#lucien holiday

[hime-bee]

going off from the last ask abt lucien, would he and his wife ever approve of mc dating leumin though?

His wife? Nope. No one has ever been good enough for him in her eyes. The first girl Leu had a crush on was run off by his mother because she thought the girl was ugly/fat and not a good fit for Leumin.

Lucien is a toss up, really. He has his own opinions and whatnot, but if MC makes his son happy at the end of the day, then that's fine. He would definitely keep a closer eye on things, though, and would look you up to make sure you're not a criminal or something-

Even if they didn't approve, that certainly wouldn't have any effect on Leumin. If he's head over heels, madly in love with you, then nothing anyone says or does is going to change that. He wouldn't care less what his parents have to say. He'd recommend eloping anyway.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Solstice Gifts

A/N: Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! 🎄✨ This is a collection of short drabbles of how I imagine ACOTAR men would give the reader a gift during Solstice. I originally planned to write for all the High Lords, but I ran out of time (and ideas). Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Azriel

Being Feyre’s younger sister, you were new to Rhys’s inner circle and Azriel wasn’t sure if you would accept a gift from him, or if it would even be appropriate. So when the time came for exchanging presents, he didn't immediately hand you his.

As a Shadowsinger and a Spymaster, he had observed what you liked and wanted. So when he decided to get you a gift, he let his shadows quietly place it in your room, unwilling to cross that boundary himself.

When you returned that evening, you found it waiting for you, simply wrapped with a small card in his neat handwriting: For you. From Azriel.

The simple words made you smile, warmth blooming in your chest. But your surprise only grew when you unwrapped the gift and found the very thing you’ve been quietly wanting for so long.

Later that night, you made your way to his room, your nerves making you knock so soft you almost hoped he wouldn’t hear it. But his sharp senses caught it anyway, and when he opened the door, his eyes widened slightly in surprise at the sight of you standing there.

You stammered a little before managing to thank him, your cheeks warm. He dipped his head slightly, his voice low as he replied, “I wanted you to have something that mattered, something that you truly wanted.”

On impulse, you stepped onto your toes and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. You thanked him again, before pulling back and reluctantly walking back to your room.

His heart skipped a beat, shadows curling around his shoulders as he watched you go. Part of him wanted to call after you, to say something to make you stay, but he held back. It wasn’t the right time…not yet.

Cassian

Unlike Azriel, Cassian was anything but subtle. When you joined Rhys’s inner circle, he couldn’t resist flirting with you at every opportunity. Your friendship quickly became filled with playful banter, though you almost always dismissed his shameless remarks with an eye roll or a sharp retort.

On Winter Solstice evening, as everyone exchanged presents, he plopped down beside you on the couch, his thigh pressing comfortably against yours. You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “What do you want?” you asked, half exasperated, half amused.

“I want nothing,” he said, grinning as he handed you a small box. The wrapping was so crumpled it looked as though he’d wrestled it into submission. You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head as you opened it.

Inside was a stunning necklace with a rare gemstone. For a moment, you were speechless. His taste had completely taken you by surprise, you hadn’t thought a warrior like Cassian would pick out something so elegant. “This is…beautiful,” you said softly, unsure of what else to say as you leaned in and wrapped your arms around him in thanks.

When you pulled back, his grin widened, and you knew what was coming even before he opened his mouth. “I thought about how good that stone would look between your breasts and couldn’t resist getting it,” he muttered, his tone dripping with playful mischief.

Your jaw dropped, your face heating as you stared at him, momentarily speechless. Then, you elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “You’re absolutely shameless.” Though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Cassian only laughed, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

Rhysand

Rhys whisks you away to the top of the House of Wind, Velaris glittering below you. With a wave of his hand, a small box appears in his grasp. “Go on, open it,” he urges, his violet eyes sparkling with anticipation.

You do as he says, carefully unwrapping the box to reveal a pendant with a tiny glowing star encased within. “Rhys, you shouldn’t have,” you murmur, awe and gratitude flooding your voice.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple before replying with a smirk and a wink. “Oh, that’s nothing…wait till you see what I’ve got planned for you in the bedroom.”

You give him a pointed look before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he quips, his smirk widening. “And I don’t just mean in the bedroom. There are more gifts waiting for you there. Come on, let’s go.” He takes your hand and begins leading you downstairs, his excitement barely contained.

“Rhysss!” you groan, pouting slightly as he tugs you along. “I told you, I don’t need gifts. Having you is enough.”

He pauses mid-step, turning to cup your cheek and pinch it playfully. “I know, darling,” he says softly. “But I can’t help it. I want to shower you with gifts and spoil you like you deserve. After all, you are my greatest gift, and there’s nothing I can do that could ever compare.”

Lucien

Feyre had invited Lucien to this year’s Winter Solstice, and although his duties kept him busy, he had agreed to come, if only for the chance to spend more time with you, his mate. Though you hadn’t accepted the bond yet, you hadn’t rejected it either. This was all new to you, and Lucien had resolved to give you as much time and space as you needed, not wanting to push or make you uncomfortable in the slightest.

He had missed you. It had been months since he last saw you, back in the summer. So when you descended the stairs that evening, his heart drummed wildly in his chest. His amber eye and russet gaze tracked your every step until your eyes met his. You greeted him with a polite nod, and he returned it, the faintest of smiles playing on his lips.

Throughout the evening, he lingered on the edge of the festivities, watching you from afar as the others exchanged gifts, laughed, and drank. Finally, mustering his courage, he approached you, his palms damp with nervousness.

“I came across this during my travels,” he muttered softly, handing you a small package wrapped in elegant paper. “I thought you might like it.” Curiosity piqued, you unwrapped the gift, revealing a vintage wooden box. Inside lay a pair of earrings, their intricate design unlike anything you’d ever seen. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the kind of artistry that carried stories within its details.

When you looked up, you found him watching you intently, his gaze warm but hesitant. “It’s nothing compared to what you deserve,” he murmured in a low tone. “But…it’s from the heart.” A small, almost shy smile curved his lips. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself before speaking. “I have a small gift for you too.”

His brows furrowed in confusion as you disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, you returned, holding a single cupcake on a small plate. Handing it to him, you said softly, “I hope you like chocolate. I baked it myself.”

At first, Lucien didn't react. Then realization dawned on his face. “Oh. OH!” His voice rose slightly as the significance of your gesture hit him. “Is this wh- are you aware of what this means in fae tradition?”

You nodded, a faint blush dusting your cheeks.

His breath hitched. “Are you sure?” He searched your gaze for any hesitation. But when you smiled and nodded again, his resolve melted.

Lucien carefully picked up the cupcake, taking a deliberate bite. His eyes closed briefly as he savored it before opening again, now glowing with warmth and joy. “It’s delicious,” he said, his voice dipping slightly as he stressed the word. “Thank you.”

Setting the cupcake aside, he stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “May I?” he whispered.

When you nodded again, he closed the small distance between you, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so soft and full of longing it stole your breath. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a promise, a declaration, and the sealing of the bond he had waited so long for.

Eris

Being Rhysand’s sister and Eris being Beron’s son made your relationship…complicated, to say the least. Some days, you couldn’t stand the sight of each other. Other days, the tension simmered so hot it was impossible to think of anything but dragging each other to the nearest bed…or any available surface to fuck.

Eris, of course, would never admit it, not even to himself, but he was in love with you.

On Winter Solstice, he sent an urgent message demanding you meet him halfway between your courts, in a clearing deep in the forest. His tone had been curt, and you’d feared the worst as you rushed to the meeting spot.

When you arrived, he stepped out of the shadows with his usual smirk. Before you could say a word, he tossed something at you. “Catch.”

Instinct kicked in, and you lunged to catch the small package before it hit the ground. Straightening, you narrowed your eyes at him, holding the elaborately wrapped gift in your hands. “This was the ‘urgent’ matter?” Eris shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His gaze flickered to the horizon, refusing to meet yours. “It’s nothing big. Don’t read too much into it. Just…open it.” His voice was smooth, nonchalant, but you could sense the tension beneath it. He stood rooted in place, his head tilted as though he wasn’t watching you, but you could feel the weight of his focus. A part of him feared you’d hate it. Another part clung to the hope that you’d like it, that your eyes would sparkle and you’d smile, that rare, genuine smile he secretly craved.

Slowly, you unwrapped the package. Inside was a bracelet, simple yet elegant, crafted with the kind of skill only found in the Autumn Court. The small fire-red gemstone set into it caught the light like a glowing ember, warm and alive.

And there it was…that flicker of surprise, the soft curve of your lips, the quiet joy in your eyes. He’d found what he was looking for, and it was enough. That moment was his true gift this Solstice.

But when you glance up to thank him, he was already turning away. “Happy Solstice,” he murmured, his voice cool and distant, as though the gift hadn’t taken him weeks to choose.

Before you could respond, he winnowed out, disappearing into the night without a backward glance. Because if he’d stayed, if he’d looked into your eyes again, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop himself.

[climbthemountain2020]

Okay, this was my big, big contribution to @acotargiftexchange

For the first time ever, I tried my hand at animating, and HOO BUDDY it is HARD. Lol. But I was determined.

@itsybitsybluesy I hope you love this little video that goes with the end of Ch. 4 of What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? You have A+ holiday song choices! <3

[winnie-the-monster]

Outlander quotes that feel so Elucien coded to me:

“I can bear pain, myself, but I couldna bear yours. That would take more strength than I have.”

“Ye werena the first lass I kissed,” he said softly. “But I swear you’ll be the last.”

“I wanted ye from the first time I saw ye—but I loved ye when you wept in my arms and let me comfort you, that first time at Leoch.”

“I am your master…and you’re mine. Seems I canna possess your soul without losing my own.”

“It has always been forever, for me, Sassenach.”

“Do ye not understand?” he said, in near desperation. “I would lay the world at your feet, Claire—and I have nothing to give ye!”

“You are my courage, as I am your conscience,” he whispered. “You are my heart—and I your compassion. We are neither of us whole, alone. Do ye not know that, Sassenach?”

“Your face is my heart Sassenach, and the love of you is my soul.”

[crazy-ache]

Warm In The Wintertime

A solstice, winter Elucien oneshot. ❄️ Fluffy, PwP, Rated E. ~7k words. Link to the accompanied playlist included below!

Summary: Every turn of their emissary trip to the Winter Court was intent on reminding Elain and Lucien of the fact their awkward, distant relationship was no longer possible to ignore. But like fresh snow, the Winter Court was known for new beginnings....and their hot springs.

Read on AO3

Listen to the Elucien Solstice Playlist

[vintagepromotions]

Air France travel poster for Baleares, or the Balearic Islands, Spain (1951). Artwork by Lucien Boucher.

[copypastus]

More for our acotar secret santa exchange. Combining @taymartiart's love for fae with her love for wrestling.

[clockwork-ashes]

i imagine eris and helion will love annoying each other

[daycourtofficial]

I’m not sure if I’m going to write any holiday themed fics but if I did it’d be someone tricking Eris into an ugly sweater and whether that goes anywhere is up for debate but the idea… the image… its provocative

[hime-bee]

if lucien were to bump into leumin and mc in a date together, how'd it go? 👀

LOL SO HEAR ME OUT-

Lucien is actually a fucking cringe fail man??? He's very good at hiding it though Leu got it from somewhere lmao because he's successful and a stoic man by most people's standards. He really cares for his children, though, and he wants nothing more than to be in Leu's life, which is exactly why he keeps trying to get him to come home. Lucien's issue is that... He doesn't really know how to approach Leu, now that he's become an adult. He feels like he doesn't really know what his son likes anymore. If he saw Leu on a date with MC, he'd definitely follow y'all for... A bit, y'know, nothing too extreme- he just wants to see if his son is happy with you. The genuine smile on Leu's face would be more than enough, and he would go on his way then

[kingofsummer93]

Once Cursed, Twice Shy

Part 1 of my gift to @velidewrites for @acotargiftexchange!

Summary:

Don't mix vodka and magic, they said. It will end badly, they said.

Elain's never been particularly superstitious, but when a ghost from her past comes crashing back into her life, she realizes that the old saying might have been true after all.

And that she might have (accidentally and definitely not on purpose) cursed her ex-boyfriend.

Inspired by the Ex Hex by Rachel Hawkins.

Chapter 1: A Fateful Spark, an Ill-Timed Blaze

Ao3

Ten years previously

A clap of thunder rang out over the town of Maple Glen, followed by a torrential downpour so sudden it seemed as though the sky had singled out their little village to bear the brunt of its ire.

Elain sighed, burrowing further into the couch under her nest of blankets and pillows. She envied the storm, at that moment. What she wouldn’t give to be able to dump her hurt and anger into the world for a couple hours before being reborn, fresh and dewy, her broken heart melded back together by sunshine as her memories faded like a clearing sky.

She sighed, and the storm raged on as if in answer.

“Do you ever wish you were born as something else?” she asked, swirling the dregs of her bright blue cocktail around in her glass. “Like, a bird, or a tree, or, or…”

Vassa let out a noise that was halfway between a snort and a hiccup. “There it is.”

“There is what?”

