and opportunity. yet he refused, perhaps it was foolish but one of the few decent things his father had taught him was that a marriage should be pure, loving and passionate. at the mention of binding himself to ysara the deceased patriarch was likely screaming at him from the other side, yet when mikale looked upon the princess he did not deem it to be such a horrid fate. far from it. "i am sorry that was your view of marriage, our parents shape us greatly. but we do not have to repeat their mistakes, we can be better if we choose to be." would ysara's future back in her home country involve being shackled to a man she did not care for? it was a sad thought. "them? oh, oh you do not need to fret about that, princess. they will likely tease you, or me, they care little for societal norms when outside of war rooms and meetings." ysara would see herself in time how his closest friends could be loose tongued and vulgar, entirely uncaring when in a comfortable space. "i truly am sorry it has come to this, i have waited and waited for him to send word or send anything and yet ... " here she was, in a new country with a strange man eying her as she fussed with her soup. "now please, finish your soup for me? i will not sleep tonight if i do not know you have a full stomach ysara. i swear to you it is delicious, my cook knows her way around vegetables and chicken."

she could appreciate everything he was saying. truthfully, he was speaking in a way that could have her forgetting she was his prisoner. of course, he didn't view her as such, but the circumstances were a hard pill to swallow nonetheless. but so far he had been king, merciful and fair - something she struggled to believe at first. "well you're lucky i was not raised a warrior or longed for more, otherwise i'm sure this situation would have gone a little differently." despite her disdain for it, she laughed. ysara wasn't a warrior in the slightest, nor did she exactly wish to be, either. now that she thought of it though, she wasn't sure what she wished to be. everything had been mapped out for her, she couldn't remember if she actually wanted the life she was headed toward, or not. "but no, he did not encourage any sort of training. not of skill or survival." inhaling sharply, ysara tried to stomach his statement about marriage and those he'd one day love. considering his threat to wed her from earlier, there was a sense of uneasiness in her. the thought of potentially marrying him was one she feared, and yet the way he painted such a beautiful picture of love had her thinking anyone would be lucky to be his wife - herself included. she tensed at it all, her jaw clearly tight. "well, my parents did not exactly marry for love nor an everlasting union, but for duty and honor. so marriage has never looked like anything but, for me." it was the sad reality of most people in their world. a fact she had come to terms with a long time ago. but as much as she was grateful for the comfort and respect he was providing her, it was all too much to handle. her mind was racing, heart pounding, and she had a strong urge to run and hide. how could he make her feel safe and uncomfortable at the same time? "i am not worried for me, mikale. it is them i do not wish to make uncomfortable." she admitted, a softness in her voice, her gaze unable to stay on his for very long. the selflessness was the least she could provide. and though it pained her to say it, she spoke once more, "i understand." she swallowed, a silent agreement in the air, before finally looking back at him. "my father has forced your hand. i may not like it, nor trust it, but... i understand why i am here. and i will try to keep the peace. if only to avoid seeing any blood spilled."

[fairiewines]

his words were a heady alcohol seeping through her bloodstream, a warmth lingering on cheeks and inside as his seed decorated her features. "you certainly do have a way with words, dear husband", the queen breathed, struggling still to catch her breath, to piece her muddled mind together. it had been a blur, almost a fever dream, how the pair had pleasured one another — how eleanor had seen stars behind her lids with his fingers buried inside her pulsing cunt and later with his cock nudged down the fragile length of her throat. "i ... i have not felt this way before, with anyone. nobody has ever treated me as anything other than a princess, fragile and hardly a person." yet castiel had taken what he desired from her, fucked her face until his prick was throbbing and release was imminent. it was addictive, his attention, his greedy and talented hands on her bare skin. tongue worked to lick his thumb clean, eyes drifting closed as his taste danced across her tastebuds. "mmm, i fear that is the only thing that will truly satiate me — i need to taste it from the source, my king." obediently eleanor looked upward, blinking slowly at her devilishly handsome husband. in that moment he could ask anything of her and she would obey, would do so with a smile on her cock swollen lips and a throbbing between her thighs. "if you insist", slowly she rose to her feet, unsteady for a split second before letting out the smallest laugh of amusement. such a thing had never happened to her before ; castiel literally made her weak in the knees. "gods ... your tongue is surely magic", the woman gasped as his wet appendage made contact with her cum slick skin. thighs pressed together as filthy words slipped from his sinful mouth. "i want you to take me in every way, castiel. i want you to take what no other man has taken before, do you understand me?" that tightly puckered hole that not even her own digits had neared was entirely his, if he wished it to be. spine bowed as he fondled her breast, nipple peaked and tight against his palm. "bath ... mm, yes", her mind was a haze, misty and completely incapable of rational thought. his touch undid her wholly. padding in his wake toward the bath she smiled knowingly at his hold on her, as if he could not bare to be without the contact. "worried i might run away, my king?" the woman laughed softly as he heated the water, all those powerful muscles on display and working — working her up too. "i shall instruct them to take more care, although i cannot fault them for not realising what tonight would entail." slowly the queen swung her legs to the side and eased herself in to the warmth of the water, sighing in bliss. "join me?" lowering her body down she slowly spread her legs, knees appearing above the pleasant water as she gently palmed her breasts, already missing his assertive touch.

