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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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All The Monsters Come Out At Night

Summary: Elain Archeron has been warned not to go into the woods- they're filled with monsters. When the drums begin to call, and her sisters leave without her, Elain has no choice but to follow.

She has no idea what is waiting for her

[Note: From this prompt: Elain has been raised to fear demons/monsters that go bump in the night. According to the townspeople, demons only want to torture and feed. Elain is terrified, but when she sneaks out of her home in the middle of the night to find her sister she ends up finding more than she bargained for. Not only do these demons love to torture and feed, but they also seem to love to fuck too...]

TW: dubious consent, monsters, off-page murder, a monster with horns + a tail

NSFW, 8k words | Read on ao3

“Don’t go,” Elain whispered in the dark. Amid the sounds of her sisters rustling skirts and shuffling shoes lay a foreboding wind knocking on the thin window panes. “Not tonight.”

It was Feyre who huffed out a breath, impatient with Elain’s fear. She knew if they’d been a little younger, Feyre would have whispered coward under her breath. They were women now, alone in the dilapidated cottage their father had left behind when he died. They didn’t have to be, of course. Elain was going to accept Lord Nolan’s proposal in the morning. She’d marry Graysen and elevate them from this terrible, squalid life.

“Don’t you hear the drums?” Feyre asked quizzically, pulling Elain from her thoughts. Nesta, too, was staring toward the dirty window, her silvery eyes as bright as moonlight. Of course Elain heard them. She heard it every year, louder and stronger this night than all others. The monsters in the forest were out, beckoning the humans to come play.

Looking for a meal.

Feyre and Nesta had been in those woods a million times. Nothing bad ever happens to us, Feyre would croon, bringing in dinner with a blood stained smile. Maybe not during the day, but this was night, and they were banging literal drums.

“The drums are a warning,” Elain said, sitting up in bed. Nesta was fastening her blood red cloak around her throat, while Feyre tucked a knife into her belt. “The creatures—”

“There are no monsters,” Nesta snapped, brushing a wisp of braided hair from her forehead. “That’s a story meant to keep naughty children in bed and nothing more.

But it wasn’t, and Elain knew it wasn’t. People went into those woods and never came out—like their father. Elain felt insane, like she’d imagined him entirely. Feyre and Nesta didn’t mourn him, didn’t comment on him at all. He was just gone, his bloodied boots left at the edge of the treeline.

It’s just us now. That’s what Nesta had said.

He was no great help, and another mouth to feed, Feyre had added. No funeral, no headstone. Just Elain, with her flowers. She’d taken them to where they’d found the boots, laying them each morning in the blood soaked dirt. She ought to have had a pile of them by the end of the month, but each day they were gone, blown away by the wind.

Or stolen by something far worse.

“It’s a celebration in the next village over,” Feyre added earnestly, sitting on the edge of the large bed that dominated the room. “Come with us. Perhaps there is another handsome lord who is far more deserving of your affection. Please.”

“You’re wrong,” Elain said, wrapping her arms around her chest. Nesta threw her arms in the air as if to say, see? “Stay with me, instead. Graysen brought flour and sugar, I could—”

“No more scones,” Feyre said flatly. She stood, wiping her hands on her pants. She was irritated, too. “No more baking, Elain. If you don’t want to come, don’t lower yourself.”

Elain felt as if she’d been slapped. Was that what they thought? Feyre and Nesta had no prospects, despite being just as beautiful as she was. No interest from the men in the village, and no desire to even smile to make things easier. Was it lowering herself to get flour and sugar if she baked and made herself look nice and was nice?

Elain had learned long, long ago that her only currency in this world was letting men think she wanted them. Feyre and Nesta could sneer at her all they liked, but at the end of the month she’d be Lady Nolan and her sisters would never know a second of hunger again.

Neither said another word, leaving her in the bed they shared. Elain heard the front door unlatch and blow open in the wind. Feyre cursed softly, slamming it shut. In order to ensure nothing and no one came in, Elain would have to get out of bed and relatch it.

And her sisters would have to bang and pound when they returned if they didn’t want to sleep in the dirt. Assuming they came home at all. Some nights Feyre didn’t return until dawn, straw sticking from her hair and her clothes all rumpled. Whispers in the market claimed she was carrying on with Isaac Hale, though that seemed absurd. He was so…unwashed. So…so beneath Feyre.

Elain waited a minute, her heart synced to the drums in the distance. Go away, go away, go away.

They seemed to pick up, taunting her for her fear, for her unwillingness to go with her sisters. The wind hammered at the window, crooning come play with me, sweet Elain. Come to me—

“I won’t,” she whispered into the dark, kicking the blankets off her body. If her sisters wanted to be foolish, well, that was on them. She’d bring flowers to their nonexistent graves, too.

Elain was secure in that plan right until she reached the door. Her fingers curled on the deadbolt, intending to lock it.

Would she marry Graysen if her sisters vanished? Would she cosign herself to this life waiting her, one behind walls so high they seemed to blot out the sun, if it was just her? Did she even want to be alive, the last surviving Archeron?

Her heart raced. Dismal options, that was what she had. Venture into woods where monsters and demons resided, or remain behind, alone forever? Elain weighed each in her mind before uttering a soft, furious scream.

