#IkePri

[dicenete]

Have some Giggling Gilbert :) I'm learning Live2D for once!! ^^ The hehe is not the hihi because my Finnish overwrote my brain

IkePri Tag Team

@scummy-writes @goustmilk @solacedeer @m-mmiy @mxrmaid-poet

@pawnkyyy @ludivineikewolf @violettduchess @floydsteeth @wistfulwanderingone

@sh0jun @lorei-writes @welp-back-on-my-bs @bakersgrief

[reroseshi]

No thoughts. Just cunty Azel wearing this.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Ayo? 👀

[backinotomehell]

The manicure?? This man selected which fingers have black and what stays nude, forget the door staying unlocked that bitch is open

y’all wtf… he’s already sexy enough, but the little ponytail???? I’m feeling many inappropriate things rn

[ike-garden2024]

Just your average day at the palace 😂

(Should I make this for the other IkeSeries? 👀)

[mrssarielnoir]

I’d bail him out 💜

[lecomtesmansion]

@ask-ikevamp-vlad are you obsessed with me?

And both gets my love.

[lavulabi]

NOKNOKKNOCKNOKNOOKNOOCKOCKCOCK KLEEEEIIINNN??????????

[ikemen-comfort]

How about a story of a night cuddling with Nokto please🫶

Hi, thank you for your request! Not exactly a story, but maybe it can be interpreted as a scene from one (I hope). I hope you like this, dear noonie I did two versions, one with a default hair (I just made one that is easier for me) and one without hair, I hope it's okay ^^

[lamiefromage]

Omg why u gotta do that to poor evie clavis 😭😭😭😭

I wonder whose body Clavis is trying to hide...

[wistfulwanderingone]

"Meeting in the Moonlight" (Clavis' POV)

- Clavis Lelough & Cassandra Bellarose (Ikemen Prince)

Fandom: Ikemen Prince

Characters: Clavis Lelouch & Cassandra Bellarose (OC)

Pairing: Clavis Lelouch x Cassandra OC

Genre: (tiny, tiny bit of angst), Mostly Romantic Fluff

Word Count: ~3700

Summary:

A hidden balcony. A mysterious woman. A moment that stirs something he’s tried to bury.

For Clavis Lelouch, every encounter is a game—but this one feels dangerously different.

Clavis leaned against the balcony's stone railing, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he surveyed the quiet garden below. The palace—his playground—was a stage where he played the role of the troublesome prince with a devil-may-care smile. But tonight, even the familiar thrill of mischief couldn’t dull the sharp edges of pain he carried beneath his charm.

The surroundings, once alive with his antics, felt distant and cold, as if the very stones mirrored the emptiness he kept buried beneath his smirk. His jaw tightened as unwelcome memories pressed in, their weight leaving his breaths shallow and uneven. When nights like this came, when shadows crept too close, his carefully constructed mask faltered, and he felt the cracks threatening to widen.

He pushed away from the railing, forcing a smirk onto his lips. It was brittle—an illusion as fragile as glass—but it was all he had. Vulnerability was a feeling he despised. It only served as a reminder that beneath his charm and wit he was just a waste of space haunted by the ghosts of his past, a mediocre fool who couldn’t entirely escape the shadow of the monster he was destined to serve for life, or the memory of his mother’s tragic end.

The creak of a door broke through his reverie, drawing his attention to the faint rustle of movement behind him. He slipped into the shadows, his instincts taking over as he waited, composing himself before anyone could glimpse the cracks in his facade.

She entered quietly—a young woman he’d seen a few times with Yves and Licht. Though striking, she wasn’t like the other courtiers, who flaunted their beauty with calculated precision. There was a quiet restraint to her, a grace that hinted at something deeper beneath the surface.

