#oraion the allergic incubus

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Good Things (NSFW)

Hahahaha it's done. I had this idea last night when I remembered something I wanted to do with the story but had completely forgotten to write about. So, here's a sexy sickfic for y'all to enjoy. I just finished writing it, so it may be a little rough in parts, but I couldn't wait to post it :3

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Good Things

Word count: 2,755

Content and warnings: snz (male and female), illness, NSFW

In which a sleepless night gives way to an important milestone in Noelle and Oraion's relationship.

--------------------

Noelle tried to hold her breath and avoid coughing again. Her ribs felt like someone had taken to them with a sledgehammer, and every cough made her wince and whine. She felt pathetic. Not only that, but she didn’t want to wake Oraion, asleep next to her in the bed. The past few nights since she’d been attacked on the road, the demon had slept by her side. It was nice. His warmth, the brush of his skin against her own, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing: his mere presence brought her more comfort than any medicine, even Quinns’s elixirs from the Knights’ own healers.

Exhaustion gnawed her bones, but still she couldn’t sleep. She was at once boiling hot and freezing cold, tossing and turning as she alternately burrowed into her blankets and threw them off again. Her throat prickled, begging her for relief, but still she clamped down on the urge to cough. It wouldn’t help to give in, not really, so she pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth and waited the tortuous seconds for it to pass.

Even worse, her throat wasn’t the only thing that was irritated. Her sinuses were absolutely full of this cursed cold. She was sure she had sneezed more in the past few days than in the entire year since she’d summoned Oraion, and she was so congested she could hardly breathe. Quick on the heels of the tickle in her throat came one through her nose, and she pressed both hands to her face in an effort to quell it.

“hh-hihh-ngxt!”

A stifle was all she could manage, sending a dull ache through her abused ribs. She was so tired. Why couldn’t she just sleep through all this misery?

As she rolled over, a little spark of shame said she very well knew the answer. The unpredictable, featherish fluttering in her sinuses, her struggling attempts to hold back her sneezing, the need to be quiet so as not to wake Oraion—gods, it all got her so damned turned on.

“nnchgt! hng’cht! gshchiew! Ishhiew! Ow…”

Shit. The relentless itch broke through her effort to stifle it, lighting her chest with far sharper pain, yet even so the heat between her legs pulsed with intensity. Behind her, she sensed Oraion stirring.

“Mmm… Mistress?” His voice was muzzy with sleep.

“S-sorry. -snfft- I, um…”

As Noelle fumbled in the dark for something to wipe her nose, she felt his chest press against her back as his hand alighted near her shoulder and traced down her side. Her back arched slightly as his lips found her neck. Perhaps she should have been more concerned about her arousal waking the sleeping incubus, she reflected, rather than any noise.

“Mistress…” Now his voice was a purr in her ear. “You smell so good. I… I, uh… O-oh dear- hih-HEH-HIHHTCHIU! EH-GISHIU! HISSHIU! G-gods- HITCHOO!”

He misted her neck and shoulder with spray as a sudden sneeze fit seized him. He was prone to sneezing when he woke, yet this was particularly intense. Noelle bit her lip as a moan threatened to make her cough again. She could feel his every spasm and hitching breath through his body pressed close to her back. Once his fit subsided, he sniffled and rubbed his nose with a little squelching sound.

“Nnhh… s-so itchy… -snf-”

Noelle turned over to face him as a burning need started to claw inside her, but that damnable cough finally stole its victory, wracking her body with painful spasms. A completely different kind of moan came from her then: a pitiful, whimpering thing. In the darkness, Oraion held her close to him, enfolding her in his sheltering embrace.

“Oh, my poor Mistress. You’re still so ill… yet, you burn bright with such delicious desire.” Conflict was plain in his voice, as though he were at war with himself. “I don’t know how to help you. I know so little about human illness that I’m afraid I’ll hurt you somehow. Please, tell me what I should do, Mistress…”

Noelle licked her dry lips, her voice hoarse. “I want… I want you…”

She was burning all right, with lust and fever both. Trembling, she leaned forward to seek out his lips in the dark. Instead, the first thing she encountered was Oraion’s nose, which she bumped with her own. Almost instantly, he gasped in a shaky breath.

“Ah, c-careful! Hih-HIHGHSHIU!”

He turned his head into the pillows at the last second, so as not to accidentally headbutt her, she imagined, given his ramlike horns. His arms tightened around her with the paroxysm, clutching her against his heaving chest. In turn, Noelle clung to him even tighter, fingertips digging slightly into his smooth skin.

“Mmmh… I do love how sensitive your nose is.”

“-snff- All for you, my Mistress.”

“Makes me want- w-want you even more- ishtchiew!”

His breathing grew heavier, but she could tell it wasn’t for a sneeze this time. The demon’s last feeding had been some days ago, and no doubt she had stoked his Hunger with her arousal and provocative words.

“I will gladly pleasure you, if that’s what you desire…” Oraion hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure you’d be alright?”

“I don’t have much energy, but… Ugh, I can’t stand it! Maybe I’m delirious, but I think I might lose my mind if I don’t sate this- this craving. I-I need this, please. I need you.”

Any further words she might have had were sealed by his lips. He pressed them tight to hers, his hands beginning to roam her body as he slipped them beneath her nightgown. The incubus was no less amorous than usual, but Noelle could also sense an especial care in his touch. His movements were slower, more sensual. In his more impassioned moments, he might pull her across the bed, but now he handled her as gently as if she were a porcelain doll. Perhaps he still feared he’d hurt her.

With a gesture and an infusion of her will, Noelle called on the lamp at her bedside to cast a soft glow into the room. Oraion’s face came into view as her eyes adjusted, close enough that she could clearly see the lovely flush of pink across his nose, even without her glasses.

“There you are,” she whispered, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile, and for a moment she was almost certain his cheeks flushed, too.

Then the sly, roguish grin that suited him so well broke across his face, and he moved his hands to the front of her nightgown with a flirtatious tug at the fabric.

“Some light to see by, hm? That should make handling these buttons easier.”

Despite his words, he needn’t look at all as he swiftly unfasted the buttons, choosing instead to shower her neck with lingering kisses. They both sat up as Noelle shrugged out of the garment, Oraion resting his large hands gently on her shoulders as he pulled her into a soft kiss on the lips. Then she took hold of his arms and leaned back, guiding him down with her. The demon obediently followed until he was perched over her in the bed, cupping her breast with one hand as he kept on kissing her and tracing her lips with his tongue.

Between kisses Oraion sniffled, his breath stuttering with a few soft hitches. When they touched, his nose twitched against her own, until he suddenly pulled back with a gasp, nostrils flaring.

“hhHIHPTSHIEW!”

The outburst hit her across the chest, drawing a sound from Noelle that, in her fever-exhausted state, came out more as a needy whine than a lustful moan. Oraion’s hand trailed from her breast down her belly, coming to rest between her legs, stroking her through her undergarments. For a moment, Noelle thought she might orgasm right then and there, but she didn’t want it to end yet. As she barely managed to contain her pleasure, a shudder ran through Oraion’s body.

“Ooh my… seems we’re both a bit sensitive tonight, eh Mistress?”

“Mmm, it’s not my fault,” she pouted, hips squirming, “It’s this damnable cold that has my nose all itchy… I can’t help that it gets me hot…”

He took her lips with his own again, a suitably devilish grin lighting up his face.

“So then, how might this humble Servant slake your burning thirst, my Mistress? Shall I please you with this silver tongue of mine? Ah, I’m certain a bit of true silver would thoroughly do me in with how terribly ticklish my nose is right now. Would you like that?” He paused to lean in and nuzzle her neck, just below the ear, teasing them both until he stifled a sneeze into her shoulder. “Or, -snf- perhaps I should keep my hand right where it is—minus the clothes, of course. All the better to keep my nose where you can best play with it, hm? Whatever you desire, Mistress, you need only name it and I shall obey…”

He was ever suave and confident in these moments of carnal passion. What flashed into Noelle’s mind, however, was not the various moments of erotic pleasure they had shared, but the small, sad smile he had worn as he bathed her and cleansed her wounds only a few nights ago. And the way he’d blushed so deeply the first time he saw her own sneeze. The worry in his eyes when he’d pulled her from the rubble after accidentally bringing part of the tower down around them. His infectious laughter when they’d nearly gotten caught doing something incredibly naughty by the Head Librarian at Tigate Librarium. And countless other moments, large and small, notable and mundane, that had passed between them over the course of the year they had spent together.

She had yet to remove the crystal pendant he’d fastened around her neck the other night on the anniversary of their meeting, a near perfect match to his crimson eyes and hair. It lay on her chest even now, dimly sparkling in the low lamplight.

“... you.”

He kept kissing her neck. “Sorry, darling, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“You… You’re my Servant.”

“As I live and breathe, my dear Mistress.”

“Then… You’re mine. I- I want… I want all of you.”

Oraion froze, body going tense against hers. He drew back with a start, searching her face with widened eyes.

“You do?”

All that confidence and charm fell away. Noelle reached up to cup his cheek with a soft smile and nodded. These moments of genuine emotion suited him, too, she thought.

“Mm-hmm… I-I’m ready.”

He blinked slowly, like he was still unable to process her request. She would have laughed if she didn’t think it would make her start coughing again. The longer he took to respond, however, the hotter Noelle’s face became, and this time it wasn’t fever.

“Do- do you, um, n-not want to right now?”

Without a word he took her up in his arms, lifting her up as he hugged her fiercely to his chest.

“I… Yes, of course I will share myself with you, Noelle. All of me. I am yours.”

Then she could no longer get a word in edgewise for his lips upon hers, stopping only to allow her breath with how stuffed up she still was. Before she knew it their remaining clothes were gone. Had Oraion made them vanish with magic? Or was it the combined haze of passion and fever that caused her not to notice? The question faded from her mind, unimportant, because all of her attention was focused on the beautiful creature holding her close, his pale gray skin almost glowing in the light. Her fingertips traced the markings on his shoulder, slightly darker patches that ran in dappled bands down his back and tail. The only man to make love to her by her own choice was no man at all, but an incubus, a Demon Lord, who would not even be in her life were it not for a magnificent accident one year ago.

Her other hand, lying on the bed next to her face, he grasped in his, intertwining their fingers. His eyes shone with a scarlet gleam as he took a moment to gaze upon her face, his voice a whisper.

“Are you truly certain?”

Her hand tightened around his.

“Yes… Please, Oraion… I want you.”

He was so gentle with her it made her heart ache. She was afraid, but that fear, her trauma, would always be there. She didn’t need to let it define her, or make her choices.

Now, she chose to seize for herself the enjoyment and pleasure that was denied her past self when her first experiences with sex were instead filled with violence and pain.

A sigh left Noelle’s throat as Oraion pressed into her, slow and easy. This—this was what intimacy was supposed to be. Tender. Caring. A connection between lovers that each fulfilled the other, that gave as much as it took. Her trust in him was absolute, not because he was her Servant, but because that trust was returned, magnified. Everything in the past year had led to this moment when their bodies became united as one, when the contract between them took on a new form, a new meaning.

The pleasure that he ignited within her was unlike anything she knew. Whether it was his nature as an incubus, the bond they shared, or their heightened emotions; nothing could compare with this feeling. His hips moved over her own in a slow, steady rhythm as he made love to her, his rigid member filling her over and over.

