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yoursinisforgiven · 2 days ago

Text

HEAVENLY ──

pairing: isaac x reader (pickel)

cw: smut, afab reader, pet and asriel appearance, references to this fic (envy), reader wears a dress (stops at about the mid thigh), public–ish sex, dry humping, isaac cums alot, pickel falls for peer pressure, nonconsensual use of drugs (aphrodisiacs), likely takes place after episode 12 of isaac’s series, vaginal fingering, cum eating, use of condoms (but also not, you’ll see), breeding without the intentions of pregnancy, spanking, unintentional humiliation, choking.

you are responsible for your own media consumption

"Too flashy?"

You mumble under your breath, the question more for yourself than for Isaac, though you catch his reflection in the mirror behind you. The soft lamplight pools across the room, casting a warm glow that accentuates the dress’s intricate details. You turn slightly, letting the fabric shimmer as it clings and flows, elegant yet undeniably eye-catching.

Your brows knit together as doubt creeps in, knotting your thoughts. You know you’re being indecisive—again. A small huff escapes your lips, frustration mingling with the nervous flutter in your chest. If this were just another night, you wouldn’t care so much about what you wore. But this wasn’t just any night. This was important. The kind of evening where first impressions were everything, where the way you carried yourself could shape conversations and leave marks that would linger long after.

"Do you think it’s too much?" you ask, this time louder, your voice breaking the quiet tension of the room. You glance at Isaac briefly before your gaze darts back to the mirror, searching for reassurance in your own reflection.

Isaac looks up from where he’s perched on the edge of the bed, his head tilting slightly as his eyes settle on you. For a moment, you’re unsure whether he’s assessing the gown or the way you’re fidgeting with its hem, smoothing invisible wrinkles in an effort to steady your nerves.

“It’s perfect—” His voice is calm, grounding, but it carries the faintest edge of something deeper. You feel his eyes on you even before you see him move, his presence growing closer with each step. Goosebumps ripple along your neck as the sound of his footsteps nears.

You meet his gaze in the mirror just as his hands find your waist, large and warm, their weight a comfort against the uncertainty stirring inside you. He leans in, his breath brushing your skin, and begins to press soft kisses along the curve of your neck, each one deliberate and unhurried.

“—You’re perfect,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice low, carrying a sincerity that settles like a balm over your doubts.

For a moment, the weight of the evening lifts, replaced by the steady rhythm of his touch and the warmth of his presence. You let out a small laugh, part relief, part affection, and lean into him slightly, your hands coming to rest over his.

The tension in your chest loosens as his hands glide from your waist to your hips, pulling you closer. You let your head tilt back slightly, your smile softening as his lips brush just below your ear, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

“Isaac,” you murmur, half warning, half surrender, but the way his fingers curl against you makes it clear he’s already decided where this moment is heading.

“What?” he murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk you can feel against your skin. “Just making sure you’re feeling confident. Can’t have you second-guessing all night.”

His teasing tone melts into something darker as his lips return to your neck, a deliberate press that sends warmth cascading down your spine. You catch his gaze in the mirror, and the way his eyes darken makes your breath hitch.

“Careful,” you warn again, though it’s less convincing now, your voice catching as his hands trace slow, deliberate patterns over the smooth fabric of your gown.

Your protest dissolves as he turns you gently away from the mirror, his hands firm but careful, as though savoring the moment. The gown you’d been so worried about now feels like little more than an afterthought, forgotten in the heat of his touch and the promise in his eyes.

The evening’s worries blur into the background as his lips find yours, hungry and insistent, and the world outside your shared bedroom fades entirely.

──

A wave of nausea rolled through you, nerves twisting your stomach and surging like static through your veins. Your hands smoothed over the fabric of your gown, its soft shimmer catching the light. Despite the uncertainty that had gripped you last night, you’d grown to love it—partly because of its undeniable beauty, but mostly because of Isaac’s reaction. His touch, his gaze, his... reminders had left little room for doubt about how he saw you in it.

A faint smile played on your lips as your mind wandered. Perhaps your wedding dress would take a similar shape—sleek yet elegant. What would Isaac think of it? You could almost see him at the end of the aisle, waiting for you, his expression unreadable save for the soft warmth in his eyes. And what would he wear? Something sharp, no doubt. A black suit, tailored to perfection, his tie knotted just so.

The thought sent a flutter through you, but you shook your head, willing yourself to focus. This wasn’t the time to get lost in fantasies.

The heat of Isaac’s hand on your thigh brought you back to the present. Warm and steady, his fingers rested there with casual confidence, as if they belonged. You glanced toward him, taking in the sight that never failed to stir something inside you. One hand on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead, his other hand resting possessively on your thigh. It was a simple gesture, yet it sent warmth pooling low in your stomach, a reminder of how effortlessly he commanded your attention.

Your gaze flicked to his wrist, where the sleek lines of his watch caught the light. The engraving, Vacheron Constantin, glinted like a quiet boast of his refined taste. Everything about him seemed deliberate, controlled—except, perhaps, the way his fingers lightly squeezed your leg, drawing your focus back to him.

Your eyes trace the sharp lines of his jaw, his expression relaxed yet focused. Sinful. That’s what came to mind. How shameful it was that a simple gesture—a hand resting so casually on your leg—could stir such warmth in you.

“You okay?” His voice broke through your thoughts, deep and calm, yet threaded with a faint curiosity.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you with its softness. “Yeah… just thinking.”

Your cheeks flushed, heat rising despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. You turned your head toward the window—it was nighttime. The blur of passing scenery is a feeble distraction from the warmth of his touch.

──

You knew you had arrived when the grand manor loomed into view, its towering stone facade shadowed by the dim evening light. Rows of expensive cars lined the roads like trophies on display, their gleaming exteriors a reflection of the kind of crowd you were about to face. Your hands grew clammy as Isaac pulled the car into a spot, the soft purr of the engine fading into silence. He wasted no time, stepping out and coming around to your side to open the door.

“Always a gentleman,” you teased softly, though your voice wavered under the weight of your nerves.

He offered you his arm with a slight smirk. You didn’t hesitate, slipping your hand into the crook of his elbow, holding on tightly—possessively, even. The warmth of his presence steadied you as the heavy oak doors swung open before you, two suited men pulling them aside with ease. One gave Isaac a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment of something you weren’t privy to.

The air inside the manor was cool, the kind of chill that seeped into your skin. The stone walls, thick and oppressive, seemed to absorb the faint hum of life within. The corridors stretched endlessly, their grandeur undeniable but suffocating. The marble beneath your heels gleamed, reflecting the flicker of distant candlelight from ornate chandeliers above. Shadows danced along the walls, their movements like whispered secrets.

Your heels clicked softly against the marble as you walked, the sound a sharp contrast to the muted classical music and faint laughter echoing from deeper within. The melodies mingled with the distant murmur of voices, weaving an ambiance of luxury tinged with unease.

“Are we late?” you asked, your voice a near whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile balance of the atmosphere.

Isaac glanced at his watch, the familiar glint of his timepiece catching your eye. “Seventeen minutes,” he replied, his tone as casual as if he were remarking on the weather.

You brought a hand to your mouth, a soft gasp escaping. His smirk deepened as he led you up the grand staircase, its elegant curves spiraling upward like a work of art. From the balcony above, the vast entryway sprawled below, its polished floors gleaming in the dim light.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe we wouldn’t have been late if you’d gotten out of bed when I told you.”

You gasped, scandalized, and lightly swatted his arm. “Maybe I could have if you hadn’t stolen all sensation from my legs,” you shot back, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Isaac’s laugh was rich, low, and infectious. You couldn’t help but join him, the tension from moments before melting away in the shared humor. But the moment was short-lived.

“Isaac?”

The voice was soft, hesitant, as if unsure of its place in the room. It cut through the air like a subtle warning, halting your laughter in an instant.

At the base of the stairs stood a figure, their posture uncertain, their expression torn between indecision and something deeper. Something raw. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the ache in their eyes, a silent pleading that tugged at your chest despite yourself.

They were undoubtedly beautiful. No, more than beautiful—angelic. Their features were impossibly perfect, almost otherworldly, like something sculpted by the hands of a master artist. But there was something unsettling about their beauty, something too perfect, too intense.

You furrowed your brows, your pulse quickening. Something about them felt... unreal. You couldn’t quite place it, but their presence stirred something uneasy within you.

Isaac’s demeanor shifted instantly. His laughter faded, his body tensing as he regarded the person below. He said nothing, his silence heavy, measured.

You opened your mouth, instinctively wanting to ask if they were all right, but the words caught in your throat. Before you could find them, the person mumbled an apology and turned abruptly, disappearing through the heavy doors at the bottom of the staircase.

You stood frozen for a moment, the weight of the exchange settling over you like a chill. “Who was that?” you finally asked, your voice softer now, uncertain.

Isaac didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on the door they’d just passed through. Then, with a shake of his head, “No one important,” he said. You fur your brows slightly at his dismissive tone.

He placed a hand on your lower back, guiding you further into the manor. But as you ascended the remaining steps, you couldn’t shake the image of the figure’s troubled face—or the lingering feeling that they had left something unsaid.

──

As you entered the ballroom, the grandeur of the room nearly took your breath away. A sea of glittering chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, casting a warm, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests who mingled in soft murmurs and laughter. The air was rich with the scent of expensive perfume and freshly poured champagne. Velvet curtains framed the tall, arched windows, allowing the faintest touch of moonlight to spill in. A string quartet played in the corner, their delicate notes weaving through the crowd like a distant lullaby, adding to the atmosphere of quiet opulence.

Isaac’s grip on your back was reassuring as he guided you further into the space. His posture was confident, almost regal, a man at ease in such settings. But as you walked with him, you couldn't help but feel the weight of all the eyes in the room drifting toward you. It was as if the room had paused, just for a second, in anticipation of something—a moment of collective awareness, where the air itself seemed to hum with unspoken expectations.

He steered you toward a group of men gathered near the far side of the room. Their voices were deep and authoritative, cutting through the ambient hum of the ballroom, filled with discussions of business deals, mutual acquaintances, and the kind of power that came with wealth and influence. As you walked closer, you could tell by the way they nodded to Isaac that he was a familiar presence here—expected, perhaps even revered. Their glances flickered between you and Isaac, curious and calculating, but you did your best to appear composed, to match Isaac’s unshakable confidence, even as an uncomfortable flutter stirred deep inside you.

Before you could fully immerse yourself in the conversation, a sharp movement across the room caught your eye. You froze, heart quickening, your gaze locking on a man and a woman standing near one of the marble columns. A scene unfolded between them that felt strangely out of place amidst the polished elegance of the ballroom.

The man was somewhat tall, his features sharp, his presence commanding. He held the woman’s wrist in a tight grip, pulling it forcefully away from his chest. The look on his face was one of pure distaste, as if her touch had somehow offended him. The woman, delicate and startled, tried to pull her hand back, confusion written all over her face, but he wouldn’t let her. His gaze shifted, scanning the room quickly—looking for someone, or perhaps something.