Tonight, she moved with purpose, her eyes darting back toward the door as she stepped onto the balcony. She closed the curtains behind her, as if sealing herself off from the world beyond. That alone piqued Clavis’s interest. Who was she hiding from? A faint spark of curiosity ignited—a welcome distraction. For a moment, he allowed himself to focus on her, to let intrigue replace the weight in his chest.

She wasn’t smiling, but there was a hint of it in the soft curve of her peony-pink lips. A single flower tucked into her brown hair added a touch of whimsy to her otherwise composed appearance. Her green eyes, luminous in the moonlight, caught his attention most of all. They held a spark—a fire that wasn’t quite extinguished, even in her apparent discomfort.

He watched as she pressed herself against the wall, her eyes closing as she exhaled a long, steadying breath. For a moment, she seemed almost at peace. But Clavis couldn’t resist the urge to stir the waters. He crept up behind her, his steps silent, until he was close enough to see the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

Leaning in, he let his voice drop to a husky whisper. "Are we playing hide-and-seek?”  he murmured against her ear, “or are you here for a more intimate rendezvous?"

The effect was immediate. She gasped, spinning to face him with wide, startled eyes. She stumbled backward, nearly losing her balance before catching herself against the railing. Clavis couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. Her flustered reaction was exactly the kind of entertainment he’d been craving. "I apologize for startling you,” he said, keeping his tone light, the very picture of disarming politeness. “I was only teasing. Are you alright, young lady?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied, smoothing the silky pink fabric of her skirt as though it could restore composure. There was a musical lilt to her voice, sweet and entirely feminine. “I was just hiding from…” She trailed off, her gaze squinting into the darkness, the dim light playing in his favor. “What I mean is I didn’t want someone to see me.” Her voice carried an edge of distrust. And how could he blame her? Trusting him would be a mistake.

He raised an eyebrow she couldn’t see. "May I ask who? I'll need a name if I’m to be a gentleman and defend your honor.”

Her lips parted, but she hesitated, pressing them together again. Unlike most nobles, who would have offered up a quick excuse or a polite lie, she seemed different—more honest or perhaps just more flustered.

She turned slightly, glancing toward the curtains, as if ensuring their privacy. “I’m hiding from that big creep, Jin.” 

A low chuckle escaped Clavis's lips before he could stop himself. Her straightforwardness was refreshing. "You know he's a prince, right?" he teased, unable to resist.

"Just because he's a prince doesn't mean he isn't a huge creep!" she retorted, her defiance sparking in a way that caught him off guard.

As Clavis moved closer, he noticed the way her posture stiffened, tension visible in her shoulders. But she didn’t move away. Something about her boldness—her refusal to retreat—stirred his interest. Even the way her fingers trembled slightly as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear hinted at someone caught between fear and resolve.

"Be that as it may, he's still a prince." Clavis found himself stepping nearer without entirely understanding why.  Perhaps it was her candor, her willingness to dismiss decorum and call things as she saw them. Whatever it was, it held him there.

Her expression softened as a smile curved her lips, brushing away the tension that had clung to her features. It was small but genuine, surprising in its ease. “Well, if the crown's crooked, I'll call it like I see it,” she said, her smile widening as she delivered the bold, humorous statement.

Another laugh escaped him, this one deeper, warmer. Her candidness was both unexpected and captivating. Most people at the palace were so consumed with appearances they measured their words carefully, terrified of who might overhear. But here she was, speaking about a prince with a daring edge, completely unaware of the risk—or the identity of the man she addressed. 

"Unfortunately, there are laws against speaking about princes with that kind of language," he teased, his tone playful. His curiosity was piqued. What kind of reaction would this intriguing woman reveal next?

"I'm pretty sure 'creep' isn't on that list," she countered, eyebrows lifting in a challenge that dared him to argue.

"But...are you certain?" Clavis asked, his voice dipping into mock seriousness. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, her confidence wavering.