“The philosophical stage of your drunk journey. I thought we passed it two drinks ago. First we have affectionate Elain, then loud Elain, followed with a brief appearance by pensive Elain, and then-”

Elain grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at her friend, who nearly toppled off her end of the couch as she ducked to avoid it. Perhaps they were a bit drunk.

“I mean it,” Elain pressed, draining her glass. “Trees don’t have to worry about dumb boys, or school, or finding a job. They just…” She held out her arms and lifted her head to the ceiling, wriggling her fingers around like leaves in the wind. “Hang out and bask in the sunshine.”

“Babe,” Vassa said drily, “trees get cut down and then get sawed up into building materials or burned or whatever. Dumb boys are the least of their worries.”

Perhaps it was the vodka’s fault, but for some reason this seemed incredibly sad to Elain. Her throat closed up, her eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears.

“Oh no.” Vassa flapped her hands around in a panic, her mirth gone. “Oh shit, what did I say?”

“Lucien had a tree house growing up.” The words bubbled out of her mouth before she could stop them. “He told me his oldest brother helped him build it. And then one day he went out to the forest and discovered that the section of the woods with his tree house had been cut down. Something about tree rot.”

“See,” Vassa said wisely as she refilled both their glasses from a pitcher. “And that’s why you don’t want to be a tree.”

Elain snorted, wiping the tears from her face with an already damp corner of her blanket. She’d shed so many tears in the past two days that she was shocked she hadn’t dried up like a raisin yet.

“Fuck him,” Vassa continued. “He doesn’t deserve a treehouse- or any house, for that matter. He can live on the streets for all I care.”

Elain pictured it for a moment; Lucien’s long fiery hair grown even longer from years of living as a vagabond, a scraggly beard not quite covering his devilish grin. Perhaps he’d live in the woods, in a little cave with a mattress made of leaves and moss. The image didn’t repulse her as much as it should have.

Suddenly she was enraged.

This had been her refrain for the past three days, ever since she had so unceremoniously thrown him out of her apartment. Moments of deep grief when it seemed like she’d never stop crying were followed by rage so intense it felt like her blood was on fire.

The same fire that ran through his veins, the flame that she had found so utterly irresistible.

Her gaze moved against her will, landing on the box sitting in a corner near the door. She’d been studiously avoiding it, torn between the satisfaction she’d get at throwing it out, and the desire to keep a piece of him close, if only for a little while longer.

It was irrational, but that box of stuff had somehow become a physical reminder of him, and getting rid of it would be like cutting the final thread that tethered him to her. Not to mention that a small part of her brain still hoped that he would come back, that somehow it would turn out to all be a misunderstanding.

That he would choose her, against all odds, in defiance of the path that had been laid out for him.

Perhaps even more humiliating than the rejection itself had been the deception. Because he had known- for the entirety of the summer he had spent tangled up in bed with her, whispering that she was the one, making her burn in a way she had never even dreamed possible, he had known it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t last, because by the end of the summer he was due back in England, where his betrothed waited for him.

The fucker had been engaged the entire time and hadn’t bothered sharing that information with her.

But the worst thing of all had been the way she’d so thoroughly fallen for him. Every touch, every whispered word had seemed so sincere that she’d never once questioned his devotion. What a fool she’d been. Perhaps if he had been honest with her from the start she would have allowed him to fall into her bed, but not into her heart.

Or better yet, she would have steered clear of Lucien Vanserra altogether.

**

Elain could still picture the moment she’d first laid eyes on him during the Summer Solstice festival. Vassa had bullied her into setting up a kissing booth (a venture that had turned out to be quite lucrative) and they’d had a steady stream of customers all morning. Around midday the energy in the crowd had shifted, like a ripple in a pond. And then the crowd had shifted, parting like the sea.

And he had appeared. Tall, his golden skin practically glowing in the summer sun, his shoulder-length hair so vividly red she immediately knew he was a witch. No human could ever look like that. He had locked eyes with her from a distance, and it had felt to Elain like she was being set on fire.

“Who is that?” she stage-whispered to Vassa, who had just given their elementary school math teacher a wholesome peck on the cheek for the sum of five dollars.

“Who?” Vassa followed her gaze, and her eyes went wide, her hand clamping painfully around Elain’s wrist.

“Ow!”

“I think he’s one of the Vanserras,” Vassa whispered, slightly awed. “He’s got to be, look at that hair.”

A smile quirked up the corner of the handsome stranger’s mouth, and Elain wondered absurdly if he had somehow heard. The Vanserras were a powerful magical family, and nobody knew the true depth of their power. She wouldn’t be surprised if they had unnaturally powerful hearing.

“I’ve never seen him before,” Elain said, stupidly. She felt slightly dazed as she continued to stare into his eyes, as if she was physically incapable of looking away.

In truth she had never seen any of them before.

Hundreds of years ago, a man called Thelor Vanserra had founded Maple Glen and tied his magic to the village. Magic ran strong here- for those who knew where to look, that is. Tourists simply assumed they had stumbled upon a particularly charming village, where commerce always boomed and disaster never struck.

But the truly odd thing about Maple Glen was the fact that it never snowed, despite being far enough north that it should by all reason get buried under snow every winter. It was like the town was stuck in perpetual autumn, with only a few weeks of balmier weather in the spring and summer. Nobody questioned it, assuming Maple Glen simply existed in a peculiar micro-climate.

It was a wonder how far people would go to avoid seeing magic, even when it existed right under their noses.

Twice a year, on Summer Solstice and Winter Solstice, a member of the Vanserra bloodline would come to town in order to regenerate the magic for the coming season before disappearing back to England. They were notoriously reclusive and haughty, and were rarely seen around town- much less strolling through a crowded festival.

“I always pictured them scrawny and inbred,” Vassa had said, surreptitiously fixing her hair.

The crooked grin on the stranger’s face widened, and Elain’s stomach dropped. He had definitely heard that.

And then he started walking towards them.

Elain froze, her stomach roiling with equal parts thrill and fear. Would he curse them? It didn’t seem likely, judging from the amusement on his face, but she squirmed nonetheless.

When he was a few paces away from their booth he paused, his eyes still fixed on her. From this close Elain could make out the color of his eyes- a warm brown, tinged russet, as if kissed by the flame his bloodline was rumored to wield. His features were sharp and elegant, his wide jaw covered with the barest hint of auburn stubble. There was a thin, crooked scar running down the left side of his face that, combined with the devilish gleam in his eyes, gave him an aura of danger. It sent a shiver down Elain’s spine, and she felt momentarily struck dumb, as if by magic.

“My lady,” he said, inclining his head. The motion made a strand of his vibrant hair fall over his face, and Elain’s fingers itched to brush it back.

Vassa giggled beside her. Elain had never, in her nineteen years of life, heard her friend make such a sound. She bit her lip hard to prevent herself from doing the same.

“If I walked through fire for you, could I get a kiss too?”

Vassa made a choked sound that sounded as though she was holding in another giggle. Elain could only stare for a moment, before realizing that she was staring at him with her mouth hanging wide open.

“I- sorry, what?”

With a casual wave of his hand a wall of flame had burst to life out of thin air. Elain jumped to her feet, scanning the crowd for signs of anyone having noticed the blatant display of magic. But oddly enough, nobody at all was looking at them. It was almost as if some force was making the crowd look away.

She glanced back at the flames just in time to see him walk through them. Surrounded by flames, with that troublesome grin on his face and his eyes twinkling with mirth, it almost seemed like she was being bewitched by the devil himself.

In the end it turned out to be not too far from the truth.

The summer romance that had followed had completely knocked her off her feet. Lucien was nothing like the boys she’d dated before. There was something charmingly old-fashioned about the way he spoke, his impeccable manners and posh accent so at odds with his serpentine tongue and devilish humour. He had felt like a drug, something decadent and rare that left her buoyant and giddy. She’d been hooked from her first taste, her fate sealed the moment he’d walked through those flames and pressed a feather-soft kiss directly to her lips. She’d let those flames consume her.

But the thing with fire, she’d learned, was that it could be doused in an instant.

Elain wondered if he ever would have said anything at all, had that vision not infiltrated her dreams. Would he simply have left her apartment and gotten on a plane back to Yorkshire without so much as a goodbye, never to be heard from again?

They had been lying in bed when the vision had swarmed her senses, limbs tangled together, a lazily swirling fan doing little to cool their heated skin. There was never any logic or reason to what triggered her visions, but something about that hazy veil between consciousness and sleep seemed to make her prone to them. One unclear reality being replaced by another, images fogging her mind so that sometimes she wasn’t sure if they were visions, dreams, or nothing at all.

But that night, as she’d laid there happy and content, blissfully uncaring about anything but the present, the future had decided to make itself known to her anyway. At first she thought she was simply drifting off into dreams of him, and she had sighed, grateful to be with him even in sleep.

Her blood had grown cold as she’d realized the Lucien in her mind was not alone, and nor was his soft smile aimed at her. There was someone else, someone with long rosewood-colored tresses and hazel eyes that shone almost golden, like a cat’s. Someone who was wearing a white dress, wrapped in the arms of the man currently in her bed.

Someone who was decidedly not her.

At first she’d chosen to ignore it. Perhaps it wasn’t a vision at all, but simply her lust-addled brain playing tricks on her. But then Lucien had announced that he needed to fly back home for a while, to take care of some business.

“I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone,” he assured her, his mouth pressed to her ear. “You won’t even miss me.”

In the span of a few seconds he had managed to rip her heart out and rip it to shreds. She’d been so stunned that at first she didn’t know how ro react.

“I’m sorry, Love,” he murmured, misunderstanding her shock as displeasure. “There’s some things with…my family, that I need to handle in person.”

Something about his choice of words had made Elain want to laugh, even as she was fighting rising tides of panic and heartbreak.

“Who is she?” had been the only words she’d been able to formulate.

Lucien stared at her in shock, the color draining from his skin until she knew for certain she hadn’t miscalculated.

Then had come the accusations, the excuses, the explanations, followed by more accusations.

He was engaged.

Betrothed had been the word he’d used, like something out of those romance novels her sister liked. He was betrothed to a stranger he’d never even met, someone he allegedly had no intention of marrying. He was going back to end it, he claimed. He wanted her, he assured.

“I didn’t want to say anything at first because I didn’t know what this thing was between us, and then when it became serious it felt like it was too late, and I didn’t know what to do, and please, Elain, just look at me…”

She had, and something about seeing him like this, his usual smooth exterior replaced by rambling words and eyes wide with panic, almost made her break. But then she’d remembered the woman in her vision, the one with such unusual colouring that she could only be a witch- and a powerful one, if she had been betrothed to a Vanserra. And most of all, she remembered the joy on Lucien’s face in that vision, the way his eyes had crinkled around the edges like they did when he was happy.

In retrospect, throwing his clothes out the window had perhaps been a tad immature, but it had been effective in getting him to shut up and leave her apartment.

**

Elain shook her head, clearing away the memories that refused to leave her alone.

“You know what,” she declared, slamming her glass on the coffee table with a clang, “let’s burn his stuff.”

Vassa whooped, jumping to her feet before Elain could second guess her decision. Fuck him. Fuck him and his beautiful fiancé (bethrothed) who no doubt had the perfect pedigree and wielded some powerful brand of magic to match the Vanserra’s. Something respectable, like elemental magic, or a knack for spell work. Not something weird and impossible to understand like her Sight.

“Fuck him,” she said again, getting to her feet. “Fuck her!”

“That’s the spirit!”

Vassa upended the box into their fireplace, lifting up a cloud of dust, ash, and various herbs from an ill-advised cleaning spell they’d tried to cast the week before. “Care to do the honors?” she asked, extending a box of matches towards Elain.

Elain took a shuddering breath as she looked at the sad little pile of ashy belongings. Clothes, a few books, thin leather straps Lucien had used to tie his hair back. Straps he’d once used to bind her wrists together as he-

Elain struck the match so aggressively that it snapped clean in half. The second one lit, the little flame seeming to mock her as it danced near the tips of her fingers.

The fire was slow to catch, smoking pathetically as it tried to crawl along the pile of fabric and books. And then it grew, until their faces warmed by the heat of the flames. Elain very pointedly ignored the fact that Lucien could summon flames ten times this size without so much as blinking.

“We curse you, Lucien Vanserra!” Vassa declared, stirring the flames with a poker.

“I hope you burn in hell,” Elain mumbled.

Vassa cackled. “He’d probably be happy there. Let him rot somewhere his flame can’t catch.”

Elain might have imagined it, but just for a moment the fire seemed to grow brighter in the hearth.

“And may his betrothed be frigid in bed!” Vassa added with another cackling laugh. Once again the flames flashed hotter, almost blue.

“And may she break his heart, just like he did mine,” Elain added sadly.

It seemed like she was speaking directly to the flames themselves, and for a second they appeared to wink in response. She blinked, and shook her head against a wave of disorientation. Merlin, she was drunk.

A flash of lightning lit up the night sky outside, followed by another rumble of thunder that made them both jump. With a mechanical groaning the lights inside the apartment blinked off, leaving them sitting there in the dark.

Vassa groaned. “Damn it, power’s out again.”