A chill ran through you. Your heart skipped a beat, and for a brief moment, you thought his cold, penetrating gaze was aimed at you. But then you realized with a sudden shift in his attention that he wasn’t looking at you at all. His eyes were fixed on Isaac, who was gliding through the group with effortless confidence, completely unaware of the tension that had sparked between the two figures.

The woman, abandoned and disoriented, hesitated for a moment. She glanced at the man, her lips moving as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. With a dismissive flick of his hand, the man turned his back on her, leaving her standing there, frozen, a mix of confusion and frustration evident on her face. She glanced after him, a flicker of something in her eyes—perhaps longing, perhaps anger—but she didn’t follow him. Instead, she allowed herself to be swallowed by the crowd, her steps faltering as she hesitated, unsure whether to pursue or retreat.

Your gaze lingered on the woman for a moment longer, noting the sharpness in her eyes and the way she held herself with a mixture of dignity and something else—a sense of quiet desperation. It was a brief interaction, one that seemed to go unnoticed by the rest of the room, as the guests continued their conversations, unaware of the subtle drama that had just unfolded.

Isaac’s voice cut through your thoughts as the men he had been speaking to began to make their exit. They mentioned something about heading home, offering polite farewells before walking away, their conversations already fading into the distance. Just as the last of them disappeared from view, a new figure approached. You stiffened slightly as you recognized him—the man you had seen earlier.

He walked with a purposeful stride, his eyes never leaving Isaac as he approached. “Isaac,” he greeted smoothly, his voice tinged with amusement, as if he were smirking even though his lips never fully moved.

Isaac’s response was flat, unamused. “Asriel.”

You couldn’t help it—a stifled giggle escaped your lips, the contrast between Isaac’s cool demeanor and Asriel’s calculated smugness making the moment oddly amusing. Asriel’s eyes flickered toward you for a split second, but his attention quickly returned to Isaac, as though you were an afterthought. “Here with your pet?” he asked, the words laced with condescension.

Isaac’s reply was instantaneous, but there was no warmth in it. “They aren’t my pet,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for interpretation.

Asriel didn’t seem phased by the sharp correction. “Speaking of which,” he continued, brushing a hand through his hair dismissively, “Have you seen my own? I’m afraid they had a little... tantrum and stormed off.” His eyes glinted with an almost sadistic amusement, like the whole situation was a private joke he was enjoying alone.

“I saw them on our way inside,” Isaac replied, his voice cool, almost bored. “They called after me—Keep it on a tighter leash, it’s dangerous.”

You froze, the harshness of Isaac’s words striking you. ‘It.’ The way he referred to a person with such impersonal detachment—it unsettled you, the cruel dismissal hanging in the air. It was a stark contrast to the warmth he had shown you moments before. You furrowed your brows at Isaac, unsure of how to process the casual cruelty of his tone, or if the words themselves carried a deeper meaning.

Asriel, however, seemed delighted by the exchange. His laugh was low, mocking, as he glanced from Isaac to you. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, assessing, before shifting back to Isaac. He was toying with both of you, and you could see it—he was enjoying it entirely too much.

Isaac didn’t seem to notice or care, his gaze flickering over the room as though searching for something—or someone—else to divert his attention. His eyes landed on a group of women clustered together near the far side of the ballroom. They were elegantly dressed, no doubt the wives of some of the men in attendance, their laughter soft and insincere, like the rest of the evening’s delicate façade. Isaac turned back to you, his posture still immaculate, but there was something unreadable in his eyes.

He leaned down toward you, his voice low, almost casual. “Why don’t you join them?” he suggested, his words almost too casual, as though the decision were yours to make, but there was an unmistakable edge to his tone. You weren’t sure if he was offering you a choice, or subtly pushing you away. Either way, you felt the weight of his suggestion, a quiet command wrapped in the guise of an invitation.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced in the direction Isaac was looking, at the group of women, their laughter light and the soft clink of their glasses mingling in the air. A part of you wanted to refuse, to stay by Isaac’s side, but the other part of you felt an unsettling pull—something about the way Asriel and Isaac spoke, the tension that still lingered between them, made you feel like an outsider in a world you hadn’t quite understood yet.

Despite the unease gnawing at you, you found yourself walking toward the group of women. It felt almost absurd, as if you were back in primary school, hesitating at the edge of a playground, wondering whether or not you’d be accepted. The weight of their gaze, though polite, felt like a quiet judgment you couldn’t shake. You couldn’t help but feel like an outsider in a world that was already perfectly in place.

The women were gathered in a tight circle, their laughter light, their conversations flowing effortlessly. As you approached, they turned their heads, their eyes briefly assessing you before their expressions softened into warm, inviting smiles. They looked like they belonged here, each of them effortlessly at ease in the opulence of the ballroom, dressed in gowns that shimmered with wealth and grace.

"Well, well," a woman with dark hair and a knowing smile said, tilting her head as she looked you up and down. "Isaac's latest, I assume?" Her voice was smooth, like velvet.

You smiled nervously. "Yes, that's right. I'm just... trying to get to know everyone."

One of the other women, a petite brunette, grinned. "You’ve certainly come to the right place, darling. But don’t worry, we’ll help you fit right in."

You felt an unfamiliar pressure mounting in your chest, as if they were already measuring you up, assessing where you stood. The woman who spoke before raised an eyebrow, studying you with curiosity. “So, how did you meet Isaac?” she asked, her tone polite, but there was a subtle edge to her words.

You shifted your weight awkwardly. “We’ve known each other for a while,” you said carefully. “Just… recently started spending more time together.” Lies. a mask you wore to shield yourself from the questions you weren’t sure you wanted to answer.

“That sounds interesting,” the raven-haired woman chimed in, glancing between you and the others, clearly interested in what you’d say next. “What is it about Isaac that’s so... irresistible?”

Before you could answer, the woman with dark hair spoke again, her voice light but with a sharp undertone, “I’d be careful. Men like him don’t usually settle down.” She let out a soft laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not that you should expect that, of course.”

The words hung in the air like a subtle warning. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you pushed the thought aside, trying to mask your discomfort. “I’m not expecting anything,” you said, your voice steady, though you were unsure of your own feelings.

Another woman, a blonde with a sharp chin, tilted her head, sizing you up. “No expectations. That’s a good approach,” she said with a smirk, her voice casual but calculating. “Just enjoy the ride, darling. Life’s too short to overthink it.”

You nodded, trying to smile, but the words felt hollow. As the conversation shifted to something lighter, you felt the attention shift from you, but the undercurrent of subtle judgment remained. For a moment, you wondered if you truly belonged here.

Then, as if on cue, one of the women— the raven-haired beauty—held out a delicate glass of champagne to you, her expression almost playful. “Here, try this. You’ll feel much better.”

You hesitated, looking at the glass. There was something almost predatory in the way she was offering it, but her smile was warm, and the others were watching expectantly. The pressure mounted, the subtle challenge in the air. You couldn’t back out now, not without feeling like you’d just failed some unspoken test.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Come on, it’s just one drink. It’s harmless.” She pushed the glass toward you again, her voice sweet but firm, as though it were an unspoken rule you couldn’t break.

You took it, and drank it.

The group of women exchanged pleased glances, and for the briefest moment, you felt a sense of belonging. You’d crossed an invisible line, done something small to cement your place in their world. But as the liquid settled in your stomach, you couldn’t help but feel a creeping sense of regret. Had you made a mistake? Had you just given in to something that felt wrong? You glanced back at Isaac across the room, his figure easily spotted among the crowd, but he was talking to someone else, his attention elsewhere. For now, you were alone in this strange, glittering world, caught between the allure of its opulence and the nagging sense that you weren’t truly meant to be here.

The women continued to chat, the conversation flowing around you, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being pulled further into a game whose rules you didn’t fully understand.

"See?" the blonde woman said, smiling at you with a knowing glint in her eyes. "Wasn’t so bad, was it?"

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the atmosphere, but you felt a sense of ease flood over you, a dulling of the sharp edges of your self-doubt. For a brief moment, you felt like part of the group, like you’d passed some invisible threshold.

But just as quickly as it had come, the feeling was replaced with something else—a deepening unease that you couldn’t quite place. You looked around, catching glimpses of the other guests as they mingled in the ballroom, their conversations a blur of names and deals and laughter.

As the night wore on, the conversation turned to idle gossip, and you found yourself talking more freely, offering your opinions in an attempt to fit in. The words came easily, the alcohol loosening your tongue, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the feeling that you didn’t truly belong here grew louder.

One of the women leaned closer to you, her voice low, “You know, you’re really starting to fit in. Just keep playing the game.”

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. The evening felt like a game you hadn’t agreed to play—yet here you were, caught in it, taking another sip of the drink in your hand, and wondering how far you were willing to go to keep up the charade.

The conversation turned to more casual topics, and soon you found yourself swept into the rhythm of the group. They spoke of the latest social events, the fashion, and the discreet gossip that swirled in the upper circles of society. You listened, offering the occasional comment, feeling the pressure to fit in, to be part of the group, as though your every word and gesture were being scrutinized.

──

The night wore on, the laughter and chatter of the ballroom slowly blending into a dull murmur around you. You sat next to the blonde woman who had offered you the drink, her presence still warm and welcoming, though something about the evening felt off. She had taken a particular interest in you, leaning in every now and then to share intimate details about her life. Her husband, she explained, treated her poorly, often leaving her feeling neglected and alone. You could hear the vulnerability in her voice, and you wanted to listen, to offer some comfort. But something else was tugging at your focus—something you couldn’t shake.

As she spoke, you could feel the growing heat within you, the sudden warmth spreading across your skin. Your mouth was dry, and you swallowed nervously, a strange pressure building in your chest. Your heart beat faster, and you realized, with growing discomfort, that it wasn’t just the warmth of the ballroom that was affecting you. No, there was something in that drink.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, arousal had pooled underneath you. your fingers tightening around the glass as the sensation inside you intensified. You looked down at the champagne in your hand, your thoughts racing. The heat coursing through your body made you feel dizzy, lightheaded. It was like a fire building inside, a quiet but insistent force you couldn’t ignore.

You blinked, trying to focus, but the room around you seemed to blur at the edges. Your gaze instinctively flicked to Isaac, who was still conversing with a group of men across the room, his figure confident and composed. But even from across the room, you felt the pull, the strange sensation tugging at you, a magnetic force that seemed to center on him.

You could feel your body reacting, growing warmer under his presence, even from afar. But this...this wasn’t right. You quickly turned back to the blonde woman beside you, your voice barely a whisper.

“W...what was in that drink?” you managed to ask, your words slurring slightly, though you tried to steady yourself. “It’s really—good...”

The blonde woman’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer, her voice low and almost soothing. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s just champagne,” she replied, her tone casual, almost too casual. “But there is something else in there... just a little popper.”

You blinked in confusion, your mind struggling to catch up. “Poppers?”

