ggaudetmd

[ggaudetmd]

Gabriel was proud—and when his pride was wounded, he became incredibly spiteful. It was probably written into his genetics: an aberrant strand of DNA that made him incapable of forgiving anyone who clashed with the image he had of himself. That was why, despite the months that had passed since their last sexcapade, he still hadn’t forgiven Finn for the many liberties he’d taken when he had fucked him like a bitch during Spring Mischief. It wasn’t even the fact that he’d bottomed for Finn that pissed him off. Finn looked great, after all, and Gabriel was all for being the guy who helped others switch things up in bed. And to be fair, the sex had felt incredible while he was under the influence of that damned spell. But the fact that the familiar had taken him—dominated him—in a moment when he wasn’t in control? That was an offense that demanded a proper reckoning. And what better time to collect than during heat week?

Gabriel had spotted the familiar by chance that evening while picking up his usual green peppercorn grilled steak from Cannabites—because yes, even though he was a warlock, Gabriel still consumed human food—something to eat while reviewing Lucien’s notes on his latest essay. It hadn’t been hard to notice Finn, sitting at the bar in the clothes Gareth made him wear: a splash of femininity in a village mostly populated by men brutalized by the life vampires forced them to live. In his heart, Gabriel knew it hadn’t really been Finn’s fault—that the older demon had been just as out of it as he was during their encounter—but sometimes the forces of nature acted unfairly. And so did the youngest Gaudet-De Luca. It was his purpose, his destiny, and his birthright to become something so inhuman it bordered on the divine, after all.

“Doesn’t this bring back memories? Me, you, this place. I’m still waiting for that little boxing match of ours, by the way,” the warlock whispered hotly into the familiar’s ear, approaching from behind and resting his hands on Finn’s hips. He was curious to see if Finn would respond to the intimate touch the way he had during their first meeting, or if heat week had made him more like the Ransom-Finn who had so disgracefully dishonored him. “Hi, Finn, what a pleasure to see you,” he purred with a lopsided smile, resting his chin on the familiar’s shoulder and his chest against the other’s back, completely engulfing Finn’s body with his own. “I can call you Finn, right? Or do you still prefer ‘officer’?” he added, a trace of venom perceptible beneath his sultry tone.

@familiar-finn

[ggaudetmd]

Gabriel had just enough self-awareness to admit that, by modern psychiatric standards, he was a sex addict. As a half-incubus—and, even more so, a half-De Luca—it was in his nature: sex was both a source of nourishment and a delicate game of power, a means to wield power over those around him and get what he wanted. Even when he bottomed, he rarely surrendered all control to his partners, at least not mentally. He liked to play, to experiment, to put himself in dangerous situations, so he seldom judged others for their preferences. And yet, there were limits to everything: whatever the hell those three were doing in the middle of the hallway was just plain vulgar. To quote a certain children’s video game, there’s a time and place for everything—but this ain’t fucking it, child.

The warlock had been swiftly making his way to Lucien’s suite, research paper in hand, when he came to a sudden halt, mouth slightly agape, watching the improvised hallway threesome unfold. He briefly considered saying something because surely, a free man like that so vampire should’ve shown some basic decency. And frankly, from what Gabriel could see, the performance wasn’t even all that stellar—a generous 4.5 out of 10. It really lacked both passion and technique.Luckily, someone with better sense intervened before Gabriel had to.

It took just one glance for him to recognize the distinguished figure now approaching. An ancient vampire, powerful enough to catch his attention the moment he’d arrived at the village—one Gabriel hadn’t yet had the pleasure of formally meeting. “Please, don’t apologize, sir. I should be thanking you for putting an end to that pathetic display.” He offered brightly, his tone light and cheerful. “One would think that, in a place as refined as this, guests could manage a minimum of elegance—even during heat week. And yet…” He trailed off with a dramatic sigh, then held out his hand with practiced ease. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Doctor Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca. It’s an honor to witness you in action, Councilman.”

Stigr had a generally low opinion of heat and those who suffered through it, which was why he made a point to stay in the suite throughout most of the week. There were a very slight handful of people that he was willing to help out during this time, though he didn't begrudge Noah going out and having...fun if he chose to. Stigr had only left his suite earlier that day to head down to the village to collect some purchases that had been delivered to the store. A few hours later found him strolling through the castle doors, carrying a few bags, and his gaze immediately zeroed in on a master and two slaves very clearly planning on fucking right there in full view of the castle doors.

"Now really." He muttered, shooting the other master an exasperated stare as he strolled past. "Do you not have some place else in this castle to defile? I'm quite sure that your suite would do just fine and not in clear eyesight of whoever visits this castle." Stigr's gaze had locked onto one of the slaves as he spoke -- a werewolf, judging by his scent -- and the vampire rolled his eyes before he moved to continue on through the castle. Only to brought up short as he avoided colliding with someone else who had either been distracted by the three other men or by Stigr's snippy comment. "My apologies, I didn't see you. Excuse me."

@krovscastlestarters

[ggaudetmd]

Gabriel was in a serious rush. His fathers had been very clear: they were deeply disappointed in him for skipping all the sweet little pleasantries associated with Father’s Day. And, naturally, Gabriel had many many thoughts about that—considering that the charming pair in question included a man he barely knew, who had used his attempted murder as an opportunity to pick up a new sex toy, and another who, for all intents and purposes, seemed to have created him solely to make his life a living hell. But he hadn’t dared argue. He knew very well that his life—and all of his glorious ambitions—depended on their goodwill. If they wanted a gift, then by hell, Gabriel would give them a fucking memorable one. He needed something grand. Something personal. Something that would remind Lucien and Raphael exactly why keeping him around was in their best interest. And when a Gaudet-De Luca was forced to go big, it rarely involved following the law too closely.

He didn’t need to do anything excessively illegal or morally reprehensible—just pick up some biological samples from a hunter, down one of the more secluded alleys in the village. He didn’t care how his business associate had acquired the samples, and frankly, it wasn’t his problem. Gabriel was just a few turns away, medical bag in one hand and a thick envelope of cash in his pocket, when he heard an all-too-familiar voice angrily calling out his name. The psychotic little fairy’s dark powers were getting seriously out of hand: the warlock didn’t even need to say Lucien’s name anymore—just think about him, and the man would appear.