But Elain’s attention was still on the fire- or, more accurately, on the space where it should have been. In the space where moments before flames had danced merrily, there was now only a fine layer of ash, all traces of Lucien’s belongings having vanished, like the flames, into thin air.

Elain gulped. “Vassa? I think we might have done something bad.”

[climbthemountain2020]

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

Ch.1/5 | Ao3

Elucien Holiday Fic for the @acotargiftexchange

Completed Word Count: 33K Chapter Word Count: 7k

For @itsybitsybluesy I hope this hits all your boxes! The story is finished, and will be fully posted this week <3

Two Days Before

Lucien POV

Lucien looked into the mirror, the lamp casting a low light and making the shadows jump around his face and glow like a halo around his copper hair. He brushed it back over one shoulder, fussing with it then scoffing at himself as he realized how nit-picky he was being. 

He checked his pocket watch, jittery as the moments ticked down. 

It was nearly time to leave and walk to the River House for Solstice and Feyre’s birthday. Just as he had done every year for the last five, he’d winnowed into Velaris earlier in the day. The wards had been marked to his signature and blood, clearing easily for him as Emissary to Night. As soon as he’d arrived, he’d grabbed a bite at Mirania’s Cafe, his personal favorite, and gone to his apartment to bathe and dress and have a cup of spiced tea that he’d definitely not poured whiskey into. 

He straightened, tugging down his vest and checking the sleeves of his forest green tailored jacket. He had hand selected this outfit, the colors of Autumn always highlighting his features best, as much as he despised his court of origin. The burnished orange paired with the green always made him feel a bit like a pumpkin, but from experience, he was well aware that they paired well with the rest of his appearance. He brushed his shoulders a final time, checking the mirror once more and nodding as if to support himself. 

This was ridiculous.

Of course, Lucien always took great care in his appearance. He had pride in the way he presented himself: clever, courteous, and well-dressed. He had, after all, been raised in high society, for all it had been worth in the end. Additionally, the company he tended to keep in Velaris was mostly well-dressed, too. He couldn’t afford to look lacking around them. 

Lucien locked his front door behind him, balancing the box of gifts in one arm while simultaneously tucking the keyring into his inner jacket pocket and making his way down the carved stone steps and onto the cobblestone street. The winter sun had just begun to set over the towering, snowy mountains of Velaris, and the streets were lit with twinkling lights that bounced off all the shining boughs of holly to celebrate the upcoming holiday. Despite splitting his time the past few years between here and his primary residence in the Human Lands, Lucien loved Velaris more than he’d ever care to admit. The city always smelled like a mass variety of delicious foods and drinks and spices, and laughter and joy always seemed to filter through the streets to echo warmly around his ears. Autumn had never had anywhere like this, nor had Spring or the Human Lands. Velaris was truly unlike anything he’d ever known. 

Some visits, he’d stay a little extra time, spending days upon days just walking around the city. If Rhysand or Feyre were aware, which he was certain they were, they never mentioned it to him. He’d explored just about every space in the city now, and even some of the mountain trails, lakes, streams, and forests nearby. Lucien loved being here. 

There was only one thing that could make it better. 

Lucien shuffled the box of gifts in his arms, the unwieldy weight making it difficult to hold in just one arm. His gift for Elain this year was a bit more personal than in the past, but he hoped it would also be something practical. He’d noticed she’d been more interested in germinating the wide variety of flowers that surrounded the River House in the past year, each new flower cropping up more lovely and colorful than the last batch as she tended them with great care and precision. He’d found a lovely leather craftsman in The Rainbow, and while he’d waited on the new leathers he’d commissioned, he’d browsed the store. In one corner, perfectly tucked into a shelf, had been a book on display– a leatherbound journal with the shape of a vine pressed into the cover. He’d thought that perhaps, as she crossed and bred more flowers, she might like to keep track. So, as he purchased his leathers, he’d asked him to press the name Elain into the cover of the book too. 

Things had been lighter between them the past year, though he wouldn’t go so far as to call them friends. Once things had very obviously come to an end between her and the Shadowsinger when he’d found his mate, Lucien had given Elain his time and patience, and in time, they’d worked their way into something tentative just this side of friendship.

It had begun when he’d come upon the River House to meet with Rhys a few months before the previous Solstice. She’d been in the garden lining the front walkways as he’d approached. He wasn’t in the habit of stopping to speak to her then, but when he’d seen the gloves on her hands, he’d stopped short, his feet rooted to the ground. Elain was barely bundled up against the chill of the air, her shoulders almost entirely exposed as the wind tossed her hair over her freckled back. She’d been humming, digging through the brambles surrounding flowers of bright purple and yellow. He was in awe of her effortless beauty, as he always was when he saw her, his body and mind unable to communicate whenever she was around. 

As though she sensed his presence, she turned, meeting his eyes with a little gasp. He loved her eyes, a soft brown as downy as a fawn’s coat, beautiful against her porcelain, freckled skin and bright cheeks. 

So, there they stood, two strangers, bonded irrevocably for life, who had barely exchanged four sentences save pleasantries in the years past. She stuck her hand out lamely, gesturing at the flowers, the pretty leather of the glove stained with earth and catching his eye again. 

She cleared her through. “The crocuses love the cold, but, uhm, the brambles tend to start moving in if I don’t stay on top of them.”

It had been such a simple statement, the most bland of information, but Lucien was riveted. A bright blush crept up Elain’s neck and face. 

“The gloves help when it’s cold. I meant to tell you. I never wear gloves to garden. It’s not that I don’t– that I don’t like them. I do, they’re beautifully made. I just like the dirt under my nails. But in the winter, they’re very effective with the brambles.”

Lucien could feel the smile spreading unbidden across his face. It was perhaps the most words he’d ever heard her speak at once, and the fluster in them had him feeling some strange type of giddy.  

He fought and lost the urge to tease her a bit, to see that blush creep higher to the tips of her beautifully pointed ears that she finally left on display regularly. He ached to trace them with his lips, nip them with his teeth, as he did so frequently in his dreams. 

Don’t scare her off Lucien. This is a fragile moment, don’t be a cad.

He lost the war with himself, the urge to see that gorgeous flush again overwhelming all sense left in his centuries-old body.

“Your flowers are beautiful, my lady. I’m sure that they are pleased whenever you find time to be on top of them.” 

Elain let out the most ungraceful sound that Lucien had perhaps ever heard from her, a laugh her body had resisted. The blush rose just as he’d hoped, beautiful and soft and pink as it raced to the tips of her ears. He gave a sweeping bow and a smile, continuing on into the house and sending the smallest rush of warmth back at her to soothe her skin against the frigid air. He refused to look back, his decision made. For the blush alone, it had been worth it. 

That had been over a year ago now.

It would have been foolish for Lucien to assume that things would change between them after that, and they hadn’t, not really.

But…

At first, he thought he was imagining it.

At his next visit, Elain had averted her eyes as usual at his presence, but his breath had caught in his throat to see her at dinner wearing the pearl drop earrings he’d gifted her years before. He’d never once seen her wear them. They caught the light beautifully, and she had tucked her hair back, showing them off for anyone willing to look. 

It felt intentional; it felt like a claiming. 

He had forced himself under control, begged his mind not to read into it, to get his hopes up. 

Then that night, with Mor in town and Nesta and Cassian down from Illyria, the seating arrangements had been shifted for dinner, leaving the only open seat for him at the end corner of the table next to Elain. His eyes crept back again and again to the earrings and the way they swayed gently back and forth as she spoke. All night he fought the urge to inhale too deeply, to speak past pleasantries and risk scaring her away. 

But his body fought him every second.

Smell her, touch her, taste her, it said. 

And it was impossible to avoid, the smell of her, honey and cinnamon and glazed pears nearly making his eyes water and his cock half hard under the cover of the table. He’d glamoured himself immediately, unwilling to risk making anything awkward, especially with a loudmouth like Cassian around and always ready to tease him like a bawdy older sibling. He liked Cassian, but there were no secrets safe with the giant bat.

As dinner that night had come to a close, he breathed a sigh of relief to think he’d made it through. Elain would escape to the kitchen as she always did, and everyone else would drink in one of the many sitting rooms of the River House, and he would be safe. 

Gods , but he wished she’d come, too– plop down in his lap, let him press his nose to the juncture of her neck and shoulder and inhale until he was dizzy with the scent of her.

“Did you get enough to eat, Lucien?” Feyre poked fun at his clean plate as she stood with Rhys to move to the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen cleared the table. 

He laughed. “The food here is always impeccable. I’ve long gotten over the stigma of being the first to clean a plate.” 

Everyone chuckled, and Lucien began to push his chair back to move with them. Before he could remove himself from the table, Elain spoke as she began to clear the remaining dishware. It was so quiet he hardly heard it, but she bent closer to him under the guise of picking up an errant fork, her breath nearly in his ear. 

“I’ve always seen some merit in finishing first, personally.” 

Everyone had already left the room, and no one but Elain was there to witness Lucien’s sharp inhale. Nor the way his cock immediately stiffened along with his spine.

With a swirl of honeyed pears and demure smiles, Elain had pulled back and was already gone, not sparing him a single second look.

Had he imagined it?

He spent weeks plaguing himself with that very question. But the next time he’d visited it had happened again. This time, the middle man had been a cream-filled pastry from a local bakery on one of Lucien’s morning visits. He’d shown up early that day per Rhys’s request in order to overlap with Nesta and Cassian’s schedules, so they’d opted to do a casual meeting over breakfast. Elain was helping Feyre with Nyx on one of the small couches lining the massive dining room, and Feyre reached back for him just in time for Lucien to sit down. Naturally, Elain would be eating breakfast with them; it was her home. But Lucien hadn’t been prepared for her to lift the small tea plate with the full pasty on it, meeting his eyes from across the room when no one else could see, and taking a bite so large from it that the cream exploded across the plate in a surge so disarmingly sensual Lucien nearly choked to death on his tea. 

So, for the past year, not only had she made a point to wear those blessed earrings every time he’d stopped in, but she’d made a habit of torturing him. 

Between innuendo, teasing visuals, and side comments that no one but him ever seemed to hear, Lucien was convinced he’d lost his entire mind.

That Solstice, he’d brought her a cookbook from the vendor’s quarter in Velaris. It had specialties compiled from every court, running the gamut from appetizers to great feasts to desserts, all nicely bound. For the first time, she’d looked him in the eyes as she’d opened it, thanking him and stroking a finger back and forth over the cover while Lucien tried his hardest not to explode into a million fragments.

He’d come back a week later to update Rhys on a matter on the border of Spring, and waiting for him in the study was a plate of cherry clove tarts, his favorite childhood dessert from Autumn

He’d felt twisted up at the emotion at seeing them for the first time in decades, the smell of them causing the sharp sting of unshed tears to burn his eyes. His mother used to love making these, sneaking them beneath the edge of the counter to him as he skittered off to devour them in an alcove, yet unaware of the sort of life that lay ahead for him. He controlled himself as he waited for Rhys to finish a meeting, and when the door finally burst open, he was surprised to see Elain carrying a tray with tea and cups

She startled. “Oh! I didn’t think you’d be here yet.”

“You made these?”

She blushed again, that lovely spread creeping up her neck at the implication before he even realized what he’d asked. “No, Nuala did. They were in the book you gave me. I thought you might like them.” She poured two cups of tea and handed one to him. A chai. “I figured it might be nice to have something from Autumn when I heard you’d be coming.”

“That is…very kind, Elain.” Lucien was having trouble finding the words, so he sipped the tea instead.

“Well, have you tried one?” She gestured to the tray. The tarts were covered in a dusted layer of powdered sugar, Elain carefully selecting one and placing it on a small tea plate for herself. Lucien leaned forward to help himself– no part of him strong enough to resist cherry clove tarts. He sat back, carefully shaking any loose sugar, then stopped in his tracks as he watched Elain lean in to take a big bite, her pink tongue slipping out of her mouth and over her perfect lips to catch the sugar and missing a bit of cherry at the corner of her mouth. 

He wanted to put his mouth on it, suck it off her skin then keep going.

Lucien nearly fell apart as he watched her swallow, her throat bobbing as she consumed the pastry. Something primal and uncontrolled within him was begging and roaring and tearing to toss her on the couch, lift her skirts, and fuck her stupid. 

Something about the mischief glowing wild in her eyes told him what she was imagining wasn’t far off. 

She raised a finger to the edge of her mouth, pressing the errant piece of filling onto her finger, then sticking the same finger into her mouth, sucking it elegantly. Her eyes, the soft brown of a fawn’s coat, didn’t leave his for a moment.

Lucien was only saved by the grace of the doors opening once again and Rhys entering. 

“So good to see you, Lucien,” Elain said through a smile as she turned to go, leaving him absolutely wrecked in the process.

Now, as Lucien walked through the streets of Velaris for yet another Solstice, he felt ready to snap every time he came within a mile of her. He could hear the beating of her heart quicken when he came into the room, could see the delicious flush over her soft skin as they spoke. Something had shifted between them, despite no one else seeming to notice or care. Everyone still treated her like their little baker, their gardener, sweet Elain. Lucien was sure she was sweet in many ways; in fact, he’d like to try a taste and test that theory himself.