Their eyes met, his gaze sharp and searching. Her green eyes, faintly glowing in the half-light, were wide and expressive and seemed to reflect more than uncertainty—they held depth, a quiet intensity that drew him in. For a moment, he lingered, caught off guard by the faint spark of connection that passed between them, fleeting but undeniable. It left him with a feeling in his chest—a mix of trepidation and excitement.

"Well, no, but..." Her voice faltered as she peered into the shadows. Her smile was replaced by a look of wary apprehension. "Are you a guard? Are you going to report me? Or...hand me over to Prince Jin?"

“Now, that would be amusing," he replied with a low chuckle, its smooth tone rippling through the quiet night. "And if there's one thing I'm all about, it's finding every bit of amusement life has to offer."

Her posture shifted, tension radiating through her frame as she instinctively stepped back. The move was subtle, but he recognized it for what it was: preparation to flee. Acting on impulse, Clavis reached out, his fingers closing gently around her arm. His hold was firm yet unthreatening, enough to stop her without startling her further. Even through his gloves, he felt the warmth of her skin, and how she froze at his touch, her breath catching. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. He wanted to continue their little game just for a few more moments. 

As he stepped into the faint light of the moon, he watched her reaction closely. Her free hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as the moonlight illuminated the royal crest on his uniform—a subtle yet unmistakable symbol of his status. Clavis had seen this moment play out countless times before, yet there was something particularly satisfying about the way her expression shifted. Shock, recognition, and something else—something closer to awe—flashed across her features.

But it wasn’t just her reaction that caught his attention. A barely perceptible shiver ran through her, and the way she stared up at him, caught between fascination and disbelief, only deepened his curiosity.

With a smirk, Clavis released her arm. "Third Prince, Clavis Lelouch, at your service. The most charming of all the princes," he announced with a dramatic bow, his voice dripping with waggish arrogance. 

Her response was exactly what he’d expected—and yet somehow more. "You're...a prince?" she stammered, the flush in her cheeks deepening as she struggled to steady herself under his gaze. It was almost endearing, watching her attempt to recover her composure even as she unraveled in his presence.

"I...I didn't mean to offend...I mean, I didn't know..." she continued, her words tumbling out faster, her wide eyes betraying her vulnerability. Despite her obvious discomfort, she didn’t retreat. Something seemed to hold her there.

Clavis waved off her concerns with an impish grin. "Oh, don't fret, dearie," he said lightly. "You've added quite a delightful twist to my evening. It's not every day one encounters such refreshingly candid commentary on royalty."

She blinked, her expression wavering between confusion and relief. "You mean...you're not going to report me or hand me over to Prince Jin?" she asked hesitantly.

Clavis chuckled. "Report you? Hand you over to Jin? What would be the fun of that?" He stepped closer, his grin growing as her uncertainty deepened. "No, I'd much prefer to keep this enchanting encounter our little secret." He placed a gloved finger seductively over his lips. “Wouldn’t you?”

Her eyes flicked briefly to his lips, the subtle shift betraying her thoughts. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks as she bit her lower lip, a failed attempt to mask her reaction. Watching her wrestle with her emotions was its own quiet thrill—the hesitant glances, the nervous fidgeting of her fingers, and the slight tremor in her voice. She was inexperienced in this kind of game, and that made it all the more entertaining.

He leaned casually against the railing, signaling her to relax with an air of confidence he knew was hard to resist. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, "So, tell me, what exactly did Jin do to earn the title of 'creep' from you?"

He saw her hesitate, the sudden self-consciousness in her gaze as she looked toward the garden below. The moonlight caught the soft lines of her profile, highlighting her internal struggle as she collected herself. “He’s just…he makes me feel uncomfortable. I try to avoid him whenever I can," she admitted, her voice soft, almost as if confiding in the night itself.

"I see." Clavis’ expression shifted, his teasing tone replaced with a hint of thoughtfulness. “And it would appear you have a talent for discovering intriguing hiding spots. Perhaps you might consider inviting me to join your little escapade next time." His words came with a flirtatious lilt, his gaze intent as he reached out, curling his fingers gently around hers.