She chuckled, her eyes glimmering with something almost too knowing. “Aphrodisiac, honey.” she clarified with a wink, as if the answer were as simple as breathing.

A cold wave of realization washed over you, and your heart skipped a beat. Your pulse quickened, and the room seemed to close in on you. “Aphrodisiac?” you repeated, your voice hoarse.

She nodded, her gaze steady as she studied your reaction. “Just a little something to help you relax, darling,” she said, her lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s a common thing here, especially for... special guests. Men only want one thing, might as well make it somewhat enjoyable for us ladies too right?”

You could feel your stomach churn with a mix of anger and confusion. The heat inside you seemed to grow, and you suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. You tried to keep your composure, but it was difficult. Your mind swirled as the reality of what was happening settled into your chest, tightening like a vice.

Your eyes instinctively sought Isaac once more, but he was still deep in conversation, unaware of the turmoil you were now drowning in. You felt a mixture of betrayal and helplessness—how could this have happened? Why hadn’t you noticed sooner? The blonde woman’s presence seemed to amplify your discomfort, but you couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t leave, not yet.

As the heat continued to build, your thoughts started to blur, and you felt a sudden pull in your chest. The woman’s words echoed in your mind, and you realized that you weren’t just fighting the growing warmth inside you—you were fighting to keep control, to keep yourself from slipping into whatever game they had planned for you.

You had to find a way out of this.

The warmth inside you continued to grow, and despite every attempt to focus, it became harder to keep control. The room seemed to spin ever so slightly, the lights growing too bright, the air too thick. The woman beside you continued talking, her words blending into a soft hum in the background as your focus wavered. Every inch of your body seemed to ache, a kind of restlessness pushing at the edges of your mind.

You needed to focus, but the desire to be near Isaac, to feel his presence, had intensified. It was like a magnetic pull you couldn’t resist, drawing you toward him even though you knew you shouldn’t be feeling this way. The heat that burned in your chest now seemed to consume your every thought.

Without thinking, you stood up abruptly, excusing yourself from the blonde woman’s conversation, her voice following you with a soft chuckle that only fueled your unease. You stumbled slightly as you moved through the crowd, your legs unsteady, but you couldn’t stop. Isaac’s figure loomed ahead, still surrounded by his conversation, his back to you as you approached him.

As you neared, you realized how out of place you must have seemed. There was something desperate in your movements, something needy, and you couldn't stop it. The moment you reached Isaac, you placed a hand on his arm, feeling a surge of heat course through your fingers at the touch.

Isaac turned, a slight flicker of surprise in his eyes as he met your gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked, his voice cool but with an edge of concern.

Your voice came out softer than you intended, almost breathless. “I—I need you,” you said, your words feeling foreign even to yourself. “Please.”

His brow furrowed as he assessed you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. But before he could respond, the man he had been speaking to earlier interrupted, stepping forward with a slight smirk. “Everything alright, Isaac?”

You barely registered the man's presence, your focus still on Isaac as you felt a deep, gnawing need take over you. It was like something was clawing at you from the inside, demanding attention, pulling you towards him.

Isaac’s gaze shifted between you and the man, his expression unreadable, before he gave a quiet, almost dismissive nod to the other man. “I’ll be fine,” he said curtly, his voice returning to its usual calm composure.

Then, turning to you, his tone softened, but only just. “Come with me,” he said, his hand sliding onto the small of your back.

You nodded eagerly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You couldn’t think straight anymore, and you didn’t want to. The heat inside you was all-consuming, and all you wanted was for Isaac to take you somewhere quiet, away from the eyes of everyone else.

As you moved together, you caught a glimpse of the blonde woman’s eyes, watching you from across the room. Her smile was wide, knowing, and it made your stomach twist even more.

But Isaac's hand on your back was grounding, and you allowed yourself to follow him. You needed to escape the sensations that were overwhelming you, but deep down, you were starting to wonder if there was any way out at all.

──

Isaac’s hand was firm on your back as he guided you through the maze of the ballroom, his pace quickening now that you were away from the prying eyes of the crowd. The tension in your body only increased with each step you took. You could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you, and the heat that had been building inside you all evening was becoming unbearable. The hallway ahead was dimly lit, leading to a small restroom tucked away from the main gathering.

Isaac’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but there was a subtle shift in his energy, as though something had clicked into place. You could feel his presence next to you, his body close, and yet it was as if there was an invisible wall between the two of you, one that only seemed to grow the further you moved away from the noise of the ballroom.

When you reached the restroom, Isaac opened the door with a firm push and ushered you inside, his movements swift but not harsh. The room was cool, the polished marble floors and gold accents adding a sense of luxury, but the air between you both was heavy, charged with something else.

He closed the door behind him with a soft click, and then he turned to face you, his eyes narrowing as they took in your pale face and the discomfort that seemed to radiate from you. “What happened?” he asked, his voice low, tight with an edge of concern that you hadn’t heard before.

You swallowed hard, the words feeling thick in your throat. Your body was still trembling with the effects of the drink, and your mind was a haze, but you forced yourself to meet Isaac’s gaze. There was no use hiding it from him now. “The drink,” you said, your voice shaky. “The woman gave me something in it... something to make me... feel different. I—I didn’t know what it was at first. But now… I feel like I can’t think straight, Isaac. There’s something wrong. I didn’t know what was happening.”

Isaac’s expression hardened as he listened to your words, his features sharpening with a visible flash of anger. His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his usually composed exterior. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“What the hell did she give you?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word dripping with fury.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice faltering. “She said it was a... aphrodisiac. She told me it would help me relax, that it was something they do here for... special guests.”

Isaac’s face twisted with disgust, and his hands clenched tighter. “I should’ve been there,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his tone venomous. “I should’ve been watching. You’re not supposed to be left alone with people like that.” His eyes turned back to you, a look of regret clouding his usual control. “I never should’ve let her near you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, the weight of his words sinking deep within you. You had never seen Isaac like this—his anger was palpable, filling the room, and yet it was not directed at you. It felt as though he was angry at himself, as though he was blaming himself for letting this happen to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice softening, though it still carried the edge of his previous fury. He stepped closer to you, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your shoulder, his touch almost apologetic. “I should’ve been more careful. I never should’ve let anyone get close to you. This is on me.”

You felt a swell of emotion inside you, the combination of his apology and his anger, but also the overwhelming pressure of what you were feeling. The heat inside you had not abated; if anything, it had only grown stronger. You could feel the intensity in your body—something between desire and panic—and you had no idea how to fight it. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come out right.

Isaac studied you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he exhaled sharply.

“It’s not your fault, Isaac. You didn’t do this. I—this wasn’t your fault.”

Isaac’s brows furrowed, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for something in your gaze. “But I wasn’t there. I should’ve been more careful. You—” He stopped, his words trailing off, and the anger shifted into frustration. He took a step toward you, his voice low but urgent. “I should’ve never let anyone near you like that. I should’ve protected you.”

You felt a wave of something soft, a quiet understanding stirring within you, even as your heart raced with the aftermath of everything. The heat, the dizziness, the overwhelming feeling of loss of control—it was all there, but so was the fact that Isaac was trying to make it right.

“No,” you repeated, but this time, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. “You don’t need to protect me from this. I’m not a child, Isaac.” You reached out, gently brushing your fingers against his chest, feeling the hard beat of his heart under the fabric of his shirt. “I know you care, but this wasn’t your fault. You can’t always be everywhere at once.”

Isaac stood still, taking in your words, his expression still etched with guilt. “I should’ve been watching out for you,” he muttered, almost to himself, before looking down at you, his gaze softening as you continued to reassure him.

“You were there for me, Isaac,” you said, your voice steady now, even though the heat still simmered inside you. “You’re here now, and that’s enough. Please… don’t blame yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but before he could, you reached up, cupping his jaw gently with your hand. His breath hitched at the touch, and you could see his internal struggle playing out across his face. “Please, Isaac,” you whispered, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Stay with me.”

For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just stood there, his eyes locked onto yours, the flickering candlelight from the restroom’s sconces casting shadows across his face. You could feel the heat between you growing, not just from the drug still working its way through your veins, but from something else—a tension, an electricity in the air that felt impossible to ignore.

Then, as if something finally gave way, Isaac leaned in slowly, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours with a careful hesitance, like he was waiting for you to pull back, to stop him. But you didn’t. Instead, you deepened the kiss, your hands threading into his hair as his grip on your waist tightened.

The kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as though you both needed to reassure each other that this moment was real, that you weren’t just victims of a situation that you couldn’t control. Isaac’s hands slid to your back, pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together, the heat of his touch mixing with the warmth still rising in you.

For a brief second, the room seemed to disappear. The distant hum of the ballroom, the lingering discomfort of the drug, the world outside—it all faded as the kiss consumed you both.

Isaac pulled away just slightly, his breath ragged against your lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “Not now, not ever.”

You didn’t answer him with words—there was nothing left to say. Instead, you kissed him again, this time with everything you had, as if the kiss itself would somehow erase the fear and confusion that had clouded your mind.

And in that moment, for a fleeting second, nothing else mattered.

Isaac's hands roamed your curves, desperation fueling his touch as he gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. Your breath caught in your throat at the sudden contact, feeling the hard length of him through the fabric of his tailored trousers. The heat pooling in your core intensified, the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins demanding more.

"Isaac," you gasped, your fingers fisting in his dark hair as he trailed kisses along your jaw, down the column of your throat. His lips found your pulse point, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin as he felt your heart racing beneath his touch.

With a low groan, Isaac's hands slid down to grip the hem of your dress, his fingers slipping beneath the silky fabric to caress the bare skin of your thighs. He gripped your legs, his thumbs rubbing slow, teasing circles on the sensitive flesh as he slowly inched the dress up, exposing more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his fingers brushed against the lace edge of your panties. The damp fabric clung to your heated flesh, the evidence of your arousal unmistakable. Isaac's eyes darkened with lust as he felt the dampness, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

His fingers pushed the lace aside, and he stroked your slick folds, his touch maddeningly slow and teasing. You bucked against his hand, desperate for more friction, more pressure, anything to ease the ache building inside you.

Isaac chuckled darkly at your reaction, his fingers delving deeper, two digits sinking into your tight, clinging heat. "Greedy" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "So hungry for my touch."

You could only whimper in response, your hips rolling against his hand as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, circling motions. The pleasure was intense, the drug amplifying every sensation until you could hardly think straight.

Isaac's other hand slid up your body, pushing the top of your dress down to expose your breasts to the cool air of the restroom. Your nipples pebble, Isaac leaned in, capturing one of your hardened nipples between his teeth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as he sucked hard. His fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your dripping sex, plunging in and out, curling to stroke that spot deep inside that made your toes curl in your heels.

Your head fell back, a sharp cry of ecstasy tearing from your throat as the dual assault on your breast and sex pushed you closer to the edge. Isaac seemed determined to make you come undone, to prove that he could give you the pleasure you craved, that he could wipe away the lingering traces of the drug-induced haze and replace it with the clarity of your shared desire.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips trailing kisses up the swell of your breast, over your collarbone, until he reached your mouth once more. He kissed you hard, his tongue delving inside to claim you, to make you his.