But he held himself back. Elain had distanced herself from him for so long, for so many reasons, and he would let her decide when, if ever, she was ready. And when she did, he would be waiting. Until then, though, he remained a pile of dry brush, waiting for the single scratch of a match that would burn it all to embers.

He passed the garden beds in the dark, the sun now sunken below the mountains surrounding them and the lights lining the path illuminating his way. He could practically see the ghosts of him and Elain speaking there, could almost smell her on the wind, hear her laughter dance around his ears. He shook his head and pressed on, shifting the box to one hip as he knocked on the door. 

“Lucien!” A very pregnant Feyre flung open the door, hugging him and nearly bowling him over with her belly. “Sorry. Stomach first.” She waved him in, undeterred. “We’re still waiting on a few. Come on and have a drink. I can take those!” She grabbed the box of gifts, carting them off to the study as Lucien shucked off his coat to hang it in the foyer. He could hear the merriment rooms away, people laughing and cracking jokes, ice clinking in glasses. Between Feyre’s found family and Vassa and Jurian, Lucien had more community now than he’d maybe ever had in his life. Five years ago, he wouldn’t have believed it. He surely wouldn’t have believed he’d be sharing a Solstice with Rhysand and his brothers, but here they were. 

He couldn’t sense Elain anywhere in the house, the steady thrumming of her heart mysteriously absent as he pressed down the hall and joined the others. Rhys poured him a drink and clapped him heartily on the back as he took a seat and chatted. All the while, his mind was elsewhere, eternally searching for her in every space he entered. 

“...strange, though. Nothing major, but definitely a pattern.” 

“How many does that make now?”

“I think that was maybe the seventh in as many months, maybe even less.”

Lucien’s interest was piqued, of course, now that he’d been caught out not listening. “What’s that?”

“Velaris has seen a series of vandalisms lately–”

“And Rhysand is being over involved, despite us doing quite literally the same things here as younglings.” 

Lucien grinned again– Cassian wasn’t shy about getting some drink in him and sharing innumerable stories about their youth. Even Lucien had to laugh when he wasn’t rolling his eyes. 

“What sort of vandalism are we talking about?” If they weren’t seriously on alert, he imagined it couldn't be anything too grave. 

Cassian piped up as soon as Rhysand opened his mouth to speak, earning another irritated look. “ Nothing. It’s the work of a bored teenager, I’m sure.”

“Tampered wards, things moved around. More recently there have been a few small, contained fires and explosives,” Rhysand offered.

“Explosives?” Lucien lifted his brows.

“They’re firecrackers, Rhys. Get your head out of your a–”

“Alright, here we go!” The voice of Nesta filtered through the room as she raced in, her nephew on her shoulders flapping his wings valiantly. Now that he was nearing four and his wings were strong enough to start supporting him, the group had been allowing him to practice flying. Every time Lucien visited, they were trying another method to strengthen them enough to carry his full weight. Lucien enjoyed watching Nyx; it tickled him to see such seasoned warriors care so tenderly for such a small person. Something he never dared to address within himself ached at the thought of a family all his own. And, as always, he shoved the thoughts away violently. There was no use imagining something that might never exist. Lucien knew from experience the pain that getting your hopes up could render. 

“You’re too overprotective now that you’re a father, Rhysie. What are you going to do when Nyx is tearing up the town? Call in the Darkbringers ?” Laughs came from around the room as Feyre settled next to Rhys, giving him a kiss. Nesta returned with Nyx to Cassian’s side, a protective hand coming around her shoulders. Lucien, not for the first time, reveled in this feeling of family around him. Years ago, he’d felt very much the outsider at these gatherings, always uncomfortable and not quite the right fit. But something had shifted long before Elain had started speaking to him more. Perhaps it had been the sacrifices he’d been willing to make in the battle with Koschei , or maybe just the recurrence of his presence had finally become commonplace enough to be accepted. Regardless, this was another home to him now– these were the people he’d chosen to surround himself with. He was glad to spend his Solstices here, and happier still to have another holiday in the Human Lands for Christmas. 

The front door slammed open, boisterous voices in the hall pouring in. Lucien knew that it was not Elain. No one seemed worried, and he tried not to be either. Elain had been fae for years now. She was smart and knew Velaris well. She was likely just out grabbing last minute supplies for dinner or dessert, knowing her.  

Emerie and Mor rounded the corner, arms around each other and flushed from the cold. Mor had taken the longest to warm up to him, for the obvious reasons, but he found he liked her quick wit and admired the fierceness with which she protected her friends. They’d eventually bonded drunk one night while he agreed to tell her embarrassing stories about Eris growing up. 

“Lu Lu! You’re here!” With acceptance had come nicknames.

Emerie slung Mor down onto the couch. “We started a bit early at Rita’s,” she pretended to whisper, Mor shoving at her butt with her foot. 

Behind them were the Shadowsinger and Gwyn, much quieter in their entrance, but wrapped around each other nonetheless. They weren’t particularly talkative, as far as members of the inner circle went. But there was no denying how in love they were. Lucien’s heart ached a bit, longed when he saw the way their eyes always met, their covert touches nearly missable by anyone not searching for them. Would Elain be quiet in that way? Reserved? Or would she love out loud like Mor and Feyre? More thoughts that he regularly forced from his own head. 

“Is that everyone?” Cassian asked Rhys, changing topics. 

“Everyone who’s coming. Amren somehow lost a bet and is spending Solstice in Summer.” 

Mor snickered. “God, she’s done for. Or maybe Varian is. Who knows with the two of them.”

Around him, everyone continued talking, but Lucien was no longer paying attention, the pounding in his ears suddenly overwhelming. It was the steady thwump , thwump , thwump of a familiar heartbeat, one he knew just as intimately as his own. 

He couldn’t see her, but Lucien knew Elain had arrived. Her heart was pounding in time with his, a steady beat with an echo that always calmed something in him at the same time as it drove him mad. His body immediately went on alert, skin flushed and blood rushing below his waist. This back and forth dance with her was like the longest, most intense edging he’d ever experienced in his life. Every time he visited, he found himself glamouring his scent for the entire duration of his stay. 

It was only moments between when he’d felt her arrive and when she bustled out of the kitchen, face flushed and eyes a bit wild. Lucien had a moment where jealousy roared inside him like an ugly beast. Had she been out with another suitor? But her scent hit him from across the room with the intensity of a brick wall, and there was no one there except her, lovely and light and intoxicating.

“So sorry! Had to finish the icing.”

Liar, he thought, but he let the amusement remain in his eyes alone. Beautiful little liar.

But Lucien kept her secret, despite his own curiosity. And when he sat down next to her at dinner, he scented her again, just to be sure. 

Sometime in that past year, his seat had regularly become the one next to hers. No matter the other company present, he would find her as he looked for his own seat, the open one on her left belonging to him. They had never addressed it, nor had anyone else, but it continued nonetheless. 

Another thing Lucien had learned was that the members of the Inner Circle never missed a chance to celebrate, and every chance they had to celebrate, they cooked enough food to feed a family of twenty for roughly two weeks. He couldn’t complain– every single thing he’d ever eaten there had been nothing short of mouth watering, and he always finished everything with great gusto, often reaching for seconds, and greatly savoring the leftovers they inevitably sent him home with. Tonight’s feast was no different, plate upon plate of roasted meats, vegetables soaked in butter, the creamiest mashed potatoes that Lucien had personally ever seen, as well as side dishes that he’d never even heard of before lined the table. 

He listened as everyone spoke around him, the way they normally did. He enjoyed being a listener, most of the time, interjecting occasionally but mostly just enjoying the friendly back and forth. Elain, as usual, was quiet by his side. He caught her frequently in his periphery, practically dragging his eyes away from her by force each time. 

Until one time, he found her looking back. The conversations continued, loud and brash, around them, but her eyes stayed hooked on his. Then, without saying a word, Elain lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. Lucien tracked the movement like a predator watching its prey, each millisecond it traveled through the air sending thousands more sparks down his spine until, finally, the fork met her lips. Her pink, perfectly bowed lips– which took their precious time closing around the fork, pursing slowly, intentionally, as she closed her eyes, savoring the food. 

Lucien had the sense to check his glamour before his heart gave out right there at the Solstice table. 

When she opened her eyes again, batting her lashes and returning her fork to her plate, a smirk teased her lips. 

Cauldron boil and fry me. 

Lucien’s breathing had sped up, and he fought desperately to get it controlled before someone else noticed he sounded like a panting animal. He forced his eyes back to his own plate with willpower that he must have plucked from the very depths of his soul. 

He was confronting this tonight. Somehow, some way, he was getting Elain alone. He adjusted in his seat, his cock hard and angry in his pants, and saw Elain smile fully down into her food. 

Oh yes, there would be discussions. 

+++

Waiting through presents and dessert was a special kind of torture for Lucien, his body aching to move the night along so he could get her alone, even just for a moment. A highlight, however, had been Lucien seeing Elain open the present he’d gotten for her. She seemed a bit flustered as she opened it, eyes somewhat glassy with emotion as she’d looked at him after. 

“Thank you, Lucien.” His name on her tongue nearly drove him mad with as tightly as he was wound. But he simply nodded in response as she turned to set it tenderly aside, as though it was something precious.

Now, it was long past midnight, the night quiet and the revelry settled into something more casual and comfortable. Mor was crashed out on the couch, her head in Emerie’s lap as she stroked her hair. Gwyn and Azriel had left not long after dinner, having just arrived back from spy work on the continent before coming to the River House. Nesta and Cassian were retiring to a guest bedroom, too drunk to fly or winnow home. Elain had long since gone to the kitchens to help clean up and pack food and treats to send off, always careful to let Nuala or Cerridwen prep, package, and deliver the one for Lucien. 

But he hadn’t seen her in hours, the steady beating of her heart close, but not close enough. He could feel his chances slipping away. 

“Lucien, would you like to stay?” Feyre asked sweetly, coming up to him with a hand on her stomach, Rhys not far behind. 

He was not so drunk he couldn’t get home–he was actually quite sober– but being in the same house as Elain while he slept was a special kind of torture. On the other hand, it would give him more time tomorrow to speak with her. He’d made up his mind. 

“Sure, thanks for the offer.”

“You know where your room is.” She gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

“Happy birthday, Feyre.” Lucien had stayed often enough that he could find his way down the airy halls of the River House, the ceilings reaching high on each floor and windows lining each inch of open space to show the sun and stars. The room he typically stayed in was at the end of the hall, where most of the other bedrooms aside from Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx slept. It was reserved for him and him alone, though he didn’t stay often. They simply had more rooms than they needed. 

He liked the comfort of it. It had floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Sidra, and a bathroom of his own so he didn’t need to wander far. He shucked off his vest as he entered, draping it over the chair by the door. But Lucien stopped when his eyes caught on an item sitting in a beam of moonlight on his bed. 

There on the duvet was a small package. He stepped closer to find it was wrapped in brown paper, delicately tied with a twine bow. He could scent her on it, the wrapping carrying hints that he could mistake for no one else. He picked it up in his hands, the box nearly weightless and yet carrying the weight of the universe within it. 

Elain had gotten him a Solstice present.

He was nearly afraid to open it, afraid to ruin the magic. She’d never given him anything before. Had hardly thanked him for his presents before last year. And yet, here it was. A gift that felt so undeniably her resting in his palm. 

Lucien carefully pulled the twine, setting it on the bed. He would save it and the paper and everything else forever, he knew without a doubt. As he opened the small box inside, his heart leapt into his throat. There in the moonlight, he could see a pair of cufflinks nestled into the cotton buffeting. They were oval, remarkably shaped, the center filled with something that appeared to be resin cradling the most lovely assortment of crushed fall leaves imaginable. It looked just like the woods around the Forest House, a rare piece of home that he actually missed. 

It was, without a doubt, the most thoughtful gift that Lucien had ever received. 

Lucien’s chest twisted momentarily, the emotion overcoming him. But when it happened again, he knew it wasn’t emotion tugging in his chest. 

It was the bond. Elain was pulling on the bond. 

Like a specter in search of the afterlife, he followed the pull blindly, setting the box down on the table by the bed and moving towards the door without another thought. He felt it again, stronger this time, and he obeyed, no doubts in his mind about where she wanted him to go. 

He usually avoided any feelings through the bond, shoving that need to touch it, stroke it, caress it deep down in his chest. But the pull was unmistakable this time, and it was coming from Elain.

Occasionally– in her dreams, he’d assumed– she’d touch the bond, just enough that Lucien would feel it. At first, it had been enough to drive him insane, especially knowing she’d done it unintentionally. After a while, he’d learned to mostly ignore it, to see it for what it was: purely innocent, a naive mistake, a mistaken brush against something she didn’t fully understand. But this was not that. 

All sense was lost when he felt a third pull, a beckoning, a summons in his chest. His hand hit the knob and turned, his sights set on her room down the hall. He would get his conversation after all, it seemed. 

The second Lucien emerged into the hall, though, he was met with the burgeoning sounds of chaos– loud voices and slamming doors, lights turning on throughout the River House. It took a moment for his mind to catch up, and he saw Elain shoot into the hall too, as though she’d been waiting right on the other side of her door. Her frantic eyes met his in the darkness as she pulled her robe tightly around her body. 