As he drew her closer, the warmth of her hand in his own surprised him, as did the tension in her body. Her breath hitched, her proximity filling the air between them with a delicate, intoxicating sweetness. A faint scent of summer peaches entwined with the elegance of magnolias and a whisper of white tea—a fragrance that suited her perfectly. He pushed the thought aside, his focus returning to the flicker of emotion in her eyes. 

Her hand was small and delicate, yet there was a quiet strength in the way she held onto him, as if anchoring herself. Her pulse quickened beneath his touch, and her breath became uneven. In her eyes, he caught a flicker of tension—or perhaps something deeper—though it eluded him. He didn’t need to guess at her thoughts to recognize temptation battling with reason. He had seen it countless times before.

"I...I don't think that's a good idea," she stammered, her cheeks flushing with a fiery blush.

Clavis smirked, unable to suppress his amusement. She was right, of course. Proprietary dictated it. But propriety had never interested him. There was something about her—a refreshing departure from the typical noblewomen at court—that stirred his curiosity. It made him eager to test boundaries, to see just how far she would let him go before retreating.

He raised an eyebrow, savoring her flustered state. "Oh? And why not?" he pressed, his tone teasing, but laced with enough allure to keep her on edge. 

"Because...because you're a prince, and I'm just...me," she replied, her voice wavering as she grasped for an explanation. 

Despite himself, his smile softened. For a fleeting moment, he felt the urge to reassure her. "Titles are just fancy hats, 'Just-Me,'” he quipped, his tone light but underscored with sincerity. “It's the head and heart beneath that count.”

Cassandra’s lips curved into a smile, tickled by his silly words—a smile that lit up her face in a way that caught him off guard. There was something almost enchanting in her response, a warmth that felt rare in his world of false faces and veiled intentions and irritated brothers and court ministers. It stirred something unfamiliar in him, a faint fleeting sense of ease.

"Thank you, Prince Clavis," she said softly, her bright green eyes glowing as they met his. Her voice held a dreamy quality, as if she were reluctant to break the spell. "I should probably go now."

"As you wish." Clavis straightened. "But before you depart, it seems you neglected to give me your name."

He noticed the blush returning to her cheeks, a telltale sign of her flustered state. He found it endearing—rarely did anyone seem so unguarded around him.

"Cassandra Bellerose,” she answered, her voice soft, her words carrying a gentle, melodic rhythm.

Clavis’s smile deepened as he repeated her name, tasting its elegance. “Ah, Shining Beautiful Rose. How befitting.” His words, polished and smooth, carried the princely charm he wielded with ease. He lowered his gaze to their joined hands, pressing a deliberate, lingering kiss there—long enough to send a shiver down her spine.

As he raised his eyes, he held her gaze, deliberate in his intensity. The subtle shift in her expression—the way her composure wavered—only encourages him to let the moment stretch, savoring the quiet thrill of her reaction. It was a game, after all, one he always played to win. 

She curtsied gracefully, her movements almost dreamlike, her lingering blush revealing the effect of their exchange. When he released her hand, a faint tingle remained in his fingers, unsettling him more than he cared to admit.

Still, his smile stayed firmly in place. “Until we meet again, Lady Cassandra, and we most assuredly shall,” he murmured, his voice low, as if sharing a secret meant only for her.

Clavis stepped back, pulling the curtains aside, his eyes never leaving her as she slipped through the doorway. The soft whisper of silk brushed against him as she moved, but what lingered longer was her scent—a blend of sweetness and florals—that teased his senses before fading.

As the sound of her footsteps receded into the distance, Clavis lingered on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against his skin. Cassandra remained in his thoughts. She was different, her reactions unlike those he usually elicited. Her vulnerability felt raw, genuine—unfiltered by the polished pretense of nobles. There was an innocence to her, but beneath it, something simmered—a mystery that he found both irresistible and dangerous to unravel.