"Come for me," Isaac demanded against your lips, his voice a low, urgent growl. "Let me feel you come apart in my arms."

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his fingers and the press of his hard, clothed cock against your thigh, proved too much. With a silent scream of his name, you shattered, your sex clenching and fluttering around his fingers as wave after wave of intense, mind-numbing bliss crashed over you. Isaac’s free hand moved to your neck, his fingers wrapping gently but firmly around it, applying just enough pressure to send a shiver down your spine. His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze unwavering.

“Quiet,” he murmured, his voice low, commanding, though there was no malice in it—only a subtle warning. The air between you thickened with a mixture of heat and tension as he held you there, his grip almost protective, as if daring anything or anyone to threaten this fragile moment.

Isaac worked you through your climax, his fingers never stopping their movements until the last aftershock had left your body trembling. As you slowly drifted down from the high, he pulled his fingers from your still-spasming sex, bringing them to his mouth to suck your essence from the digits.

"Delicious," he murmured, his eyes locked onto yours, dark with satisfaction and lingering desire.

Before you could respond, he captured your mouth in another searing kiss, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor of your shared passion igniting the embers of your arousal once more.

As the kiss deepened, Isaac's hands slid down to grip your ass, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he turned to press you against the cool marble wall of the restroom, the chill a stark contrast to the heat of your skin.

Isaac's hips rolled forward, grinding his clothed arousal against your sensitive, dripping sex. The rough fabric of his trousers created a delicious friction, stoking the embers of your desire back into a raging inferno. You gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him, needing to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations.

Isaac's hands slid under your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh as he held you aloft with an almost bruising force. He tore his mouth from yours, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. You tilted your head to give him better access, a breathy moan escaping your lips as his teeth grazed your collarbone.

"Fuck, I need to be inside you," Isaac growled, his voice strained with barely restrained desire. His words, crude and vulgar, sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You could feel the thick outline of his erection straining against his trousers, the heat of him scorching your core even through the fabric barrier. The ache between your legs intensified, your body yearning to be filled, to be claimed by this dominant, demanding man.

Isaac's fingers found the hem of your dress again, pushing the material up and over your hips to pool around your waist. His hands slid around to cup your ass, kneading the globes roughly as he ground his clothed cock harder against your lace-covered sex. The damp fabric of your panties clung to your swollen folds, the evidence of your arousal coating the delicate lace.

"You're mine," Isaac rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Say it."

He punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust of his hips, the head of his cock catching on your clit through the fabric, sending a jolt of pleasure radiating through you. Your back arched, pressing your breasts against his chest, the hard points of your nipples straining against the confines of your dress.

"I'm yours," you gasped out, your voice ragged with need. "Only yours, Isaac."

Isaac's eyes flashed with a dark, primal hunger as he tore your panties away, the flimsy lace offering no resistance to his brute strength. He tossed the ruined garment aside, his large hands gripping your bare ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. The cool air of the restroom hit your exposed, dripping sex, making you shiver and clench around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Look at you” He coo’s, words punctuated by grinding the thick ridge of his erection against your naked, swollen folds, the rough fabric of his trousers creating a delicious friction that made stars explode behind your eyelids. You could feel every rigid inch of him, feel the heat of his flesh even through the barrier of clothing, and it made your core clench and flutter wildly, a fresh gush of arousal flooding your core.

With a low groan, Isaac reached into the back pocket of his tailored trousers and withdrew his wallet. He flipped it open, his fingers deftly plucking out a small, square packet. Tearing it open with his teeth, he pulled out the condom, tossing the empty wrapper carelessly aside.

He undid his belt with quick, efficient movements. The leather slipped through the buckle, the sound of it hitting the marble floor loud in the charged silence of the restroom, he popped the button of his trousers, lowering the zipper with a soft hiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as he tugged his trousers and boxers down, just enough to free his throbbing erection. It sprang forth, long, thick and hard, the swollen head an angry pink and already glistening with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight, your core clenching with anticipation.

"Do you really want me to take you here?" Isaac taunted, his voice a low, rough rasp as he tore open the condom packet with his teeth.

He rolled the condom over his impressive length with practiced ease, the latex stretching taut over his thick flesh. Once sheathed, he gripped your thighs harder, his fingers digging into the soft skin hard enough to leave imprints. With a sharp spank to your ass the stinging slap of his palm against your skin making your sex clench and flutter wildly around his pistoning cock. Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to him, meeting his fierce thrusts with the roll of your hips. “Answer me.”

“Here—please Isaac” You beg, your voice hoarse.

Isaac's eyes darkened with lust and a hint of something wilder, more primal, as he lined himself up with your entrance. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick folds, parting them easily, teasingly. He could feel the heat radiating from your core, could sense how desperately your body ached to be filled by him.

"Breathe, my love." Isaac murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

As if on cue, he thrust forward, sheathing himself inside you with one powerful, decisive stroke. A guttural groan tore from his throat as your tight, wet heat engulfed him, your walls clenching and fluttering wildly around his thick girth.

"God" Isaac groaned, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises as he began to move, his hips snapping forward and pulling back in a relentless, driving rhythm.

He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with deep, powerful thrusts that had your entire body jolting with the force. The obscene slap of skin against skin echoed through the restroom, mingling with your wanton moans and Isaac's harsh, ragged breathing.

Your nails raked down his back, leaving red lines of passion in their wake as you clung to him, meeting his fierce thrusts with the roll of your hips. Isaac's hand slid up your body, cupping one of your breasts, his thumb and forefinger pinching and rolling your nipple between them. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he suckled hard, marking you as his.

Lost in the throes of passion, neither of you noticed the condom stretching taut around Isaac's pistoning shaft, the latex straining with each deep, driving thrust. It was only when a sharp, snapping sound cut through the fog of lust that you both froze, your eyes widening in realization.

"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice high and breathy, tinged with a note of desperation.

Something primal and possessive flashed in Isaac's eyes at your wanton plea. With a low, animalistic growl, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you utterly. At the same time, he began to move again, his hips surging forward in hard, deep thrusts that struck that secret, hidden spot inside you with every plunge of his shaft. He began grinding his pelvis against your aching clit, the rough friction sending you hurtling over the edge. Your body convulsed beneath him, your sex clamping down on his length like a vice as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

You could feel the hot, heavy spurts of his seed flooding your core, painting your insides with his essence. It was a deeply intimate, primal moment, the two of you locked together in the throes of mutual climax, joined as closely as two people could be.

Isaac collapsed against you, his weight pressing you into the wall as he struggled to catch his breath. He peppered your face with soft kisses, his touch almost reverent as he traced the contours of your cheekbones, your jaw, your lips.

As the waves of your shared climax subsided, Isaac slowly pulled back, his softening length slipping from your tender, well-used sex with a gush of combined fluids. You both winced slightly at the sensation, the intimate act leaving you feeling deliciously satisfied yet oddly empty.

Isaac carefully set you back on your feet, his hands on your waist to steady you until you found your balance. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling slightly as they took your weight once more. He kept you pressed against him for a moment longer, his chin resting atop your head as he held you close.

"Be careful, love," he murmured, his voice a low, concerned rumble. "I don't want you collapsing on me now."

He reluctantly let you go, taking a step back to survey the disheveled state of your clothing. With deft fingers, he smoothed your dress back down over your curves, his touch lingering on the swell of your hips, the dip of your waist. He retrieved your ruined panties, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he held them up, assisting you by putting them back on.

"Looks like these won't be needed any more tonight," Isaac quipped, tossing them carelessly into a nearby wastebasket. He tucked his own shirt back into his trousers, doing up the button and zipper with quick, dusting off his blazer with his hand all in efficient motions.

Isaac then took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his own. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Offering you his arm once more as he leads you out the restroom. “You're exhausted” He says, “Let’s go back home.”

As you and Isaac descended the grand staircase, the weight of the night seemed to press down on you more than ever. The echo of your footsteps reverberated in the cool, marble corridors. The doors opened ahead by the same two men from earlier before. The chill of the night sent a shiver through you, and without hesitation, Isaac slipped his blazer from his shoulders and draped it over yours, pulling it tight against your frame. The warmth of the fabric immediately wrapped around you, but there was still a heaviness in the air, a subtle tension that clung to you both as you made your way into the night. His hand brushed against your back, his touch firm and reassuring.

Standing near the doors, leaning casually against the wall, was the figure you had seen earlier—the one you had recognized as “Asriel’s pet.” They were impossible to ignore, even now. Their beauty was ethereal, as if sculpted by the hands of some unseen artist—too perfect, too captivating. The moonlight danced off their features, accentuating every sharp contour and the way their eyes seemed to glow with an unsettling intensity.

You looked up at Isaac, instinctively waiting for his reaction. As you both drew nearer, the figure’s eyes flicked to you, a slow and deliberate gaze that seemed to take in every detail of your exposed legs. The way they looked at you sent a chill down your spine, a feeling that almost bordered on possessive. A smirk stretched across their lips, and you could feel the weight of their gaze before they spoke.

“Must’ve been a fun night,” they said, their voice dripping with mockery, sharp and pointed. There was a cruelty in their tone, but beneath that, something darker, more dangerous—almost predatory.

Confused, you furrowed your brows, not quite understanding the insinuation. But then, your eyes dropped to your legs, and the sickening realization hit you like a wave—Isaac’s essence, the remnants of your intimate moment, was trickling down your leg. A hot flush of embarrassment burned through your chest, but before you could react, Isaac’s grip on your hand tightened, his body stiffening as his jaw clenched in barely contained fury.

“Stay close,” he muttered under his breath, his words low but firm. His gaze locked onto the figure, filled with an icy, silent threat. Then his attention turned back to you, his eyes softening momentarily as his hand moved to steady you, the concern for you outweighing the rage that simmered beneath the surface. “Don’t pay attention to them.”

The figure, still leaning casually against the wall, continued to smirk, their eyes flickering over you with an unsettling amusement. They didn’t push further, but their silence spoke volumes—mocking, daring, almost as if they were watching you both, waiting for something to break.

Isaac, sensing your unease, led you away, his body moving closer to yours. He guided you with a firmness that conveyed both his protectiveness and his anger, the night air colder as it bit at your skin. As you walked past the figure, you couldn't help but glance over at them once more, and in that moment, the figure’s eyes locked onto yours.

They mouthed something, their lips curling into a smile as they spoke the words that sent a shiver down your spine. "See you soon." The smirk on their face deepened as they gave a small, deliberate wave, the motion almost mocking as you walked away.

Your pulse quickened at the thought of their cryptic words, the warning behind them making your skin prickle. You looked up at Isaac, who kept his focus ahead, his anger still apparent in every step he took, but he offered no explanation.

By the time you reached the car, you could feel the cold still clinging to you, the remnants of the uncomfortable encounter sticking in your mind. Isaac opened the door for you, the tension in his body still evident as he held your gaze for a moment longer than usual.