“Father, I’m so glad you’re here!” Gabriel called out cheerfully, flashing a brilliant smile. He was very aware that Lucien was going through… a delicate phase. Gabriel found the whole thing rather distasteful, especially considering they shared half their DNA. Fortunately, he had inherited only the beautifully delicate facial features and scientific genius—not the raging, heat-crazed hormones. “What a surprise! I thought between your experiments, the council meetings, and running the Gaudet Group, you'd be far too busy to drop in like this! How can I help you?” he asked, burying his sarcasm beneath his usual energetic, enthusiastic tone. Lucien seemed to have a lot of free time to micromanage him for someone who loudly prided himself on being a workaholic.

Lucien had been in town for Kaden, which went as well as every interaction he had with his slave. He wasn't done with him, but needed a break. He was walking around the town something he hadn't done in a number of years. Only in the area whenever there was an event and at that point he was always with Raphael who he was far more concerned with. He noted the subtle changes. The removal of a number of places likely from residents leaving. He didn't keep track of the villagers. They offered no real purpose in his mind save for recently since he allowed Gabriel to experience them. It was a place he could control, more so than the outside world.

Speaking of his son. His eyes narrowed when he saw the back of the warlock in front of him and glanced at his watch not understanding why Gabriel wasn't in his office where Lucien expected him to be. "Gabriel!" He called after him fully expecting him to stop immediately and acknowledge him. His work was important, until Lucien was around. Then Lucien was the most important thing, obviously.

@ggaudetmd

[ggaudetmd]

As always, Cairo didn’t answer with words, just a low growl. But Gabriel could see everything he needed to in those glowing blue eyes and the dazed expression on his face. His little trick was working. Cairo’s body was responding exactly as he’d hoped. Gabriel’s own senses were already drowning in the violet haze, and unlike his brother, he didn’t bother resisting it. He leaned into the feeling, furious, breath-stealing arousal that surged through him and bulged his pants. It reminded him of the flesh spell from Spring Mischief, though this time it was a little less overpowering. Still potent. Still addictive. Note to self: tweak the formula next time to better match Raphael’s insatiable appetite.

For now, he let everything else slip away—everything that wasn’t Cairo. He didn’t flinch at the roughness of his brother’s touch. Instead, he met it with a lopsided grin and pupils blown wide, savoring the heat of Cairo’s fingers against his skin. “I thought you liked my games,” he said, voice low and breathless. “Say the word and I’ll stop. Hell, say the word and I’ll walk out of your office right now.” But Cairo had other plans. With a flick of his magic, he lifted them both and repositioned them in a heartbeat—Gabriel now pinned against his desk, body caged beneath Cairo’s. Power, competence, intent: all things that turned the witch hybrid incredibly on. He couldn’t help but stare, eyes roaming over the solid weight of Cairo’s body looming above him.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re getting off that easy. Get back down here, you fucking prick.” he growled, sending a magical shove to force Cairo’s chest against his own. Yet there was a faint gentleness in the motion—Gabriel’s focus was split between dominating his brother and making sure he didn’t accidentally hurt him. Not that he’d ever admit that. He pulled Cairo into a kiss—hard and hungry—biting his lips before pressing in with his tongue, demanding more. His hands were already moving, unfastening belt and buttons with practiced speed, slipping beneath the waistband of Cairo’s underwear to finally touch him like he had wanted to since the last time they had done this. A few blissful seconds passed before Gabriel pulled away, one hand trailing up Cairo’s back as he whispered a string of arcane Latin. Immediately, the office door sealed shut, glowing with soft blue runes: a dissimulation spell to redirect anyone searching for Cairo; a binding charm to keep the entrance sealed; and a sound-muffling enchantment—because if history repeated itself, he knew he'd be screaming soon enough.

“Feel free to add a few spells of your own,” he murmured, brushing his lips against Cairo’s. “Just don’t mess with my framework, alright? It’s my trademark ‘Gabriel’s having a quickie—do not disturb’ spell combo.” He teased softly, then kissed him again, deeper this time, like he needed to lose himself in it for just a few more seconds. “So… is this the day you finally let me shag you?”

Cairo had taken the week off, but in typical Gaudet-De Luca fashion he'd had a lingering issue he couldn't let go. An upgraded monitoring spell on the grounds of the castle and village. It was something he could have just left until he got back, but he also could work on it while he was off and Cairo liked to work when he wasn't working. He was in his office grabbing a few spell books and a couple other things then got distracted with emails when his office was barged into.

Of all the people his expected. Gabriel was not it. The tension ran through him immediately when the younger stood before his desk eyes narrowing. His feelings on his brother were hard to explain. He was an over-complication in his already over-complicated life.

Cairo was well aware Gabriel didn't think his work was all that important in comparison to his own or anywhere in the realm of equal. He tried not to roll his eyes at the sarcastic way he announced his role easing back in his chair, but the sigh left him when he looked the distraction up and down realizing he really should have just stayed in his suite. He didn't catch the vile only the strong smells emanating off of it and glared at the warlock. "Gabriel." He said with a threat that didn't hold bringing a hand to his head trying to steady it. Whatever the hell his brother did it hit hard and fast, fitting. He lost focus for a full minute dizzied by the sudden assault on his senses. His former species experienced heat and the unexpected rush was familiar, way too familiar. "What the fuck..." he muttered to himself breathlessly because it had been a long time since he felt that strong pull. His eyes flashed back up to the complication with a much different intent.

In an instant Cairo was in front of his brother rough hand gripping him by the back of the neck pulling him close tilting his head up with his thumb under his chin to have those dark intelligent eyes meet his own blue that glowed with an electric hue. "Always playing games with me." He breathed before tilting his head crashing their mouths together eager to taste that familiar flavor he'd craved since the last time he'd tasted it. His other hand gripped his brother's thigh, elevating I'm with magic, spinning them, to land the Gabriel's back on his desk as he pushed him down against the old wood.

[ggaudetmd]

For the last 191 years of his existence, Gabriel had hated heat weeks—and every creature who suffered from them. It was Helias’s fault—his fake werewolf ex-husband—who, during one of those cursed periods of hormonal frenzy, had made the tiny mistake of sleeping with half his pack. Back then, Gabriel had still believed in true love, monogamy, and all that other sentimental bullshit. Two centuries later, he was a completely different person. He had processed the pain. But hate? That was something else entirely. He was half a Gaudet, after all—his grudges had shelf lives longer than most empires. So he had adopted the same attitude toward heat-sufferers that he reserved for cockroaches: pretend they didn’t exist—and if one of them got too close, set them on fire. In that spirit, on Wednesday evening, he stayed at work well past his office hours, deciding that reorganizing the week’s patient files was a better use of his time than being anywhere else. The Oymyakon Clinic was still buzzing with staff and patients when he heard a familiar voice drawing nearer.