She’d been waiting for him . 

He didn’t have time to process as the hall filled with everyone else, the voicing cresting together as she shook her head minutely. 

“What’s happening?” Lucien hadn’t had the time to change out of his clothes, trousers and cream colored undershirt rumpled but at least still on. Cassian was half naked as he bustled into the hall behind a grumbling Nesta. 

“There was an explosion.” Rhys was all business, entirely on alert as he held a sleeping Nyx in his arms. 

“Where?” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the hallway, the drowse of sleep no longer roughing her voice. 

“The bank of the Sidra near The Rainbow. Someone hid a cache of fireworks charmed to go off.”

“Any injuries?”

“None, and no damage reported. It was far enough from the buildings.”

“Just enough to wake everyone up,” Cassian grumbled through a yawn, an oof leaving his chest as Nesta elbowed him. 

“So why are we all up?” Mor was not a morning person at her best, and her day of drinking certainly hadn’t left her at her best as she slumped against Emerie. 

“I want to check it out. It might be a trap, a distraction to draw our attention away.” 

“ Or , and hear me out, Rhys, it could literally just be fireworks on Solstice– Nesta , stop!” 

“We can check it out, Rhys. It’s fine,” Emerie reassured. Rhys handed a sleeping Nyx off to Feyre to take to Nuala and Cerridwen, then began assigning roles as Lucien waited to be told where to go. Feyre returned, her clothes changed and her eyes alert as she approached him. 

“Lucien, take Elain to the Human Lands for now?”

“Oh, Feyre, I hardly think that's–” Feyre put up a hand to silence her sister, and something flared inside Lucien before he could stop it. He hated the way they treated her, as though she were a child just like Nyx, someone to be moved and maneuvered and dealt with rather than as a functioning adult amongst them. 

“It’s safer there, Elain. Please, go with Lucien.” Feyre’s eyes were pleading as she turned to her sister, and though her brows were furrowed in clear annoyance, Lucien saw the moment it smoothed out. Her pretty brown eyes met his over Feyre’s shoulder. 

“Fine.” Lucien could see Feyre’s shoulders visibly relax, but the tension in Elain’s held fast. She turned on her heel and went back into her room, closing the door behind her just slightly harder than necessary. She had changed much in the past five years– her mannerisms, her fashion, and clearly the way she spoke to Lucien. But the one thing that hadn’t changed was her reactions to her sisters. She always seemed to defer to their wishes, their judgment, their expectations. 

Lucien hated it. 

“Thank you. I just want to know she’s safe while we look into this.” Lucien looked down at her. 

“Feyre, you know your sister is older than you and also a fae, correct?” He injected some teasing into the words, but he hoped they struck a chord. 

“Of course I do. But you know how Elain is.” 

The words filled him with ire. Smart? Talented? Capable beyond measure? How would anyone ever know when they made practice of shoving her into carefully curated corners. It wasn’t an argument he’d win tonight. 

“Of course I will take care of her, Feyre.” She nodded, looking relieved, and moved to walk back over to the group. “But she deserves more credit than I think you give her.” Feyre stopped for a moment, back still turned to Lucien, before she continued on down the hall. He sighed and turned back to the door, finding it opening slowly as he did, Elain coming through now dressed with a small bag over her shoulder. Lucien took the bag immediately, and then found himself extending his hand towards her without thinking. She barely hesitated before taking it in her own, her skin so soft against his calloused fingers that it nearly took his breath away. He winnowed them straight out before he could do anything he’d regret, their feet hitting snowy ground. 

The house towered in front of them, far more room than any one of them would ever need. Despite the late hour, smoke rose in the moonlight from a number of chimneys, a soft glow emanating from within. It was much colder here than in Velaris, and though he flexed through the way his magic always felt bound when he first crossed over, he still sent a little burst of warmth Elain’s way as he gently pulled her towards the house. 

Jurian and Vassa were likely long asleep, but Lucien pulled out his own key to open the front door, locking it again behind them as he offered to take her coat. She shrugged it off as she looked around the bright foyer, starry eyed, and Lucien tried not to focus every bit of his existence onto the outline of her chest. 

“You live here?” Gods, her voice was so sweet. He almost forgot she’d asked him a question, fumbling to find his voice to respond.

“When I’m not in Velaris, yes.” 

“It’s lovely.” The manor was atypical, one they’d built after the fall of Koschei to house Vassa away from the castle that held such poor memories for her. She’d wanted to live with Jurian, maintain a life separate from her past while continuing to rule. Lucien had helped them construct it, sturdy walls of wood and stone, sort of a mimicking of the Forest House but with brighter colors per Vassa’s request. The tapestries were all wildly well lit, the colors from within and the lamps in the hall making sure every inch of the home felt cozy and bright. They’d included unique furniture from the continent, Prythian, and the Human Lands, making a hodgepodge of colors that, rather than making it tacky, made the house seem lived in. Nearly every space had its own fireplace, and though they didn’t often entertain, they kept rooms ready and available in case. Lucien loved it here, and judging by Elain’s eyes, she had never seen anything like it. He hoped, for whatever it was worth, that it was someplace she’d like, too. 

“It’s home.” He smiled as he said the words, his chest lighting up as she turned to him and smiled back. Despite how the evening had turned, she was here, with him, away from her meddling family and the pressures of Velaris. Perhaps this turn of events hadn’t been so negative after all. 

“Come, let me show you your room.” Without thinking, he pressed a hand to her lower back, leading her up the mahogany staircase into the upper halls. When they reached the second story, she spun again to take it all in, the warm air rising here to make the loft even cozier as they made their way into the hall of bedrooms. Blessedly, he noted, Jurian and Vassa were silent tonight. Despite being on entirely the opposite side of the house, Lucien had taken to wearing weighted ear plugs some nights to drown out the sounds so he could sleep. It wasn’t the welcome he’d wanted for her, certainly. 

Somewhat selfishly, he showed Elain to the guest room right next to his own room. He reasoned that it was for the window view of the distant mountains and not the proximity to his own quarters. He opened the door, motioned her in, and set her bag down near the dresser, sending a flame into the lantern on the nightstand, and then another into the fireplace. He tried not to preen at Elain’s impressed little gasp as she spun near the bed. 

“Our home is your home. Feel free to help yourself to anything here. There’s a bathroom right across the hall from you, and I’m right next door.” He pointed lamely to the left, as though she might see through the wall to his room, to his bed, through him straight into his soul, even. 

She took a step back towards him, then another, and he felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He longed to finish the evening they’d started, but he tamped the urges down as he always did. She’d had a rough night, was somewhere unfamiliar, and any promises or intent made before didn’t necessarily still apply. 

Still, she stepped closer. 

“I, uhm, I apologize for the night. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your Solstice.” 

“It’s not how I was imagining, certainly.” Her voice was soft, and she took a final, tentative step forward. They were close enough to touch if they reached out their arms, close enough that Lucien could feel the tension crackling the air between them. He wanted to kiss her. It would be so easy to just take a single step and close that gap. So easy to wind his fingers through her hair and pull her mouth to his.

Kiss, touch, taste, claim–

Lucien was a gentleman, and as he had for the past five years, he renewed his oath to let Elain come to him when she was ready. All the way to him. 

“Goodnight, Elain.” Lucien tried not to feel gutted or hopeful at the disappointment that crossed her face as he stepped back into the low light of the hallway. 

“Goodnight, Lucien.” His name on her tongue was nearly enough to send him sprinting back through the doorway. Instead, he stepped to the side, taking the two steps to his own door where he would lay awake in his bed, knowing she was mere feet away from him, and thinking about the way it had felt when she’d tugged down the bond between them.

[arthistoryanimalia]

For #WorldFrogDay: Picasso’s #Frogs 🐸

Pablo Ruiz y Picasso (Spanish, 1881–1973)

1. The Toad (Le Crapaud), 1949

Lithograph on zinc; image: 19 5/8 x 25 1/4" (49.9 x 64.1 cm)

2. The Frogs (Les Grenouilles), from Eaux-fortes originale pour des textes de Buffon (Histoire naturelle), 1936, published 1942

Aquatint & drypoint; image: 10 9/16 x 8 5/16 in (26.9 x 21.1 cm)

3. The Toad (Le Crapaud), from Eaux-fortes originales pour des textes de Buffon (Histoire Naturelle), 1936, published 1942

Aquatint & drypoint; image: 10 7/16 x 8 1/4 in (26.5 x 20.9 cm)

4. Lucien Clergue (French, 1934-2014)

Picasso Discovering a Toad, 1968

Gelatin-silver print; image: 10 7/8 × 7 3/16 in (27.62 × 18.26 cm)

1. MOMA, 2. MOMA, 3. PMA, 4. LACMA

1-3 © Estate of Pablo Picasso / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York [educational use]

4 © Lucien Clergue / DACS, London [educational use]

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Second Chance, Ch. 15

@praetorqueenreyna @thrumbolt @achaotichuman @northern-polaris @taymartiart @zivotzaruzi (Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged or untagged.)

I feel like I owe each one of you an apology for that last cliffhanger. I hope this chapter makes up for it. ❤️

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Word Count: 7.7k (It's a long one!)

Summary: Tamlin and Lucien have a much needed heart-to-heart

Read on AO3, or read on below:

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stick around?” Jurian had asked as Tamlin unfastened his seat belt. “I don’t want you to be stranded or anything.”

“I’m sure,” Tamlin had said, not sounding sure at all. “Besides, I don’t know how long it’s going to take. I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“Do you even know what you’re going to say?”

Tamlin sighed, curling his fingers around the door handle. “Not yet.”

Jurian’s thumb tapped against the steering wheel as he looked away. “Yeah. Me, neither.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, even though it was going to snow soon. The sky was heavy with it. The only question was whether it was going to be the sort of storm you made hot cocoa for before snuggling under the covers with a loved one, or if it was the sort of storm where you prayed that the roads were still open afterwards.

“I hope…” Tamlin trailed off, because he wasn’t quite sure what to hope for. That Vassa would be understanding? That Lucien would hear him out? That they would all live happily ever after?

“Yeah,” Jurian sighed, as if he knew what Tamlin was thinking. “Me, too.”

They nodded solemnly at each other before Tamlin gathered the courage to open the door and step out into the cold.

He was braced for a storm… He just didn’t know what kind it was going to be.

Looking at Lucien now, standing in his apartment, Tamlin still wasn’t sure… but he could hope.

“Can we talk?” he asked softly.

Lucien looked like he was on the verge of tears, and Tamlin didn’t blame him. They hadn’t parted under the fondest of circumstances. “Yeah,” Lucien squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Do you… do you want to sit down, or…?”

Tamlin wet his lips. “I’ve been sitting for a while,” he admitted. “I wasn’t sure when you were coming back, and I didn’t want to assume I was still welcome, so…”

“Of course you are,” Lucien declared, taking a step forward, then flinched back. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry for a lot of things. I… I shouldn’t have—”

Tamlin stopped him. “It’s okay,” he said quickly, then shook his head. “I mean, not really—” He noticed Lucien’s wince. “—But I know why you did it.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m just… I’m so fucking scared.”

Lucien’s head jerked back. “You’re scared? Why?”

Tamlin swallowed hard, then gestured to the chairs. “Maybe we should sit down,” he said hoarsely.

“Okay.” Lucien didn’t even stop to take off his coat before joining Tamlin in one of the easy chairs in front of the fire.

While Tamlin appreciated the space, he also missed sharing the same piece of furniture with his boyfriend… Come to think of it, were they still boyfriends? Or had he ruined everything by lashing out? It wouldn’t be the first time… but he couldn’t think about that now.

Tamlin took a deep breath, then braced his arms on his knees and wrung his hands and watched the flames dance through the grate.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he told Lucien quietly. “You know, about what you said, about your brother taking on my case. It’s not that I don’t want his help, but… what if no one believes me?”

“I believe you,” Lucien tried to interject, then apologized for interrupting.

Tamlin nodded sadly. “I know, but… Amarantha convinced everyone that I had a mental breakdown. She could spin this story any way she wanted. Maybe I tried drugging her and ended up drugging myself. Or… after I met her, I became obsessed, and that’s why I tried breaking into her house.”

Lucien sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “I won’t lie. There is a chance that she could try that. It doesn’t mean that it would work, but that’s just how trials go sometimes. Reasonable doubt, and all that.”

“You know what’s worse than that, though?” Tamlin murmured.

“What?”

Tamlin’s throat tightened. “What if I have a kid?” he whispered. “What if Amarantha got exactly what she wanted: A baby with blond hair and green eyes and musical ability and god knows what else. They’d be about six years old, now.”

He shook his head, because he could picture it all too well.

“If I take her to court and I lose, what’s next? Will she sue me for failing to pay child support?” he went on. “I can’t afford that. I can barely afford to take care of myself, and that’s with Jurian’s help…” He sighed. “What if she wants me to have court-ordered visitation, or even give our kid music lessons? Ugh. Even saying that makes me sick.”

He wiped his mouth. “I never wanted this. But… I don’t want my kid to feel unwanted, either.”

Lucien gave him a sad look. “Do you have any idea if Amarantha actually has a kid, or…?”