“Sleep,” he said, his voice softer now, though there was still a firmness in it. “I’ll cook for you tonight.” There was something comforting in the simplicity of his words, and as you climbed into the car, you allowed yourself to relax just a little, despite the lingering unease. Isaac started the engine, the soft hum of the car providing a strange sense of normalcy after everything that had just happened.As the car rolled out of the manor's driveway and into the night, your mind continued to whirl with the figure’s haunting presence and those words—“See you soon.”

──

author's note: dedicated to the anon who referred to me as dear, if it matters to anyone at all i imagined isaac wearing this watch.

#zsakuva #sakuverse #zsakuva isaac #isaac rhoades #isaac x reader #isaac rhodes x reader #pickel x issac #zsakuva asirel #asriel #pet

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yoursinisforgiven · 2 days ago

Text

SKIN TISSUE ──

pairing: xanthus x reader (love) x dontis

cw: pure filth. (smut), afab reader, threeway, porn with feelings, mentions of dontis’s listener (hunter) & their father, reader passes out, religious symbolism, mentions of alcohol, xanthus feeds off of dontis, bloodplay, light spanking, mfm aspects, infidelity (i suppose), no use of condoms, breeding without the intentions of pregnancy, anal (reader’s not receiving), spit used as lubricant, multiple orgasms. oral (male receiving) vaginal fingering, penetrational sex, floor sex.

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

The smell of herbs and sizzling garlic filled the air, a quiet symphony in the otherwise silent kitchen.

Dontis moved with effortless grace, his hands deftly chopping fresh basil, the rhythm of his knife almost hypnotic. “Do you believe,” he asked suddenly, his voice soft but laced with a thoughtful edge, “that people are meant to suffer to understand what it means to live? Or is suffering just… meaningless cruelty dressed up as divine design?”

His words slithered into the quiet, wrapping around your thoughts like vines. You leaned against the counter, watching him work, the question settling heavily between you. “I’m not sure,” you replied, your voice quieter than you’d intended. “Maybe it’s both. Or neither. Suffering changes people, but whether it’s meaningful depends on what we do with it.”

He turned slightly, the faintest smile curling his lips. “Interesting perspective,” he murmured. “Almost pragmatic, but not quite. It sounds to me like someone trying to reconcile chaos with order.” His gaze lingered on you, sharp and unyielding, like he was peeling back the layers of your soul one by one.

As he turned back to the stove, you felt it—a flicker of something foreign, something wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but in that moment, you saw him for what he truly was. A serpent. A deceiver.

The serpent beguiled me, and I did eat.

The thought struck you like a hammer. His every word, his every movement, felt like a calculated strike against the bond you shared with Xanthus. That bond was sacred, wasn’t it? A covenant, a tether blessed by something beyond comprehension. Yet here was Dontis, whispering truths and half-truths, sowing seeds of doubt with his silken voice. His charm wasn’t innocent; it was poison wrapped in honey, tempting you to take the bite that would undo everything.

The thought struck like a lightning bolt, your bond with Xanthus stirring as if in warning. You pulled back slightly, your gaze darting to the delicate bracelet on your wrist—a physical reminder of the connection you shared with him. Dontis’s presence felt dangerous, not because he threatened you physically, but because of the way he made you think, feel, wonder.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “you remind me of something this dish always makes me think of—a delicate balance of bitterness and sweetness. Too much of either, and it’s ruined. But find the right harmony, and it’s perfection.”

The words sent a shiver through you, not because of their meaning, but because of the way he said them, as though he were speaking about you, to you, and not the dish. You realized then, in that fleeting moment, that he was dangerous in a way Xanthus had never been: not a predator, but a temptation. A choice.

“I should check on Xanthus,” you murmured abruptly, stepping back, breaking the fragile thread of the moment before it could tighten around you. Dontis looked up, his expression unreadable, the shadow of a smile still lingering.

“Of course,” he said, turning his attention back to the stove. “But remember—sometimes it’s the choices we don’t make that haunt us most.”

──

Surely God had been testing you, testing your loyalty, your endurance. Dontis was an incubus—surely he had been doing this on purpose, right?

His every movement seemed calculated, designed to draw attention, to spark desire, even when you tried desperately not to notice. The way his laughter lingered just a second too long, the way his gaze seemed to pierce through you as if he knew every thought in your head. It was maddening.

Xanthus stood nearby–despite you offering him to sit next to you, he assured he had to keep a ‘lookout.’, a silent sentinel, but his presence did little to ground you against the whirlwind of emotions Dontis stirred. The bond you shared with Xanthus hummed faintly, like a distant melody struggling to break through the noise of Dontis's presence. Was it enough to shield you?

Dontis leaned closer, his voice like silk, laced with both mockery and intrigue. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “It’s not intentional, I promise. It’s just… my nature.”

“Dontis,” Xanthus’s voice cut through the moment, low and warning. “Enough.”

The incubus’s smile widened, but he leaned back, his expression a portrait of feigned innocence. “I’m merely being a gracious host,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “You know me, Xanny. I’ve always been accommodating.”

Something flickered in Xanthus’s eyes—a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation. It was gone in an instant, replaced by his usual stoic demeanor, but it was enough to make you wonder.

And yet, as the incubus’s laughter echoed softly, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d already failed just by letting the thought cross your mind.

You swallowed the spit gathering in your mouth. This was one moment of many, and with it, you were able to come to three conclusions.

First, Dontis was absolutely doing this on purpose. There was no mistaking the deliberate way he manipulated the space around him, the calculated charm in his every word and action. This wasn’t just his nature; it was a game, and you were the unwitting pawn.

Second, Dontis thrived on pushing boundaries. He wasn’t merely testing you; he was testing the strength of your relationship with Xanthus, probing for cracks he could exploit. Whether out of amusement or something more calculated, you couldn’t tell, but it made you all the more determined to hold firm

Third, and perhaps most unsettling, some part of you wasn’t sure if you wanted the tension to stop. It was a dangerous thought, one that you quickly pushed aside, but it lingered like a shadow at the edge of your mind. Did this mean you were weak, or simply human?

You glanced toward Xanthus, hoping for a moment of clarity, but his face was unreadable, his gaze fixed firmly on Dontis. The vampire’s presence was steady, grounding, but his silence spoke volumes. He was giving you space to navigate this, to prove your loyalty—to yourself as much as to him.

“You’re quiet,” Dontis remarked, breaking the silence. His tone was teasing, but his eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Deep in thought, perhaps? I do have that effect on people.”

You straightened, forcing a steadiness into your voice. “Some of us value thinking over speaking,” you replied, the words sharp enough to wipe the smirk from Dontis’s face for a fleeting moment—only for it to soon return.

Xanthus’s lips quirked upward ever so slightly in approval, a subtle but reassuring sign that your resolve had not gone unnoticed. The bond hummed stronger, a gentle reminder of where your heart truly lay, even as the challenges loomed large.

You closed your eyes and leaned back against the couch. Its upholstery was a deep shade of purple—not bright or garish, but rich and sultry, an echo of Dontis himself. It was as though the very fabric of his home was steeped in his essence, every corner of the space designed to draw you further into his world. The soft velvet beneath your fingertips whispered of indulgence, temptation, and secrets better left unspoken.

The air felt thick, almost tangible, laden with the faint scent of incense and something indefinable—something uniquely Dontis. It clung to you, invading your senses no matter how hard you tried to resist. Even the dim lighting seemed complicit, casting shadows that flickered and danced, teasing the edges of your vision.

This was more than a house. It was a reflection of him, a stage upon which he played his games with unnerving skill. And you? You were part of the performance, caught between the lure of his charm and the strength of your bond with Xanthus.

Xanthus, who remained steadfast, a silent protector in this den of sin. The faint hum of your connection thrummed louder now, a lifeline grounding you in the face of Dontis’s relentless pull. His presence was your anchor, a reminder that there was more to you than the doubts and desires Dontis sought to awaken.

For a moment, you let the tension ease from your shoulders, inhaling deeply as you tried to reclaim a sense of balance. Dontis’s world was suffocating, intoxicating, but it was also temporary. You had endured this long; you could endure a little longer.

"Comfortable now?" Dontis’s voice broke through the quiet, smooth and amused. You opened your eyes to find him watching you, his expression one of feigned innocence, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

You didn’t answer immediately, letting the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle him. Then, with a calm you didn’t quite feel, you replied, “The couch is nice, though it seems a little too fitting for you. I’m not sure whether to find that amusing or suspicious.”

Dontis laughed, the sound like warm honey with a bitter aftertaste. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, leaning back himself, the picture of ease. “It’s always gratifying to be... unforgettable.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught Xanthus’s faint smirk, the subtle curve of his lips like a quiet victory. Despite the incubus’s games, you weren’t as easily swayed as he might have hoped.

The room seemed to exhale with you, the tension loosening its grip. For now, at least, you had found your footing again. But the night was far from over, and in Dontis’s lair, the real test was only just beginning.

──

New Orleans was alive with glamour, music, and the tantalizing aroma of food that seemed to waft from every corner. The city was a living, breathing entity, its streets pulsing with a vibrancy that could only exist here. It took no small effort to coax Xanthus out of the sanctuary of Dontis’s home—his carefully constructed fortress of control.

The Trimidainy, had made Xanthus almost painfully vigilant. It wasn’t paranoia, exactly, but a relentless need to maintain constant awareness and control. Xanthus didn’t trust the world beyond his walls, not fully. He had his reasons, of course, though he rarely spoke of his thoughts. Dontis had mentioned it in passing, almost casually, as though it were obvious. “He’s always been that way,” the incubus had said with a smirk, though there was an undertone of something like exasperation.

The streets had an almost ethereal glow, the gas lanterns lining the narrow alleys casting flickering light onto cobblestone paths. Music spilled from every corner—haunting jazz melodies that seemed to weave into the humid night air, enticing you to linger. But there was no lingering with Xanthus. He moved with purpose, his eyes scanning every shadow as though he expected something—or someone—to emerge from it.

You trailed behind him, the bond between you a quiet reassurance, though his tension was palpable. Dontis sauntered a step ahead of you, his stride languid and almost dismissive, as though he owned the very streets beneath his feet. He tossed a careless smile at passersby, some of whom turned to watch him go, entranced despite themselves. The power he carried wasn’t merely in his nature but in his effortless ability to command attention.

“Relax, Xanthus,” Dontis drawled, his tone both amused and faintly mocking. “No one here poses a threat to your precious fortress of paranoia. It’s New Orleans. Let the city work its magic.”

Xanthus shot him a look that could have cut glass but said nothing, his jaw tight. You could feel his frustration like a ripple through the bond, though he held it back with his usual stoicism.

Dontis chuckled, clearly pleased with himself, and turned to you instead. “What about you? Surely you’re not immune to the charms of this place. The music, the lights… the promise of secrets waiting to be uncovered.”

