#im so fucking insanecrazystupid. hwaugh

[damienthepious]

it's sooooooooooooooooo fine.

heart beats best in a bed (ch 25)

[ch 1] [ch 2] [ch 3] [ch 4] [ch 5] [ch 6] [ch 7] [ch 8] [ch 9] [ch 10] [ch 11] [ch 12] [ch 13] [ch 14] [ch 15] [ch 16] [ch 17] [ch 18] [ch 19] [ch 20] [ch 21] [ch 22] [ch 23] [ch 24] [ao3] [Rating: Mature Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla Characters: Sir Damien, Lord Arum, Rilla, (others? eventually?) Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Rivals With Benefits, (I CANT BELIEVE THAT WAS ALREADY A TAG THANK FUCK), Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Denial of Feelings, Alternate Universe, (it’s not ROLE reversal it’s like. RELATIONSHIP reversal), (the timing is fucked with), (who knows who first), Sex with Feelings, Relationship Negotiation, (i literally never know how to tag things), (some miscommunication and mild angst in the future), Pining While Fucking, Porn With Plot Summary: Sir Damien is a committed, dedicated knight with a shining record and spotless reputation. Barring, of course, his one minor indiscretion, his singular, secret exception. It does not bear mentioning, of course. The arrangement is purely practical, purely physical, utterly inconsequential, of course. It is not as if a monster would- could care for him in any meaningful way, after all. The idea is impossible; as impossible as the idea of Sir Damien possessing any feelings whatsoever for the monster in return. Chapter Summary: An intimate night, but... what, exactly, are the feelings near to bursting in Damien's chest? Chapter Notes: We're entering the "gets worse before it gets better" portion of the proceedings, my loves. Alas. He's stupid been pickled by citadel-typical heteromonogamy and amatonormativity. tragic.

~

Damien is only half aware of crossing the threshold into Rilla's bedroom, mostly because she kisses him every step, tongue and teeth teasing as she draws him backward with her hands curled around the small of his back.

He isn't aware of her turning him at any point, but somehow they come to a position where she shoves him, and the backs of his knees fold when they hit the edge of the bed, depositing him onto his back, staring up at her. She gazes down at him with a look that matches the fire coiling in his own stomach, a slow heat like she will surely take precisely what she wants from him.

(He shouldn't be able to see the same exact hunger in eyes of black as he does in eyes of unnatural violet, should he?)

She crawls after him onto the bed, cupping the back of his head in one palm as she kisses his throat, her other hand pressing to his chest, then sliding up to grip the edge of his shirt.

Which-

Oh, why in Saint Damien's name is he still wearing that?

[read more on ao3]