She would not be the last Archeron. And she wouldn’t walk down that aisle by herself, either. Elain was going to drag her sisters back by the scruff of their necks, was going to remind them that they could not afford even the hint of scandal. Not when Graysen’s father wasn’t totally sold on his son's marriage.

Her sister's philandering in a nearby village—or drinking, in Nesta’s case—was certain to reaffirm his belief they were not good enough. Elain raced back for the bedroom, discarding her sheer, thin nightdress for a sturdier gown of green. Like Nesta had done, Elain fastened a lilac cloak around her throat and considered a weapon before reminding herself she didn’t know how to use one.

Besides, if she was going to hold something, let it be a lantern. They rarely used it, given how hard it was to get oil—every month Elain swore prices went up. Budgeting for it was nearly impossible, and so they relied on candles and their own eyesight. The oil Elain poured was another gift from Graysen, who had poked his head in their cottage, wrinkled his nose with distaste, and had things sent on his behalf.

She doubted he ever intended for it to be used this way. Still, Elain struck a match, ignited the lantern, and stepped into the night. It was unseasonably warm, just on the cusp of summer and yet to Elain, it could have been the dead of summer for how hot it was. She reveled in it, tilting her head toward the full moon as if she could somehow absorb the sun's warmth even in the dark. Three straight months of rain and gloom had left her sadder than usual, daydreaming of oppressive heat and rays so far reaching they were likely to burn her even beneath the shade of a tree.

Elain took a deep breath.

“You’re not a coward,” she whispered, thinking of her earlier encounter with Feyre and Nesta. They hadn’t specifically said that—not this time. But she knew they were thinking it. Elain wasn’t, though. She was just practical. Going into demon infested woods was the opposite of courage.

It was a death wish. And yet was doing exactly that. Given her cottage was situated at the very edge of the village, there was no one to witness this moment of stupidity. No one to see her dart toward the looming treeline and the rustling leaves that seemed to both mock and beckon her.

Join me, join me, join me, they seemed to call.

“Yeah, yeah,” Elain grumbled, holding her lantern in front of her. She could see the place she left flowers—missing, like always. Before her was a dirt path, worn down from people cutting through to get to the seaport on the other side. Going around was far safer—you avoided the monsters. But going through was faster, and plenty of people chanced it.

Elain filled her lungs and stepped out of the bright moonlight into the shadowed trees. Every inch of her rebelled, her heart racing while her mind tried to convince her to turn back around. Feyre and Nesta couldn’t be that far ahead. She’d walk fast, catch up, and drag them back.

The lantern was a good idea. It kept Elain from accidentally veering off the path, which she nearly did several times. It was hard to distinguish what was the forest floor and what was just dirt given how often she crunched against strewn branches or tripped over scattered rocks. The lantern wasn’t terribly bright, merely a pinprick of light, but offered just enough light to keep her from getting hopelessly lost.

Elain counted each step so she’d know exactly how many she needed to get back home. That plan was going well—until she reached step six hundred and sixty six. A scream shattered through the silence, drowning out the still distant drums.

“Feyre?” Elain whispered, freezing in place. “Nesta?”

Nothing and no one responded. Only the wind, ruffling her hair playfully and those constant drums and their steady, heart-like beat. “Feyre?” she whispered again, looking over her shoulder.

“Lost?”

Fear flooded through Elain’s mouth, bright and metallic like blood. That masculine voice might have come from the trees. Rich and smooth, like melted gold dripping into sparkling water, he purred, “Maybe I can help you.”

Elain didn’t dare turn. “No, thank you.”

He made no noise somehow, and yet when he spoke again, he was just behind her. “What brings you out on Calanmai?”

Fingers tugged on the hood of her cloak, revealing her carefully curled hair from the day before. Hair she’d spent hours on for Graysen, who had only offered her a brief nod in the market before going about his day. Elain was tempted to tug at it, but the stranger was brushing it to one shoulder, skimming her neck as he did.

She shivered.

“What’s Calanmai?” she asked without thinking. Elain felt frantic, but her legs were rooted to the spot.

“Calanmai,” that strange man began, his warm breath curling against the back of her neck, “is the one night of the year magic is strong in this land. Even humans can feel it, and my kind…well…we revert to the beasts we once were.”

Elain nearly threw up on her worn shoes. We. There was no victory in learning she’d been right. There were monsters in these woods, and the drums were a lure. And now they had her sisters…they had her.

“Beasts?” she questioned, trying to think of something she could do besides stand before the thing behind her.

“There is no word in your language for what I am,” he said, curiosity lacing his words. “But once, long, long ago, humans called us Fae.”

She’d never heard that term before. Elain swallowed and hoped she could outrun him. A little less than seven hundred steps was all she needed to get out, and maybe one hundred more to the cottage. Would it keep him out?

“What do you call us now?” he asked her. He’d wrapped his hand around her neck, and though she didn’t dare look down, from her periphery, she could see long claws jutting from his fingers. He raked them gently over her exposed collar bone, though applied no pressure.

“Demon,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. He was holding her. If she ran, he might slice those talons against her neck and she’d die right where she stood. Elain twisted her neck gently, pulling from his grasp.

He chuckled as the wind picked up, bathing her in the scent of woodsmoke and leather. She knew better than to look, and still she peeked over her shoulder at him.