Tensing in his chair—he really needed to up his security game—he desperately searched for a way out, a strategy to keep the approaching Councilman at bay. But he already knew: there was no escape, not when it came to Raiden. Especially when that overgrown tarantula of a man was in heat. “No need to get so worked up, Raiden. You know I’m always available for you,” Gabriel exclaimed with a dazzling smile the moment the massive tribrid stepped into his office. Every trace of tension, irritation, or hatred vanished from his expression like a curtain dropping. His opinion of the giant hadn’t changed in recent months—Gabriel still thought he was a detestable creature, even more so now that the heat made him act like an animal on steroids. But it was undeniable: the man was a stellar fuck. He just needed to find a way to keep his reputation intact.

“There’s only one small issue,” he said smoothly, grinning despite the fact the Raiden had just pushed him against a wall. “I know exactly what treatment you need, but my fathers have been breathing down my neck lately. So either I help you half-assedly to maintain discretion, or we’re both going to end up in trouble. I’ll be locked away in a tower somewhere far from everyone—including you—for centuries. And you’ll have to sit through a council meeting with Lucien and Raphael lecturing you about the importance of professional ethics for hours. Neither of us wants that, right?”

His voice was honey-sweet, velvety and calm, as he ran both palms across Raiden’s pecs. The larger man gripped his thigh—probably ready to take him right there against that wall and Gabriel was alredy getting half hard. “Help me fix this, Raiden,” Gabriel purred against his lips. “and I’m yours for the rest of the day. I’ll do things to you that’ll make our previous sessions look like Bible study. Clear everyone out or get me out of here. I need your giant dick right the fuck now.” Trying to bargain with Raiden to get what he wanted was a risky move—but one worth taking. The tribrid couldn’t possibly do anything worse to him than a pissed-off Lucien.

Raiden usually tried his luck with his France when heat came around, but he'd come to find his urge in Gaudet wasn't the one he expected and Raiden was a man that indulged in all his urges. It wasn't hard to figure out where the pretty little warlock was since he wasn't far from a place Raiden owned. Not that he ever was in the place. He had people for that. Like he had people for most things that made him money. Other things he handled himself.

He was sending off a text for some chaos he planned to cause a little later a few towns over. People who said money didn't buy happiness, obviously didn't have any money. Pushing the door open with a loud bang, enough the thing almost came off it's hinges as it slammed against the wall and got everyone's attention in the waiting room, which didn't stay as full as it was when he arrived. Seemed his reputation still preceded him.

"There a doctor in the house?" He low rumbling growl made its way through the place not that he didn't follow it as he went further in following the scent he was hungry for. "Cause I got a fever and I need treatment. Now." Raiden pushed another door open and found who he was looking for. The mix of sex and violence moved behind his eyes before he did grabbing the smaller doctor lifting him and shoving him against the wall he was soon pressing him against with his large from. "You didn't hear me calling you, Doc?" His large hand was already moving up the warlocks thigh urging it around his hip. "Told you I had a fucking fever." He growled as he drew his forked tongue up the younger's pulse along his neck.

@ggaudetmd

[ggaudetmd]

After yet another scolding from Lucien and a few unexpected jabs from Raphael — which only served to inflate his ego as a pride demon because, apparently, the older ghoul cared enough to be offended — Gabriel had decided to give the Italian councilman a belated Father’s Day gift. Part of the reason he didn’t do it in the first place was the furious pace at which he’d thrown himself into work, devouring nearly every scrap of his free time. The other part? He was fairly certain that giving Raphael two gifts to celebrate a father-son bond that had only existed for a few months might come off as clingy. So he had let the holiday pass quietly.

Apparently, that had been a mistake — one he fully intended to make up for, in style. Finding the perfect idea for the gift had been easy: something he was sure Raphael would appreciate and that would also benefit Lucien. The hard part was the execution. But with the arrival of Heat Week and a wad of cash slipped to a hunter looking for some extra coin, he’d managed to acquire the necessary materials and whip up a prototype in just a few days. All he needed now was a test subject, and he knew exactly who to ask.

“Good afternoon, brother mine!” he exclaimed with a wide, shit-eating grin as he walked into Cairo’s office like he owned the place, without even knocking. Gabriel was way to excited for those kind of formalities. He knew his brother was a sexual deviant — and yes, Gabriel was quite proud to have been the catalyst of that discovery — but he was still a Gaudet-De Luca. Gabriel was confident that professionalism, reputation, and dedication to his duties mattered just as much to Cairo as they did to him. The older one wouldn’t risk it all, not even for their perverse little game… unless Gabriel’s new creation helped him loosen up a little. If it was strong enough to override Lucien’s Pavlovian conditioning, it would be more than enough to win back Raphael’s favor.

“Apologies for the interruption, oh mighty Head of Security,” he mused before pulling a small vial from his pocket. It was filled with a clear, amethyst-colored liquid. With a lazy flick of his fingers, he dropped it to the floor, letting it shatter into a thousand shards. From the small puddle of liquid, thin streams of violet vapor immediately began to rise, and a warm, enveloping scent of dried lavender spread through the room — along with the effects of the potion Gabriel had just released. The key ingredients? Purified hormonal extracts from creatures affected by Heat Week — mostly werewolves and shifters, with a few traces of rarer beings — bound by magic to synthetic pheromones found in most humanoid species. When inhaled, the concoction was designed to stimulate the amygdala, the anterior cingulate cortex, and the nucleus accumbens — the regions of the brain responsible for attraction — using a blend of witchcraft and biochemistry.

The result? An arousal-inducing haze that no one — not even humans — was immune to. That was his gift to Raphael: the ability to induce a less intense, more manageable but still satisfying heat at will in any target of his choosing. Gabriel knew that if the potion worked, he’d be just as affected as Cairo. But since everyone seemed to think it was fine to disturb him during work hours, it only felt fair that Cairo got a taste of what it was like to walk in his shoes. His feelings toward his older brother were complicated, but pettiness like this? That came as easily as breathing.

“… But I do have a very big, very hard, very persistent problem that only you can help with.” he said, his voice low and raspy as he studied his brother’s frame with a clinical eye. “But first things first—how are you feeling, C.?”

Honestly, the incubus hybrid figured the ideal answer to that question would’ve been ‘I feel like I want you to kneel and blow me under my desk’, but he couldn’t tell if that was the potion talking or just his good old incubus libido.