Yet, even as these thoughts crossed his mind, a familiar resolve tightened in his chest. Intrigue was a double-edged sword, a weapon that cut too deeply if handled carelessly. Clavis knew this better than most. People always crumbled when subjected to his tests—designed to expose the flaws they hid, the selfishness they denied, and, most importantly, the truth that their affection for him was never real.

It was a game he had mastered, one in which he always emerged unscathed—if not entirely untouched. And despite the part of him that dared to hope, he knew better than to indulge in foolishness. Experience had taught him not to indulge in such delusions, not to let his heart get ensnared in emotions that only ever led to disappointment.

No matter how captivating or genuine this Cassandra Bellarose seemed tonight, she would fail. They always did. And when that moment came, he would walk away, as he always had, with nothing more than a faint regret and the satisfaction of knowing he had proven his beliefs correct and protected himself from the pain of attachment.

Tag List:

@ithseem @chirp-a-chirp @aquagirl1978 @queengiuliettafirstlady @nyxthepixystick

@ikeprinces-stuff @kaizoku-musume @candiedcoffeedrops @missaengg @ike-garden2024

@writingwhimsey @reborn-elven-spirit @elixirofubik

If you want to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for Ikemen fics, just let me know!

[dark-frosted-heart]

Happy Birthday Sariel!

[starzeyquee]

Ikemen boys are (in)correct quotes

[nuttytani]

I feel for poor Veronica. I know absolutely nothing about her yet I feel very curious and drawn by her personality in the beginning. Then the way you described her emotions.... Oh wonderful. Peak romance was when Clavis had to kiss Veronica to prevent her from saying the forbidden word. I truly got teary at that part....

Overall, amazing. I wish I could write an essay but uh I lack the skills to do so. So we shall stick with amazing, marvelous, mindblowing.

Sorriso

Clavis x OC (OC Chart: Veronica) Smut (with feelings) Word count: 2.5k

Truth be told, I didn't think I'd post this fic. It wouldn't be too bad if it just lived in my folder, where it could age peacefully and wrap itself in a duvet-duvet. It's an old idea either way, from October last year. I thought it could just rest...

@venulus @keithsandwich @fighting-and-drawing @cheese-ception @claviscollections, thanks for changing my mind. Your encouragement means the world to me and I couldn't thank you enough.

Now, all that aside... Dear reader, may I invite you for a story of a certain blackmail attempt?

Contents: vaginal intercourse, cunnilingus, handjob (brief), tears, aftercare

“Veronica?” Not “Vera”. Her heart sinks to her stomach, burns once touched by the acid. She deserves as much. “I got a certain letter.” “I did it,” Veronica admits. “Years, years, years ago. Before I even knew you, back when I just started doing business with Nokto, but then never, ever again.”

One can take a merchant out of their caravan, but the trade still remains within them. Seated at her desk, Veronica skims the register in front of her, the red ink luring her eyes towards neat columns of numbers and the barely legible item breakdown they describe. Her brow furrows, and a flick of her finger later the beads clatter on the abacus. One by one, they fall into their rightful positions, the quill in her hand gliding over the paper as she underlines any discrepancies in their expenses. Another sheet beside her begins to fill as well, the robust curve of her “s” opening an itemised list: stencils, graphite, ink, another set of writing desks (used; Veronica shakes her head with a wistful sigh – if only another monastery wished to part with their old furniture… Perhaps she should write back home, to Benitoite. Those monks there have always seemed to be ancient. They must be done transcribing books by now). Crushed somewhere between a pencil and a goose feather, Veronica reclines in the chair, dark mahogany waves spilling over its backrest as her eyes seek the ceiling and the gas lamp hanging from it. If only it could enlighten her… If only the work, all that thinking, the calculations could be completed with one flip of a switch…

A knock tolls against the door. Veronica sits upright.