“Gods, you feel so good,” he murmured in her ear, his voice low and husky. “Mistress, your pleasure is truly the sweetest I have ever tasted in all my years.”

“It must be because it comes from you,” she whispered back, running the fingers of her free hand into his mane of red hair. “No one else could make me feel… the way you do.”

“Noelle…”

The next few minutes passed in a sweet haze, such that Noelle almost forgot her illness. It did not forget her, however, and in the midst of their lovemaking her sinuses began to prickle.

“Oh… Oh gods… I-I’m gonna…”

The sway of Oraion’s hips sped up ever so slightly, the demon no doubt sensing the feelings stirring within her. Noelle turned her head and brought her free hand to her face as the buzzing itch sweeping her nasal passages overtook her.

“ih-hitschiew! ishiew-ishiew! Mmnh!”

She could hold nothing back now. Her own hips bucked, grinding against Oraion’s as intense pleasure flooded her and drove her mind blank. She was so tired and her throat so raw that she could make only a series of plaintive, moaning gasps as she rode out the climax. Their clasped hands bore a white-knuckle grip, and Noelle realized a moment after the fact that she had raked the nails of her free hand down Oraion’s back.

For some few moments the only sound in the room was their collective breathing in heavy pants and spent sighs. Oraion let go of her hand and instead stroked her cheek with his fingertips. The corners of his lips tugged up into a sweet smile, yet the slight furrow of his brow betrayed some concern.

“Are you all right?”

She returned his smile with one of her own, a soft chuckle whispering past her lips as she reached up and brushed some hair out of his eyes.

“Never better… Thank you.”

His smile widened.

“Well, it’s an important occasion. I had to make sure.”

“No, I mean… Thank you for being so patient with me. For never pressuring me. For waiting so long.”

“Oh, Mistress…” He leaned in and gave her an achingly soft kiss. “Do you remember what I said, all those months ago? I am literally here to please you. That will never change, and it is why your desires and comfort will always be paramount. If you’re not enjoying our time together… well, there isn’t much point, then, is there?”

“I suppose that’s true, but… I still appreciate it.”

The expression on his face was something like adoration, soft and warm that made her heart skip a beat.

“You’re welcome… my Mistress.”

Noelle chuckled again. “I’m only your Mistress by accident, you know.”

The demon grinned and brought his lips to hers once more with a whisper.

“Fine, then. My Accidental Mistress.”

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Library Magic (NSFW)

It's that time again! Today's release is a spicy one, and possibly one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Library Magic

Word Count: 3,300

Content and Warnings: snz (male), NSFW

In which Oraion accompanies his Mistress Noelle to study dusty, old arcane tomes at a library, with predictable results.

----------------------------

The Tigate Librarium had stood in the central square of Tigate City for so long, no one was certain anymore if the Librarium was named for the City, or the City for the Librarium. What was certain, however, was that the current Head Librarian, Ms Ogtrop, was both the most efficient and organized Head the Librarium had ever employed, and also its most terrifying.

At six foot three, it was uncommon, though not entirely unheard of, for Demon Lord Oraion Leroux to meet those of his height or slightly taller. Encountering a mortal he needed to crane his neck to look at, though, was about as common as convincing a lindwyrm to play fetch, so the fact that he needed to tilt his head a fair degree to make eye contact with the Head Librarian was a novel, if somewhat unnerving, experience. The green cast of her skin and short tusks jutting from her lower lip only added to the singularity of the encounter. A full-blooded orc was a rare sight these days.

“Those books are on the second floor, Section B, fifth row, third bookcase, shelves four through seven. All books in that Section are restricted, and as such can neither be checked out nor leave the Librarium. Is that clear?”

“As crystal, ma’am.”

“Good. And if you think for a moment that you could possibly get away with smuggling any volumes out… Don’t. I will know. I always know.”

Oraion did his best to appear as a physical manifestation of conciliation. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

“Good.” The Librarian paused and took a moment to look Oraion up and down with her golden eyes. “My shift ends at eight o’clock, by the way.”

This, at least, was more familiar territory. Throughout his long life, Oraion had turned down countless hopefuls, though this time he had to admit he was tempted. The thighs that peeked out below the hem of Ogtrop’s skirt—the cut of which was painfully inadequate at fulfilling any sort of intended modesty on her towering frame—looked like they’d crack a watermelon like a walnut. A night with her promised to leave you with bruises and bite marks—and you’d thank her for the privilege. Instead Oraion inclined his head with grace.

“You flatter me, madam, but I am afraid I must decline. I am already spoken for.”

“Hm. Pity. However, your integrity is laudable. Well then, please note that eight o’clock is also when the Librarium closes, so you would do well to conclude your business before then.”

“Of course. Thank you so much for your help.”

“Yes, yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

The imposing Librarian turned on her heel and marched off, her heavy footfalls reverberating through the floor with a rhythmic beat. Oraion’s gaze lingered just a moment on the way her full hips moved, then he returned to where his Mistress, Noelle Violette, waited by the entrance, wringing the end of her scarf.

“Were you able to find anything out?”

“I was indeed. The Head Librarian gave me the location of the arcane tomes you’re looking for—come, I’ll show you where they are.”

He guided Noelle to where Ms Ogtrop had indicated, passing along the rules for the handling of restricted books as they went.

“They can't be checked out? I suppose that makes sense, but… Augh, that means I'll only have a few hours to study them! I was hoping to take them back to the inn with us tonight and then bring them back before we leave to go home tomorrow…”

Oraion chuckled. “And did this plan of yours involve any sleep?”

A light blush of pink came to Noelle’s fair cheeks. “Well, some I’m sure, but this is a rare opportunity! I could always catch up on sleep later. Besides, that won’t matter if I can’t check them out. I’ll just have to use the time I do have wisely.”

Row after row of shelves were stuffed with a multitude of tomes. The air was laced with the scent of old paper and leather. Once they located the desired shelves, Noelle browsed through the volumes, pointing out a number of titles with great interest and enthusiasm.

“Oh! Look at this! They have a first edition copy of Nolan Kingston’s The Grimoire of Stars! And these scrolls—they’re from Tsothatan’s Noth-Yngath Esoterica! Just look at all of these: Artum Codex, Librum of Ninai, The Book of Far Realms— Oh my goodness, they have a copy of Tome of the Watcher! After it was published, the author Soth Sholei disappeared, and no one ever found out what happened to them!”

As she babbled excitedly about the texts, she handed book after book to Oraion until he was carrying a sizable, and somewhat heavy, stack. He couldn’t help but notice a thin layer of dust on most of them. Just the thought of it made his nose twitch. A smirk tugged his lips: perhaps this little study session wouldn’t be as boring as he’d feared.

“Mistress, I think perhaps this is enough to get started, at least. In fact, I’m not convinced you’ll be able to get through all of these before the Librarium closes.”

Noelle gave a little start, like she was waking up from a dream. “Oh! You’re right, I-I’m so sorry. Let’s find somewhere to sit down.”

Nearby were long, oaken tables surrounded by a large number of stout chairs with plush seats, all of which were presently vacant. The entire section of the Librarium they were in appeared quite deserted. Oraion carefully placed the stack of books on the table and took a seat next to Noelle, pulling his chair against hers. There were no arm rests, so they were close enough to touch, especially if Oraion leaned in.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read a bit over your shoulder? There might be something I can help with, after all.”

“Oh, um, a-all right.”

He ducked his head so his lips were close to her ear and dropped his voice.

“Always nice to have one’s nose in a good book.” He brushed the tip of his nose against the outer edge of her ear for emphasis. He felt a shiver run through her.

“Oraion, I-I don’t think now is the time…”

“Oh, of course, Mistress. My apologies. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your studies. Shall we begin?”

He took the tome from the top of the stack and placed it on the table in front of them.

“The Book of Sorcery. A fairly straightforward title.”

He flipped open the dusty manuscript with a flourish and probably a bit more force than was strictly necessary. In the light of the arcane reading lamps that hovered above the table, little globes of light encased within intricate brass cages, he caught a shimmer of swirling dust particles. Things were bound to get interesting now.

“So, Mistress, what would you like to review?”

“Hm, let me check the table of contents.”

As his Mistress pored over the book’s pages, Oraion felt a feathery flutter ripple through his sinuses, making his nose scrunch slightly. He said nothing, of course, but kept an eye on Noelle’s reaction. She hadn’t noticed yet, so he ran a finger beneath his septum and drew in a quick, sharp sniffle. Noelle’s leg against his own went tense for a second—she was definitely paying attention now. Oraion tried not to let his satisfaction show on his countenance.

“Um, m-maybe this section on conjuration? I would really, uh, like to know more about how you’re able to conjure things, you know, so easily.”

“Ah, you mean like this?” With a grin he held up his left hand and snapped his fingers, summoning his handkerchief. After all, he was going to need it shortly.

“Y-yes, like that.” Oraion noticed that Noelle’s gaze flicked from the cloth in his hand to his face, and back. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she was looking for in his face. As that feathery feeling intensified, he was certain his nose would be flushing pink soon, if it hadn’t started already.

“Well, the truth is -snf- that I don’t actually, ah, c-conjure anything. -sniff- I merely summoned it. I—” It was growing difficult to keep his breathing steady, and his eyes were beginning to water as his eyelids fluttered. Still, he could quite clearly see the pretty blush forming beneath Noelle’s freckles on her cheeks, along with the blossoming arousal he sensed within her. She squirmed in her seat.

“O-Oraion…”

“Oh dear, h-how terribly inconvenient. -sndf- These old b-books: they muh-must be du- heh- dusty…”

Below the table, he ran his right hand up her leg, squeezing her thigh while at the same time he pressed the handkerchief to his nose.

“ih-hiih- … hiihh! hiiHH’ISSHIUU!”

Through his hand on her leg he could feel the little jolt of pleasure and excitement she felt. He didn’t often get the chance to tease her in public like this. It made her titillation all the sweeter, the tinge of embarrassment she felt. She might not openly admit it, might even outright deny it or grow annoyed with him, but she could not hide from him that it got her even hotter.

“Oraion! S-stop that!”

“Y-you know I can’t heh-help it, Mistress. It’s the- the- eh-heh-heh! mmnh- the dust- HEHHSHIU!”

Noelle looked around nervously.

“B-but, you’re being loud! We’re in a library!”

He leaned in and nuzzled her earlobe, even as he felt another buzzing prickle building.

“Afraid we might gehehht in t-trouble? -snnff- hehh-hehhehh!”

“Y-yes!”

Oh, but she tasted so sweet like this. Gods, he would fuck her right here on the table if she wanted, library rules and propriety be damned. She would never go for that, of course, but that didn’t stop him from imagining it. Just how wound up could he get her, he wondered? He attempted the herculean task of holding back the itch that burned in his sinuses.

“B-but Mistress, you know heh-HEH! nngh- h-how teh-terribly ah-haahhllergic I am to du-dust. I ca-can’t hehhehhelp how sne- sne- sneezy it meh-makes me…”

He kept his nose touching her ear as his nares flared, letting her feel every twitch. As he did so, he slid his hand further up her thigh, pressing his fingers between her legs. He couldn’t last much longer, and if he had anything to say about it, neither would she.

“Th-the m-more I heh-heh! hold bahaahck, the w-worse it g-gets!” He gave a particularly wet sniffle right next to her ear. “Oh no- I-I’m guh- gonna- ehh-heh! M-Mistress, I n-need to sneeze!”

Certain he was about to incur the wrath of Ms Ogtrop, Oraion could not stop his chest from heaving as his nose crinkled.