You glanced around, taking in the sights. The air was thick with the mingling scents of spices, perfume, and something faintly metallic that made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite place. It was intoxicating, but also unnerving—like the city itself was alive and watching.

“It’s beautiful,” you admitted, though your voice held a hint of caution.

“See?” Dontis gestured at you with a flourish. “At least someone here has taste.”

Xanthus ignored him, his gaze fixed on a small group of musicians gathered on the corner. Their song was slow and mournful, a melody that seemed to resonate with something deep within you. Xanthus lingered, his posture softening just slightly, and for a moment, you saw a glimpse of the man beneath the armor he so carefully maintained.

The moment passed quickly. Xanthus turned sharply, his voice low but firm. “We should keep moving.”

Dontis rolled his eyes but fell into step beside him, though the tension between them was almost visible. “You’re wasting the night,” Dontis said, his voice lilting with exasperation. “There’s so much to see, to experience. Honestly, Xanny, I don’t know how you can live like this.”

Xanthus didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than you expected. “I need to keep them safe Dontis—it is my duty..”

Dontis raised an eyebrow, but there was a flicker of something in his expression—curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. He didn’t press further, though his silence felt heavy, as though the conversation had only just begun.

The three of you wandered deeper into the city, the vibrant energy of the French Quarter giving way to quieter streets where the buildings loomed taller, their wrought-iron balconies casting intricate shadows. It was here, away from the crowds, that the city’s true age became apparent.

“This,” Dontis said suddenly, his voice softer now, “is where the magic lingers.”

You looked around, unsure of what he meant, but there was a strange stillness in the air—a feeling that the past was closer here, brushing against the edges of the present. The city seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, even Xanthus paused.

“This city has seen things,” Dontis continued, his tone uncharacteristically serious. “Things most people can’t even imagine. Blood, love, betrayal… it soaks into the very bones of the place.”

There was something in his voice, a hint of wistfulness that caught you off guard. You glanced at Xanthus, but his expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on Dontis as though he were trying to decipher a puzzle.

“Don’t get lost in it,” Xanthus said finally, his tone sharp.

Dontis laughed, the sound echoing softly against the walls. “Oh, Xanny,” he said, his smirk returning. “Getting lost is the best part.”

The tension between them was like a taut wire, vibrating with unspoken words. You felt caught between them, their history a shadow that loomed larger with every step you took.

“Where are we going?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Patience,” Dontis said, his smile sly. “You’ll see soon enough.”

And so you followed, the city wrapping itself around you like a living thing, its secrets waiting to be revealed. But with every step, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking deeper into something far more dangerous than the night itself.

──

The further you walked, the quieter New Orleans became, its bustling energy fading into a softer, more intimate rhythm. The narrow streets were kissed by the glow of lantern light, casting warm golden tones over the cobblestones. You followed Dontis as he led you through a labyrinth of alleys and courtyards, the city’s heartbeat slowing in these hidden spaces.

“Not much further,” Dontis said over his shoulder, his voice smooth and unhurried. His steps were deliberate, his presence magnetic even when he wasn’t trying—or perhaps especially because he wasn’t trying.

Xanthus followed closely, his posture stiff as always, though there was a subtle shift in him. The tension in his shoulders was less severe, the faintest relaxation in his gait betraying the pull of the city’s charm—or perhaps, something else.

The three of you emerged into a secluded courtyard hidden behind wrought-iron gates. It was like stepping into another world: a single oak tree dominated the space, its gnarled branches heavy with lanterns that bathed the area in flickering light. A fountain bubbled quietly in the center, its gentle melody mingling with the faint hum of the night.

Dontis paused beneath the oak, his silhouette a striking contrast to the golden glow surrounding him. “This,” he said, spreading his arms, “is one of my favorite places in the city. Quiet. Private. Beautiful, wouldn’t you agree?” His words lingered, heavier than they should have been, and his gaze flicked to you briefly before settling on Xanthus.

“I've only showed one other human this place, a hunte—”

Xanthus moved cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning the courtyard before stepping closer to the fountain. “Why bring us here?” he asked interrupting the incubus, his voice low, though not hostile.

“Because,” Dontis said, his tone softening, “even you, Xanthus, deserve moments like this. Even you can appreciate beauty when you’re not too busy pushing it away.”

Xanthus’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the fountain, his hands brushing over the stone as if grounding himself.

You hesitated, caught between the two of them. Dontis stood under the tree, a figure of deliberate ease, while Xanthus sat by the fountain, a quiet storm of unspoken thoughts.

“Don’t let him intimidate you,” Dontis said, his tone playful but carrying an edge of something deeper. “The fountain is plenty big for two.”

Three, you thought but held your tongue.

You moved toward Xanthus, sitting beside him. The bond between you hummed softly, a tether that steadied you even in the face of the tension Dontis so expertly conjured. But tonight, the bond felt different—alive, as if it were its own presence between you. It pulsed faintly, a living thread weaving through you and Xanthus, growing stronger not in opposition to Dontis but because of him.

Xanthus didn’t look at you, but you felt the faintest shift in him, an almost imperceptible easing of his guard.

Dontis remained where he was, leaning against the trunk of the oak tree. His gaze lingered on the two of you, something unspoken flickering in his eyes. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “this city has a way of exposing what’s hidden. Sometimes it reveals things we’d rather keep buried.”

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you thought they might have been meant for Xanthus. But when you looked up, Dontis’s gaze was locked on you. It wasn’t the usual teasing glint—it was something deeper, rawer. A yearning that made your breath hitch.

Xanthus seemed to sense it too, his hand tensing against the stone. “Dontis,” he said, his voice sharp, “whatever game you’re playing, stop.”

“I’m not playing a game,” Dontis replied, his tone softer than you’d ever heard it. He straightened, stepping closer, though he stopped a few feet away. “Not tonight.”

You looked between the two of them, caught in the weight of the moment. Dontis’s eyes softened as they held yours, his usual smugness replaced with something achingly sincere. “You’re stronger than you realize,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “But even the strong need to be seen. To be wanted.”

Your heart twisted at his words, the vulnerability in them cutting through your defenses. It wasn’t just a ploy; there was truth in his gaze, a longing that made it impossible to look away.

Xanthus shifted beside you, his presence a steadying force. His hand brushed against yours—not just a fleeting gesture, but a deliberate connection. The bond between you surged in response, like a second heartbeat, alive and radiant. And for the first time, you understood: Dontis wasn’t unraveling it. He was strengthening it.

His words, his presence, his relentless push against your walls—they weren’t breaking you apart. They were forcing you and Xanthus to acknowledge the depth of what you shared. And yet, there was something else—a thread of tension woven into the bond itself, something that pulsed faintly in Dontis’s direction.

He saw it too. You could tell by the way his gaze lingered, not with triumph, but with something quieter. You felt Xanthus’s hand tighten on yours, a grounding force that didn’t deny the truth in Dontis’s voice.

The night seemed to hold its breath, the three of you caught in a moment too fragile to shatter. You glanced at Xanthus, his eyes dark and searching, and then back at Dontis, who stood before you with a vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show.

The bond between you hummed louder now, not as a barrier, but as a bridge. It was alive, growing, adapting to encompass truths you hadn’t dared to face.

In this quiet corner of New Orleans, hidden from the world, the weight of what lay unspoken between you all pressed down like the humid air, heavy with possibility.

Music poured from open doorways, laughter bubbled over from shadowy corners, and the aroma of spices and sweet pralines wafted through the air, mingling with the faint scent of jasmine. But in the quiet, tucked-away courtyard where the three of you lingered, the world felt suspended, holding its breath.

Dontis leaned casually against the wrought-iron railing, his eyes glinting in the dim light like dark jewels. “You’ve both become... quite the pair,” he said, his tone light but tinged with something unreadable. His gaze lingered on Xanthus for a moment longer than it should have, a flicker of something in his expression—fondness, regret, maybe both.

Xanthus didn’t reply immediately. His grip on your hand was steady, grounding, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the unease he refused to voice. “We’re stronger together,” he said finally, his voice low and firm. “That’s all that matters.”

Dontis tilted his head, a smile curling on his lips that was neither mocking nor entirely sincere. “Strong, indeed,” he murmured, his gaze flickering briefly to you, then back to Xanthus. “I can see why you’d hold onto it so tightly this time.”

This time. The words echoed in your mind, subtle yet loaded, like a secret whispered just loud enough to tease but not to reveal. There was history here, intricate and layered, but it stayed in the shadows, unspoken. It made the air between them hum with an unnameable tension, a thread you couldn’t quite grasp but couldn’t ignore.

The bond pulsed faintly within you, alive and aware, as though it too was listening, learning, feeding off the emotions swirling between the three of you. Where you had once thought Dontis was a threat to it, you now felt the opposite. His presence, his words, even the emotions he seemed to draw out—none of it was fraying the connection you shared with Xanthus. If anything, it was weaving the bond tighter, making it stronger, more vivid, more alive.

You had been so quick to see him as a serpent, a deceiver. A threat to everything you held sacred. Your bond with Xanthus had seemed untouchable—a divine covenant, a blessing etched into your very soul. And yet, Dontis’s words didn’t feel like poison anymore. They felt… like truth. Not a truth that sought to unravel, but one that sought to reveal.

You leaned against the counter, staring at the faint reflection of yourself in the window. Was this what the garden was truly about—That’s what he was, the garden. Not the garden itself, but what it represents. Choice. Change, Not the loss of innocence, not the bite of temptation, but the moment where choice created meaning. The moment when free will transformed the static into the infinite.

“Dontis,” you said softly, drawing his attention. His gaze shifted to you, dark and probing, and for a moment, it felt like he could see into the very heart of you. “You’re not as detached as you pretend to be.”

A laugh escaped him, low and velvety, but it lacked his usual sharp edge. “Detached,” he echoed, as if tasting the word. “Maybe I’m just... careful.” His eyes flicked to Xanthus again, something unspoken passing between them before he looked away, his expression shuttered.

Xanthus’s hand tightened around yours briefly, a silent acknowledgment, though of what, you couldn’t quite say. “Careful is one word for it,” he said, his tone edged but not unkind. “Calculated might be another.”

Dontis smiled, a faint, bittersweet curve of his lips. “And you would know.”

There it was again, that subtle thread of something deeper between them, something steeped in a past you weren’t privy to but could feel in the air, in the way they spoke, the way they moved around each other. It wasn’t hostility, not exactly. It was... complicated.

The tension shifted, not dissipating but evolving, becoming something heavier, more charged. The courtyard felt smaller, the space between the three of you narrowing as though drawn by invisible strings. Dontis straightened, his eyes lingering on you, then on Xanthus, his smile softening into something quieter, something more honest.

“Shall we call it a night?” His voice was smooth, almost teasing, but there was a vulnerability in the way he asked, as though he wasn’t sure what the answer would be.

Xanthus glanced at you, his expression unreadable but his bond with you thrumming faintly, reassuringly. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice steady. His eyes flicked to Dontis, and after a moment’s hesitation, he added, “You’re welcome to join us.”