“No. I made Jurian promise that he would never tell me if he knew, or even let me find out. I mean, I’ve wondered, from time to time, because working for a private investigator makes it so easy, but… Honestly, I try not to think about it.”

Lucien just stared at him, and Tamlin dropped his head in shame.

“It sounds crazy, I know,” he muttered. “I don’t even know if this kid exists. I could be getting all worked up over nothing… Maybe I have lousy sperm, I don’t know.”

“Tam.”

The seriousness of Lucien’s tone made him pause. “What?”

Lucien cocked his head. “You don’t have lousy sperm. I promise.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked.

Tamlin stared at him, uncomprehending, then when it hit him, he covered his mouth with his hand to smother his snort. “That wasn’t supposed to make me feel better.”

Lucien’s lips still twitched even as he shrugged. “It’s true, though.”

Tamlin’s smile faded, however, and he ran a hand over his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks, but… it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Lucien said gently. “I’d be scared, too.”

Tamlin face grew warm as he stared at the tops of his shoes. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know you were just trying to help.”

“Please. Don’t apologize—”

“No. I have to,” Tamlin insisted, and lifted his head. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

“Tam…” Lucien got up only to get down on his knees in front of Tamlin’s chair. With his big brown eyes gazing up at him and his auburn hair framed by firelight, he looked like a prince from a fairy tale. He placed a gentle hand on Tamlin’s knee. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again: I’m not going anywhere.”

Tamlin blinked back sudden tears.

“I should have told you from the start,” Lucien said ruefully. “You know, about Eris taking on your case. I just thought that… Actually, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should have known you weren’t ready for this. And you know what? It’s okay if you’re never ready. It’s okay to just move on. No matter what you decide, I’ll support you one hundred percent. I promise.”

Tamlin sniffed, and wiped his wet cheek. “You promise?”

Lucien nodded. “And if you need space, I’ll give you that, too. Whatever you want.”

Tamlin managed a deep breath, then took Lucien’s hand as he stood, pulling him to his feet. “I don’t want space,” he said quietly.

Lucien’s eyes searched his. He seemed so hopeful that Tamlin wanted to think he was already forgiven, but he had to make sure.

Still, he felt almost… shy, holding Lucien’s hand like a gawky teenager instead of the grown man that he was. Even though they had just had hot gay sex just the night before. Embarrassed about what he was about to say next, he dropped his gaze to their joined hands and whispered, “Can… can we go back to being boyfriends now?”

“Did you think we weren’t?”

Tamlin’s face flushed. “After I lost my temper, I wasn’t sure…”

Lucien squeezed his fingers. “You had every right to be mad at me,” he said gently. “And yeah, I was worried you never wanted to see me again, but… I never stopped wanting to be your boyfriend.”

“Neither did I.”

“Good.” Lucien reached up to tuck Tamlin’s hair behind his ear, then smiled when he met his gaze. “Seven hours apart is nothing,” he teased gently. “Let’s just make sure it doesn’t turn into another seven years, okay?”

Tamlin nodded, his throat strangely tight. “Okay.”

Lucien leaned in halfway, then hesitated, but Tamlin knew what he wanted, because he wanted that, too. When he brought his lips to Lucien’s mouth, their kiss was almost chaste in its softness, but it lingered in its longing.

“Thank you,” Lucien breathed, as though in prayer.

“For what,” Tamlin whispered, as though they were in a church.

“For forgiving me. For keeping secrets from you. I know I shouldn’t have…”

Tamlin sighed, and reluctantly pulled away, but not far enough away to drop Lucien’s hand. “It’s not like I haven’t been keeping secrets, too,” he admitted, albeit reluctantly.

Lucien’s lips pursed into a tight smile. “Well, you trusted me with your biggest one, and I went and told my brothers and my mom, so…”

“You told your mom?”

Lucien winced. “Yeah. Alex and I went to see her after… after what happened this morning. For what it’s worth,” he added quickly, “she’s on your side in all this. She thinks Amarantha should rot in hell, if not prison, and she said I shouldn’t have done anything behind your back, even if I meant well.”

Tamlin sighed. That was some comfort, at least. “How is she?”

“My mom? She’s good. Great, actually. Here—” Lucien dropped his hand to rush for the bags he’d dropped by the door. “—She made cookies. I hope you like gingerbread. Oh! And I got you another Christmas present. Two of them, actually. Merry Hanukkah, Tam.”

Tamlin took a half-step back as Lucien pressed three bags into his arms.

“This is all for me?” he said numbly.

“Of course!”

“But… I yelled at you…”

Lucien waved dismissively. “I bought these before that. Then afterwards, I wasn’t sure when I would be able to give them to you, so they’re not wrapped or anything—”

“Lu…”

“—I hope you don’t mind. I still have—let’s see—five gifts left to give you. Four, if you count the cookies—”

“Lucien.”

Lucien stopped, startled. “What?”

Tamlin gave him a wincing smile. “You don’t have to do this.”

Lucien’s shoulders slumped a bit. “But I want to. You’re so special to me… I just want to show you how I feel…”

Tamlin’s face flushed in shame. “I just… I don’t deserve it.”

“Sure you do—”

“No. I don’t.”

Lucien looked truly confused, and somewhat hurt, too. “Why not?”

Tamlin took a deep breath, then gently set his gifts on the chair behind him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done,” he said slowly, then wrung his hands. “I told you I had secrets, but what happened seven years ago is only part of it.”

Lucien’s eyes widened. “There’s more?”

Tamlin raised a shoulder and let it fall. “I think I’m the reason your last boyfriend broke up with you.”

Lucien looked at him askance. “Huh?”

“Well, you know I work for a private eye, right?”

“Yeah… And?”

Tamlin took a deep breath. “So about three years ago, your dad hired Jurian to take pictures of some woman who was dating one of his sons.” He made air quotes with his fingers. “‘Jesminda.’ I didn’t know she was a drag queen. He? I don’t know. I just know that I didn’t want to be involved, because I knew you, or at least I used to, and I just couldn’t face you. Even if you never saw me.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed as he crossed his arms, but he remained silent.

Tamlin had to finish his story, and quickly. “Anyway, I made Jurian do it alone, which he was pretty pissed about, but it was made worse by the fact that your dad never paid up, because the woman wasn’t actually a woman. I thought it must have been a case of mistaken identity or something, which pissed Jurian off even more because he’s actually good at what he does… but by then it was too late. I didn’t realize Jessie and Jesminda were the same person until you told me on Saturday.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “So our breakup is your fault… how?”

Tamlin blinked in surprise. “Well… I thought that—”

“That if you had taken Jessie’s pictures instead, my dad wouldn’t have realized his secret identity?” Lucien snorted. “Yeah, my dad was pissed about me dating a drag queen, but he didn’t cut me off because I’m gay. He cut me off because of how much I was spending on my boyfriend.”

“Oh.”

Lucien shrugged. “That doesn’t mean he approves of me being gay. It’d be a pretty bad look for the CEO of a major corporation to publicly come out against his gay son, when the company is all about family, so this was his secret way of punishing me.”

Tamlin winced. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be.” Lucien shrugged again and looked away. “Besides, Jessie could have stuck around if he wanted to, but he didn’t. And that’s not your fault, either.”

Tamlin sighed. At least that was one less thing to worry about, even if it was unfortunate.

“Is that all?”

“Is what all?”

Lucien smiled a sad half-smile. “The last of your terrible secrets? You haven’t scared me away yet, you know.”

Tamlin blew out his cheeks. “Well, there is one more,” he said hesitantly.

Lucien huffed a laugh and shook his head at the ceiling. “All right, big guy,” he said wryly. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“I’m serious.”

Lucien’s amused smile faded. “Okay.”

Tamlin took a deep breath. “It’s about Vassa.”

Lucien straightened. “What about Vassa?”

Tamlin’s heart skipped a beat. This might be the moment where he lost Lucien forever. “That day in the bookstore… I was doing surveillance.”

“Okay…”

“I didn’t know you were Vassa’s friend,” Tamlin said quickly. “I was just supposed to verify that a woman matching Vassa’s description was here in Prythian. We were hired to take pictures and send them back to some guy in Scythia. I don’t even know what he wanted with them, and it wasn’t my job to find out. But the second I saw you, I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

“Because I was Vassa’s friend,” Lucien repeated flatly.

“Yeah,” Tamlin said, and his hopes for forgiveness wilted.

Lucien breathed out a heavy sigh, then turned and ran a hand over his hair. “This is not good.”

“I know.”

“Does Vassa know?”

Tamlin lifted his palms, then let them fall. “Jurian dropped me off before driving out to Vassa’s hotel. He was going to tell her tonight.”

“That he’s been spying on her?”

“No,” Tamlin said firmly. “He went to tell her that he won’t be spying on her. He turned down the job. This Koschei guy was willing to pay through the nose for those photos, and Jurian refused.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. We really could have used the money, too.”

Lucien looked skeptical. “All for a few lousy photos?”

“Well, not just any photos,” Tamlin said, somewhat defensively. “Photos of Vassa.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

Tamlin shrugged. “I don’t know. Just photos of her standing on the street. Proof that she was in Prythian, I guess.”

“So, not like… nude…?”

Tamlin made a face. “No. Of course not. We don’t do stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Lucien scratched at his scar, looking pink, then he dropped his hand with a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because it sounds terrible,” Tamlin declared. “The only reason I was in the bookstore that day was to do a job. And I couldn’t exactly tell you why I was there when the target was standing right next to you.”

“The target being Vassa… Not me.”

Tamlin shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah.”

Lucien blew out his cheeks and tiredly ran a hand over his hair. “I hate to say it, but I’m actually kind of disappointed,” he said with a sad chuckle.

Tamlin’s shoulders slumped. “I was afraid you would be.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I am disappointed that you felt like you had to keep all of this a secret, but… I’m more disappointed that you weren’t there for me.”

Tamlin smiled sadly. “I kind of was, though.”

“Oh?”

Tamlin shrugged. “I hung around a lot longer than I was supposed to. It was so nice hearing your voice… Watching you choose books with Vassa… I kind of thought she was your girlfriend, at first.”

Lucien snorted, and tried to hide his smile behind his hand. “Sorry. But you’re not a very good detective, are you?”

Tamlin’s face turned warm. “I never said I was. Jurian’s the detective, not me.”

Lucien’s amused smile faded. “So, you really stuck around… for me?”

Tamlin nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I would have had the courage to say anything before you left, but… I wanted to. I was surprised at how badly I wanted to.”

“What did you want to say?”

Tamlin gestured back and forth. “‘Hey.’ ‘How’s it going?’ ‘Good to see you.’ ‘How have you been?’ ‘It’s been a long time’…” He took a deep breath and dropped his hands. “‘I missed you.’”

Lucien’s eyes glistened. “God knows how much I missed you.”

Tamlin managed a smile, though it was a teary one. “I wish I could have told you… under different circumstances.”

Lucien nodded sadly. “Me, too,” he murmured, then took a deep breath. “So, really? You’re not going to turn in Vassa’s photos?”

“We never took any.”

“Good. That’s good.” Lucien nodded distractedly. “Now, what did you say that guy’s name was? Koschei?”

“Yeah, Koschei. Why? Do you know him?”

“No. Vassa just told me she was on the run from some pretty bad guys, and she needed a quiet place to stay and lay low for a while.”

Tamlin blanched. “She’s on the run? Really?”

Lucien nodded grimly. “She didn’t want to tell me, but I did ask. You know how nosy I am.”

Tamlin winced. “You were just being a good friend.”

“A good friend wouldn’t have asked in the first place,” Lucien countered, then he sighed. “Anyway, I don’t know all the details, but she’s safe now. She’s staying in a hotel under my name until she can find more permanent arrangements. It’s the least I could do, since we knew each other from before.”

“When she drank you under the table back in college,” Tamlin remembered.

Lucien rolled his eyes skyward before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I am going to kill Alex for telling you that,” he muttered.

Tamlin bit back a chuckle, then his smile faded. “I didn’t know you and Vassa were so close,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the job, but… I couldn’t. Besides, she was just a name on a piece of paper to me, back then. She’s not now, obviously, but for all I knew, this guy Koschei just wanted to find her so that he could get his stuff back. You know, like a bad breakup. Who gets to keep the hoodie, and all that.”

Lucien cocked his head. “A hoodie? Really?”

Tamlin spread his hands wide. “You would not believe some of the things people try to hire us for. It gets weird.”

Lucien breathed a laugh, then sighed and shook his head. “I guess I can’t blame you for trying to do your job,” he said quietly.

“It was just a job,” Tamlin agreed. “Until it wasn’t.”

Lucien nodded, looking thoughtful. “I guess it all worked out in the end, anyway,” he mused. “Out of all the private eyes in the city, Koschei picked the ones who actually have a conscience.”

“Hey, we’re not all sleazy,” Tamlin joked, then grew serious. “Jurian really does care for her, you know. In case you were wondering.”

“I didn’t wonder,” Lucien said gently. “But you know, if nothing else, I’m glad she has someone else to talk to. Scythian isn’t the most common language around here.”

“That’s why Koschei hired us,” Tamlin agreed. “Well, he hired Jurian, I mean. I’m just the assistant.”