“hiihhhIIHHhhh!”

With a little sound of desperation Noelle leapt up and grabbed his head, shoving his face directly into her chest and holding him there by hugging him with both arms. The fabric of her blouse pressed against his face, with his nose squeezed directly between her soft breasts. His hands found her hips, and he grabbed hold as the tickle overtook him.

“hhhchhfff! hh-isshhh! nnn… hhih- hii-hhssshhiuh! aeshhiu! … eh! … heh! … hehh-CHSSHT! CHSSHT! HISSHHHTT!”

What would have normally been a powerful and vocal fit was instead muffled and subdued as Noelle wrestled it into submission with the luscious mounds of her chest. Once Oraion’s sneezing subsided, she relented and loosened her death grip on his head, allowing him to at last come up for air. He looked up at her standing over him as he sat back, sniffling wetly. Her entire face was flushed a lovely bright scarlet—a color he was perhaps a bit partial to. His gaze dropped back to her blouse, where he found he’d made a rather wet spot between her breasts. He summoned an apologetic look as his gaze rose back to meet hers.

“I’m sorry, Mistress, but I… I couldn’t help it.”

To be fair, the books truly were dusty. It would have gotten to him at some point anyhow, so why not help it along and get it over with? Still, Oraion supposed he had earned the scolding he was no doubt about to receive.

It took him rather by surprise, then, when Noelle instead grabbed his chin and forced her tongue into his mouth. He was quick to adapt, of course, sucking on her tongue and chasing it with his own when she pulled it back. His fingers dug into her hips, pulling her towards him until she was straddling his lap. She draped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck as she continued to kiss him hungrily, sucking on and biting his lips and tongue. The lust that burned within her intoxicated him and stoked his Hunger.

He supported her back with one hand while the other loosened the catch of her leather leggings and slipped inside. She was warm and wet and waiting for his touch, and she moaned into his mouth as he pushed two fingers inside her. The feel of her became his entirety: the way she enfolded his fingers, the slick sweetness of her tongue in his mouth, the building pleasure that flowed into him more and more.

Noelle brushed the tip of his nose with her own, sending a ticklish wave through his sinuses.

“C-careful -snf- it’s still pretty sensitive…”

“Oh dear,” she murmured as she nuzzled him again, “how terribly inconvenient.”

Even as his breath caught she kissed him. The buzzing prickle spread, making it hard to concentrate, but his fingers did not stop their rhythmic stroking.

“M-Mistress, I… I n-need to- heh-HEH!”

It wouldn’t take much to send either of them over the edge. Oraion could hardly keep his eyes open, and he felt more than saw Noelle’s fingertip gently tease his irritated nares.

“W-wait- Y-you’re guh-gonna m-make me- ih-hihh-HIHH!”

Her hand still behind his neck twined into his hair and shoved his face down into her cleavage.

“hiihh-CHHWFF!”

Once more his sneeze was muffled by the supple flesh of her breasts, and in that moment her pleasure poured into him like a river breaking through a dam. It washed over him in waves, and he let himself drown in it as her hips bucked over his lap. Her pleasure became his own, no telling where one ended and the other began. Each held onto the other for dear life, Noelle clutching Oraion to her chest as he hugged her to himself with his arm around her back.

As they both came down from their shared euphoria, Oraion realized he was biting Noelle’s breast through her shirt. He did not remember making the conscious decision to do so, but she didn't seem to mind. He let go and looked up at her. She was taking her hand out of her mouth—she had bitten the side of a forefinger to keep herself quiet in the stillness of the Librarium.

He kept his eyes on her face as he slowly pulled out of her. The sweet expression she made and the little sigh that escaped her were the perfect dessert to his delicious meal. She opened her soft brown eyes, her cheeks still flushed and rosy, and she leaned in to kiss him once more. He nipped at her lower lip with a sly grin.

“Still afraid we're going to get in trouble?”

“Yes, but now I care less.”

Her lips touched his even as she giggled, a sound that twisted her ever deeper into his heart. Falling for her was a terrible idea, he knew that, but moments like this, the happiness she gave him, made him powerless to resist her gravity. No one made him feel this way, not since his first love, so long past that it may as well have been in another world entirely.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching broke them from the hold of the afterglow, and Noelle hurried back into her own seat as she adjusted her clothing. She flipped open the pages of the book and leaned over them like she’d been studying them all along, though her face was still quite red. Oraion found his handkerchief had fallen on the floor at some point, and he quickly scooped it up and wiped off his fingers.

The hulking form of the Head Librarian strode into view, carrying a library cart in her hands. Oraion imagined her leaning over to push it normally, and he got a pretty good idea of why she preferred to carry it. She placed the cart down and filed away a few volumes on a nearby shelf. Oraion heard Noelle breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

"Everything all right over here? I thought I heard some sort of commotion, and you’re looking rather flushed, Miss."

“U-um.” Noelle’s voice came out in a terrified squeak, her eyes wide behind her glasses.

Thinking quickly, Oraion lifted his handkerchief to his nose as though he were wiping it, but instead he gave his nostrils a quick tease.

“S-sorry, it’s my fault, I- I- hih- ih-hihh! HIIHTCHHiuh!” He managed to muffle the sneeze by pressing the cloth firmly over his nose, which he hoped was a reasonable facsimile of how it had sounded into Noelle’s shirt. “Nguh -snnff- Sorry, my a-allergies are acting up, and- heh! heh-CHHFF! -snf- I’m afraid I’ve rather embarrassed her with the noise. -sdnf- This is a library, after all.”

The orcish librarian narrowed her eyes. “Hmph. Just keep it down, and do not disturb the other patrons, please.”

“I-I’ll do my best, ma’am… hhihghshh!”

Appearing satisfied, Ogtrop picked up her cart and moved on. Once the sound of her footsteps had faded, Oraion couldn’t help but laugh, smothering the sound behind a hand. Noelle playfully smacked his arm.

“I don’t see what’s so funny! We could have gotten into so much trouble!”

Though her words chastised him, a thread of laughter wove through her voice as well.

“You’re the one who jumped me!”

“Oh, and you didn’t stir up all that dust on purpose?”

“You know it would have happened sooner or later! Now, do you want to keep bickering and draw Ms Ogtrop’s attention again, or do you actually want to study these arcane tomes?”

“Fine, but this is not over!” She went back to the table of contents and found the page she had initially wanted to review. “Now, I believe we were going to talk about the use of conjuration before we were, ahem, interrupted. Weren’t you saying that you don’t actually use conjuration?”

Oraion grinned and placed his arm across the back of Noelle’s chair as they both leaned over the text. “Yes, that’s right. You see, conjuration is the art of creating something from nothing. Were that true, then the handkerchief wouldn’t exist before it appeared in my hand. I would literally be creating it from magic. What I do is a form of summoning…”

While Oraion continued his explanation, Ms Gwendolyn Ogtrop, Head Librarian of the Tigate Librarium, continued her work of filing away the book returns in Section D. She heaved a sigh and tried not to let her envy weigh too heavily on her mind. Men of that caliber were rare enough, but the fact that this one had adorable sneezes too? That human girl didn’t know what a treasure she had. Although, with how red her face was, perhaps she did…

Ogtrop tried to push it from her mind as she tucked another book away. Someday the perfect man for her would walk through that Librarium door. She would whisk him off his feet and into a whirlwind romance, instead of just another link in a lengthy chain of one night stands. Someday happily ever after would happen for her, too.

At least, she could hope.

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Beneath the Mask

I believe someone ordered an Oraion sickfic?

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Beneath the Mask

Word Count: 2,407

Content and Warnings: male snz, non-human snz, sickfic

In which Oraion's claim that "demons do not get sick" comes conspicuously into question.

--------------------

When Oraion began having prolonged fits of harsh coughing, Noelle knew something was amiss. It had only been a few days since he’d made love to her while she was still sick with fever. He'd sworn up and down that demons could not fall ill, yet the young witch had her doubts. After all, hadn’t he also spent the greater part of his life, thousands of years by his claim, without so much as a single sneeze? Yet, as soon as the contract between them was forged, he’d been bestowed with the most sensitive nose Noelle had ever had the pleasure of knowing, all in the name of better equipping the incubus to satisfy his Mistress's unique sexual appetites.

Yesterday he'd locked himself in his room and refused to see her. Even her knock upon his door went unanswered. Earlier, Oraion had been adamant that she not enter the room under any circumstances. Now the silence from therein worried her, and Noelle struggled between her fear of upsetting the demon and her concern for his well-being.

Concern won out in the end, and Noelle placed her hand upon the doorknob. She focused her will and reached out into the ambient magical energy that surrounded her and suffused all things: mana. This was her tower, her sanctum, and as its Master she demanded that nothing remain closed to her. Under her fingers she felt a soft click as the lock came undone. Funny that the lessons Oraion had given her in magic were now the key to breaking into his room. With a steadying breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

“Oraion? I know you said not to come in, but you didn't answer when I knocked, so… I got worried.”

Still no answer, but at least now she could hear him breathing. Perhaps he was only deeply asleep.

There was no light in the room, only the illumination from the doorway. Noelle crept inside with careful steps. If he was resting she didn't necessarily want to wake him, but even laying eyes on him would do much to ease her mind. The crimson-tufted tip of his tail twitched as it hung over the foot of the bed, poking out from beneath the covers. He'd gathered a massive pile of cushions and blankets in the middle of the bed, like a nest.

She approached the head of the bed and heard his breathing more clearly, labored and wheezing. He was completely under the blankets, somewhere within the nest of cushions. There was no longer any doubt in her mind that her Servant was sick. She wanted to chide him for trying to hide it, but that would make her a hypocrite: she had done the exact same when she first fell ill.

Noelle anxiously tucked an errant chestnut curl behind her ear as she debated whether or not to call out to him again. If he was sick, he needed rest, but surely there was something she could do for him? He’d taken such wonderful care of her while she was sick. How could she not now wish to return the favor?

“Um, Oraion? Are you awake? I… I'm sorry for not doing as you asked, but I only want to help you. You don't need to be embarrassed—”

The blankets shifted as he stirred. A horned head rose out of the covers… and kept rising. Noelle's eyes widened behind her glasses as a lengthy neck appeared, covered in flowing, crimson fur. The face bore an equine snout covered in gray scales, almost draconic in appearance. Long fangs protruded from the lips. Red eyes blinked blearily at her, glowing faintly in the darkened room. On either side of its head the curling horns swept back, covered in spiky ridges and joined by a third horn erupting from the center of its forehead.

Noelle took a half step back. There wasn't a pile of cushions in the bed at all—that was the creature's body. As the blankets fell back she could just make out the shoulders, wings folded against its sides. The mane of thick, red fur ran down its chest, but its sides and legs bore the same gray scales as its face. Expecting claws, she was surprised to find that its legs ended in silvery, cloven hooves.

This creature… it had to be…

“Oraion?”

“I thought I told you to stay out.”

His voice was the same but rougher, more resonant in his much larger body.

“I-I know. I'm sorry, I just… What's happened to you?”

Those glowing eyes pierced her. Instead of answering he snorted, jets of white steam billowing from his nostrils. Noelle jumped, unable to suppress it, but she held her ground.

“Oraion, please. I-I don't understand. What's going on?”

“Leave.”

She swallowed, hard.

“No.”

“I said: get out.”