“Come in!” she invites, voice strong and commanding. Her gaze fixed on the entrance, she ignores the turning brass knob, instantly piercing the servant with her gaze instead. The silver letter tray in his grip trembles meekly.

“Anything from the printing houses?” she ask, as matter-of-fact as ever as she taps the space beside the ink pot. “Set it down here.”

“No, my lady. Just a letter from the Queen.”

“I see. Thank you, you are dismissed.” Veronica reaches for a quill, re-entering the smooth, swaying rhythm of her work, lulled into it as if by the peaceful humming of the ocean. The door, the servant, they fall back, drown among the flood of inquiries she’s yet to answer. Her consciousness sinks and the task at hand surfaces, insurmountable yet also just outside the reach of her arm. This time, she will wipe that shit-eating grin off Silvio’s dirty mug for good… She’ll show him, show him not to make a joke of Veronica Theresa Pia di Fiore, soon di Fiore-Lelouch. Ha, in time he’ll regret ever forcing her to leave, and she’ll laugh him out for doing her a favour.

The envelope creases in her grip. Veronica tears it open.

Her face twists.

She needs to see Clavis. Now.

Order the lamp oil from Saint-Quen if you don’t want your fiancé to learn you slept with his brother.

***

The oil from Saint-Quen is unremarkable in all its qualities, except for the price that greatly exceeds that dictated by the market. Veronica turns the letter from the Saint-Quen-Loren merchant guild in her hands; if she ordered from Ymare, she’d not only save on transportation, but obtain a higher quality product at a comparable cost. Go to Orlu come winter and she may actually make a profit, provided that she is smart with reselling what little excess they have. They could use that money – schools, especially for adults, are not particularly profitable ventures, not instantly. In a perspective of three to four years, however…

Veronica crumples her notes and tosses them into the hearth.

She needs to see Clavis. She needs to see him before he receives the letter.

***

Clavis’ eyes do not smile, not even when he presents her with the widest of his grins. Their reunion, after four long weeks of his absence, feels rather stiff, rather lacklustre compared to his usual panache. He does not bother calling her his “sweet swift”, does not coo at her, and even the kiss he’s given her at the entrance to his manor was just a peck; regardless, Clavis has promptly excused himself. King Leon couldn’t have picked a worst time to pay them a visit.

The reason behind this state of affairs is clear to her. Veronica can only wonder: has her decision protected a future she will not be a part of?

***

Their bed is offensively soft, although not as jarring as the steps echoing through the corridor. She’d recognise them anywhere, but that hesitant quality to them… That is new and unexpected. Very few things could unveil the uncertainty padding Clavis’ robust overconfidence; if she has caused it, him, to crumble, she’d be damned.

The doorknob turns at last, and at the quiet click, Veronica closes her eyes. She too is afraid.

The scent of lavender and mint clings onto Clavis, obscuring the more subtle notes of other herbs, medicinal or otherwise. It announces his presence in place of any sound, even his breathing having grown so quiet it is now undetectable. Nevertheless, Veronica listens in; a floorboard gasps in surprise, wood hushes itself a moment later as a drawer slides out of the dresser. The hinge to their wardrobe needs oiling, and that simple observation prompts Clavis to sigh. It isn’t long until the sheets rustle and the mattress dips beside her.

Veronica purses her lips, fully expecting for the gavel to drop and issue her judgement. However, it is only a caress that follows, gentle and delicate, and delivered by his hand. His skin feels cold; Clavis arranges her hair over the pillow, his touch then venturing down the curve of her shoulder, to finally settle into a slow rhythm and stroke her arm.

“Veronica?” Not “Vera”. Her heart sinks to her stomach, burns once touched by the acid. She deserves as much. “I got a certain letter.”

It is an impulse. There is no denying the truth. Her eyes snap open, and she turns, just enough to barely see the contours of his face enveloped in the dim lantern light streaming into the room. Her heart wavers, but for what?