he was an utter mess for her. his chest rising and falling with each erratic and heavy breath. his cum clung to her skin and he admired the way she looked like a masterpiece only he could create. streaks of white painting her pretty face, dripping down to her lips, her chin, her perfect heaving chest. the sight made his cock twitch. it was still so heavy and aching despite the violent release she had just pulled from him. "pretty is but a measly word for the vision in front of me, darling. you look ruined. like you were made to be fucked, used, worshipped, all in the same breath." and now that he had a taste of her, that was his exact plan for the rest of their days. now that castiel was hooked, he fuck her until she was nothing but his, until he had her memorized and every inch of her knew his touch. he growled when she sucked his finger clean, those greedy little moans making him smirk. she was filthy and he fucking loved it. "don't worry, i'll make sure to fill this mouth next time. you'll have plenty chances to swallow what i have to offer. but right now," a hand slipped under her chin, tilting her face upward. his eyes narrowed, the darkness swirling in them. "up." he commanded, stepping back to give her room to move. "now that you've tempted me though," castiel took her by the wrist, pulling her from the ground and closer to him without so much of a second thought. "licking you clean is the first thing on my agenda." a hand cupped her breast, he leaned in and let his tongue run along the mess he had made. a mix of his salty, thick cum and her own arousal was a dangerous combination. the moment it hit his tastebuds, he couldn't resist. a moan slipped free, vibrating against her ruined skin. "i could get drunk off of you, my love. i'll bathe you, i'll clean every inch, then i'll fuck you like you want me to." he tightened his squeeze on her breast, massaging the mound of flesh, kneading it between his fingers, and all the while, his mouth kept tasting her. licking her clean, savoring the sweetness and the saltiness, and the way her body writhed against him. "i'm afraid if we don't make our way to the bath however, we may never leave this room." which was hardly a bad thing. he was certain his newfound hunger for her would never be fully satisfied. he's constantly ache for her now that he had her. though reluctant, he managed to pull away from her, though he kept his hand on her breast, unwilling to fully break contact. with a single word, he commanded her to come with, grabbing her wrist and dragging her behind him, leading her to the washroom. he didn't bother getting dressed as he moved about - throwing coals into the fire to heat the water and setting the bath. a few minutes later, and it was filled, steam rolling off the surface. "next time i'll have to make sure your handmaiden is around to prep the bath. that way i can keep my focus on more important things." a knowing smirk appeared on his face, his hands caressing down her frame before guiding her to the edge. "get in."

[fairiewines]

his entire life had been spent learning the people of his land, the casual cruelty that existed within the high fae and how their smiles never faltered while delivering it. he did not aim to be a great high lord, merely a fair one. the high fae were hungry, for power, for lovers, for respect — it would never abate, could never subside and alaric wondered what nissa truly hungered for. the title of high lady of the night court? possible. the person standing before him was cunning, sharp as a freshly whetted blade and twice as deadly. "oh, now you have me intrigued. is your touch truly that magical, nissa?" likely the devious fae would ask for a piece of his soul for a simple stroke, a weakened grasp that pitifully might just drive him to completion regardless. "power is power, regardless of what form it takes", the man agreed with a slow nod. "although i'm not overly fond of water so i suppose i should consider myself blessed, or extra blessed", because mother forbid alaric resent the mantle passed to him for a single moment lest he be deemed ungrateful and unworthy. "would you still bring me offerings, nissa? bend at my pond and proclaim how handsome and charming i am?" it was an utterly absurd line of conversation, yet he was curious, how far would her stubbornness take her? what would she give to attain her goal? whatever that may be. "ah but then i wouldn't be able to call you little nissa and that would never work", the lord remarked with a playfully stern shake of his head. toying with the little demon was far too much fun, to watch them struggle to control their temper and unleash fire upon him. "hm ... i do believe it would capture the guests' attention", a murmured acceptance of her claim, a hand still busying itself in her hair. "do not mistake my lack of showmanship for morality, spitfire. are there not enough cocks being measured around the high fae? i feel no need to outdo them all at their silly games. when i need to make an example, i do. torture eventually ends in death, the end is visible. i refuse to let the people who wrong me let go that easily."

brows raised, nissa could hardly believe she heard him utter an agreement without any hesitation. the high lord, the great ruler of his court, practically admitting that his ruin beneath her intimate mystique. it beckoned a softer smirk to grace her face, something some may call…a smile. though, nissa would deny it if ever confronted. “more than you’d be willing to give, high lord,” her tone dropped, laced with a steady seriousness that overcame their flirtation. there was no point for them to lie about it, he’d see right through the weak deception, and they were both aware that their hands should remain at their sides, forfeit the desire, the temptation that echoed around them whenever their paths crossed. though, knowing certainly didn’t make them any less aware, or less covetous. “if you were a kelpie who still held claim to the throne, i somehow doubt that you’d receive a lesser majority of desperate potentials throwing themselves at your feet. i fear your looks only contribute so much to why you are desired.” she would be the first to admit that power was more lush than vanity, more attractive. it’s what set her sights on the high lord in the first place, the king piece at the end of her plot. his amusement only enraged her further, and nissa failed to reign in her annoyance at the descriptor. “if i wished to be taller, i’m sure there would be some way to remedy that.” the nonsense spewed as she remained unchanged, her stoicism only exacerbated by his outreached hand, determined not to show any affect towards the gesture. “that would make the most spectacular of centerpieces, do you not agree?” the corner of their lip twitched upwards. “alas, i forgot, you are not that kind of high lord. you may possess the resources to send a bloody piece of her back to everyone who love her, discreetly, secretly, but you’re too…moral to do so. how admirable.” the false praise felt sick in her throat.