Elain gasped. He was almost a man. Shirtless and made of golden brown muscle painted blue for some unknown reason. Long, auburn hair spilled about his broad shoulders like living flame, too vivid to ever be human. And his face…Elain didn’t know what to make of that face. His cruel beauty felt like a punch to the gut. He put Graysen to shame, even with his mismatched russet and gold eyes and the trio of scars that marred one side of that lovely face. His high cheekbones, his carved jaw, and his full lips would have made even the vainest woman weep for want.

Had it not been for the curved, blood red horns curling from his forehead, of course. Or the claws that tipped his large, broad hands, or the golden scales that edged his brown skin that seemed to glint and shift in the sliver of moonlight.

And the tail…god, that red and gold tail trailed to the forest floor, thick and so otherworldly it made her heart race. Catching her staring, the monster swished it, a smile spreading over that perfect face. Elain caught the sharpened canines, saw his tongue just behind, long and forked like a lizard…she stumbled back a step.

“You don’t like me?” he taunted, not bothering to follow her. He was going to eat her, she thought frantically. He was going to devour her, was going to make a meal of her flesh and bones.

Of course she didn’t like him. Who could, when he was looking at her like he was ravenous? There was no use saying so, not when it might set him off.

“Please,” Elain whispered. He cocked his head, hair spilling across his face while he studied her.

“Don’t run from me,” he warned, throwing out one hand. The claws were gone, though the memory lingered.

Elain didn’t listen. She spun, tearing off before he could say another word. Behind her, a snarling growl ripped through the air, overpowering the drums in the distance. She’d be damned if she let him eat her while she stood there crying.

Coward, coward, coward. The words repeated through her head as Elain recounted her steps.

She made it all of fifteen before something heavy slammed into her from behind.

“I warned you,” the demon grunted, pressing her face roughly into the dirt. Elain opened her mouth, taking a loamy breath before she screamed.

Useless, she knew. Her sisters were likely in the same terrible predicament she was, too. Elain couldn’t get enough air in her lungs, not with his knee pressed against her spine and his hand gripping the back of her neck so roughly her vision had gone black around the edges.

“Make it fast,” Elain ground out, squeezing her eyes shut. At least she wouldn’t have to marry Graysen. What a terrible last thought, and yet she felt a sliver or relief.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he purred. “I’ll be taking my time with you.”

Elain twisted, trying to draw a breath but he didn’t yield. Her very last thought before the encroaching darkness robbed her of consciousness, was her hope that he lost control the minute he tasted her.

That he ended things before she ever woke.

Elain did wake, and for a moment she thought she might have imagined the whole thing. A man with talons and fangs and horns and a tail? That was something only an overactive imagination could conjure. Maybe Nesta was right and Elain had fallen prey to a children’s story. Nestled among warm blankets, Elain groaned, turning her head.

Why could she still hear drums? Louder, now, and faster too. Her blood thrummed beneath her skin, making her feel restless and hot. She tried to kick off the blankets but something held her by the ankle.

Elain opened her eyes and learned three things very quickly:

Someone had removed all of her clothes if the feel of the fur blanket against her overheated skin was any indication. Elain couldn’t squirm, though, because both her ankles and her wrists were bound to posts staked to a hard, cave floor. She was utterly spread and immobilized.

Which brought her to the third point. The horned man who’d sworn to eat her slowly was pacing in front of the cave door, still wearing those tight brown trousers, bulged obscenely in the front. His tail twitched with irritation, thumping against the ground softly with each step. Elain looked away, thinking it was inappropriate to look at him that way even as it dawned on her that he must have looked at her like that.

Who else would have removed her clothes.

“There,” he muttered as something metallic invaded her senses. “Let's see if this keeps that bitch out.”

“Who?” she couldn’t help but ask. His head whipped around, slipping into that same hungry smile from the woods. He was glowing, as if sunlight and not blood raced through his veins. This creature was so otherworldly it set her teeth on edge.

“No one you need to worry about,” he replied, though he glanced toward the entrance again, veiled in some soft magic that glowed like dawn. “It’s just you and me now.”

Elain turned her head to disguise the tear that escaped. “Do it quickly.”

“Quickly?” he asked incredulously. “Where would the fun in that be?”

He paced toward her on the pallet he’d put together on the floor. What was the point of this, when ripping out her throat amid the leaves and the rot surely would have sufficed? Kneeling beside her, he pushed the blanket from her neck.

Down, down, down, until he’d barred her from the hips up. One of his claws trailed down her skin, gently caressing her neck, her collarbone, before he traced lazy designs in the valley of her breasts.

“You could let me go,” she whispered, daring to look him in the eyes. He wasn’t looking at her, but down at her body, likely wondering how much of her he could eat all at once. Maybe he could be persuaded, though.

“Why would I do that?” he questioned, those eyes flickering to her face.

Elain swallowed. Be brave. “My sisters, I—”

“The two foolish humans you were looking for? Feyre and…” he had to think for a moment. “Nesta, was it?”

She couldn’t hide her tear, wiped away by his broad thumb.

“Yes,” she admitted as he tasted it.

“They’re fine,” he said impatiently, glancing back at her. “Alive,” he added, perhaps guessing her true question. “No harm done.”