Lucien smirked. “His cute assistant.”

Tamlin blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Koschei doesn’t know what I look like.”

“That’s too bad,” Lucien teased. “You might get a lot more business if people knew what a good-looking guy you are… Then again, maybe it’s better that they don’t.”

Tamlin blushed deeper, though he smiled. “Yeah, it kinda defeats the purpose of being a private eye, otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Lucien murmured.

They stood in silence for a moment, listening to the crackle of the flames, but it was not an uncomfortable silence.

“You know,” Tamlin mused. “If it hadn’t been for this job, I never would have gone into that bookstore that day. Who knows when we might have seen each other again?”

“I mean, you had the chance three years ago, when I was with Jessie,” Lucien began, then stopped himself. “But you weren’t ready to see me, yet… I guess.”

“And you were dating someone else,” Tamlin reminded him.

Lucien nodded and stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “Yeah, I was,” he murmured.

The silence was not as comfortable this time.

After a long pause, Tamlin offered shyly, “If it had to happen, I’m kind of glad it happened this way. Even if Koschei was responsible for making it happen.”

Lucien nodded slowly. “How about we give Vassa the credit for this one,” he said thoughtfully. “When we tell people the story of how we met, and met again, let’s just say it’s because of Vassa.”

Tamlin’s head jerked back in surprise. “You want to tell people the story of how we met?”

Lucien smiled. “Of course. Isn’t that what boyfriends do?”

Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, Tamlin threw his arms around Lucien and held him tight.

“Whoa. Hey,” Lucien said with a surprised chuckle. “You okay, there, Tam?”

Tamlin nodded and buried his face in his boyfriend’s shoulder as Lucien’s arms slid around him. “I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me for this,” he mumbled. “That’s why I didn’t want to tell you.”

Lucien gave him a firm squeeze, then pulled away to look into his eyes. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said kindly. “You were just doing your job. And, hey, at least no one got hurt.”

“Yeah, I’m really glad about that,” Tamlin said, relaxing at last. “Jurian even found someone else who wants to look into this whole Koschei business. But don’t tell anyone,” he added, wincing.

Lucien merely chuckled, and his eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry. I won’t,” he promised, then stepped back and gently poked him. “But speaking of secrets, do you have anything else you want to get off your chest? Because now would be the time.”

Tamlin huffed a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that’s everything.”

“Are you sure?” Lucien teased. “You didn’t forget that you’re secretly a werewolf or something, did you?”

Tamlin blushed. “I guess you’ll have to wait until the full moon to find out,” he said shyly.

Lucien’s eyebrows rose at his playfulness. “That’s this weekend!” he remarked. “How do you expect me to sleep until then?”

Tamlin ducked his head to try to hide his grin, but failed. “If you have silver, I think you’ll be safe.”

“Mm, I much prefer gold,” Lucien said with a wink. “But they say that music will tame the savage beast, so—” He reached behind Tamlin for the shopping bags. “—how about a song, maestro?”

Bemusedly, Tamlin accepted the bags and reached inside. “New strings,” he murmured in awe. “And rosin.” He unscrewed the cap and breathed in the sweetly familiar scent. “Oh, it smells like a Christmas tree,” he sighed.

“It does?” Lucien dipped his nose toward the small container, then made a face as he jerked away. “If you say so.”

Tamlin chuckled. “I mean, I wouldn’t wear it as cologne or anything…”

“Thank god,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his nose.

Tamlin grinned. “But I like it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucien said, smiling back. “Just let me know if you need anything else for your violin, okay? If I’m going to survive until this weekend, I need to keep you happy.”

“I am happy,” Tamlin said warmly. He set his gifts aside and dusted off his hands and looked at the tree. Their tree. “I can’t remember a better Christmas,” he murmured. “Not since my mom died.”

“Well, Christmas isn’t here yet, and we’ve still got Hanukkah,” Lucien said, trying to keep his voice light, but Tamlin could tell he was truly touched. “I’m glad I get to spend it with you.”

“Me, too.”

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, until Lucien loosened the top button of his coat. “So…”

“So,” Tamlin echoed.

As Lucien worked his way down the buttons, he asked, “What do you want to do now?”

Tamlin shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I wasn’t sure what was going to happen tonight. I knew I could always get a cab if things didn’t work out, but…”

“But they did,” Lucien pointed out.

“Yeah, they did,” Tamlin said with a relieved smile.

“So, it’s just going to be us tonight?” Lucien said, finally shrugging off his coat.

Tamlin found himself blushing again. “Yeah. I mean, unless you think another one of your brothers is going to drop by,” he said shyly.

“Oh, god, I hope not,” Lucien moaned, walking to the closet. “I love them, but I have plans tonight, thank you very much,” he declared, hanging up his coat.

Tamlin blinked. “Oh, you do?”

“Yep.” Lucien closed the closet door with a flourish, then leaned against it. “And they all start with You.”

“‘U’ as in underwear, or…?”

Lucien laughed as Tamlin realized his mistake, and stepped forward. “God, I love you.”

Tamlin’s breath caught and Lucien paused as they both realized what he had just admitted, but Lucien laughed it off.

“You know,” Lucien added quickly, scratching at his scar. “The Scythian way.”

Tamlin nodded. He was blushing so hard, he had broken into a sweat. Or maybe it was because he was standing too close to the fireplace. Not that he was willing to move away. Not now. “Come here,” he told Lucien softly, nodding him over.

Looking almost shy, his boyfriend crossed the room to join him.

“I want to tell you something,” Tamlin said, feeling shy himself.

“More secrets?” Lucien said teasingly, but he was blushing. He was actually blushing.

Tamlin nodded. “Just one more.”

“Okay,” Lucien said softly. He seemed to be quivering.

Tamlin took a deep breath, then he smiled. “I love you, too.”

Lucien’s lips parted in surprise.

When he didn’t speak, Tamlin added, “You know, the Prythian way,” only half-teasing.

Lucien smiled slowly, but it was a pleased smile. “Is that different from the Scythian way?” he teased back.

Tamlin tried, but he couldn’t contain his grin. “Very.”

“How so?”

Tamlin wet his lips. “Well, for one thing…” he said, then slipped his hand around Lucien’s neck and kissed him. Lucien’s hands slid around Tamlin’s waist and pulled him closer, leaving Tamlin’s hands free to slide through Lucien’s hair as he kissed him, and then kissed him again.

Lucien’s breath was hot against his mouth when they parted. “I think I like the Prythian way,” he murmured, breathing hard. “It leaves no room for interpretation.”

“Yeah,” Tamlin agreed, breathing hard himself. “I think so, too.”

Lucien’s hands clung to Tamlin’s sweater as he sighed, then he pressed his forehead against Tamlin’s. “I want to say it back, but I don’t want to sound like I’m just saying it back,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” Tamlin tried to say, but Lucien pulled away to shake his head.

“No. I mean it,” he said. His eyes shone bright in the firelight. “I’ve loved you for a long time. I think I always have. And even if you don’t want me to, I think I always will.”

Tamlin cradled Lucien’s face between his hands, and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. “Now I’m the one who doesn’t want to sound like I’m just saying it back,” he said with a shy laugh, trying to keep his emotions under control.

Lucien wrapped his hands around Tamlin’s wrists and simply smiled, but he looked like he was trying to hold back tears, too.

Tamlin swallowed. “So, how do you say ‘Me, too’ in Scythian?”

Lucien laughed tearily, then grabbed Tamlin’s face and kissed him. Between kisses, Lucien taught him the proper phrase, then kissed him again when he got it right.

“Not bad,” Lucien teased when they parted.

Tamlin blushed. “What can I say? I had a pretty good teacher.”

Lucien grinned, then wrapped his arms around him and kissed him again.

You’re amazing.

I love you, and I always will.

Me, too.

* * *

Lucien was too contented to move. Not that he wanted to.

His head was resting against Tamlin’s bare chest, and rising and falling with each slow, steady breath. Tamlin’s fingers were lazily curling the ends of his hair, and he could hear the gentle thumping of his boyfriend’s heartbeat right below his ear.

There was another movie about dinosaurs eating people playing on TV, but the volume was on low. Since they’d already missed the first half, he wasn’t paying close attention.

Then, his stomach rumbled again, and Tamlin must have heard it this time, because he chuckled.

“Was that you, or the TV?” he murmured, still stroking Lucien’s hair.

Lucien reluctantly lifted his head to look into his boyfriend’s eyes. “That was me,” he said in a lazy drawl, then smirked. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Tamlin mused, then moved his fingers to brush a stray hair from Lucien’s forehead. His thumbnail gently traced the scar above Lucien’s eyebrow.

Lucien rested his chin against Tamlin’s chest. “What?”

Tamlin slowly shook his head, looking thoughtful. “Just… thinking about luck, I guess.”

“Yeah. Me, too,” Lucien murmured, then pressed a firm kiss against Tamlin’s sternum. “Sit tight. I’ll be back with some sustenance shortly.”

Tamlin sighed as he pulled away, then tucked his arm beneath his head as he watched Lucien reach for his pajama bottoms. “Hey, aren’t those mine?”

Lucien chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, fastening the top button with a playful smirk. “I could wear mine, but… yours were closer.”

Tamlin smiled as Lucien slipped his arms into the unbuttoned pajama shirt. “Green looks good on you,” he observed. “Maybe I should get you a matching set for Christmas.”

Lucien grinned, then braced his hands on the mattress to lean in. “Didn’t I ever tell you?” he said softly. “I don’t wear pajamas.”

Tamlin’s bemused smile turned slack in shock. “What?”

Lucien chuckled, then kissed the corner of his stunned mouth. “You were so shy when you first spent the night, I didn’t want to scare you away,” he explained playfully, then straightened to button the center button. He flicked up his eyebrows. “But I always sleep naked.”

He left Tamlin lying speechless on the bed while he laughed his way into the living room.

By the time his bare feet hit the cold kitchen tile, though, his thoughts had already turned to food. He opened the refrigerator door and squinted against the cool white light, but it illuminated little in the way of leftovers. There was still some of Tamlin’s homemade chicken soup left, but that wasn’t the sort of food to take to bed. There were some ingredients, like eggs, blueberries, milk… Hmm. Alex hadn’t eaten all of the pancakes, so at least that was an option… albeit a sticky one. Not entirely out of the question, though…

“Find anything good?” Tamlin called out as he walked into the living room.

“Mm, maybe,” Lucien called back, frowning.

Distantly, something crinkled, then Tamlin’s voice came closer. “How about these?”

Lucien’s eyes took a moment to adjust as Tamlin stepped into the dim kitchen. Something crinkled again, something cellophane, and Lucien straightened with a smile.

“Oh, yeah! My mom’s gingerbread cookies,” he remembered happily, and began to close the refrigerator door. “Those are perfect—ly hot. What are you wearing?”

The cool light revealed Tamlin’s shy smirk as he gestured to himself. “I thought it was only fair.”

“Fair?” Lucien echoed, looking him over. He was wearing Lucien’s gray sweatpants, and a snug white tank top that clung to his defined pecs and showed off his muscular arms. “I don’t think it’s fair that you look better in my clothes than I do,” he complained.

Tamlin chuckled and lightly tossed the bag of cookies up in the air. “You want me to take them off?”

“Not yet,” Lucien said, drinking in the sight of him.

Tamlin stepped closer, still smiling. “You’re letting all the cold air out, you know,” he murmured.

“I know,” Lucien said in a low voice. “But I’ll pay the bill if it means keeping my wits about you. I’m starving.”

Tamlin chuckled. “Here,” he said, handing him the bag. “Have a cookie. Let me take a look.”

Lucien accepted it without a word, and mindlessly removed the colorful ribbon as Tamlin bent down to look inside the refrigerator.

“Hmm. You really don’t eat in much, do you?”

“I don’t cook much,” Lucien reminded him, taking a bite of spiced gingerbread as he tilted his head and admired the way the tank top clung to his boyfriend’s muscular form.

“All you really need is a good loaf of bread and some great condiments,” Tamlin said, straightening. “Butter. Jam. Cheese. Pickles…”

Lucien grimaced as he swallowed. “Not in the same sandwich, I hope.”

Tamlin chuckled again, and tucked his loose hair behind his ear. “No. But sometimes it’s nice to have something with your coffee in the morning.”

“Mmm. Pickles and coffee. My favorite.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes. “You’re such an ass,” he snorted, then closed the refrigerator door, plunging them into darkness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I know I am,” Lucien said as Tamlin reopened the refrigerator.

“I meant the lights.”

“Oh, so, I’m not an ass?”

“Oh, no. You still are,” Tamlin said, smirking.

“You’re so romantic.”

Tamlin snorted again. “If I were really romantic, I’d light some candles, but I guess the overhead light will have to do.” He moved away from the open refrigerator door. “There’s a switch around here somewhere…”

“Don���t. I’ll go blind,” Lucien begged, then pressed the cookie bag against Tamlin’s chest as he stumbled over to the stove. Click. Soft, warm light illuminated the marble countertops without flooding the entire room. “There,” he said, smiling in relief. “That will do until I can rustle up some proper candles,” he joked.