Noelle flinched. Oraion never used that tone with her. Was he trying to scare her off so she would leave him be? Or was he genuinely angry with her for finding him like this? He had a right to that anger, she supposed, but she could no more ignore his condition and leave than she could sprout wings of her own and fly out the window. Noelle took a step closer to the bed and balled her hands into trembling fists.

“I-I'm not going to leave until you tell me what's going on! I am your Mistress—you're mine, remember? A-and that means… it- it means that I'm responsible for you!”

Another moment of tense silence, and then he sighed and lowered his great head back down onto the bed.

“I am weak. I cannot hold my… the form that you're used to.”

“Then this is… your true form?”

He didn't answer right away.

“In a sense.”

He closed his eyes and resumed his labored breathing, then his maned chest spasmed with wet-sounding coughs.

“Oh, Oraion…”

She sat down on the edge of the bed beside him and gestured at the lamp on the bedside table, willing the flame to life. Oraion groaned as warm light filled the room.

“Nnnnh, must you?”

“Oh, I-I'm sorry, does the light hurt your eyes?”

“No… I just…” He sighed again, horse-like ears drooping. “I'm hideous.”

“That's not true.”

“Hmph. You were frightened of me.”

“I was surprised more than anything. Why did you never tell me?”

“As I said: hideous.”

“Oh, stop that. You are not.” She gingerly touched his scaled forehead, brows furrowing when she felt the heat there. “You're burning up. You really are sick, aren't you?”

“I told you, demons don't get s-sick.”

Another wave of coughs hit him, and then his sides heaved, nares flaring.

“h-hih- HIHHSSSHHHU!”

The entire bed shuddered, and Noelle flinched aside as more steam blasted from Oraion's snout. The rims of his nostrils were pink and raw, slick with a sheen of mess running down the sides of his muzzle. Dried encrustation clung to his scales—he'd clearly been suffering in this form for some time already.

“Gods, you poor thing. Just hold on: I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Noelle dashed from the room and quickly returned with several clean cloths and a bowl of cool water. She wasn't sure what demon-beast mucus would do to her cloth napkins, but this wasn't the time to be precious and clearly a handkerchief was not going to be enough. She took one in both hands and draped it over the end of Oraion's reptilian snout.

“Okay, blow for me.”

He blinked.

“Eh?”

“Blow your nose.”

He continued to stare at her. It was difficult to tell with the scales, but she thought he might be blushing.

“You can't really do it yourself, can you? You've got hooves!”

Reluctantly, he did as she asked, and, after going through a couple of the cloths, his breathing sounded a bit clearer. Noelle dampened another cloth in the bowl and set about gently cleaning the dried mess from his nostrils.

“Nnhh- That tih- tickles! Careful! I- heh! Gonna- hih- hi'hehh!”

Thankfully she'd brought a large bundle of the cloths: she pressed a clean one over his nose just in time to catch another powerful, wet sneeze. The force of his head nearly knocked her backwards.

“Goodness. I guess even in this form you're still pretty sensitive, huh?”

“-snndf- Seems that way…”

Noelle settled for cleaning up the sides of his muzzle and leaving his poor, irritated nares alone for the moment. She soaked one more cloth in cool water and laid it over his forehead, just below the center horn, as she sat down next to him once again and started stroking his neck.

“I don't think you're ugly at all. You're almost like a dragon in this form.” She looked down at his legs. “I've never seen a dragon with hooves, though.”

He briefly lifted a foreleg. “Well, demons are supposed to have hooves, aren’t they?”

The sardonic note that crept into his voice made him sound a bit more like himself.

Noelle smirked. “I suppose… Do all incubi actually look something like draconic horses, then?”

He was silent for a few moments, and Noelle wondered if she'd said something to offend him. At last he spoke, his gaze focused on something far away, something she suspected only he could see.

“Would you believe it if I said I was not born a demon?”

“‘Not born’…? You mean, you used to be something else?”

He gave a weak nod.

“It's not the usual way of things. Most demons do begin their lives as such. Some are born as you might expect, but many simply coalesce from the energy of the Demon Realm. They can be born of conflict and bloodshed, of powerful emotions, or even from pure chaos. Occasionally, however, a demon is transformed from some other sort of creature entirely. You're aware of fallen angels, I'm sure.”

Noelle nodded and waited for him to continue.

“Long ago, in another life… I was a servant of Celestia.”

“An angel?”

“No… No, not an angel, although I did serve at the pleasure of the gods. More like… a divine beast, you might say. I had a duty to punish the wicked, to correct injustices. To humans I was a symbol of peace and good fortune. To the gods I was one of their most powerful champions, with strength that rivaled their own.”

“Then… Can I ask what happened?”

His sides heaved, this time with a great sigh, and for a moment Noelle thought he might not answer. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and strained.

“I failed in my duties. I defied the will of the gods for my own selfish reasons. I could have prevented calamity, but… I didn’t. And this is my punishment. The gods cast me out. I fell from grace, becoming this… thing. A demon, a half-breed, a monster. My divine power was stripped away, my form twisted into a mockery of the splendor I once possessed… So, yes, this is my true form, in that this body is what remains of me—my curse for my transgressions.”

“Oh, Oraion, I… I'm so sorry… I-I don’t know what else to say, except… that I’m here for you.”

She leaned into him, placing her arms around his neck, plunging her hands deep into his long, silky fur. She heard a rumble in his chest, almost like a cat’s purr.

“Thank you… I hope you’ll forgive me for being so maudlin. It all happened aeons ago, and I truly have come to accept what I am now. As I said, at this point it's become another life to me, like it happened to someone else. Someone who doesn't exist anymore.”

He turned his head slightly towards her, and, though it was difficult to tell with the snout, Noelle thought she saw a slight smile on his face.

“I'm in a much better place now.”

Noelle snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his fur. There was something different about the way he smelled, and yet it was somehow familiar.

“Mmm… You smell nice.”

She heard him chuckle, a pleasant vibration against her cheek.

“That’s a surprise. I can’t smell a damned thing right now, but I assumed I must smell like a barn.”

Noelle shook her head, breathing deep.

“No, no. You smell like… the rain. Like a thunderstorm. Something else, too… Something sweet… Cherries, maybe?”

Oraion shifted. “Yes, all right. You- You can stop sniffing me.”

With a grin, Noelle rubbed her face in his fur even more and began scratching his neck with her fingers.

“Oh, that’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

He started to giggle, his sides quivering. “Hey! S-stop that! It tickles!”

She almost kept at it but decided she didn’t want to push her luck and risk getting kicked by those hooves.

“Okay, okay. But I do like the way you smell.”

“Duly n-noted—” Several coughs cut him off, and guilt stabbed Noelle in the gut.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have made you laugh like that…”

“N-no, no,” he managed between coughs, “I needed it. A bit of coughing is a price I’ll gladly pay to laugh with you. I missed being with you. I… I’m sorry I hid this from you.”

“Did you really think that this would come between us, after all we’ve been through together? Especially—” He cheeks flushed. “Especially after the other night.”

“No, it’s not that. Well, perhaps it was at first, but now… It’s because I know you have such a kind heart, my dear Mistress. I didn’t want to worry or upset you. I didn’t want you to… pity me.” He snorted with a rueful chuckle. “Too late for that, I suppose. I am in quite the- the pitiable s-state- eh-heh! HEHHTSSHEW!”

Noelle stroked his mane. “Oh, my poor Servant…”

“See? -snndff- That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not pitying you; I care about you. There’s a difference.”

“Ha. Sure.”

Noelle pulled her legs up onto the bed and settled into the crook of Oraion’s long neck. She stayed there, running her fingers through his silky fur and chatting the afternoon away, until he fell asleep again, his sides rising and falling in a soothing rhythm. With a gesture she doused the light, and the young witch soon followed, lulled to sleep by the warmth and steady breathing of her demonic Servant, content to again be by his side regardless of whatever form he may take.

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Nothing Holding Me Back

I am. So tired. I've had like... three and a half hours of sleep that were split into two chunks, five hours apart. Emergency vet shenanigans in the wee hours of the morning. Everyone is fine, although we are all sleepy. BUT I DIGRESS. Even sleep deprivation won't interrupt today's release schedule! Mostly because I already had this one fully written... Whatever. Onward!

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Please do not reblog to non kink blogs, minors DNI.

Title: Nothing Holding Me Back

Word Count: 1,601

Content and Warnings: snz (male)

In which a kitchen mishap spurs Noelle to a level of boldness she has not shown before, for which Oraion suffers the consequences.

------------------

After nearly a year of living together, the witch Noelle had largely grown used to the sound of her demon companion Oraion's sneezing as it echoed throughout her tower on a daily basis. Of course, this did not mean that she no longer took note when it happened, only that it no longer startled her as often as it did at first. Although, when he would sneak up behind her while she was distracted and sneeze right next to her—then it most definitely startled her.

It was not unusual for him to sneeze in multiples, and oftentimes he would have full-blown fits, but usually these only lasted for a minute or two at most. So when Noelle glanced at the small clock that sat next to the open book on her desk and realized that Oraion had been sneezing at varying intervals for about ten straight minutes, she became a touch concerned.

She followed the sound down through the tower until she found the demon in the kitchen with his hands gripping the edge of the counter. His head was bowed, red hair falling around his face and concealing most of it from Noelle’s viewpoint behind him. His long tail swayed to and fro, its sweeping arc interrupted by the odd, erratic twitch.

“Guh… h-heh- heh! … mmnh -sniff- … hih… ah-hehh- HEH! -hhnnng n-no! No, I-I’m not guh-going t-to s- s- hiihh- augh-”

“Um, Oraion?”

He jumped and turned to look over his shoulder. Streaming, red-rimmed eyes met Noelle’s with a wide look of surprise before they fluttered closed.

“Oh n-no- eh-hiih- hiiihh- hiiIIHH- HIIIESHOOO!”

Noelle stepped further into the room. “A-are you alright? What happened?”

Oraion rubbed a finger beneath his septum and sniffled. His nose was quite red and inflamed, with the flush crossing his cheeks and into his long ears. As she drew closer, something on the counter past him caught Noelle’s eye: an overturned spice jar with its contents spilled and scattered across the surface.

“Is that pepper?”

Oraion nodded.

“H-had a bit of a mishahhh-hap, uh, -snnff- a-and it, uh, it- we-went hehHEHehh! nnguh- -ssdnff- w-went everywhere.”

Another pass of his finger beneath his nose. Grains of pepper stuck to his upper lip, and Noelle realized that he was covered in it, like he’d been doused by a very confused demon hunter who knew that some common kitchen spice repelled demons but couldn’t quite remember that it was salt. It was in his hair, on his skin, stuck to his clothes—just what kind of ‘mishap’ could have caused all this?

“Oh, I-I’m sorry. You could have gotten me, I would have helped clean you up.”

“W-well, I could c-clean it up if I wa- heh- w-wanted.” He held up a hand and mimed snapping his fingers, the gesture he usually used to cast spells. “But I thought this was -sdnnff- an excellent opportunity to p-p- ihh-hiiihhh- mmnh- ahem, practice huh-holding back.”

Noelle blinked. “That’s why you’ve been sneezing for the past ten minutes?”

“H-has it only b-been that long? Fe-feels like hours- eh-hehh! Mmmhh- No, I duh-don’t hah-have to sne- snee- heh-heh- sneeheeze! heh-hehh- HEH! Oh shit, y-yes I d-do-! hiiihh-hhiIIHH! HIIHSSHHIIEW!”