@cairorenaud

[ggaudetmd]

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the vampire, who looked utterly defeated by what seemed like the great vegetable uprising against a tyrannical bloodsucker. He barely held back a smirk at the apparently young man's crushed expression, and only managed it because he knew very well that, in a place like this, appearances were highly deceiving. “Of course, obviously!” he said, stepping closer and putting on his best good boy expression. With a flick of his wrist, he telekinetically lifted every fallen vase, making them swirl in the air before settling them safely back onto the curious contraption the master had chosen to transport them. “Where do we need to put them?” he then asked, still wearing his best good boy impersonation.

“And do you need any advice on how to take care of these green babies, by any chance?” He may have been a demon, but he was still a witch hybrid. He knew a thing or two about how to care for the precious plant ingredients that went into many of his potions.

This was... getting difficult. What Iah wanted was to start trying to make his room a bit more green. However, he was awful with plants and knew he was going to mess up at some point. To hopefully give himself more chances to get it right, he brought a small wagon to town and bought several plants.

Sadly, the wagon had other plans and decided that it only needed three wheels instead of four, causing all of his newly acquired leafy friends to fall out. Sighing, the vampire looked around, calling out to the first person he saw. "Um, would you mind helping me for a moment?"

@krovscastlestarters

[ggaudetmd]

Magnai’s jab about his family’s obsession with appearing perfect at all times didn’t surprise Gabriel, nor did it hurt him. He knew the varcolac was right: being a member of the Gaudet-De Luca clan meant imperfection wasn’t just frowned upon, it was inconceivable. That went double for Gabriel, who used his beauty and cleverness as the foundation of his polished facade. He wasn’t sure whether Magnai saw him as anything more than a spoiled brat—despite them being surprisingly closer in age than Gabriel had first assumed—but that was fine by him. The alpha could claim his body, toy with his senses, but what remained of his charred, blackened heart—with all its true desires and glorious ambitions—belonged to Gabriel alone.

“You’ve really got me all figured out, haven’t you? God, I do hope your brain isn’t the only oversized thing you’ve got.” he said with a dazzling smile, hiding a blade of sarcasm behind the bright, shallow compliment. Somehow, he doubted Magnai would fall entirely for his act of being a pretty, vapid himbo—he’d already proven to have more wit than Gabriel had initially given him credit for—but he was having way too much fun to stop. “Are the two mutually exclusive, master?” he teased, pronouncing the last word slowly, deliberately. “I definitely plan to make a nice meal out of you, if you’ll let me, but I wouldn’t mind if you returned the favor. I’ve heard warlock blood is quite the experience for a vampire. Doesn’t it sound delightful? Feeding off each other in a perfect loop of power, pleasure and electricity.” He grinned, licking his lips and sighing theatrically. Gabriel was pretty sure Magnai was enjoying himself almost as much. If, at the Valentine’s Ball, his body language had screamed guarded and closed off—at least at the start—he seemed a lot more open now to giving Gabriel what he wanted. Maybe more than once, if he was lucky. “I always behave according to the person I’m dealing with. Don’t get me wrong, Magnai. I’ve made my intentions clear, yes, but I’m not one of your pretty little slaves. My submission has to be earned. It’s not freely given. Is for your other point, I can take whatever you’ve got. The real question is: can you give me enough?” Gabriel’s tone was silky and amused, but not aggressive. He was definitely pushing Magnai’s buttons—but not trying to offend him. “So why don’t we test each other, Magnai? If you’re into semi-public, take me somewhere secluded in the garden. Show me everything you’ve got. Make sure my behavior meets the standards of a man like you.” He smirked, eyes gleaming. “You want me to behave? Then make me.”

Magnai too had long abandoned any pretext that this little dynamic of theirs would lead anywhere other than where it was fated to. If he was tossing light obstacles in that road, it was only to sweeten the anticipation for them both. Or for himself, at any rate. He'd meant it (and in many different ways) when he'd told Gabriel he intended to take his time with him. "Of course. I know how your bloodline is about appearances." There was a glint in Magnai's eye, honed by years of brushing up against the Gaudets especially. He wondered if Gabriel knew anything of the varcolac's relationship to the twins, of he and Noel's little game of wolf and mouse so many years ago. Arguably still ongoing, though he went back and forth now on who was chasing who.

The warlock's hand was cheeky and certain on his shoulder, Magnai let Gabriel lean in to come to him, a coy smile touching his lips. "Both," He deadpanned, though the true answer was closer to neither, "But what an interesting way of phrasing it. I thought I was supposed to be your meal." This time when Gabriel stepped back, the varcolac was the one to step forward and rob him of the space he'd just put between them. "Don't mind public," Magnai continued casually, "But I don't care about an audience. I'm not going to fuck you for applause." His thumb pressed below Gabriel's mouth, fingers curling beneath his chin to lift it as the alpha appraised him. Pretty lips on such a handsome face. "Why would I show you off when I don't even know if you can behave yet?" Almost a facetious statement. Incubi were chameleons, in Magnai's experience with them. Sturdy little things, too. He wondered how the de Luca genetics would fight that tendency. "Or how much you can take." His hand slid down, broad palm spanning over Gabriel's throat, enjoying his warmth. He spared not a single thought for the rest of the party humming around them as he held the warlock's eyes, something subtle but inviting, almost conspiratorial in the varcolac's face.

[ggaudetmd]

Gabriel had entered Lucien’s lab at 4:30 p.m., even though their appointment was at five. His father valued punctuality—not earliness—but that day Gabriel was determined to secure at least some progress in his research, so he had decided to begin the preparations before the ghoul's arrival. Although the warlock was fully aware that his father was an excellent scientist whose methods had been validated by centuries of experience, Gabriel had his own idiosyncrasies to tend to—small details he wasn't sure his father paid attention to, but that would have driven him insane if neglected. First among them: absolute sterility of the equipment. If his father was obsessed with order and the overstimulation caused by surrounding colors—Gabriel had taken care to avoid aggravating Lucien’s sensibilities, wearing a white lab coat and shirt over black trousers, shoes, and tie—then he, Gabriel, was fixated on eliminating any trace of germs or contaminants from the surfaces he worked on. There could be no unknown variables when practicing sorcery at Gabriel’s level; combining that art with science made absolute cleanliness even more crucial. Tiny blue flames wandered over the surfaces of every beaker, scalpel, and test tube—which the warlock had arranged at regular intervals and organized by function and size—eliminating impurities under the guidance of the incantations he whispered with concentration and precision.