Alive. It wasn’t all for nothing, then. They’d return home giggling at their night and their near miss with the demons. Would she be there to greet them? Elain forced herself to hold the monster's gaze.

“And me?”

He cocked his head. “You look very alive to me.”

Tricky words. Elain couldn’t think of how to make him agree not to hurt her, and instead decided to try and humanize them both. “My name is Elain,” she told him, unsure if he knew. If he even cared. “What’s yours?”

“Lucien,” he said quickly, blinking rapidly. He hadn’t expected that, then.

“Lucien,” she repeated, noting how his eyes fluttered shut for a mere moment. She didn’t know what to make of that, and continued to plow ahead.

“Lucien. Please,” she began, ignoring the soft groan that escaped him. Elain might have reached for his hand had she not been bound. “I’m supposed to be married—”

A vicious growl silenced her, bouncing off the high, stone walls around them. Even the torches on the walls shuttered for a moment, as if they too couldn’t face this creature's fury.

“There will be no marriage,” he snarled, yanking the blanket from the rest of her body. “Not to a human man, not now, not ever.”

He moved from his place at her side, settling between her spread open legs. Elain closed her eyes, bracing herself for what would come next. Those sheathed claws ripping into her skin.

His fangs…grazing…Elain exhaled sharply, eyes flying open at the foreign sensation against her thighs.

“What…” she trailed off at the sight before her. This creature…this…this demon… was laying between her legs, eyes watching as his mouth teased up her leg. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t respond. Maybe this was part of the torture, then. She knew there was an artery there, easily severed by those long, sharp teeth.

He didn’t slice into her, though. When his hands came to her legs, he merely held her open and looked.

And it hadn’t occurred to Elain until that very moment, with a demon studying her splayed body, that he might have wanted something else. Even with his bulging pants, and the way he’d touched her in the woods… Elain squirmed, but it was no use.

“In the village they say your kind eats humans.”

A slow, sensual smile spread over his face. “True enough, I suppose. I do intend to make a meal of you…just not in the way you imagined.”

Outrage flickered in her chest. “This whole time? Was this your plan the entire time?”

She could feel his breath fanning against her cunt, warming her just as much as it frightened her. No one had ever touched her like this—and Elain wasn’t certain she wanted a monstrous creature to be the first.

“Did you know that every day I walk to the edge of the forest, curious about the humans…and one day as I watched, the most beautiful female I’d ever seen came to me holding a bundle of flowers?”

“You’re the thief,” she whispered, her mind racing. “Those are for my father. He died, I…I—”

Lucien licked her. Right up the center of her body, shuddering at whatever he tasted. Elain was too stunned to admonish him for it, staring at those jutting, curved horns and glinting scales and—

“Don’t you dare do it again,” she warned him. Empty words, given he had her bound. Still, his smile enraged her a little.

“Oh? What happens if I do?”

“I’ll scream,” she threatened, thinking from the delight spreading over his face that he’d like that very much. He lowered his mouth again, that forked tongue sliding from between his teeth. “Lucien. Lucien! Don’t you dare—!”

His eyes never left her face, though the rest of him was focused wholly between her legs. While he gauged her reaction, Elain did her best to offer him none at all. This was wrong, it was so wrong to let this thing touch her like this. She didn’t want it…and she did. And if anyone had asked her, she would have sworn on the gods themselves she felt nothing but revulsion.

It was just, well…he was tracing lazy circles around the most sensitive part of her, clearly hoping to draw a reaction.

And it was working. A low heat had begun to build in her stomach, humming softly through her veins. He pulled back, his lips glistening not from his own saliva, but her arousal. Elain was relieved to find she could still feel horror.

“I can smell your desperation,” he told her, taking one of those long fingers to tease her opening. “Your human fiancé isn’t doing right by you.”

“He couldn’t…he wouldn’t…” she couldn’t get the words out. “It would be wrong to touch me before the wedding.”

“Oh? You’re both untouched?”

Elain gasped at the invasion, hating how her whole body tightened around his intruding finger. She hated even more how good it felt, how she could feel her pulsating heart racing between her legs.

“I…well…no…”

“Mmm,” Lucien murmured, eyes sparkling. He’d known, the bastard. He’d known the answer and still he taunted her, both with his fingers and his words.

“So you remain chaste and hope he doesn’t give you some nasty human disease on your wedding night? Is that it?”

“What about you?” she snapped, her words fading to a gasp when his thumb came up to rub her clit.

“I have no nasty human diseases, given I’m not human,” he joked. “And as for your chastity, well…I admit, it would make the evening easier if you had, but…I can make do.” “You’re disgusting,” she hissed.

“Et tu uxor mea,” he murmured, his words strange and almost gentle. He gave her no time to tease out the meaning of his strange language or what he meant—for all she knew, he was promising to kill her when this was all over.

Lucien’s tongue joined his finger, all the while his eyes remained on her face. Elain had to look away, as if that would keep him from seeing the damning proof of what was happening. She was tied, she couldn’t escape him. She would escape him if she could. She would free herself and run straight back home and forget the way that forked tongue was flicking at her clit or how his finger was pumping in and out of her, curling with each new pass until she felt mindless and breathless all at the same time.