It felt so awkward not to say anything after he sneezed, but he also didn’t like being blessed—which, as a demon, was fair, she supposed. Instead, she had started rubbing his arm as a little gesture of acknowledgement, so she reached out and stroked him.

“-snnffft- Thanks.”

“Mm. So, you’re sort of… testing your limits?”

“You could seh-heh- s-say that. Oh, gods, it burns.”

Noelle shifted her weight and fidgeted with her hands as a strange feeling crept into her. There was something about his effort to hold back, stubbornly withholding relief from his tortured nares, florid and sniffling and begging for release from the burning tickle of the pepper that still clung to him—it made her want to see him fall apart and succumb to a fit all the more. After living with the incubus for so long, perhaps he’d rubbed off on her more than she thought.

“Gosh, you poor thing. Um, let me get something to help.”

As she crossed the kitchen she wondered what he thought she meant. Perhaps a remedy to ease his symptoms. Instead she accessed the pantry and reached up amongst the hanging bunches of drying herbs, taking down a fairly fresh bundle of fragrant lavender. The sing of her pulse raced in her veins. Managing her excitement was key—with him already being sneezy she could get away with a certain level of interest, but if she let herself get too hot and bothered the demon’s intrinsic sense for her arousal might tip him off that she was up to something.

She kept the herbs hidden behind her back as she approached Oraion. The demon was still absorbed in rubbing and sniffling and trying not to sneeze. Noelle bit her lower lip. She had never done something this bold before. Despite her best efforts, Oraion must have suspected something. He paused with a knuckle under his nose and locked eyes with her.

“M-Mistress-?”

It was now or never. One last step to cross the remaining space between them, and Noelle produced the bundle of lavender. She had meant to wave it beneath his nose, but she was so nervous she actually shoved the flowers directly into his face. One of the flower heads poked directly into a nostril.

“O-oh, oops…”

The effect was instantaneous.

“Wh-what are you-?! hehh-HEHH! HAESHIUU! heh-TCHOO! ih- hih- HIHH- HIHH’SHIIEW! Guh- l-lavender- -snnff- M-Mistress you know hehh-how muh-much lavender tiihhhckles me! hiihh! hiih’ISSHU-ISSHU-ISSHU-hih-SHOO!”

Noelle bit her lower lip and pulled back the flowers.

“I-I know, but don’t you think you’ll feel so much better if you let out all those sneezes you’ve been keeping in?”

“B-but th-eh-heh-hehISHIUU! th-the p-pe- heh-hehh-HEHH’TCHiu! p-pepper, I- heh- I can’t- HEH!”

“Mm-hmm, so you’d better sneeze it all out, now, okay?”

With a little more care, Noelle shook the flowers just in front of his nose. Ever the obedient Servant, Oraion’s eyes squeezed shut as his chest heaved, sucking in a great, hitching breath.

“ehh-hhHEEHHhh! hehHHSHHHIIIEW! ah-hahh-aaahhh! GEH-SHHIIUUU!”

Desperate to expel the combined onslaught of the burning pepper and allergenic pollen, Oraion’s suffering sinuses unleashed sneeze after violent sneeze with hardly a moment for breath. He’d had helpless fits before, but never had the urge felt so damned intense. It burned and itched along his entire nose, from nares to bridge and back through his nasal cavity. It wouldn’t be so bad if it felt like the sneezes were earning him any actual relief. Instead he just sneezed and sneezed while that spot just below the bridge, his most sensitive and ticklish, buzzed with a tortuous intensity.

He pressed the back of his hand beneath his nose and quickly dampened it with a messy sheen. Tears streamed from his eyes, which he could hardly keep open, but he noticed that Noelle was holding something up other than the cursed bundle of lavender: a handkerchief. He’d no idea what had gotten into her to make her torment him so, but he wasn’t about to let her have all the fun. Instead of grabbing the handkerchief, he grabbed the hand holding it with both of his own and pulled it in so she was holding the cloth to his nose. He’d see to it she felt every last outburst of this fit she’d inflicted on him.

Even muffled into the handkerchief his sneezes were heavy and unrelenting. Now touching Noelle skin-to-skin, he could even more clearly sense her arousal. Gods but she was enjoying this, wasn’t she? Little sips of pleasure flowed into him, and the more his sneezing thrilled her, the more he began to enjoy it himself. Build and release—he couldn’t deny it was almost like sex. Now if only he could breathe.

Noelle began to worry that maybe she had gone too far. It took quite some time before Oraion’s fit showed any signs of stopping. When it did begin to slow down, though, she noticed that the little sounds the demon started making in the growing spaces between each sneeze were almost… erotic. As if she wasn’t already turned on enough. When he’d forced her to hold the handkerchief for him, she thought she might faint on the spot.

“Ngguh…-snnf- Since when did you ge-get so aahssertive? HEHshu!”

Noelle dropped her chin slightly while looking up at Oraion over the rim of her glasses.

“I suppose I have a good teacher…”

Oraion’s own scarlet eyes lit up with a hungry gleam.

“Oh, you’re going to be the deh-death of m-me- heh! HEH’ISSHIEW!”

He finally let go of her hand and took the handkerchief himself, blowing his nose into it several times. Noelle touched his elbow.

“Should we get you cleaned up, then? After that, maybe we could… lie down together. You know, until you catch your breath.”

Oraion chuckled. “Oh, are you certain you want to do the cleaning up part? -snnff- Don’t want me getting pepper all over the bed? All over you?”

“Hm, that might be a little less pleasant for me than you think.”

“Well, that’s fair. Don’t want it getting into any sensitive places… hehsshhiu! -snf- Plus that adorable nose of yours is so regrettably stubborn. Someday I’ll tease a sneeze out of you, Mistress. -snf- Soon as I find something that works, anyway.”

Noelle blushed. “Oh, y-you don’t need to worry about that.”

“I know I don’t, but it would please you.” He touched her chin with his fingertips. “And I am always looking for new ways to do that.”

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Broken

Today's release sets up an arc of around five fics that will serve as a sort of "season finale" for Accidental Mistress. Once this arc is over, I'll be putting the series on hiatus while I take a break and focus on other content (like wavs). That is not to say that Accidental Mistress will be ending. Rest assured, I have no plans to end the series yet.

This fic is one of my favorites. I'll let it speak for itself.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Title: Broken

Word Count: 6,101

Content and Warnings: snz (M & F), some light mess, whump, blood, injury, mention of assault.

In which wounds both seen and unseen are tended, hearts are laid bare, and a glimpse is caught into Oraion's distant past.

--------------------

Sunset lit the sky in hues of fiery orange and blush pink, cut with streaks of cool violet fading into deep blue. A low cloud, backlit and shadowed, hung in the sky like a bruise. The rough-edged call of a crow broke the stillness of the chill, autumn air. Though the rain had passed, the damp remained, and the breeze sliced through Noelle's wet clothes like a blade.

With any luck, Oraion was reading in the newly-reconstructed library or lounging somewhere else in the higher levels, and Noelle could sneak inside the tower and head straight to her room. The last thing she wanted right now was to see him. Rather, she reflected, it was for him to see her own sorry state.

Her ankle protested with white hot lances of pain as she limped up the gray gravel walk to the aged stone tower that served as her home. A bitter laugh passed her lips: this was not unlike the first time she had stumbled upon the structure, damaged and abandoned in the middle of the forest. At that time, she and the tower had shared those qualities in common.

Over the intervening years she worked on restoring the tower, and it was ever an ongoing project. At first she did everything on her own. She wanted to keep a low profile and feared anyone discovering the location of her hideaway, so materials and necessary supplies were the only things she sourced from the nearby town of Chambelf.

It wasn't until Quinns, hopelessly lost and on the edge of delirium in the forest, happened upon her tower by chance that Noelle gained an aide in her efforts, and, in the end, a friend. Together, work on the restoration proceeded at a much faster pace. When Oraion later came into her life, the Greater Demon's power sped things even further along, to the point where now the tower was quite a livable and cozy space, with only a few minor projects left.

One thing she had never quite gotten to fixing was those damnable squeaky hinges on the front doors. They groaned like the lamentations of the damned as she pushed the heavy oaken doors inward. She may as well have rung the disused bell.

Still, perhaps Oraion was further upstairs or sleeping, and if she hurried she could make it to her room unnoticed. Those hopes were dashed almost immediately when his voice reached her from the kitchen as she closed the doors behind her.

"Ah, welcome home, Mistress. With that storm that passed through I was starting to think I ought to come—" She heard his footsteps stop short in the doorway. "What happened to your clothes?"

Her mind raced as she pulled the hood of her cloak forward, keeping her head bowed and her gaze on the stone floor as she turned towards him.

"Oh, I, um, I tripped and fell on my way home. It got quite muddy, you know, and I- I slipped."

The concern in his voice deepened. "Are you all right? You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No!" Too late she realized her denial was too quick, too forceful. She cleared her throat and tried again, more calmly. "No, I'm fine. A scrape or a bruise, perhaps. Nothing serious."

Tears threatened the corners of her eyes. It was true enough: she wasn't seriously hurt. Physically, anyway. If she kept her hood up she could conceal the bloody split on her lip, and if she moved carefully she could walk without a limp. She could escape to her room, take a hot bath, give herself time to calm down.

"Mistress…"

He sounded closer now. Damn but he could move quietly when he wanted to. She dared not raise her face, not looking the way she did. Clean. She needed to get clean.

"I really ought to take off these wet clothes and get washed up, you know." She forced a laugh, a brittle thing that shattered across her tongue. "So just, um, hold that thought, will you?"

She made for the stairs as though they were a lifeline thrown to her in the sea.

"Are you limping?"

"I must have twisted my ankle. I'll be sure to rest—"

"Mistress, wait—"

"Please, I just— I-I need a moment to—"

"I said wait."

His form materialized in front of her, blocking her way. She ducked her head further towards the floor and grabbed the edges of her hood. Fat tears spilled from her eyes, unable to be held back any longer.

"Please, Oraion. I just want to go to my room."

"Is that an order?"

She almost said yes. If she ordered him away he would have to obey her and leave her alone, and yet something inside her welled up and stilled her tongue. Silence was her answer to him, and the shadows deepened as he drew closer. His fingers touched one of her wrists. Gentle warmth banished the wet chill on her skin.

"Noelle. Let me see."

A little hiccupping sob jumped in her chest as she dropped her hands and allowed him to lower her hood. His other hand went to her chin and tipped her face towards his. Shame roiled in her gut, and she could not meet his eyes. Weak. She was so weak. What kind of witch allowed herself to be bullied and beaten? What further proof was needed that she was not fit to be master to a Greater Demon? She wasn't sure she was even fit to be a witch anymore. Had she ever been?

Oraion slipped a finger beneath her glasses and traced the tears down her cheek, wiping them away with a gentle touch. Drawn by the gesture, Noelle at last allowed her gaze to rise, and when her eyes met his they were as locked together as the earth and the moon. At first she thought it a trick of the light or her own imagination, but no—his crimson eyes glowed as two red-hot embers.

"Who did this to you?"

The softness of his voice belied a primal undercurrent of rage, boiling pressure building towards violent eruption.

"I-I told you, I tripped on the road–-"

"The road does not leave boot prints on a woman's clothes. I ask again: who did this to you?"

As his Master, Noelle was immune to the incubus's powers of persuasion, but under the heat of his gaze she could no more hide the truth from him than she could lift the tower over her head.