Surprise flickered across Dontis’s face, quickly masked by a smile that was almost too casual. “How generous of you,” he said lightly, though his voice carried a warmth that betrayed the act. “I’ll take you up on that.”

──

As you walked hand in hand with Xanthus, the city’s nocturnal hum began to fade, replaced by the steady rhythm of your bond. It pulsed with warmth, a living connection that had carried you through trials and doubts. Tonight, however, it felt different—richer, as if the presence of Dontis had become a note woven seamlessly into its melody. Not discordant but... complementary.

The incubus walked quietly beside you, his gaze flickering from the ground to the horizon, then back to the two of you. His usual smirk had softened into something thoughtful, even vulnerable. It was an expression you rarely saw, but one that stirred a strange ache in your chest.

On an impulse, you reached out and clasped Dontis’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his. The warmth of his touch was immediate, steady yet electric. He glanced at you, his lips parting slightly in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his grip tightened, a silent acknowledgment of the gesture’s significance.

Xanthus, on your other side, gave your hand a gentle squeeze. The weight of his gaze settled on the intertwined fingers between you and Dontis, but he didn’t seem upset. If anything, his expression softened as his eyes returned to yours, his own hand grounding you further. The bond, once a private thread connecting only you and Xanthus, seemed to hum louder now, expanding, welcoming. It was alive, growing, strengthened not by division but by the shared energy flowing between the three of you.

The walk back to Dontis’s home felt longer than it was, each step steeped in unspoken words, shared glances, and the tension that coiled tighter with every passing moment. The air carried a charge that was impossible to ignore, a promise of something transformative waiting just beyond the threshold.

As you walked along the cobblestone streets, your gaze wandered to Dontis, whose attention seemed anchored to a bar you were passing. His expression, so often composed of teasing smirks and playful glances, now held something more subdued—something unspoken.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice cutting through the quiet.

“Nothing,” Dontis replied, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. His eyes lingered on the bar, its old wooden sign faded but still legible. “I just… I met someone there. A hunter. Long ago.”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you studied him. There was something in the way his shoulders tensed, the faint flicker of nostalgia or regret crossing his face. “Go on,” you prompted, sensing the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

He let out a soft laugh, the sound tinged with self-deprecation. “It’s a long story,” he murmured, his fingers brushing absently against the edge of his coat.

“We have all the time in the world,” Xanthus said, his voice low but steady. Dontis met Xanthus’s gaze, and for a moment, the incubus’s carefully crafted mask slipped. His eyes softened, the usual glint of mischief replaced by something raw and unguarded.

──

When you finally arrived, Dontis opened the door with a graceful sweep, his home aglow with a dim, golden light. The warmth of the room wrapped around you as you stepped inside, the rich, velvety scent of incense brushing against your senses. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you away from the outside world.

Dontis turned to face you both, his usual playful smirk replaced by an expression that was unreadable, almost tender. His gaze flickered between you and Xanthus, searching, lingering. “I’d ask if you wanted a drink,” he murmured, his voice lower now, quieter, “but I think that’s not what anyone needs tonight.”

Xanthus took a step closer, his presence as steadying as ever, though his eyes gleamed with something unspoken. “You always were good at reading the room,” he said, his tone soft, yet there was a weight behind the words—a history that hinted at shared moments long buried but never forgotten.

Dontis let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no mockery in it this time. “I try.” His eyes met yours, and the vulnerability in his gaze was startling. “This… whatever this is… it’s not something I want to ruin.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions brewing inside you. “If anything, you’re part of what makes it stronger.”

The incubus seemed momentarily at a loss for words, his fingers still entwined with yours. Xanthus stepped closer, his free hand brushing against Dontis’s shoulder—a simple touch, but one that spoke volumes.

“We’re all here,” Xanthus said, his voice rich with meaning. “About the past, I’m—.”

“Enough, Xanny.”

The bond between you all seemed to thrum in agreement, alive with the promise of what was to come.

As the three of you stood in the softly lit room, the atmosphere was charged with unspoken emotions and a palpable tension that seemed to thrum in the very air around you. The bond connecting you and Xanthus pulsed with a newfound intensity, now harmoniously intertwined with Dontis's presence, creating a triad of connection that felt both exhilarating and profound.

Xanthus's gaze met yours, his eyes reflecting a mixture of love and desire, silently seeking your consent for the uncharted path you were all about to explore. Dontis, usually so confident and teasing, now watched with a vulnerability that spoke of his longing to be part of this intimate convergence.

With a slight nod, you affirmed your willingness, and Xanthus stepped closer, his hand gently caressing your cheek before his lips met yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The familiar warmth of his embrace grounded you, even as the excitement of the unknown sent shivers down your spine.

As you parted, Dontis moved nearer, his eyes searching yours for permission. You reached out, your fingers grazing his cheek, and he leaned into your touch, his breath hitching slightly. When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was both tentative and deep, a melding of curiosity and suppressed desire that had been building between you.

The three of you gravitated toward the large plush seating area, a silent agreement guiding your movements. In this intimate space, words became unnecessary, The air was thick with tension and anticipation as the three of you settled onto the plush, velvet-covered chaise. The soft glow of the room enveloped you, casting a warm, intimate light over your entwined forms.

Xanthus's hand found yours, his fingers interlacing with yours in a gesture of comfort and connection. His touch was familiar, yet now imbued with a new layer of intensity, a silent acknowledgment of the shared bond that had grown between the three of you.

Dontis, usually so confident and teasing, now watched with a vulnerability that spoke of his longing to be part of this intimate convergence. His gaze flickered between you and Xanthus, seeking, searching for a sign of acceptance, of invitation.

As if sensing your unspoken consent, Dontis shifted closer, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, a delicious anticipation of what was to come. His lips brushed against your neck, a feather-light touch that sent goosebumps racing across your skin.

Xanthus's presence remained a steadying force, his hand moving to cup your face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually so guarded, now shone with a mixture of love and desire, a silent pledge of devotion that transcended the physical.

The air seemed to crackle with energy as the three of you moved together, a dance of touch and caress that was both familiar and new. Dontis's hands explored your body with a gentle reverence, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that mingled with the warmth of Xanthus's embrace.

As the moments passed, the barriers between you began to dissolve, the boundaries of your individual selves blurring into a single, harmonious entity. The bond that had grown between you and Xanthus now pulsed with a newfound intensity, intertwined with Dontis's presence, creating a triad of connection that felt both exhilarating and profound.

The room seemed to fade away, the outside world ceasing to exist as you lost yourself in the sensations of the moment. The scent of incense mingled with the heady aroma of arousal, Xanthus's eyes, already darkened with desire, flashed with a hunger that went beyond the physical as he gazed upon your exposed neck. His gaze was intense, almost feral, as he leaned in closer, his cool breath ghosting over your racing pulse. You could feel the heat of his body pressing against yours, his arousal evident even through the fabric of his clothing.

"May I?" Xanthus murmured, his voice a low, hypnotic rumble that sent shivers down your spine. At your whispered consent, he didn't hesitate. His lips parted, revealing the glint of his sharp fangs, and then he was upon you, his mouth latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced - a sharp, intense pleasure-pain that had you gasping and arching into him. Xanthus's tongue lapped at your skin, his fangs piercing, and then the first draw of your blood hitting his palate. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest and into your own.

As Xanthus drank, you could feel a corresponding ache building between your thighs, a throbbing need that grew with each pull of his mouth. His hips began to move, rocking against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm that mirrored the cadence of his feeding. The hard length of him pressed against your core, separated only by the thin barrier of your clothing, stoking the flames of your arousal.

As Xanthus continued to feed, his hands began to roam your body with a newfound urgency. He tugged at your clothing, practically tearing it in his haste to remove the barrier between your skin and his questing fingers. Buttons popped, fabric ripped, and then his hands were on your bare flesh, calloused palms skimming over the soft curves of your body.

Dontis, not to be outdone, joined in the fray of disrobing you both. His deft fingers made quick work of the remaining scraps of your clothing, leaving you bare and exposed to their hungry gazes. The cool air kissed your heated skin, pebbling your flesh and making you ache for their touch.

"Exquisite," Dontis breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Even more beautiful than I imagined."

Lost in the haze of sensation, you barely registered Dontis's movements until you felt calloused fingers skimmed over the swell of your breasts, teasing the sensitive peaks until they pebbled and strained towards his touch.

Dontis leaned down, his tongue flicking out to lace over one straining nipple before drawing it into his mouth. He suckled gently, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. His other hand continued its exploration, drifting lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants to cup your mound.

The dual sensations of Xanthus feeding and Dontis's touch were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge of a precipice you'd never before approached.

Xanthus pulled back from your neck, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he licked the last drops of blood from his fangs. His eyes, now darkened with lust and power, roamed over your flushed face, taking in the dazed expression of pleasure that graced your features.

"Dontis," Xanthus purred, his gaze flicking to the incubus who was still lavishing attention on your breasts. "Have you ever tasted the blood of a human?"

Dontis paused in his ministrations, his head snapping up to meet Xanthus's gaze. There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, a hint of the insatiable hunger that was a part of his very nature. "No," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. "Never."

A wicked glint entered Xanthus's eyes, a predatory smile curving his lips. In one swift motion, Xanthus grabbed Dontis by the hair, pulling him up and into a searing kiss. The vampire's tongue delved into the incubus's mouth, forcing the taste of your blood onto Dontis's tongue. Dontis's eyes widened, a low groan escaping him as the unique flavor of your essence flooded his senses.

Xanthus deepened the kiss, his fangs grazing Dontis's lower lip, the coppery tang of blood mingling with the heat of their passion. Dontis's hands fisted in Xanthus's hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of that intoxicating taste.

As the two men lost themselves in each other, you lay back, your chest heaving, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Your gaze drifted over the erotic scene before you Xanthus and Dontis locked in a passionate embrace, their mouths and hands roaming over each other's bodies with a hunger that was both primal and arousing.

The sight alone was enough to reignite the fire within you, and you found yourself arching into the cool air, craving more touch, more sensation. Your hands drifted down your body, fingers teasing over the sensitive skin of your stomach.

As they explored your body, their own clothing began to fall away, revealing the hard planes and sinewy muscles beneath. Xanthus's chest was a work of sculpted perfection, his abdomen a six-pack of lean, taut muscle. Dontis's body was no less impressive, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, his skin a warm, dusky hue that spoke of his incubus heritage.

The sight of them, all raw power and barely leashed desire, had your mouth going dry and your heart pounding against your ribs. You reached out, your hands greedy to explore the expanse of their chests, to feel the heat of their skin, the play of muscle beneath flesh.

Xanthus caught your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to your palm, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, before guiding your hand lower, over the ridges of his abdomen, to the thick, hard length of him. He was impressive, long and thick and throbbing with a life of its own.

Dontis mirrored Xanthus's actions, taking your other hand and guiding it to his own impressive arousal. The heat of him seared your palm, the silky hardness a stark contrast to the velvety softness of the skin. He hissed through his teeth as your fingers curled around him, his hips rocking into your touch.