The moment the calendar reminder chimed on his phone, Gabriel heard the lab door open—Lucien’s ability to arrive on the dot was always impressive—and immediately, the younger Gaudet snapped his fingers, dispelling what his father would likely refer to as 'magical nonsense'. “Thank you for meeting with me, Doctor.” he said, neutral and clinical, shifting his gaze toward his father as he retrieved an elegant black notebook from his bag, filled to the brim with notes neatly stacked in his refined handwriting. “I took the liberty of analyzing and processing the data from our splicing experiment last week. You were right, some unexpected but interesting correlations emerged. Would you like to review this now, or should I archive it for future reference?” He offered the notebook with a small smile. He was well aware the situation would likely become tense within minutes considering who his partner was, but Gabriel was trying to start off on the right foot.

“Do you already have something in mind for today’s work?” he asked, trying to conceal a nearly childlike excitement at the idea of working with his father. The warlock had an almost endless list of experiments and ideas to propose, but he knew better than to overwhelm Lucien with too many words. “Just one small thing before we begin. I submitted a formal request to the relevant department of the Gaudet Group for a biological sample of a fallen angel for my comparative demonology analysis. It’s been five days—still no confirmation or rejection. I understand your subordinates must be very busy, but… let’s just say things ran far more smoothly when I was the head of the European R&D branch. But I suppose I was operating under facilitated conditions in my simulation, right?” he concluded with a courteous, gentle tone and a sardonic smile, hiding behind a mellow façade all the venom he was capable of. He was fairly certain that his remark was going to make a few heads roll, but it didn’t matter: Gabriel was a Gaudet, and he valued punctuality and professionalism above all else.

@drluciengaudet

[ggaudetmd]

set the night of Gabriel's shooting, after this

Gabriel was pacing back and forth in Lucien’s bedroom, his hands tangled in his hair, a haunted expression on his face. It had been a couple of hours since Ransom shot him, even though it felt like much longer. How the hell had he let that happen? How could he have been so stupid, so unprepared? He wanted to scream, to go back to Raphael’s suite and start punching the black dragon until there was nothing left of him but bloody sludge. But he couldn’t: as the son of two Councilmen, he couldn’t afford such outbursts—especially not while his fathers were locked in the Council chamber, deciding Morozov’s fate. They would sentence him to death—they had to—but that still wasn’t enough to ease the warlock’s nerves. His mind was spiraling in a loop of fear, anger, and doubt, but he couldn’t let himself be crushed by it, not while he was in Lucien’s territory, under his watchful eye. He could’ve tried to rest, but his trembling body was flooded with adrenaline, so sleep wasn’t even an option. He was left with only one choice: focus on something else. Someone else. The only one available was his unlikely savior, Cairo Fucking Gaudet-De Luca.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. The last person he wanted to see was his brother, especially with his hands still shaking and his clothes bloody and torn to pieces, but anything was better than being alone with his thoughts right now. Once he made up his mind, he sprang into action, rushing around Lucien’s suite and gathering all the supplies he needed: stethoscope, blood pressure monitor, pulse oximeter, thermometer, penlight, reflex hammer—and a bottle of whiskey. That last one was more for his benefit than for Cairo’s. He wasn’t thrilled about not having his state-of-the-art equipment—it had been left on the sidewalk when Ransom shot him, he guessed—and having to make do with the dusty old tools of a doctor who probably hadn’t seen a patient since the fall of Rome, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Rise and shine, princess,” he said in a deadpan tone as he approached Cairo, who was still lying on Lucien’s immaculate couch. “Sit up and undress. I’m going to examine you and make sure you’re okay. In case my tone isn’t clear enough, that wasn’t a request.” He uncorked the whiskey and took a long swig before grabbing Cairo’s left arm and checking his radial pulse. “Why did you do it?” he asked simply, offering no further context, trusting that his brother was sharp enough to understand the subtext: ‘why did you risk your life to save me?’

@cairorenaud

[ggaudetmd]

Gabriel’s mind was completely clouded by the spell, to the point where he couldn’t tell whether the arousal he felt was truly his own or a result of his new mindset—as a poor, fragile damsel in distress. Probably a little bit of both. He didn’t resist when Finn pushed him onto the chair and pulled down his pants, finally relieving the unbearable pressure that had been building up in his underwear. “I thought you liked it when I talked to you. How do you want me to please you, sir?” It was kind of a redundant question, since Finn had just told him, but he needed to hear the familiar’s voice give him orders once more. He thought he would be able to come untouched, just by being bossed around by the older demon. As Finn’s cock penetrated him, he grunted loudly, the familiar mixture of pain and pleasure almost maddening in the most positive of ways. As the other’s dick started slamming into him faster and faster, Gabriel instinctively arched his back to position himself in a way that would grant them both the maximum satisfaction, moaning and cursing under his breath in approval. “Please, Finn, I need more. Please, fuck me like the little, tied-up bitch I am.” He begged, his voice an octave higher than it usually was, as he started sapping the older’s sexual energy.

Finn scowled down at the too chatty thing in front of him. "I'd rather you shut the fuck up," he snapped, reminding Gabriel of the gun's presence with a little more pressure against his temple.

He narrowed his eyes and grabbed Gabriel by the front of his shirt, hoisting him up to his feet and roughly bent him over the back of a chair while he worked the other's pants and underwear off. "Talk way too fuckin' much," he muttered. He held the warlock in place with his gun hand on his back and spat into the palm of his other hand adding a little more wetness to his erection. He kicked the younger's legs farther apart, lined himself, and pushed into the tight ring of muscle with a low, drawn out groan. He swapped hands, one on the back of Gabriel's neck and the gun once again resting at his temple. "Be good and maybe I'll let you go," he rumbled against the other's ear as he built up his rhythm fucking the warlock.