“Please,” she begged, hating how that only seemed to excite him. His mouth and fingers sped up, pumping and licking and sucking until she wasn’t sure if she was trying to escape him or get closer. “Lucien, please don’t—”

If he’d stopped, she might have screamed. Lucien didn’t stop, and the spirling pleasure unmade Elain. She unspooled right there, screaming just as he’d hoped she would. There was rage mingled with her pleasure, and it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter if she didn’t want it, if she never would have asked or offered had he given her a choice.

Some sick, depraved part of her liked what he’d done. Elain had never felt anything like that in her life, bright and warm—alive.

In the distance, the drums continued their near frantic beat, culminating toward something she was certain did not bode well for her. Elain squirmed as Lucien continued to lick and touch, suddenly overwrought and sensitive.

“That’s enough,” she said, too breathless to be believable.

He only growled, eyes flashing with warning. The claws, once retracted, unsheathed as he shook his hair out of his face while his tail curled around her other leg, tightening in a way that made her half mindless with lust. Lucien did not stop, and all too soon, Elain was shaking and sobbing beneath a second orgasm.

“Lucien!” she pleaded to no avail. He only growled again, an animal playing with a favored toy—if her cunt could be considered that. He seemed to glow brighter, his hips thrusting and shifting beneath him to alleviate some unknown pressure. He was wild, spreading her open and licking indiscriminately. It was as if he was being driven mad by the taste of her, unable to stop himself even when he wanted to.

“Lucien,” she tried after a third—and then fourth—orgasm had convinced Elain she could die this way. It was pleasure and pain all at once, a strange sort of torture that was breaking her down. Making her compliant. She’d long stopped struggling. “Lucien, look at me.”

He did, holding his fingers still in her body as he raised his head.

“Come here,” she whispered, hoping when she smiled it was encouraging. “Come to me.”

She didn’t think it would work. Not when his eyes slid back to her cunt, head cocked and eyes narrowed. Elain early sobbed with relief when he withdrew himself and so, so slowly, began to crawl up her body.

Hovering over her, nearly nose to nose, she asked, “What’s happening to you?”

He groaned, arching his spine and rolling his shoulders. “It’s the magic,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. “It makes me more beastly, more driven by my instinct, I…”

He was going to lose himself. Elain’s heart thudded at the realization.

“You’re going to kill me—”

His answering roar of fury silenced her. “You are not going to die,” he snarled. “Not tonight—not ever.”

Elain didn’t bother reminding him that humans did, in fact, die. It didn’t seem productive at that moment given how he radiated fury, seemed to nearly writhe with anger. She nodded instead, tugging at her restraints.

“Untie me,” she asked.

Lucien shook his head. “I’m not that mindless—try again in an hour.”

And before she could ask what was going to be happening in an hour, Lucien cocked his head toward the door. Elain could hear a woman’s voice calling his name and her boots crunching against leaves and other branches.

He growled, lips curling over his teeth.

“Who is she?”

“Dead, if she doesn’t leave,” he replied, loud enough the intruding presence could hear. Maybe Elain’s savior, too. If she wanted Lucien so bad, she could have him.

“Help!” Elain screamed, drawing a breath. “Help me—!”

Lucien’s hand came crashing roughly over her mouth while he flung a leg over her chest, straddling her all while he silenced her. Shaking his head no, he didn’t let up, thighs squeezing her ribcage until they ached. The female voice faded, and still Lucien kept his hand on her mouth.

“You keep asking me not to kill you, and yet the first chance you get, you invite death right onto our doorstep,” he hissed, rolling his shoulders again. “She would have ended your life if she’d gotten in here.”

“Why?”

He only shrugged. “You’re human.”

The words were left hanging, as though there was more he wanted to say but didn’t—or couldn’t. The drums had increased their tempo again and it was clearly taking its toll on the creature atop her. His head lolled toward his bare chest and a groan escaped him. Maybe it didn’t matter, and yet Elain needed him to answer some things for her before he couldn’t.

“What is going to happen?” she asked quickly, tugging again at her restraints.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said simply, pulling at the laces of his trousers. “All night, until the drums stop and you are…” he trailed off, his eyes sliding down her bare body.

“Until I what, Lucien?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for it,” he admitted, freeing himself from his pants. Elain was far too distracted by what she saw to even remember what she’d been asking. She’d, of course, seen a penis before. Not willingly—once, a man had exposed himself to her when she’d been newly fourteen, waggling his brows at her while asking if she’d like a taste. Of course she hadn’t.

And she’d seen Graysen’s when he’d pulled it out after asking her to marry him, saying it was okay for them to be together. She’d declined, back against the wall, and rescued by Nesta coughing loudly from the other room in his estate. Both had seemed fine. Nothing special, fleshy and perhaps strangely pink.

Lucien was nothing like either of them. To start, his cock was scaled in the same red and gold, all the way from his taut abdomen to his thick, tapered tip. He was big, with ridges along the top that seemed out of place. There was nothing human about this, and Elain didn’t think this would work between them.

“Lucien,” she warned,” as he scooted closer and closer, rubbing the glistening tip of his cock against her firmly closed lips.

“This will work,” he groaned, thrusting gently against her mouth again. She knew what he wanted and had a bad feeling he was going to get it one way or the other. Elain weighed her options. Was it better to just give in or to fight him? Did it even matter? When she could feel her cunt still convulsing from his mouth or when he was guarding her like some kind of wild, feral animal.