Tamlin closed the refrigerator door without commenting. His head was bent over the open bag to inhale the fragrant scent of fresh gingerbread cookies. “I can’t remember the last time I had some of these,” he murmured.

Lucien nibbled on his own cookie as he walked over to join him. “You can have the rest of them, if you want,” he offered. “I know my mom would be happy to make some more for you. It’s kind of her thing.”

Tamlin smiled wistfully, then shook his head and held out the bag. “I’d rather share. I don’t want you to starve, after all.” His eyes twinkled.

Lucien smirked. “Now I remember why I came in here,” he teased, and took another cookie. “Sustenance.”

He was pleased to see a warm blush steal across Tamlin’s cheeks, even in the dim light.

As Tamlin took a cookie for himself, he murmured, “Is it always going to be like this?”

“What?”

Tamlin took a small bite before answering. “You know,” he said shyly. “The sex. The snacks. The jokes afterwards.”

“I hope so,” Lucien said honestly, and wiped the crumbs from his mouth. “Because there’s no one else I’d rather have snacks with in the middle of the night… Even if you do look better in my pajamas than I do.”

Tamlin chuckled. “You don’t wear pajamas, remember?” he teased.

Lucien’s eyebrows rose. “You’re right. I don’t.” He unbuttoned the single button, then shrugged off the satin shirt as Tamlin watched him with widening eyes. He shivered but tried to hide it as he set the shirt on the nearby counter, then placed his hands on his hips. “All right,” he declared, tossing his head to shake the loose hair from his eyes. “Your turn.”

Tamlin’s gaze had been slowly traveling downwards, then he snapped to attention. “Me?”

Lucien put on a brave smirk. “It’s only fair.”

Tamlin looked at him askance, but at least he smiled. “I didn’t ask you to take off your shirt.”

“It’s your shirt,” Lucien countered. “Besides,” he added, gesturing to the room. “Are you really going to leave me standing around half-naked in a cold, dark kitchen all by myself?”

Tamlin’s bemused smile grew wider. “You’re serious.”

“About sex? Absolutely.”

Tamlin pointed at the floor. “Right here?”

“Right now. If you want to,” Lucien added quickly.

Tamlin bit his lip as he considered this. “Okay.”

Lucien’s insides suddenly fluttered as he watched Tamlin set aside the bag to reach for the hem of his tank top. In one smooth, easy motion, he peeled it up and over his head. He shook his long blond hair free, then let out a quivering breath as he set the garment aside.

“It’s, uh, kind of cold in here,” he said softly. Shyly.

“Yeah,” Lucien breathed. Tamlin’s nipples were already hard and erect, as were his own. As were other things.

They were each clad in a single bottom layer, which Lucien was acutely aware of as Tamlin came closer. “It’s your turn,” he murmured.

“I guess it is,” Lucien whispered, sliding one arm around Tamlin’s waist as he backed them up against the counter. The cold marble bit into the bare flesh of his hip, and he flinched away. “Um…”

“Oh. Maybe if we, uh…”

“Yeah. There’s a towel in that drawer if you want to… um…”

“Did you want to turn around, or kneel down, or…?”

They both glanced at the pathetically small rug at their feet, then burst out laughing. As they clung to each other for support, Lucien was glad to feel how blissfully warm Tamlin’s chest was against his own.

He ran his hands down the muscles of Tamlin’s back and sighed. “Maybe sex on the kitchen floor in the middle of December wasn’t such a hot idea,” he mused, then kissed Tamlin’s shoulder.

“Maybe not,” Tamlin murmured. “But I hear sex by the fireplace can be pretty hot.” His lips grazed Lucien’s ear.

“Mmm… I hear bed sex is pretty hot, too,” Lucien murmured, trailing slow, lazy kisses up Tamlin’s neck.

Tamlin turned his head to look into his eyes, then his gaze drifted down to Lucien’s mouth. “As long as it’s with you, anywhere will do,” he said, then kissed him. Flecks of spice still clung to his lips.

When they parted, Lucien let out a rough exhale. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

They never did make it to the fireplace. Or the bed, for that matter. With their pants pooled around their ankles on the cold tile floor, it made it hard to walk very far. Not that they needed to.

“I take it back,” Lucien panted, bracing his sweat-slicked arms against the cool marble countertop. “That was pretty fucking hot.”

“Yeah.” Tamlin’s breathing in his ear was as ragged as his own.

Lucien let out a weak chuckle when he didn’t continue. “You’re so poetic.”

“I’ll write you a limerick next time,” Tamlin said, then pressed his lips against Lucien’s shoulder. “That was intense.”

“You’re telling me,” Lucien agreed breathlessly, then turned to face him. “That was… wow.”

Tamlin braced his hands on either side of him. “Now who’s poetic?” he teased, still breathing hard.

“Roses are red, violets are blue,” Lucien quipped, then slipped his hands around his neck and kissed him.

“Mm. That’s not a limerick, but it will do,” Tamlin finished, smiling.

Lucien gave him a bemused smile. “Hey, that was pretty good.”

“Give me a minute to think of something that rhymes with ‘good’, and I’ll keep going,” Tamlin said, sighing as he stepped out of his fallen clothes, then pushed himself away to go to the sink. After washing his hands, he brought a towel to Lucien. “Here. For your manhood,” he said, half-joking, which made Lucien laugh.

“God, you’re good to me,” Lucien said as Tamlin began cleaning him up.

“Not as good as you are to me,” Tamlin said softly. His words were as gentle as his touch.

Lucien’s chest suddenly tightened with emotion. “Here. Hand me another towel,” he rasped. “Let me do you.”

“Oh, um… That was the last one,” Tamlin said regretfully. “Maybe this would be easier in the shower,” he suggested.

“Yeah, maybe,” Lucien said, freeing his ankles from the confines of Tamlin’s pants, but he stayed where he was. “I’ve been meaning to buy more towels anyway, but I never had a good reason.”

Tamlin said nothing, but continued gently wiping the single warm towel against Lucien’s bare skin.

Lucien took a deep, though trembling breath. “I need to buy a new rug, too. Maybe one of those thick foam ones that are good for your feet. Would you like that?”

Tamlin nodded slowly. “That would be nice.”

“And matching aprons,” Lucien continued. “And good bread, and… and condiments…”

Tamlin chuckled and moved away to rinse the cloth in the sink. “You make it sound almost kinky.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Lucien said ruefully, watching Tamlin wring out the cloth. “I just want the kitchen to feel like it’s yours as much as it does mine.”

Tamlin paused and smiled bemusedly. “What do you mean?”

Lucien’s tongue felt strangely thick, but he somehow managed to say, “I want you to move in with me.”

Tamlin stared at him. “What?”

“You and me… I want us to live together.”

Tamlin was so stunned, he dropped the cloth in the sink. “You mean, like… all the time?”

“Yeah,” Lucien said, suddenly feeling shy, and not just because he was naked. “I mean, if you want to.”

Tamlin looked truly taken aback as his hand drifted to his neck, as if he, too, were suddenly and acutely aware of being naked in the middle of the kitchen. At least they were on the same footing, in that regard.

“Well? Do you want to?” Lucien asked hesitantly.

Tamlin laughed in amazement and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just can’t believe that… Wow. You really want me to move in? Just like that?”

Lucien shrugged. “I mean, it will probably take a few days to get you settled, but… yeah.”

“Even though we just had sex?”

“Especially because we just had sex,” Lucien said, half-teasing. “Why? Do you think I’ll change my mind?”

Tamlin bit his lip. It was clear that was exactly what he thought. “It’s just… what if we fight again?”

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch,” Lucien quipped.

Tamlin laughed, then shyly dropped his gaze to massage his palms. When he didn’t speak, Lucien moved closer.

“Hey,” he said gently. “If it’s too soon, you can tell me. I know most people wait six months or more until they move in together… But you and me, we’re not like most people. We first moved in together before we knew each other’s first names, remember?”

That made Tamlin chuckle, which made Lucien smile.

“If you want to wait, I’m okay with that,” he said softly. “When you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Tamlin met his gaze. “Okay.”

Lucien’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay?”

Tamlin nodded. “Yeah. Okay. Yes. Or whatever it is you say to a proposal like that. To move in together, I mean,” he said, blushing.

Lucien smiled a slow, hopeful smile. “You mean it?”

“I do.”

Lucien grinned, then seized Tamlin’s face and kissed him. “I love you,” he said between kisses.

“I love you,” Tamlin echoed in Scythian.

As their mouths rejoined, their arms slid around each other and closed the gap between them. Tamlin’s skin was cool to the touch from standing in the open kitchen for so long, something Lucien intended to remedy, and soon.

“Something tells me we’re not going to get any sleep tonight,” Lucien said as they slowly made their way into the living room.

“Something tells me you’re right,” Tamlin murmured. He paused when their feet touched the carpet. “I think I feel something coming on. I better call off work tomorrow.”

“Good idea. Then we can finally play Doctor.”

Tamlin chuckled. “I guess it’s a good thing I made chicken soup.”

Lucien grinned. “It’s a very good thing. You know, I’m starting to feel a little feverish myself.”

“Oh, no. What’s the remedy for that?”

Lucien pulled him close. “A hot shower and lots of bed rest.”

“Mm… I don’t know how much rest we’ll get, but that sounds pretty good to me.”

Lucien smiled as he leaned in. “Me, too.”

When they parted, Tamlin whispered, “Hey, Doc?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think I’ll be feeling better by this weekend? I’ve actually got plans, so…”

Lucien blinked. “Oh… You do?”

There was a smile in Tamlin’s voice when he replied, “Yeah. I’m moving in with my boyfriend.”

Lucien kissed him again. He couldn’t help it. “I’ll make sure you’re all better,” he murmured. “But I’ll get you some silver, too, just to be safe.”

“Silver? Why?”

“Just in case you turn into a werewolf.”

Tamlin pulled away and sighed and shook his head. “Something tells me you’d be into that.”

“Something tells me you’re absolutely right,” Lucien declared, then led his boyfriend into the bedroom.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Nature Fun

ship: Elucien type: smutty drabble warning(s): explicit description, minors DNI word count: ~600 words summary: I saw the picture on Pinterest and thought it screams Elucien, so here we go; some nature smut

-all rights reserved-

His hands slide up Elain’s arms as he moves inside of her, his low groans the most erotic sounds the middle Archeron sister has ever heard.

She relishes in them, in the feel of his hot skin against hers, the bright sun of the Day Court warming their bodies, the soft press of the grass underneath her. Lucien’s cock is deep inside of, touching the spot that makes her arch and cry out in pleasure.

"Gods!" Elain moans, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. The blissful stretch of Lucien’s thick lenght is nearly overwhelming, nearly too much, but so good, so absolutely damn perfect.

Lucien holds her by her wrists, an amused grin spreading over his whole face at the position they are in. He loves how his lovely mate falls apart beneath him, how her back arches, making her press further into him, hips pressing against his pelvis.

"Harder," Elain breathes through gritted teeth and Lucien’s gives her exactly this, pounding her harder into the soft mossy grass beneath her, their bodies only shielded by large trees and the fields of sunflowers around them.

Lucien keeps a steady hold on her wrists, his dick sliding in and out of her in a relentless and merciless pace, damp skin slapping against damp skin.

She moans and mewls, hands above her head, her body shaking with pleasure and the tidal waves of satisfaction that are nearing.

"My lady, are you close?" Lucien rasps. He leans in and nips at her lower lip before kissing her deeply.

Elain can only as much as moan, shifting her hips to urge him even deeper.

But Lucien wants to hear an answer, wants to hear her breathy voice, telling him she is about to come. She is deliriously lost in passion and love, Lucien imprinted in every fibre of her body, the only thing on her mind, and he knows finding the right words in this moment is not easy, but still he wants to hear her answer.

"Elain, use you words."

Lucien tuts at her mewling, the little pout on her lip, as she wreathes beneath him, groaning in frustration. "I-I am c-cl-close. Please, let me come."

"You know, you never have to beg with me, dove. I just want you to use your words." The Day Court heir grins.

"I know you are close, dove. I can feel how your tight cunt is squeezing my cock, milking me."

He knows that Elain is gone everytime he uses filthy wording on her, it is always her undoing — the always so modest and pure Elain loves dirty talk, especially when it is spoken by her mate.

"I am close!"

Elain explodes in bliss and passion, the fire in her mate’s veins sweeping into hers, filling every fibre of her body and she comes with a scream.

The growl that parts Lucien’s lips when he spills himself into her, rattles the trees around them and makes birds fly away.

"Cauldron and Mother, you are my end, dove."

An exhausted smile spreads over Elain’s face, her lids opening and closing quickly as she tries to hold Lucien’s gaze. Her legs still spasm, he moves into her woth sloppy thrusts, kissing her gently. "No, you are," she hums, beaming up at him.

Lucien‘s skin glows, kissed by the lowering sun behind him.

"I love you." Lucien slides out of her and pulls his pants back up before helping Elain get up, smoothing out her dress. "So damn much."

Leaning in, he kisses her forehead amd Elain wraps her arms around his broad chest.

"More than words can describe."

~~~~~~~~

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional @moonlightazriel @brekkershadowsinger @sunshinebingo @gracie-rosee @a-frog-with-a-laptop