[ggaudetmd]

When Lucien burst into his office, Gabriel was just about to finish a consultation — a thirty-something-year-old boy who had been bitten by a dog, accompanied by his loquacious and know-it-all boyfriend — and silence fell over the room. Gabriel observed him carefully without saying a word, his expression neutral. “I’ll be with you in a second, Doctor Gaudet. As you can see, I’m in the middle of a consultation,” he said politely, flashing a dazzling smile. Lucien could have ordered him to jump through a hellfire ring in a lion costume, but interrupting his work in front of patients — that was where Gabriel drew the line. No one, not even his father, could undermine his professionalism. He would honestly have preferred Lucien to bury him alive than subject him to that kind of humiliation — he was a pride demon, after all. “In fact, since you’re here, why don’t you give me your opinion? This is Aleksej, thirty three years old, bitten two days ago by a German shepherd,” he explained with a smile, extending a hand toward the child, who was clearly terrified by the ghoul’s arrival. “No relevant previous medical history, no current medications, no reported allergies, up-to-date vaccination schedule. The affected area appears erythematous, edematous, and warm to the touch, and Aleksej reports pain. His blood tests show neutrophilic leukocytosis. I’ve disinfected, dressed, and bandaged the wound. No tetanus shot required, since he's had his last dose three years ago, but I would like to administer an antibiotic — clarithromycin, to be precise. However, Aleksej's ever-diligent partner here has read online that doxycycline is the antibiotic of choice. I was just explaining to her that doxy often causes diarrhea, vomiting and abdominal pain, and that clarithro is an equally effective but much safer option. Thoughts?” he asked, with a smug grin. It was an extremely basic case — a medical student could have managed it independently, unless they were completely incompetent — and precisely because of its simplicity, Gabriel was confident he had handled it perfectly. He was very curious to see what his father would say.

As soon as they got rid of Aleksej and his infuriating boyfriend, Gabriel sat back at his desk, hands folded in his lap, his full attention now on Lucien. “So, let me recap. I’m a disappointment, if I don’t improve you’ll burn this place to the ground, and yesterday, apparently, was an important date,” he said, stroking his chin, lost in thought. Did he forget a birthday? The anniversary of some important victory during the wars? He honestly didn’t think so, but Lucien clearly considered it significant. “No, sorry, I’ve got nothing. Why don’t you sit down and explain the cause of your concern?” he asked calmly, using his telekinesis to slide the chair on the other side of the desk toward his father — a clear invitation to take a seat. He knew he was probably pushing his luck and that Lucien would find a way to make him regret it, but he was genuinely confused. And, for some strange reason, the little incident he’d had with Ransom gave him the arrogance to suppose that there were things far more dangerous to him than Lucien Remy Gaudet.

Lucien liked to keep his favorite son on his toes and show up without invite whenever he deemed fit. Currently he felt it appropriate for a few reasons. He didn't knock nor did he care what his son was doing when he came in with his judgmental scowl seeing his sons quaint little office was still just that, quaint. After looking around he deemed it was better to keep his gloves on deciding he wasn't going to stay long in the place.

"You do know what yesterday was I presume? I expect you to disappoint me Grabriel Èdouard Gaudet-De Luca but not your father. Do I make myself clear. You're here because I allow you to be here. Keep disappointing me and I will buy this little play place and demolish it with you in it."

@ggaudetmd

[ggaudetmd]

Dr. Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca was okay. Really, he was. After his near-death experience that spring night, he had gone back to work the very next day, a smile plastered on his face and his usual laser-sharp focus intact. He kept up his pleasant conversations, flirted with coworkers during downtime, and saw patient after patient when on duty. As soon as he left the clinic, he threw himself into his research under Lucien’s supervision. To the outside world, the fact that Ransom had almost killed him was just a minor, forgettable incident, on par with a night of heavy drinking with friends. What no one else knew, however, was that this hangover was far worse than anything alcohol-induced.

Gabriel still woke up with a start at least three nights a week, forehead slick with cold sweat, breath caught in his throat. For a few moments—even after clawing his way out of sleep—he would still see the cold, dead smile on Ransom’s lips and feel the searing heat of the cop’s gun barrel pressed against his forehead. But the phantom of that dragon’s presence didn’t haunt him only during his sleepless nights. A few weeks ago, he had nearly incinerated Ravi with a sphere of blue, superheated fire just because he had appeared behind him without warning while Gabriel was distracted by a particularly complex patient chart, waiting for his coffee at the vending machine. Every sudden noise, every flicker of movement at the edge of his vision made him tense, triggering his fight-or-flight response. And the aftermath of the shooting didn’t help soothe his growing unrest. He could’ve handled the humiliation of being saved by Cairo and Kaden—though, come on. Nearly seven billion people in the world, and the only two who came to his aid were the last ones he’d ever want to owe anything to.

But what truly hurt was his fathers’ reactions. Lucien barely acknowledged what had happened to him, even after seeing him nearly bleed out in his suite. Gabriel had the distinct feeling the doctor had been more concerned about the state of his snow-white carpet than the fact his son had ended up looking like a piece of Swiss cheese. Raphael, on the other hand, had seemed more interested—at least on the surface—but hadn’t even waited a full week before claiming Ransom as his own slave, parading him around like a prized new toy. Somehow, Gabriel doubted this was purely due to the paternal instinct to avenge him. He already knew the truth: he had been born from nothing, a whim of Lucien’s, and if someone eventually succeeded in ending his existence, that’s where he’d return—nothingness. No photo, no article, no memory would remain. He knew that, to the family he had sworn an eternal pledge of fealty to, he was little more than a stranger. And if you were a Gaudet-De Luca, love wasn’t unconditional. It had to be earned. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he was almost able to separate his rational side—the one with a degree in Psychiatry—from his emotional one, and put a name to what he was going through. But Gabriel couldn’t allow himself to use words like "depression," "anxiety disorder," or "PTSD" when it came to himself.

Instead, he focused on something his kin found more acceptable: rage. Quite frankly, it was the only thing that had kept him going those past three months—a constant, blinding, roaring fury that gave him the strength to get up every day, put on his mask of flawless perfection, and throw himself into his work with even more brilliance and dedication than before. Work kept him grounded. But it would also be the key to solving all his problems. He would become so incredibly powerful that no one would ever again have the opportunity—or the desire—to oppose him, either physically or emotionally. He would become a monster, most likely, but a monster with thick, armor-plated, iron-coated skin. But he wasn’t there yet.

So, on the night of the ball, he had done everything in his power to stay distracted: approached two Councilmen, hit on Magnai shamelessly, tormented his brother a little, and wooed both Dair and Briar. And yet, his gaze kept wandering restlessly around the ballroom—until it landed on the one person he had dreaded seeing: Ransom. He had hoped their last encounter—when Gabriel had used every weapon at his disposal to push the slave’s mind and body close to the breaking point—would have brought him some closure, somehow. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. Seeing Ransom, dressed like a true gentleman, drinking and chatting at the ball like any other guest, dragged Gabriel straight back to the moment when, crawling on the floor like a worm and on the brink of death, he had begged for his life.