“Open,” he whispered when she turned her head. “Open your mouth and I’ll untie you.”

Their eyes met. It was a foolish bargain on his part. She’d use her hands to slap, her legs to kick. He had to know untying her would only make things more difficult for him and if he was willing to risk it just so she’d open her mouth and taste him, he was more desperate than she’d once thought.

Elain shook her head no, eliciting a growl from Lucien’s lips. “Open your mouth,” he said again. “Or I’ll make you.”

“I dare—”

Her mistake was rising to the bait. Lucien had known if he taunted, she’d fire some comeback and he’d silence her by surging forward. Elain choked at the intrusion, at the stretch required of her jaw to accommodate him.

That clawed hand curled in her hair, lifting her head from the soft palate she was lying against so she could take more.

“Just a little,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Elain looked at him through blurred eyes, hating him enough to scrape her teeth over the soft appendage. Ridges graced her tongue, softer than she’d first thought. They likely wouldn’t hurt her, and it scared her a little to imagine that she might like them.

Elain thrashed against her restraints for all the good it did. His heavy body pinned her just as well as any rope. While Lucien growled against the scrape of her teeth, Elain lost focus as something else, something thick and warm and distinctly not his fingers or cock began to probe at her soaked cunt.

Her lack of attention gave Lucien leave to push his luck, to sink a little deeper until he’d all but choked off her air. He wasn’t even halfway in her. Elain’s eyes flew to his face drinking in the mischief staring back.

“Need to prepare you,” he panted. It was his tail. Lucien gave her no time to come to terms with her new realization, pushing into her body while he pulled his cock out of her throat by a few inches. Not enough to protest or talk, but enough to draw a heavy breath. Maybe he was right, but there was something so offensive, so obscene about him using his tail where his cock was supposed to be.

In fact, everything was all wrong. His cock didn’t belong in her mouth, and at least in her village, it was offensive to suggest using one's mouth when sex was purely for reproduction. There was no mention of mouths, of tails.

Elain gasped when he pushed further into her cunt, hating the reaction he was getting. Everything he did felt good, even when she didn’t want it to, even when she knew it shouldn’t. She was suddenly grateful his body kept her flat—Elain might have arched up, chasing the friction of his tail when he pulled back.

“Fuck,” he panted, bowing his head so all that molten red hair spilled around them. “Fuck, Elain.”Elain liked the way he said her name, like it was something sacred, both a prayer and a plea. She wanted to touch him, to know if his skin was soft or the scales were rough. If he was as warm as the sunlight leaking from him.

If he’d tremble and whimper like she did when he touched her.

Maybe she was broken, then, for finding enjoyment not just out of what he was doing to her, but out of him, too. Maybe she’d finally snapped and this was her making the best of a bad situation.

Or maybe she’d always been like this. Maybe Elain had always known, deep, deep down, that marriage to Graysen wasn’t going to work because she wouldn’t settle, not truly. She certainly couldn’t go back to her village and marry him now knowing what it was like to be had by something like Lucien.

Fae. That was what he called himself. Elain looked up at him and moaned.

Lucien shattered, spilling thick come into her throat, grunting as he pushed her head as far as he could manage without truly hurting her. It spilled from her lips, mixing with saliva to drip down her neck. Lucien was watching, wide eyed and desperate. All except for his tail, still thrusting in and out of her like it had a mind of its own.

She didn’t want him to stop, which was the worst admission of all. When he withdrew his still rigid cock, shuddering from either pleasure or the increasing tempo of the drums, Elain pleaded, “Untie me. Lucien please—”

“I can’t stand it when you beg,” he whispered. Claws slashed at the rope holding her wrist, unbinding one, and then the other. Elain raised her hand and Lucien flinched, bracing himself for a blow that would have been well-deserved. She didn’t hit him, though. Even when his tail stopped thrusting, leaving her wanting and aching, squeezed tight against him as he just held it inside her.

No, instead, Elain ran her fingers over his biceps, touching the red and gold scales that graced his skin.

“Soft,” she whispered.

Lucien lowered his face to hers. “Yes,” he agreed, lips grazing her own. “Do they please you?”

Their eyes locked. This was important to him. “They do.”

His eyes fluttered shut again. She’d seen him do that before, the first time she’d ever said his name. He liked her.

“Lucien?”

He hummed in response, searching her expression for some hint of what she might be asking. This was it—the drums increased again, making him rigid against her. Lucien’s cock lay between her breasts, jumping and weeping come even after he’d finished. How long before he stopped talking to her entirely?

“What does et tu…et tu uxor mea mean?”

A smile spread over that beautiful face of his. “It means you are my wife.”

She did hit him then. “You can’t just declare that!”

“Sure I can,” he replied with that lovely grin. “You were mine long before you ever stepped foot in the forest. I was going to come for you tonight—I was on my way for you.”

“You were not.”

He chuckled, rich and warm and lovely. “Was so. You think it was mere coincidence I found you? Imagine my pleasure finding my wife coming to me.”

“I can’t…I—what about my sisters?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say they’re in a similar predicament,” he said, pressing a feather soft kiss to her mouth. Lucien slid down her body, trailing soft kisses against her skin and through the mess of spit and come pooled at the base of her neck.