"It was… some young men in town. Hardly m-more than boys, really. They—" A wave of pressure gripped her chest like a vice as her vision blurred with more tears, and with them a torrent of words gushed forth, punctuated by little sobs. "Th-they said that- that I was a dirty witch, and that I… that I belonged in the dirt! I tried to- to get away, b-but they grabbed me, and struck me, and threw me to the- to the ground. They dumped my bag, a-all of my things on the road, and they- they stole the money I got f-from selling mooncaps. Gods, I was so scared! I thought they were going to- to f-force me-” She couldn’t even finish the thought aloud as another sob cut her off and she dropped her face into her hands. After a moment she made herself continue. “But they- they only kicked me and spit on me… -snf- I-I can't believe I actually thought I was lucky that beating me and robbing me was all they did!"

The embers in Oraion's eyes glowed brighter, stoked by her account of the assault. The demon trembled, his clawed fingers flexed as if ready to strike something. His voice, for all his burning fury, was like ice when he spoke.

"I see. Then I believe these 'boys' must be taught a lesson."

He strode past her towards the doors with grim purpose writ in every inch of his tall frame, and a flare of alarm rose in Noelle's breast.

"What? No! You can't!"

The demon stopped dead, as though a wall of stone had appeared before him, but he did not turn. His long tail gave an irate lash.

"... What did you just say?"

His tone almost made her balk, but she took a breath and repeated her command.

"I… I said you can't go."

Oraion turned his head aside, a snarl on his lips, hands balled into fists. His enraged voice became tinged with disbelief.

"You would stop me from bringing retribution to those who harmed you?"

She wavered, but managed to squeak out, "Yes."

"Let me go, Mistress."

She shook her head. "No. I forbid it."

He spun towards her.

"They must be brought to justice!"

"I don’t care about that! You’re not allowed to go!"

"Why?!"

"Because I don't want you to leave!" The words tore out of her in a scream, harsh sobs bringing fresh tears to her eyes. "I don't want to be alone… Please… please don't leave me here all alone."

She sank to the floor as the last of her strength fled, and she gave herself over to her tears with her arms wrapped tight around her chest. The effect on Oraion was as though she had doused him with ice water. By the time her knees hit the floor he was at her side, the furious light in his eyes extinguished, and he pulled her close to his chest in a fierce embrace.

“Oh, Noelle, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. I just— The thought of some filthy degenerates putting their hands on you…” He held her tighter and took a shuddering breath. “I won’t leave you, I promise. I’m right here. I… I’ll always be here for you.”

He stroked her hair and down her back with one hand, his touch suffused with warmth and comfort.

“Gods, you’re soaked.” He leaned back and cupped her cheek, searching her face with worried eyes. “And frozen, poor thing. Come, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and into a hot bath.”

A snap of his fingers cleaned and dried her sodden clothing, though the damp chill still lingered in her flesh. Noelle simply sat there, chest jumping with sniffles and quiet sobs, as Oraion fiddled with the clasp on her cloak before peeling the garment off of her. Next came her blouse, his fingers making quick work of the buttons for different reasons than usual. With her ankle still throbbing, Noelle needed help getting back on her feet to remove her skirt, which was left on the floor with the rest of her clothes. Only her underthings remained, and these Oraion left on her as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

The bathroom had undergone some recent upgrades thanks to Oraion’s aid and tutelage. Water no longer needed to be drawn cold from the well and heated manually: a brass spout on the wall shaped into the head of a lion contained a rune deep inside the open mouth that, when activated, summoned water that was already at the perfect temperature for a soothing bath. A wooden rack nearby contained many small jars and bottles filled with herbs, salts, and oils; which Oraion seemed to have a sixth sense for combining into luxurious soaks that relaxed the mind, soothed aches and other hurts, and delighted the senses.

A small stool sat on one side of the bathroom, where Noelle waited as Oraion busied himself with preparing her a bath. She felt a little silly sitting there in her underwear and boots. She leaned over and started to unlace them but found she couldn’t get very far on account of her trembling fingers. Oraion was right: she was freezing. If she wasn’t already sniffling from crying she probably would be anyway from the cold. She quickly sat back up as some mess threatened to drip from her nose from leaning over.

“heh-ishoo! Ishoo!”

Two kittenish sneezes seized her without warning, and she just barely managed to catch them in her hands. When she opened her eyes she groaned as she found that the mess she’d been trying to avoid now coated her fingers.

“Here.”

Oraion came over and took a knee before her, then pulled a handkerchief from the air with a snap of his fingers. It wasn’t his usual burgundy one, but a cloth of soft, white cotton. Noelle thought he was going to hand it to her, but instead he took her hands and started wiping them clean. Heat rushed into her cheeks.

“W-wait, I can— It’s gross—”

“Hush. You’ve cleaned me up plenty of times.”

“Well… I guess that’s true…”

He glanced up at her face a few times as he cleaned her hands.

“I’m not sure you want to be blessed by a demon, but… bless you.”

“Oh… thanks.”

As her own face grew hotter, she thought she saw a bit of pinkness come into Oraion’s pale cheeks as well. He caught her looking and smirked.

“You’re still incredibly cute when you sneeze, you know that?”

Before she could respond he stood and went over to the tub to dip a hand in the water. He shut off the tap and added a few more drops of one of the oils before declaring the bath ready. After helping Noelle out of the remainder of her clothing, he picked her up and lowered her into the tub.

Luxurious was indeed the best description for the bath he had prepared. The warmth sank into Noelle’s skin, through her aching muscles, right down to the bone it felt. Her ankle already felt lighter, the places she’d been struck and kicked that were certain to bruise by morning melted to a dull pain instead of a fresh sting.

Oraion pulled the stool up next to the tub.

“Now. Let’s clean up that cut on your lip, hm? We don’t want a scar on those lovely lips of yours, after all.”

With a clean washcloth snatched from a shelf, he dabbed some of the bathwater onto her split lip.

“This may sting a bit, but the herbs I added to the water will cleanse the wound and promote healing.” His touch was achingly gentle, and Noelle almost started crying all over again.

“Does it hurt? I’m sorry, it’ll only be for a moment.”

She gave the tiniest shake of her head so as not to disrupt his ministration, her words coming out slightly slurred as she tried not to move her lips too much.

“Mm-mm, doesn’ ‘urt.”

Oraion smiled, a fragile thing that Noelle had never seen. Not like his rakish grin when he teased her, or the coy smirk he used to lure her to bed, or the joyful smile that lit up a room with his laughter—this was a small, sad smile, ghostly and fleeting like a candle’s flame in a storm. It was gone nearly as soon as it appeared, replaced by his usual, self-assured persona.

“Well, looks like I won’t be getting any kisses for a while. Suppose I’ll need to find new places to kiss you, but that won’t be difficult.”

He winked at her, but Noelle could tell it was only theatre. He was trying so hard to cheer her up—why couldn’t she just buy into it? He soaked the cloth in the water again.

“I saw some scrapes on your hands; let me take a look.”

He dutifully checked her over, cleaning all of her cuts and scrapes. The longer she sat in the bath, the more her pain lessened.

“How do you know so much about baths, Oraion?”

A far more genuine smile tugged his lips, and a tightness in Noelle’s heart eased.

“Heh. While I’d like to say that knowing how to draw up a fine bath makes one popular with the ladies, it’s actually more of… an old hobby of mine. A long, long, long time ago I knew someone who absolutely adored a good bath. Knew where to find all of the best hot springs and what the properties of the waters were. I’ve always known a thing or three about herbs and such, so we simply put our heads together. Probably could have made a killing if we’d tried, but that sort of thing wasn’t on our minds back then. It’s just sort of stuck with me over the years. Gotten a bit more refined as times have changed.”

Noelle listened with rapt interest. It was rare for Oraion to talk about his past, especially the distant past.

“Um, your friend: were they a demon too?”

“No, not as such. More like… a spirit, I suppose.”

“Are you still friends now?”

His hands froze for just a moment before resuming tending to her wounds.

“No… No, they passed away quite some time ago.”

“Oh… I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be—it’s ancient history now. In a life as long as mine, death is the only truly constant companion. You get used to it.”

That seemed to be as far as he was willing to go with the topic, and he placed the washcloth aside so he could move the stool directly behind her. Then he took up a small pitcher in one hand and brushed gently through her hair with the other.

“Now, would my Mistress like for me to wash her hair?”

“Huh? Y-you don’t have to do that…”

He rolled his eyes. “I know I don’t have to, I’m asking if you’d like me to. You know what—I shouldn’t have asked. I’m going to wash your hair.”

“B-but I—”

“No ‘buts.’ Which one of us is the Servant, again?” He fingered the red leather collar around his neck. “Me. And right now I’m going to serve my Mistress.”

“You hate being my Servant, though,” she protested, her myriad hurts dredging her deepest doubts to the surface, “And you’re right to! You shouldn’t be serving someone like me. You’re a Greater Demon—a noble! And I’m… I’m nobody. I’m not even a proper witch. You deserve better.”

His hand cupped her cheek and turned her face slightly towards him as he leaned in and kissed her softly on the corner of her lips opposite the split. Then he pulled back and gazed deep into her eyes.

“Noelle… that just isn’t true. You are a fine witch, and you have such potential, far more than you realize. There may be some things about our arrangement that I’m not fond of—this collar limits me and it can be damned uncomfortable at times—but you are not one of those things. The time I’ve spent here with you… I have not felt a sense of peace like this in thousands of years, and I want you to understand that I mean that literally. I have watched civilizations rise and fall in the interim.

“My life before now has been an endless parade of hollow, lifeless days that all blended together, one into the next, because all I did was seek out distraction after distraction to make myself forget the fact that my existence had no meaning anymore. And yes, I was a selfish git when you first summoned me, but I know now that you have given my life a purpose for the first time in aeons, and I dearly wish you would stop convincing yourself that somehow that is wrong.”

Any response Noelle may have made withered and died in her throat before it ever reached her slightly parted lips. Never had she heard Oraion speak with such raw, honest emotion. Tears stood in his eyes. A Greater Demon, a Lord, a being thousands of years old, was on the verge of tears—for her.

“Oraion, I- I’m—”

He shook his head. “I don’t want you to apologize, just please promise me that you won’t speak so harshly of yourself so often.”

“O-okay, I promise. I’ll try.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, then he leaned in and gently kissed her forehead.

“That’s my girl. Now, I believe I was going to wash your hair.”

“Oh, I…” She caught herself and resisted the urge to shy away from his offer again. “I-I would like that very much, thank you.”

He had her lean her head back as he dipped the pitcher into the water and poured it over her hair. The warmth across her scalp was heavenly, like it was banishing the chill from her spirit as well as her body. Oraion then took up her hair soap and rubbed the bar into the lengths of her hair until it formed a nice lather. Noelle wasn’t sure what to expect with his claw-like nails, but it actually felt amazing when he massaged her scalp.

“My, you- you certainly, ah, like l-lavender scented things, d-don’t you Mistress?” Oraion sniffled behind her before his hands paused for a moment. “eh… heh! … HAE’shiu! Nguh -snf- Sorry.”

“Gosh, it really does set you off, doesn’t it?”

“A bihih- bit. heh-IISSHU! mnh -snff- I wonder: do you like lavender because it mmhehh- m-makes me sneeze, or does- does lavender make me s-sneeze because you- b-because- be-heh! HEHTCHIU! Ngh… Because you like it?”