“I did it,” Veronica admits. “Years, years, years ago. Before I even knew you, back when I just started doing business with Nokto, but then never, ever again.” A hint of bitter desperation has found its way into her voice, apologetic and pleading, and just so unsure of what may come. Clavis does little to soothe her.

“I see.”

A breath extends into a second that grows into a minute, that expands and consumes and soon becomes the very time itself, whole and complete and so utterly overwhelming to comprehend. The reality stills. His gaze burns.

“Clavis, I —”

Words are thieves, so he steals them from her lips before they do any more harm. She protests against it. She craves it. She needs it… needs to… needs him to need her, to yearn for her just as much as she’s been yearning for him. Trembling as if afraid of committing an act of sacrilege, her hands reach to cradle his face, lost, confused and searching until he finds her and embraces her back. Clavis tastes of bitter chocolate and sweet ginger, smells of soothing lemon balm, always familiar, but never fully predictable. Veronica crosses her arms behind his neck. His skin is burning coal, weary muscles tensing beneath it at her every gesture, every minor touch.

“Vera…” His breath, his restraint, spill against her lips.

“It’s you,” Veronica prays, a fervent believer at the mercy of his lips. “I swear, it’s only you, it’s —”

Clavis drinks in her words and she tells him everything, not a hair’s breadth left between them. Anticipation sizzles on the surface of her nerves; Veronica answers him, his hand that strokes her waist, by undoing the topmost button of his shirt. A shiver spills down Clavis’ spine – she continues, her nails lightly grazing his clavicle, just barely tracing the topography of his body, slow and intentional as she maps out every slope and sharp edge. He only stops her once she reaches the waistline of his pants.

“Ladies first,” Clavis whispers, voice rasp and strained, but nonetheless clear. At a loss for words, sounds, everything, Veronica gives him the final bid. The covers are pushed aside, exposing her skin to the cooled evening air, their short-lived hum bringing back the memory of the quiet waves, dragging her deeper still as Clavis guides her to lie on her back. Withdrawn, he invites the restless calm to settle over her, to muffle every uncertain beat of her heart… To then play its strings himself, his fingers curling around her ankle to lift it to his lips. Veronica gasps, smooth satin sliding up her body and exposing more of her. Clavis is meticulous as he trails kisses up her calf, careful to pay due attention to the back of her knee and the delicate skin of her thigh.

Veronica squirms; his breath warms the mound hidden between her legs, and she hardly has the presence of the mind to comprehends that here, now, it is indeed her. Made timid by a single, strategic flick of his tongue, she covers her mouth with her hands. She could swear Clavis takes a break to smile against her, however, she is not given the chance to contemplate the matter. Damn diligent. Damn discerning. Damn attentive…. Damn! Her chest heaves as his fingers curl inside of her, each of their strokes drawing more of her mind into the blissful haze, lured only further by his overzealous tongue. Restraint forgotten, Clavis falls to his devotion, gives her all of his talents, his attention, all until the dam in her throat cracks. Veronica whimpers. Her core spasms.

A moment needs to pass before she registers the hand caressing her thigh, his fingers still slick with her arousal. Ever a gentleman, Clavis leans down to place a kiss upon the mole marking the skin just below her navel.

“I haven’t doubted you, Vera,” he assures.

“Then why were you so distant?”

His smile is barely visible in the dark, but she can feel it nonetheless. Veronica props herself on her elbows.

“Clavis, what is —”

The words are washed away once more, lost to his lips and hands. Clavis cannot afford to talk, so he takes the initiative, lulls her worries with the sweetness of his caress. Silk satin straps slide off her shoulders as they fall among the sheets, close and calmer, but not yet calm. The linen waters are uncertain, stirred, so he dares not let her go lest they are to drown separated. Soaked through with need and dishevelled, the clothes weigh them down. Veronica strips his shirt; her nightdress slides to the floor together with his pants. Clavis shivers as her touch travels down his abdomen and her fingers curl around his engorged shaft. He stops her wrist mid-stroke.