Frozen in place, Gabriel was suddenly flooded with everything he had spent a quarter of a year suppressing—rage, fear, sadness, betrayal and pain all crashed down on him at once, like an iron grip squeezing the air from his lungs.

A voice in his mind told him to strike. He was the predator again, the one holding the knife. He could torment Ransom all he wanted now, as long as he stayed within the limits of what Raphael considered acceptable. Another voice screamed at him to run—to teleport back to his bedroom, protected by so many wards and enchantments it was probably safer than a nuclear bunker. Instead, he stayed there, paralyzed by two completely opposing instincts, his heart likely beating at a rate that would have been lethal for an ordinary human. No. He couldn’t just stand there and watch Ransom stroll around the ballroom without a care in the world. He had to get out.

He turned on his heel and made his way quickly toward the corridor, the lively noise of the party behind him reduced to a muffled hum. His head started spinning, and he had to lean against the wall for support before hastily running toward one of the bathrooms as his stomach began to twist violently. Inside the empty washroom, Gabriel rushed to the sink, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles turned white. His stomach gave one final spasm before emptying its contents into the white ceramic basin. Panting for breath, he tried to pull himself together—and when he finally looked up at the mirror, he saw a man behind his pale, sweat-covered reflection. Shit.

"Yup, it’s me," the man said, smiling pleasantly as he turned. Immediately, the warlock scrambled to put up his usual perfect façade, but it was less convincing than usual. His eyes were wide, his voice a little distant. "Don’t worry, I just drank too much. You know how these parties are, right?" he lied shamelessly, praying to every infernal creature ever conceived that the newcomer would buy it. But Gabriel’s mind had been through too much, had taken too many hits in the last few minutes, and his magic was beginning to fail him. The mental shields that usually kept his thoughts safe were starting to falter, flickering like a dying lightbulb.

He had become a pulsating star, radiating waves of terror, fury, and regret—and projecting them involuntarily onto anyone capable of perceiving them. "I told you I’m fine. You can go," he insisted as the stranger asked him if he wanted some water, his tone somewhere between cheerful and impatient. He just wanted to be left alone in that moment, because maybe –just maybe– Doctor Gabriel Gaudet-De Luca was not okay. "I see from your collar that you're not an unclaimed slave, so I’m sure your master won’t be pleased to hear you’re following men into bathrooms. Bye!"

for @ggaudetmd

After years of suppression, there was a strange chaos in observing festivities such as this one with his empathy unrestrained. Adrasia had quickly learned to draw back from the emotional imprints of the past within the castle walls, where too many painful stories had come to a sudden end. The surface level emotions were easier to sort through, lingering in the back of his mind like the gentle whisper of waves. For so long the celestial had been deprived of what was essentially another sense for him and now that it had been returned the world seemed far more vivid than before and its inhabitants far less strange. Finding an advantageous spot and letting the party flow around him, Adrasia took many long moments to appreciate that renewal and to scrutinize those in the castle who had confused and angered him the most.

Some minds were as shallow and brutal as he'd imagined. Some Adrasia dared not focus on with intent, lest he draw unwanted attention. He scowled only a moment at the Italian councilman in profile across the room, skated his attention lightly over Alasdair's prickling frustration with a sympathetic twist of his mouth. Perhaps it would be worth it to try and distract the young man. Then came the discordant note: panic, so sudden and sharp that the angel's head whipped towards it as if he'd heard a gunshot.

Adrasia recognized that dark head. Gabriel, the warlock, the third son. In idle observation, the celestial had merely taken him for one of Dair's leering audience. But Gabriel was not looking at the nephilim now, no, whatever he had seen had his face taut and waxy with anger. Without realizing it Adrasia had taken a few steps in the other's direction, instinctively moving towards the source of so vivid a fear. The urge to protect was a powerful one, but from what? Before he could begin to answer that question and consider if it was even right to move to protect this particular individual, the councilmen's child was moving. In the end, it took only a second for Adrasia to decide to follow.

The intensity of that emotion was the only way he managed to track him and the celestial hesitated with his hand on the washroom door. His intercession would likely not be welcome and Gabriel was not a man to flippantly offend, if he was anything like his fathers. But the panic had been real and the look in his eyes... Adrasia's own hardened with certainty and the slave slipped carefully inside after his quarry. The air within smelled sour; he could hear a shaky breath inside the stall. He closed the door behind him near-silently and gave the other a long moment while the celestial deliberated internally. Quietly, Adrasia poured the contents of his glass down the sink and filled it up again from the tap. "It's Gabriel, isn't it?" He said softly once the faucet had turned off, "There's no one else. Would you like some water to rinse your mouth?"

[ggaudetmd]

Councilman Socorro didn’t seem interested in making things easy for Gabriel. It was clear in his body language—his head resting on his hand in a closed-off posture, and that hard expression in his pale eyes. “There’s something to be said for a man who works hard to maintain his aura of mystery. I usually have the opposite effect.” he admitted with a smile, firmly shaking Valentin’s hand before sitting beside him. The warlock was not lying. It was absolutely true that, with his usually cheerful and outgoing demeanor, most people who met him for the first time rarely saw him as someone complex. But that was part of the game: coming across as a harmless fool no one paid attention to gave him far more freedom to observe those around him, to find their weak points and, if necessary, strike with the implacable lethality of a black mamba.

“I’ve heard you’re a fair man. That you listen to the voices of the weak without prejudice. That you always seek compromise with the strength of your eloquence, not with the brutality your power would allow. Many admire you, among both the slaves and the free. You’re also the only Councilman who hasn’t claimed a single slave. Aside from Raiden, but that’s a whole different story.” he added, his voice calm, slow, and warm, almost like a melody meant to hypnotize a snake. Valentin could be a dangerous creature for Gabriel fast and strong enough to eliminate him before he even realized it. The metaphor wasn’t so far-fetched, after all.

“And I’ve done my research. You know, I grew up in a place so far away it was barely touched by the Council’s law. So, when I arrived here, I took it upon myself to read through the Council's decrees from the past five years, along with the results of the votes that preceded them,” he explained, genuinely. “There weren’t any names listed alongside the votes, but after casually asking Raphael for some clarification, I think I’ve found a pattern. You really are an admirable man, Councilman. I couldn’t pass up the chance to express my respect.” he said, flashing his brilliant smile. He wasn’t sure how the Spaniard would respond, given his complicated history with Gabriel’s ghoulish fathers. With a wave of his hand, he called the bartender’s attention and ordered a whiskey—neat—without ever taking his hazel eyes off Valentin’s.