Noelle laughed. “Well, seeing as I already owned a lot of lavender scented things before I met you, I suppose it must be the latter. Although perhaps now it’s a little of both.”

“Ah, quite so, quite s- seh heh-CHIH! Guh…”

Despite his frequent sneezing, Oraion gave Noelle’s hair a thorough washing before massaging a blend of rich oils into her scalp and hair. She’d never felt so pampered, so… taken care of.

“So this is what it’s like…”

“And what is ‘it’?” Oraion asked with a slight sniffle as he finished blowing his nose into his own handkerchief.

“Huh? Oh, um…” Noelle blushed—she didn’t realize she’d said the words aloud. “Just to, you know, have someone, um… care for you.”

He seemed at a loss for words.

“You’ve… never had someone care for you?”

“Um, w-well, obviously Quinns cares about me, and they do try to watch out for me as best they can, but… not like this.”

“What about family?”

“I don’t have one. I never knew my real parents, and I was raised in a coven. It wasn’t exactly a very ‘caring’ place.”

He was quiet for a few moments, then he put his arms around her shoulders and drew her back into a somewhat awkward and damp hug.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Huh? For- for what?”

“That this world cruelly kept you from knowing a loving touch for so long.”

She touched the outside of his arm with her fingertips. Loving. Was that what this was? Was this what being loved felt like? She’d always thought it would be more… profound or something. Having never known love, though, Noelle wasn’t even sure how she would recognize it. Yet the thought that Oraion might be in love with her thrust a spear of anxiety into her heart. Before she could go too far into that particular rabbit hole, a sudden prickle in her sinuses derailed her train of thought.

“Oh, I’m gonna- ih-! ishoo!”

This time it didn’t quite catch her by surprise, but it was still awkward to cover with Oraion’s arms around her. The water splashed a bit as she pitched forward.

“Well aren’t we sneezy tonight?”

“-snf- You’ve sneezed a lot more than me.”

“Yes, but that’s normal for me at this point. You hardly sneeze at all, and now you’ve sneezed thrice since you got home. Not that I’m complaining, of course. It’s adorable.”

Something about him complimenting her sneezes made Noelle both giddy and bashful. Oraion was right, though, it was unusual for her. It would truly be the icing on the cake if she’d caught a chill on top of everything. She kept that particular thought to herself, though, and hoped that with some herbal tea and a good night’s rest she would feel recovered in the morning. After all, Oraion had worried himself over her enough for one night, and she would feel guilty to make him fret even more if she then slept it off and was fine.

Once she’d had enough soaking and her fingers were pruned, Oraion helped Noelle out of the bath and wrapped her in a soft towel. With the help of a little of Oraion’s magic, she was completely dry as quickly as he could snap his fingers. The demon then took her gently into his arms and carried her to her room, and she didn’t even try to stop him or let herself feel guilty about it. He was buttoning up her nightgown for her when she couldn’t help but giggle. Oraion looked up at her with a smirk.

“Something funny?”

“Only that you’re usually doing the opposite of this.”

“Ah, yes, I suppose this is a rather strange reversal, isn’t it?” He shot her a come-hither glance and waggled his eyebrows “I could always undo them again, if you’d rather.”

Another giggle from Noelle. “Not tonight, I don’t think. Could you make me some herbal tea instead?”

“Of course.” He kissed her softly on the cheek. “You know, I think this might be the first time you’ve ever directly asked me to do something for you.”

“I ask you to help me with my studies all the time.”

“Oh, fine, something that isn’t work, then.”

“Well… It must be because you’re spoiling me tonight.”

“Hm. If that’s the case, then clearly I need to spoil you more often.”

He gave her another kiss and left the room. Noelle watched the door for a few moments after he left. She had no idea Oraion could be so… domestic. He seemed less like a demonic lover and more like a doting husband from a romance story. She recalled how furious he had grown when he realized someone had hurt her. Gods, what if he really was in love with her? He was an immortal demon, and she a mortal human. Plenty of witches found ways to considerably extend their lifespans, but one day she would die all the same.  He had said he was used to companions dying, but was that really something one got used to? And when she grew old and feeble, would he even want to stay with her? If she couldn’t feed him anymore, what then?

The more she thought about it, the more anxiety tightened its grip on her chest and closed its fingers around her heart.

She sighed and settled further into her pillows, telling herself that she was overthinking things, as usual. Just because he was being kind to her didn’t mean he loved her. Could an incubus even feel love? Or was it simply in his nature to be the consummate partner in any given situation? What if it was the influence of their contract, that he felt obligated to serve his Mistress? There were any number of possibilities, and she shouldn’t presume anything just because she’d never experienced this sort of care before. Whether it was love or not, Oraion was indeed doing his best to care for her, so couldn’t she simply enjoy that, at least for this one night?

Presently Oraion returned with the tea she requested, a lovely deep blue against the white cup he handed her as she sat up.

“Is this noctisia root?”

“Can’t get anything past you.” He smirked as he sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “I also added a few herbs to help you sleep, so you’re going to get pretty drowsy once you drink that, all right?”

“Mm, all right.” She nodded and took a sip. The tea had a bright, almost fruity flavor that masked a hint of bitterness from the herbs. It hadn’t even occurred to her that she might have trouble sleeping, but now that he mentioned it she was sure sleep would have eluded her otherwise with her nerves. He’d been so adept at anticipating her needs all night.

“Thank you so much, Oraion.”

“Ah, it’s only tea. I mean, I’m glad you like it, but I don’t know that it deserves that much praise.”

“No, I mean for everything tonight. For staying here with me, and getting me cleaned up and warm with that wonderful bath, and… and the lovely things you said to comfort me. And the tea, of course. I don’t know what I would have done without you here, or really how I ever got by on my own for so long.”

The demon looked down at his hands in his lap, and his face fell. A knot formed in Noelle’s stomach as she struggled to figure out what she had said wrong. His voice came out quiet, almost ashamed.

“I had to do what I could to make it up to you.”

“I-I don’t understand. Make what up to me?”

His full lips quavered, like the words were thorns stuck in his mouth, before he finally spoke in that same quiet tone.

“I wasn’t there when you needed me. I should have been there. If I had, then no one would have dared hurt you.”

“Oraion, you can’t blame yourself for this—”

“I chose to stay behind.” His voice rose in both emotion and volume. “I let you go out on your own when I should have protected you. What kind of Servant allows his Mistress to get roughed up by common hooligans?”

Noelle touched his arm. “You couldn't have known.”

“No, I should have known that a young woman traveling alone would not be safe. I only wanted—” A sad chuckle cut through his words. ”I was trying to surprise you.”

Noelle tilted her head. “Surprise me?”

“Yes, I… Well, today is…” The demon ran a hand through his long, scarlet hair and sighed. “It's been a year. You summoned me one year ago today.”

Noelle's mouth fell open.

“A year? It’s… It’s already been a year?”

“Time certainly flies, doesn't it? Especially when you're as old as I am. One year out of thousands… It goes by so quickly.” He shook his head with another sigh. “Ah, this isn't at all how I'd planned to spend the evening. I had a lovely bottle of wine for us, and— Well, I can’t really cook, but I managed to put together a simple dessert. I’ll have to put those away for later, I suppose. Of course, I'd also wanted to sweep you off your feet and carry you to bed, but… Well, not like this.” 

The barest flush of color came to his cheeks as he reached a hand into his pocket.

“Oh, there is… one more thing.”

He leaned towards her and reached behind her neck for a moment, taking the opportunity to kiss her forehead. When he moved away, something glistened against the bare skin on her chest: a crystal pendant.

“There… Happy anniversary.”

Noelle took the pendant and held it up between her fingers. The stone was smooth and almond-shaped, and still retained some of its natural imperfections. It was wrapped in delicate swirls of wire and strung upon a fine chain. The crystal shone a deep crimson in the low light of her bedside lamp while the wire and chain gleamed gold.

“Oraion… It's beautiful. Where did you…?”

A soft smile curled the corner of his lips.

"You remember how I taught you about how I summon my handkerchief? How it's easier to summon things that already belong to you?" He nodded to the pendant. "That once belonged to a dear friend of mine… until it came into my possession. Now it's yours."

Noelle’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she turned the crystal over in her hand, but the moment had stolen her words and her breath.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t cursed or anything,” Oraion told her with a smirk, “It’s quite ordinary, I assure you… Do you like it?”

His question at last loosened her tongue. “I absolutely adore it. Thank you so much, Oraion, and… h-happy anniversary.”

The last two words she blurted out in a mumbled rush as her cheeks flared with heat. The demon beside her leaned in close to give her a tender, careful kiss on her wounded lips. Then he looked into her eyes and murmured, “I hope you do realize that I am never letting you go into town by yourself again.”

That drew a soft laugh from her. “I think I’ll hold you to that, actually.”

She took another few sips of tea and yawned. Exhaustion and the soporific herbs in the tea were beginning to take hold.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This tea must be working quickly.”

“Did I make it too strong for you?”

“No, no, it’s rather pleasant, actually. I think I was also more tired than I thought.”

He reached over and brushed a hand through her hair to settle on her cheek. “You have had quite a hard day, my dear.”

She placed her own hand over his and leaned into his touch with a sigh. The room was starting to waver a bit.

“Will you lay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Yes, of course. Do you want me to stay with you all night?”

“Oh, that would be nice, but, um, you don't have to if you don't want to.”

He smiled softly at her.

“Don't worry: I'll be here when you wake up.”

A content smile tugged her own lips, and she winced as the split in them stung.

“Ow. Need to be more careful about that. Gosh, I’m so sleepy… I dunno if I can finish the tea, Oraion.”

He took the cup from her hands and placed it on the bedside table.

“That’s alright. Honestly it seems like you probably shouldn’t have any more. I must have made it too strong—I’m sorry.”

Why was he apologizing? Her body felt so light and warm and… fuzzy. All of her hurts were retreating to the background, almost like they were happening to someone else. Even her anxieties were much quieter than usual. She settled back down in the bed, wiggling her shoulders back and forth as she snuggled into her pillows.

“It’s fine. Now come lay with your Mistress.” Her voice was starting to sound drunk.

Oraion laughed. “Oh my, yes ma'am.”

He kicked off his boots and lay on his side next to her with his hand on her arm, rubbing gently up and down. His tail wound its way over their legs to curl up along Noelle’s back. The room grew darker around the edges as Noelle struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Mmmn… Oraion?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really glad I messed up that spell so badly that I summoned you.”

His face broke into a sweet smile that made Noelle’s heart flutter.

“Me too.”

“Are you still gonna take me away to the Demon… place?”

“Heh. Of course I am. I can’t very well leave you here alone, can I?”

“You could always, um,  stay here with me. We can just… live like this.”

He stroked her cheek. “I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad either.”

Noelle’s eyes just wouldn’t stay open anymore. “I know… I’ll just become a demon… Then I can… stay with you… forever…”

Within a few moments her expression relaxed as her breathing evened out. Not long after she even began to snore lightly. Oraion leaned forward and kissed her forehead once more.

“Good night, my dear Mistress. I hope you can forgive me.”

He sat up and retrieved the cup of tea from the bedside table. The strength of it was no accident. He needed to ensure that Noelle would fall asleep and stay asleep—she couldn’t know that he left the tower. Luckily he'd managed to get her to say he didn't need to stay all night, else her earlier command forbidding him from leaving could still be in effect. He donned his boots and made his way down to the ground level, discarding the rest of the tea before he grabbed his coat and made for the great, wooden front doors.