“The first time you came, you were bound to me,” he whispered, chin resting on her stomach. “But by the end of the night, our lives will be intertwined and you’ll feel what I have since the moment I saw you.”

“Lucien—”

“Trust me,” he shuddered, slashing the bindings on her legs. “Trust me.”

Elain pulled her legs up, sighing softly. There was no choice but to trust him. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Never,” he swore, rising up on his knees. Grabbing her ankles to spread her apart again, Lucien repeated, “Never.”

And that was enough, at least for the moment. The drums drowned out anything else she might have said, so demanding that even Elain felt compelled to do as they ordered. Complete this, her blood seemed to scream. She didn’t stop him when he rubbed that large, tapered head against her soaked cunt, having removed his tail a moment before. The offending appendage wrapped itself around her thigh, teasing and stroking her skin as though testing to see what he could get away with.

Elain whimpered, looking back at the horned man now positioned between her legs.

You are my wife.

The words echoed in her head as Lucien sheathed himself in one fluid motion. Elain screamed, a mix of pain and pleasure just like everything else he did to her. The ridges were better than she’d expected, gliding along her sensitive flesh but the sheer size of him was more than his fingers or tail could have prepared her for.

Lucien leaned over her. “You’re fine,” he grunted, his eyes big and apologetic. “I—” His words choked into a snarl. He was gone, right then. He’d done his best, she supposed, but the magic had taken him and all that was left was the monster. His hips snapped, and Elain arched, squeezing tight around him. All she had to do was focus, to breathe through her nose, and relax.

Lucien began to thrust. Each new draw of his cock made her a little more insane, a little more lost to the frantic beating drums just outside. What were they working toward? What happened when they stopped?

She was going to find out soon enough. The once steady, precise beat was becoming messy, frantic and out of control like Lucien above her. The discordant drums set Elain’s blood aflame, allowing her to blame her reaction on the music, the magic.

Anything but the truth.

She tightened around him, cresting back up just as his tail slid between their bodies to tease and rub at her already swollen, abused clit. Elain reached for the tops of his arms too roughly, causing one of her nails to slice against his skin. It drew the smallest bead of blood, sliding toward his elbow before dripping on the soft bed beneath her. Lucien watched, still thrusting, and seemed to rumble with approval.

“You’re absurd,” she gasped, tugging him closer. Lucien jerked over her, bracing his body weight against the palms of his hands. She was tempted to close her eyes, to lose herself entirely. It didn’t have to be him, did it?

But it did. Oh, and she knew it did. She couldn’t look away from the mismatched eyes watching her every breath, nor could she stop herself from raking her fingers through the thick strands of his auburn hair. He tilted his head toward her, eyes shuttering with pleasure.

How long since someone touched him, she wondered? He seemed starved for it, tilting his head closer when she reached for one of those large, curved horns. Elain cupped the base, delighted to find they were smooth and just as warm as the rest of them.

His pace quickened, his breathing rougher. “Do you like that?” she asked, meeting his gaze. He didn’t respond—she didn’t think he could—but he did offer her another rumble, like a big, oversized cat.

Good enough, she decided. And just in time. Between his clever, rubbing tail and the cock she was already far too accustomed to, Elain shattered, gripping his horns like they were handles to hold. She could scarcely breath from her enjoyment, and just as before, was given no reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure.

Yes, yes, yes. She didn’t want him to stop. Elain only opened her eyes when she felt his nose nuzzling her throat, teeth scraping over sensitive, salt soaked skin. The drums outside were louder still, a pounding in her head that made Elain dizzy and desperate all at once.

“Please,” she said to him, earning a whimper in response. He couldn’t stop, and now neither could she. They were here together in this frenzied, desperate climax, and whatever happened after, they’d face together.

Knowing he was a terrifying monster certainly made her feel better about meeting that fate. With each new, wet slap of their skin, Lucien seemed to unspool a little further, until he was nothing but instinct. In her head, she swore she could hear his voice begging, pleading.

More, more, more.

“Take me,” she whispered, unsure what made her say the words. The warmth of the world, made gold in Elain’s delighted pleasure, had settled in her bones, her blood. “I’m yours.”

The drums reached their frenzied, fever pitch and so did Lucien. He roared, falling to pieces inside her. She could feel it, the fluid he’d once poured in her throat now dripping from her cunt and down her thighs. His tail curled around her neck, not tight enough to restrict her hair, but gently, like he merely needed to hold her in some way. Elain wrapped her fingers around it, stroking the soft, scaled skin with her thumb.

The abrupt silence left a ringing in Elain’s ears. “Lucien?” she whispered when he didn’t move, still positioned over her, head bowed so she couldn’t see his face. He held his cock utterly still, his own heart pulsating hard enough she could feel it like a twin in her own.

That wasn’t the only thing. As Lucien remained in the quiet, the warmth she’d once thought was merely the magic of the drum, invaded her chest. Tightening, strengthening—like a cord. Elain pulled at it like a muscle, testing this new piece of her she would have sworn to the great mother goddess had never been there.

Even if it felt like it always had been, and she’d merely been unaware.

Lucien’s head snapped up, his eyes burning again.

“Are you back?” she asked him. Lucien didn’t respond, though he did reach for her wrist. Elain didn’t fight him when he kissed the thin, delicate skin.