You began to stroke them, your grip firm and purposeful, your thumbs swirling over the sensitive heads to catch the beads of moisture that leaked from the tips. Xanthus's eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping his lips as you worked his thick length, while Dontis's gaze remained locked on yours, his expression one of pure, unadulterated lust.

As you continued to pump their cocks, Dontis's hand joined yours on Xanthus's shaft, his long fingers wrapping around yours, stroking in sync with your movements. Together, you pleasured the vampire, your combined touches making him shudder and gasp, his hips rocking into your joined fists.

Spurred on by Xanthus's reactions, Dontis leaned down, getting on his knees, his tongue flicking out to taste the weeping slit of the vampire's cock. Xanthus let out a sharp hiss, his fingers tangling in Dontis's hair, holding him in place as the incubus's tongue swirled around the swollen head, lapping up the salty-sweet essence that leaked from the tip.

Emboldened, you joined him—sliding off the plush coach and joining him on your knees leaning in your tongue joining Dontis's in its exploration of Xanthus's thick length. Together, you lapped and suckled at the vampire's flesh, your tongues dancing and twining around his throbbing cock. Xanthus's grip on Dontis's hair tightened, a guttural moan tearing from his throat. You could feel the heat building, the air growing thick with the scent of sex and the sound of panting breaths and pleasured cries. Your own arousal mounted, your core clenching and fluttering around nothing as you lost yourself in the act of bringing Xanthus to the brink of ecstasy.

You and Dontis worked in sync, your mouths exploring every inch of Xanthus's thick, throbbing cock. Your tongues swirled around the swollen head, lapping up the salty-sweet essence that leaked from the tip, the taste of his arousal exploding on your taste buds. You could feel the heat of his skin, the silky hardness that pulsed with a life of its own as you both lavished attention on his impressive length.

Dontis's hand joined yours at the base of Xanthus's shaft, his long fingers wrapping around the thick flesh, stroking in time with the bobbing of your heads. Together, you pumped and suckled, your tongues dancing and twining around his cock, your lips stretching wide to take him deeper into your eager mouths.

You could feel Xanthus's grip on your hair tightening, his hips rocking into the dual assault of your mouths, seeking more of that exquisite pleasure. His moans and growls filled the air, the erotic symphony spurring you on, urging you to bring him closer to the edge of release.

As you pleasured Xanthus, Dontis's hand drifted lower, his fingers slipping between your slick folds. He groaned against Xanthus's flesh as he felt the evidence of your arousal, your body dripping with need. Two fingers plunged into your hot, tight core, pumping in time with the stroking of Xanthus's cock, the combined sensations pushing you both closer to the brink.

You could feel the coil of tension building in your stomach, your body aching for release as you lost yourself in the act of bringing Xanthus to his peak. Your free hand drifted to your breast, kneading the soft mound, plucking at the hardened nipple, the dual stimulation making your head spin with pleasure.

Xanthus's balls tightened, his shaft throbbing against your tongue as he neared his climax. With a curse, he came undone, his hot seed erupting from the tip of his cock, flooding your mouth and Dontis's in thick, creamy ropes. The taste was overwhelming, the sheer volume of his release making you both struggle to swallow it all.

Throughout his intense orgasm, Dontis continued to stroke Xanthus's shaft, coaxing out every last drop of his release, while his fingers pumped into your dripping core, taking you over the edge with him.

As Xanthus rode out the waves of his intense climax, his grip on your hair tightened to the point of pain, holding your head in place as he emptied himself into your eagerly suckling mouths..

Xanthus's moans and growls softened to low, satisfied rumbles as the last spurts of his release dribbled onto your tongues. Finally, his grip on your hair relaxed, his hands falling away as he slumped back against the plush of the couch, his chest heaving with the force of his breathing.

Dontis released Xanthus's spent cock, his tongue lapping gently at the softening flesh to catch any stray drops of the vampire's essence.

He turned to you, only then does he pull his fingers from your core. His eyes glinting with mischief and a hunger that was far from satiated, he brings his fingers to his lips sucking on your arousal from them. "You taste divine together," he purred, his voice a low, seductive rumble.

With that, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to dance with yours. You could taste the mingled flavors of Xanthus's release on his tongue, the salty-sweet essence making your head spin with renewed desire. As you kissed, Dontis's hands roamed your body, stroking and caressing, stoking the flames of your arousal that had only briefly been banked.

Xanthus watched the erotic display through heavy-lidded eyes, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "Insatiable creatures," he murmured, his voice a low, approving rumble.

You couldn't help but notice that while Xanthus had found his release, Dontis had not. A flicker of concern crossed your mind, followed swiftly by a surge of determination to ensure the incubus was just as satisfied as the vampire.

Breaking the kiss, you trailed your fingers down Dontis's chest, feeling the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You have yet to come Dontis”

Dontis's eyes flashed with hunger as he met your gaze, a wicked grin spreading across his face. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel the hard, aching length of his arousal pressing insistently against your stomach.

Rolling onto your back, you guided Dontis to settle between your thighs, your legs falling open in clear invitation. He settled his hips against yours, the head of his cock nudging against your slick, swollen folds, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. You shiver slightly against the carpet of the floor.

As Dontis began to slowly push forward, easing the thick length of his shaft into your tight heat, Xanthus moved off the couch to kneel behind the incubus. You watched, transfixed, as Dontis shuddered, a low moan escaping him as he felt Xanthus's presence behind him. "Fuck," Dontis gasped, his hips jerking forward, driving him deeper into your welcoming body.

Emboldened, Xanthus spat directly onto Dontis's hole, watching as the saliva dripped down to coat his fingers. Without warning, he pressed a finger into Dontis's ass, feeling the tight ring of muscle clench around the invading digit. He pumped his finger slowly, working Dontis open.

Meanwhile, you wrapped your legs around Dontis's waist, your heels digging into the small of his back as you urged him deeper,

Xanthus worked a second finger into Dontis's tight hole, then a third, pumping them slowly, stretching the incubus. Dontis grunted and moaned, his hips rocking back against Xanthus's hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. All the while, his own hips never ceased their steady thrusts into your hot, slick channel, the wet sounds of your coupling filling the room.

"Enough," Dontis growled, his voice strained with need. "I need more, Xanthus.”

Xanthus chuckled darkly, removing his fingers and replacing them with the swollen head of his impressive erection. "As you wish," he purred, gripping Dontis's hips tightly and pushing forward.

Dontis threw his head back with a guttural moan as Xanthus's thick shaft breached him, the tight ring of muscle stretching to accommodate the vampire's girth. Xanthus didn't stop until he was fully sheathed, his hips flush against Dontis's ass, his heavy balls resting against the incubus's skin.

You reach a trembling hand up to rub the pad of your thumb along Dontis’s cheek—an attempt at comforting, though you wondered if you found pleasure in the pain.

The dual stimulation of your tight pussy gripping his cock and Xanthus's thick length buried deep in his ass was almost too intense to bear.

Xanthus set a hard, driving rhythm, pounding into Dontis with supernatural strength and speed. The force of his thrusts drove Dontis deeper into you, his cock slamming against that sweet spot deep inside that made you see stars.

"Harder," Dontis demanded, his voice a low, feral snarl. "Fuck me harder, Xanthus."

Growling, Xanthus complied, his hips slapping against Dontis's ass with brutal force, the obscene sound echoing through the room. Dontis soon realized his body was no longer his own as he was used for both of their pleasure.

His cries of ecstasy filled the air, mingling with Xanthus's dark, approving rumbles and your own moans. The room grew thick with the scent of sex and the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the erotic symphony pushing.

Your inner walls clamped down around Dontis's pistoning shaft, gripping him like a velvet vice as your climax crashed over you. Wave after wave of ecstasy washed through you, your body convulsing and shaking, your toes curling from the sheer intensity of your release. You threw your head back, a silent scream of pure rapture tearing from your throat as your pussy gushed around Dontis's cock, drenching his shaft and balls with your honeyed essence.

Your head felt heavy, as though it were submerged in a fog you couldn’t quite shake. A strange, unnatural warmth coursed through your body, seeping into your limbs and making it difficult to move. Panic began to creep in as your vision blurred, the world around you fading into a wash of brilliant, blinding white.

Xanthus chose that moment to lean down, his lips ghosting over the tender juncture of Dontis's neck and shoulder before sinking his fangs into the soft flesh. Dontis cried out, his voice a mixture of pain and pleasure that echoed through the room. His body convulsed as a bolt of white-hot ecstasy surged through him, the sharp sting of Xanthus's bite melting seamlessly into an overwhelming flood of bliss that left him trembling.

The coppery tang of Dontis's blood spilled onto Xanthus's tongue, rich and intoxicating—a taste he savored not out of hunger, but out of pure, unbridled greed. Each pull from the wound was deliberate, each moment a declaration of dominance, and yet there was an intimacy in the act that left Dontis's heart pounding. “Xanthu—!”

Dontis's words dissolve into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave, his cock pulsing and throbbing inside you as he found his release. His seed erupted from his shaft, painting your walls with his hot, sticky essence, the sensation pushing him off the edge.

Xanthus groaned above you, his hips stuttering as he rutted into Dontis's spasming ass, chasing his own rapidly approaching climax. The feeling of Dontis's silken walls gripping his cock like a hot, wet fist, along with the erotic sight of your body writhing in pleasure beneath him, was quickly becoming too much for the vampire to withstand.

"Fuck, I'm going to... I can't..." Xanthus grunted, his voice a low, guttural rasp as he teetered on the brink of release. With one final, brutal thrust, he slammed into Dontis's ass, burying himself to the hilt as his orgasm overtook him.

Xanthus threw his head back, unadulterated bliss erupting from his throat as his cock jerked and throbbed, painting Dontis's inner walls.

As Xanthus's hot seed flooded Dontis's ass, Dontis let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering with the force of his own intense climax. The feeling of Xanthus's thick, pulsing cock throbbing deep inside him, pumping him full of the vampire's potent release, pushed Dontis over the edge once more. His own shaft, still buried to the hilt inside your fluttering pussy, jerked and twitched as he found an almost immediate second release, his seed erupting from his cock to mix with the slick fluids already filling you.

As Xanthus's climax began to subside, he collapsed forward, blanketing Dontis's back with his powerful, sweat-slicked body. Dontis welcomed the weight, making sure to keep him upright.

──

How should I hold my soul, that it may not be touching yours? How should I lift it then above you to where other things are waiting?

Ah, gladly would I lodge it, all forgot, with some lost thing the dark is isolating, on some remote and silent spot that, when your depths vibrate, is not itself vibrating.

You and me—all that lights upon us, though, brings us together like a fiddle-bow drawing one voice from two strings it glides along.

Across what instrument have we been spanned? And what violinist holds us in his hand? O sweetest song.

-rainer maria rilke

──

author's note: said it would take me at least a week and it took me less then a day, true dedication.

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