“May I…?”

Veronica nods. His hand slides up her calf; one leg propped over his shoulder, Clavis positions himself at her entrance. The light outside flickers to then go out completely, hide her naked form underneath a dark veil, too possessive to allow him to see her flushed skin and perked up nipples. It fails to realise the redundancy of the act – at her impatient inhale, Clavis pushes forward. Veronica gasps.

“Too fast?”

“Keep going,” she tells him… no, demands, her hips grinding against his to announce her impatience. Here and now, she is burning, her fire singing the edges of his will. Who is he to refuse her? A royal, a prince, all titles and positions become obsolete; it is only him, only her, uncertain and searching, together at the brink of a rediscovery. Clavis obliges and thrusts into her, more hurried and needy than he’d like himself to be, one hand holding her thigh as the other grips her hip. Veronica squirms. He pushes her down into the mattress, but that is all that he can do. The words spill.

“It’s only you —” Veronica whispers quietly, muffled by her own groan. “Clavis…”

He cannot allow her to talk, not now, not when she may uncover something he is still unwilling to admit. Clavis increases his pace in hopes of drowning out any remnants of coherence still present in her thoughts. Pleasure surges through her body, spreads through it in waves. Undeterred, Veronica talks:

“Make me your anything.” Her voice takes on a frantic edge. “Lover, mistress, whor—”

For the last time, he will silence her. He will make it up to her later, he will listen then, he will — He will treat Veronica the way she deserves to be treated, and now that requires stopping her. His body pressed firmly against hers, Clavis seals the dreadful word away before it is let out and becomes real. Her legs cross behind his back. Their lips part, and as their forehead touch, he whispers into her, perhaps wishing for each promise to take root and heal what’s been broken.

“You can be my life.” His hips meet hers again, each thrusts following his usual rhythm. “My sweet swift.”

Veronica draws him closer, as close as possible.

“My fantastic fiancée…”

Her hands slide over his shoulders.

“… and in the future, if you’ll have me,” Clavis pants, nearly out of breath, but all the more determined to continue, “my wonderful wife.”

Tears wet her pillow, but he dries them for her. That too is a promise, one Clavis intends to keep until the end of their days.

***

The air has chilled once calm settled over the room. It isn’t a wholly uninvited change, although Clavis finds the goosebumps emerging on Veronica’s skin to be unacceptable. With one firm tug of his arm, the duvet is draped over their weary bodies.

“We still need to wash up,” Veronica protests weakly, already nestled against his side.

“Of course, but in a moment. What would you say to a bath? I’ve got the most delightful bubble concoction in mind.”

“Oh? So you had the time to play an alchemist while out on in Achroite…? I don’t imagine mister I-insert-a-one-point-zero-three-ell-stick-up-my-arse-every-morning-such-are-the-rules was exactly thrilled about that.”

The back of his hand touches his forehead in a display of a tragic, or a tragically overdrawn, sorrow. Clavis meets her chuckle with a mournful sigh, “Alas, my sweet swift, this time I was thinking only about mixing your shampoo and the lavender soap.”

Veronica cannot help but laugh against his chest, her expression obvious despite being concealed. “That sounds… glorious? Let’s go with ‘glorious’.” She clears her throat and looks up at him, determined and serious. “But, first things first. Why were you avoiding me?”

Clavis, even once confronted, still avoids her eyes. Veronica pinches his cheek.

“I was worried that, perhaps… perhaps I wasn’t…” He chokes on his words. “Particularly… raising to the task.”

At first, she doesn’t understand; Veronica blinks, very slowly, her lips parted just slightly as she runs a scenario after a scenario through her mind. At last, it clicks.

“Sorriso mio… You? You have never had anything to worry about, amore.”

[chevlvrs]

I love making posts about this trio

Aaa and sorry for my inactivity exam season is driving me insane 😞😞