“You felt that, too?” she asked, certain his response was a reaction to pulling the cord in her chest. He’d told her she’d feel it when this was all over, hadn’t he? Magic was stronger, or thinner…something magnified, though she couldn’t remember his exact explanation from the woods anymore.

Lucien sank his teeth into her skin, drawing nothing but white hot pain for the first time since he’d taken her. Elain tried to jerk back, but he held her firm, bringing his own wrist to his teeth and tearing at his own flesh.

“What are you doing—Lucien, don’t—” He pressed their bleeding wounds together with a soft snarl of warning not to fight him. Elain looked away, unable to take the mess of blood sliding down their arms, or the white the pain seemed to burn through her like a fever. He hadn’t taken his cock out of her body, hadn’t moved at all.

It was over in the span of a heartbeat. Lucien dropped her wrist, letting her cradle it to her chest. She expected it to bleed, but when Elain looked back at the wound, it was knitting itself back together.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Mine,” he said roughly. She reached for him, but a soft sound just outside the sealed cave caused his shoulders to tense as his head whipped toward the sound.

All at once, Lucien was gone. Elain mourned the loss of him, scrambling for the discarded, fur lined blanket just as the shimmering veil of the cave vanished like water splashing against rocks.

A truly beautiful woman, with a cascade of white blonde hair and the prettiest shade of blue eyes, made it all of one step inside. She was naked, just as Lucien was, though the blue paint on her body was unmarred while Lucien’s was a streaky mess over his lovely skin. Her eyes found Elain, on the floor and suspicious of this new person.

This was the voice they’d heard earlier. Lucien looked down at her, still naked, his cock somehow still so, so hard.

“A human?” she whispered, looking up at him. That woman took one more step before he snarled with fury and shoved at her. Elain closed her eyes, pulling the blanket over her head to hide the sounds of what was happening.

Lucien had promised she’d die if she didn’t leave and right then, amid the shrieking and growling, Elain understood he was a man of his word.

Or, a creature of his word. She wasn’t sure if he was a man. It was all too much. Overwhelmed and exhausted and sore, Elain gave in to the encroaching darkness and the urge to shut it all out. To escape, if only for a moment.

And yet, as she faded, Elain had the strangest sensation that she missed him.

Unlike before, when Elain woke that second time, it was to the sound of birds quietly chirping and pooling sunlight against her eyelids. She expected to be bound and was relieved when she sat up, she was unrestrained. Still naked, streaked with dried blood and dirt and blue paint, but otherwise unharmed.

In a bed she’d never seen, tucked beneath blankets of cream and gold big enough she could have spread out her limbs and still had plenty of space. The room she was in was new, too. Lovely and elegant trimmed in the same shades as the bed, with tasteful, nice furniture and a cheerful fireplace unlit given the warmth of the day.

“You’re awake.”

Elain twisted, and there he was beside her. Just as she remembered, though he had very clearly bathed himself. Gone was the blood, the paint, the sweat. Just the man remained, scaled and horned, his tail thumping against the bed as it snaked toward her.

“Where are we?” she asked, looking toward those big windows at the far end of the room. Not windows, she realized, but glass doors half opened so she could see the arching balcony…and the sea.

“Home,” he said, his expression so obviously careful. “When you’ve bathed, I’ll take you to your sisters.”

“They’re alive?” she asked, relief flooding through her. Lucien sat, too, the blanket pooling in his lap.

“Just as I promised,” he reminded her. “As are you. Immortal,” he added, reaching for the now healed wound on her wrist. All that remained was the thinnest scar, a match for the one he revealed on his own. “I’ve bound us.”

She couldn’t find it in her to be angry. Elain flopped back to the pillows beneath her, one hand on her stomach, the other flung over her forehead. She tugged at that cord in her chest, drawing a rumble of pleasure from Lucien’s chest.

“Mate,” he said, answering her question.

“I couldn’t feel it before. Could you?”

“Yes. You needed the magic of Calanma…and then a little more, to feel what I’ve felt since I first saw you.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “Is that what last night was about?”

An unapologetic grin. “Can’t a male want to fuck his mate into the ground? Does it have to be special—ow don’t bite me—”

Elain had sunk her teeth into his creeping tail, too light to truly hurt. His eyes were bright, his delight plain.

“Calanmai has a lot of purposes. Replenishing the magic, a little fun, reproduction—”

Elain choked. “Reproduction?”

His grin widened. “If I’m lucky.”

He joined her back against the pillows, his tail slipping beneath the blankets to curl around her thigh while he propped his head up on his fist to look at her.

“And I don’t have to go back?” she whispered, relieved to be freed of the burden of her former life. Maybe she’d mourn it one day, when she felt safe enough.

“Never,” he promised. Elain laced her fingers through his, almost disappointed the claws were sheathed.

“My sisters?”

“As soon as I’ve had breakfast,” he said, reaching for the edge of the blanket. Yanking it over the pair of them, Elain giggled while Lucien hauled her against him. “I’m ravenous.”

Just like the stories had always said he’d be.

#elucien #trusting people to just find this #no moodboard again??? look im tired #this was fun though why dont i write more monsters?#im worried hes not mean enough #i have a feysand monster prompt so maybe ill make it in this universe #give him some wings make him meaner etc etc

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