Valentin had no interest in Raphael's children. He barely had interest in Raphael and he was trying very, very hard to shove it all out of his mind because the ghoul infuriated him. He kept a blank face as Gabriel introduced himself, resisting a twitch to his eye. He already knew who Gabriel was. He was the reason why the chief of police had been demoted to slavery. If Valentin hadn't felt so strongly about revenge, he would have voted against it because he took slavery to be the utmost punishment. It was worse than death. Even still, he had no reason to be cruel to Gabriel. He could be cordial no matter who his fathers were.

"I make it a point to be hard to find," Valentin drawled in his thick Spanish accent, slouching on his stool by the bar. He rested an elbow against it and propped up his head as if it were exhausting to keep it up on his neck and it contrasted with the military-style Regency outfit he wore. The whole ensemble was from the period itself, kept perfectly neat and preserved because Valentin was a sentimental bastard. There was more than one thing he kept from his past, even if it was something that brought him pain.

He took his free hand to shake Gabriel's cordially. Once they let go, he gestured at the empty stool next to him so that Gabriel would take the invitation to sit. "What have you heard?" he questioned, gesturing at the bartender to come and serve Gabriel. Valentin focused his amber and honey-colored eyes on the younger man, unwavering and serious.

"And who have you heard it from?"

[ggaudetmd]

"To be honest, I was having a pretty pathetic night before I saw you. I hope you’re planning to change that," he replied, dropping any pretense of subtlety. He’d already been clear with Magnai about his intentions, and just as adamant about what the alpha would have to do to stop him. If Khasar wanted to play in the grey areas, Gabriel was more than ready to rise to the occasion.  “Oh, Magnai, come on, now you’re just insulting me. Don’t you know I’m amazing at handling more than one thing at once? The more you throw at me, the merrier I am.” He grinned, biting his lower lip as he stared at the older man, hazel eyes wide with invitation. Magnai’s outfit was far more subdued than the warlock’s own, and yet it managed to hug his muscles in all the right places. A part of Gabriel couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to run his fingers along those toned lines, pleasing the vampire while feeding from him. He was so turned on, he could practically feel his mouth watering.

“Worried about my outfit? How sweet. But pants are made to be taken off, and I never said anything about wrestling in the grass. I was thinking something a little more private. Though... if you like an audience, I’m open to that too.” He placed a hand on the varcolac’s shoulder and leaned in, speaking in a low, breathy whisper. “You know, I didn’t think you were the type to play with your food for so long. I thought dragging out a kill was more of a feline thing... not something the big bad wolf would do. Do you do it because it turns you on, or are you secretly just a big softie?” With a soft laugh, he withdrew slightly, reestablishing a more respectable distance—though his smirk made it clear that the provocation was far from over.

Magnai had just a whiff of the other's scent to warn him before the warlock was practically on top of him. "Doctor," The varcolac returned smoothly, already braced for what seemed to be Gabriel's characteristic volley of words. Magnai, on the other hand, found the man's extravagant surname too much of a mouthful to bother with in that moment. "You've been enjoying yourself, I'd wager." These kinds of events seemed like catnip for the warlock's type. Plenty of entertainment with no easy outlet for escape. But Magnai wasn't hunting for the door. He let himself enjoy Gabriel's show of nonchalance, his flirtations heavy-handed as the first time, before showing any kind of reaction beyond distant neutrality. "Seems a waste to tutor you on combat when you're so clearly predisposed to give me fashion advice instead," the alpha said wryly, his own gaze travelling over Gabriel's costume at a slower pace. Suitably dramatic. Tailored well enough to highlight the handsome lines of the body beneath. "Is that what you've come over here to ask me for?" Magnai's eyes flicked back up to the warlock's face, amusement glimmering in their pale depths, "An opportunity to wrestle? The grass won't be kind on those white trousers of yours." There was something about these intelligent pretty boys. He took endless pleasure in baiting them.

[ggaudetmd]

“Mh. Tell me, do you like it when people see you as a bitch? Or are you just a brat dying to be tamed?” Gabriel asked, licking his lips in response to the dragon’s deadpan retort. The warlock was an incredibly fickle person, and under different circumstances, he wouldn’t have hesitated to shut down the slave’s sass right then and there. But tonight, he seemed to be in a good mood and he decided to rile the other up instead, just to see how far he could push it. For some reason, he found himself thinking Rune would be hilarious paired with Finn. He’d have to make that happen one day.

He couldn’t help but laugh when the dragon was left breathless by his little trick. “You speak Italian? Why didn’t you say so earlier? I love meeting someone from my own country. Or, well, something close enough, zuccherino.” he added, drawing out the final word in a low, breathy hiss. The tattooed hunk looked about ready to punch him, and a part of Gabriel really hoped he’d try. Maybe it would lead to some kinky hate sex in the end. “Rune? That’s such a beautiful name, cuoricino mio. As a warlock, I know a thing or two about runes. I used to have trouble tracing them, but then I learned the secret: quick, precise strokes.” He grinned, letting his fingers trail delicately along the corset’s laces, loosening them just enough to let his new plaything breathe a little easier. That was how Gabriel operated: a continuous, never-ending game of building pressure, then releasing it.

“And what about you, Rune?” he purred. “Are you going to let me master you just like that—quick and easy—or are you going to be a problem?” He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “I really hope it’s the latter. I love having to deal with hard stuff.” He chuckled against Rune’s ear, channeling just the faintest trace of his emotion magic to brush against the dragon’s mind—filling it with the same amusement and arousal that was running wild in his own.

His face flattened to one of just empty expression, a dull wave of annoyance crossing through him, "Yeah, yeah, i've heard it all. Smart ass, brat, bitch, dick, asshole, whatever. Don't expect me to watch my shit just 'cause you ain't collared," He was not in the mood to fake it today, he'd go down swinging before he bowed his head and bit his tongue while the castle had put him in a modern day torture device.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Yeah well, they think putting me in this is gonna stop that shit." It wouldn't and he felt no need to add that for it to be obvious enough. At first he just rose a brow, looking at what he could of him over his shoulder, "That fuck do you wa-" He was cut off by a sudden huff of breath as the corset tightened a bit more, lip curling up in a scowl, growling lowly in his chest. "Chiamami ancora così e vedremo quanto posso essere dolce," He shot back in a low grumble, just to stiffle his other complaints and play along, "Rune. Don't you guys have an app to see our names and shit?"