It was fully dark. The full moon hung low on the horizon, glowing burnt orange like a copper coin hanging in the black velvet sky. Good. The moon would give him enough light to make his way, while the darkness of the night would conceal him from his quarry. He’d picked up their scent from his Mistress’s belongings. It would be easy enough to find them; Chambelf wasn’t a very large town, after all.

The Demon Lord extended his leathery wings and leapt into the night.

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Induce or Not?

Today's release is some light, sneezy fun with Oraion as the viewpoint character. Not gonna have a lot of preamble with this one, let's just get to it!

For more Accidental Mistress content, check the Master Post.

Title: Induce or Not?

Word Count: 2,019

Content and Warnings: snz (male), some light mess

In which Oraion, being exceedingly bored, decides to engage in a little sternutatory experimentation...

------------------------------------

Even when he wasn’t trying to tease or rile up the young witch to whom he was bound, the demon Oraion enjoyed experimenting with different ways to make himself sneeze. As an immortal being, he had reached a point in his life where an ever-dwindling number of things held novelty, so being presented with the newfound ability to sneeze was almost like being handed a new toy. The fact that sneezing was the primary method the incubus utilized in seducing his Mistress led him to form a strong connection between the reflex and feeding, which added an entire new layer of enjoyment to his experimentations.

He liked to call the game “Induce or Not?” and had thus far found that, to no great surprise, there were quite a lot of things in the ‘Induce’ category. Feathers, blades of grass, a bristle from Noelle’s broom, laundry soap, woodsmoke, looking at bright light, and a wide variety of aromatic spices were among the things that he’d tested and found to be effective to one degree or another.

To his surprise, he did not seem to be allergic to cats, as he and Noelle had discovered when they encountered a friendly, gray stray on a recent trip to town for supplies. He’d even gone so far as to shove his face into the animal’s fur when Noelle wasn’t looking, the only result being a few unpleasant hairs in his mouth. Horses, on the other hand, gave him a peculiar, low-level itch in his throat and sinuses that didn’t really get him sneezing so much as it made him cough and turned his nose into a sniffly, leaky mess.

One afternoon he lay in his bed with his hands clasped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling of his room as though it were an oracle that might dispense some wisdom toward alleviating his boredom, when he suddenly remembered his little game.

“That’s one way to pass the time…” he muttered.

Now, the only question was what to play with? Noelle was currently sequestered in the cellar, tending to her precious mooncaps. She'd been cultivating them for some weeks now and had expanded to several trays of maturing mushrooms. Once they were ripe, she said, she would take some to town and see if she could get a good price for them. He couldn’t begrudge her trying to make a living, of course, but he did find it a little sad that he was so bored as to be envious of a fungus for monopolizing his Mistress’s attention.

He supposed he could head down to her worktable and rifle through her magical reagents to see if there was anything interesting. He’d been meaning to check if she had any pixie dust—mundane dust did quite the number on him in sufficient quantities, it turned out, and he was rather curious what the fae variety might do. Although, he may want to try that outside or near a window—some source of fresh air—given what had happened with the dust incident in the library. Oraion turned toward the window, watching rivulets drip down the glass as fat raindrops struck it with a light staccato rhythm. Maybe today wasn’t the day for outdoor experimentation.

Another idea dead before fruition. A frustrated lash of his tail caused the crimson tuft of fur at the end to whip briefly into view. He froze, gears turning in his head, before he curled his tail back up into the air over the bed and waggled the end to and fro. The fur was long and silky—almost feathery.

That was something he hadn’t tried.

As he reached out and ran his fingertips through the fur, a chuckle rose to his lips. There was something a bit masturbatory about trying to induce with his own tail. The hairs were quite fine and soft. In fact, he worried they were too soft: he wouldn’t be able to insert them very far up his nostrils if they weren’t stiff enough. He placed his other hand on his chin and considered, and before long a smirk tugged his lips as inspiration struck. This would be fun, and it would add another layer of challenge as well.

A little secret he had yet to tell Noelle was the trick behind how he conjured things with a snap of his fingers, like his handkerchief. The truth was, he wasn’t conjuring anything at all. Conjuration implied the ability to create things from thin air, which was not something he was capable of. What he was actually doing was summoning—the handkerchief already existed, so all he did was call it to his hand. Still no mean feat, and quite the handy skill to have. It was especially effective on items one owned and was familiar with, so it was easy enough for Oraion to lift his arms above his head, snap his fingers, and have a set of restraints appear on his wrists. Supple brown leather hugged his skin while brass clasps secured his arms together. It was a little difficult to secure them to the bedframe, but through some magical manipulation he managed to rig up a summoned length of rope securely enough to do the trick.

A slightly nervous thrill ran in his veins, as it often did when he was about to induce, and he took a deep breath. Slowly he lowered his tail until the fringe of fur was just brushing the tip of his nose.

“Mmnh…”

His nose scrunched up almost immediately, but the light tickle that resulted was not enough to accomplish much. It might get him itchy and hitchy, which had its own benefits—especially for teasing Noelle. Still, it was a bit early to tell. He tried swaying the end of his tail from side to side and was rewarded with a prickling just inside his nostrils.

“Now we’re getting somewhere…”

He wriggled his nose and sniffed lightly to encourage the tickle, continuing to sweep his tail across his nose in slow strokes that dragged the silky hairs across his nostrils and septum. His breathing started to get a touch unsteady, his chest rising and falling faster as his breaths grew deeper. On the right track, but still not enough to push him over the edge.

During feedings, sometimes Noelle would flutter a feather against the tip of his nose, so he tried to replicate the sensation with his tail, flicking it rapidly back and forth. He could feel his nose start to run as the buzzing tickle spread.

“Snff-snuff- … heh…. heh… haah, damn it…”

Almost, but he lost it at the last moment. He could just barely see the tip of his nose turning pink. He was getting close. Gods, it almost felt like edging.

He kept at it, varying the direction and speed of the strokes across his nose. His wrists tensed against the restraints. Though the itch had spread from his nares back near to the bridge, he still couldn’t get a sneeze out. He never imagined inducing could be quite so vexing, given his usual sensitivity.

“... hiih… -snf- mnhh… ih-heh-! … Oh, come on.”

Not to mention his sinuses were rather saturated from all of the irritation with no relief. The way it dripped back into his throat grew unpleasant, so he sniffed in as hard as he could in an attempt to clear it. It just so happened this was also at the precise moment and angle for several strands of tail fur to be drawn deep into his nares. 

“Nngh-! ih-hiihh-hhiiHH! heh… heh… HEH… HEHH’TCHUU! haah… ah-heh-... aah… AH… AHESSHHIU!”

Well, that worked. He could feel the hairs poking the ticklish spot just in front of where the bone ended in his nose. Finally—it felt practically orgasmic to sneeze after so much tickling and teasing. He left his tail in place for a few more sneezes before pulling it back, then he wriggled his nose back and forth and squinched it up and down to assuage some of the lingering tickle.

“Hmhm, I’d say that was a- w-was a- eh-heh- HEH! HEHSHHIUH! heh-SHIU! Nguuh… -snnff- Oh gods, it’s stuh-still so tiiiHHhckly-! iihhhHIIhhh! hhiihHHIITCHIEW!”

Perhaps he’d gone a little too far. The prickling, tickling itch in his sinuses kept on as though something was still poking that sensitive spot. His chest bobbed erratically with frantic, helpless hitches, each sneeze more desperate than the last. With mounting concern he tried to get a hold on himself, but he could hardly think, he was sneezing so much. In desperation he pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as hard as he could, which managed to stave off the next sneeze from being immediately on the heels of the last. It wouldn’t last long, though, he was already hitching and building up again.

However it was long enough to allow him a moment’s concentration, and he snapped his fingers. The restraints around his wrists vanished and Oraion sat up just as the next outburst overcame him. He grabbed the still-tingling appendage between a thumb and forefinger and squeezed, rubbing it up and down. At last the cause of his prolonged fit became clear when he felt something thin and silky sticking out of his right nostril: one of his tail hairs, shed from his tail and stuck inside his nose.

He drew the offending irritant out with a slippery tickle that triggered one final, powerful sneeze. He held up the crimson hair, covered in a slick coating of mess, and sighed. With another snap of his fingers he summoned his handkerchief and finally blew some of the miserable wetness out of his sinuses.

“Well, that was… a thing. -snnrff-”

As he sat there trying to catch his breath, there was a tentative knock at his door.

“Oraion? Are you in there?”

The demon smirked. Of course Noelle must have heard him, even in the cellar. He jumped up from the bed and ran a hand through his long, crimson hair before he answered the door. Though he didn’t bother to put on a shirt.

There stood Noelle, looking rather domestic with an apron on over her blouse and skirt. After Quinns had chided her for wiping dirt on her clothes while tending her mushrooms, Noelle had found an apron to wear. Oraion had to admit, it was a rather charming look.

“Oh, did something happen? Are you all right?”

Ah, right. He probably looked terrible, red-nosed and bleary eyed. He rubbed the back of his neck and tried to laugh it off.

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Something just set off my allergies. -snf- It happens. Often.”

Noelle wrung her hands with an uncomfortable look, and Oraion bit back a sigh. His allergic sensitivity was bestowed by their contract, tied to her sexual desires, and that fact continued to be a source of guilt for her. He wished she would let it go, but no matter how often he reassured her that he didn’t mind it, it didn’t seem to convince her.

“I-I see. Um, is there anything I can do for you? Oh! I know: I’ll make you some yarrow tea!”

“Hm, that would be lovely, but there is one other thing you could do for me first…”

The prospect of being useful seemed to perk her right up.

“Oh? What is it?”

With as sensitive as his nose was still feeling, this shouldn’t take long. He grinned and leaned in, snaking an arm around her waist to pull her close. He placed a deep kiss on her soft lips before giving her nose a quick nuzzle with his own. The ensuing blush on her face, the wide eyes and slightly parted lips, equal parts flustered surprise and burgeoning desire—oh, the satisfaction he derived from being the cause of such sweet expression.

“It’s such a miserable, dreary day, Mistress, and I’ve been terribly bored. Now I find myself feeling a bit peckish, so, if you’re amenable, I thought perhaps we could have a quick snack. And you know, while we’re at it, I’d like to introduce you to a rather interesting little game I've come up with…”

[accidentalmistress]

Noelle folds them in half all proper and such when she blows her nose. Since she doesn't sneeze often, it's rare for her to actually sneeze into a tissue/handkerchief, but when she does have the opportunity she enjoys it quite a bit.

Oraion just mashes it into his face as-is when he's in the throes of a fit, since he almost always sneezes in desperate multiples. He's also new to the whole sneezing thing, and isn't super familiar with human customs around it. He knows that Noelle likes it when he sneezes into a tissue/handkerchief, and that they're handy for cleaning up, but beyond that they're a novelty to him. He will probably figure out eventually that folding it makes it a bit more effective, or Noelle might clue him in. That could actually be a very cute scene, her teaching him the proper way to use a handkerchief...

Do y’all’s OCs fold their tissues in half before sneezing/blowing their nose into them or do they just leave them as is?

Yeah, I’m askin’ the real questions, now!

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Faith, Trust, and...

Here we gooo! It's time for another adventure in the world of Vibrahnem, and this time we're back with the stars of the show, Noelle and Oraion. Perhaps we shall even see some new faces...

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Title: Faith, Trust, and...

Word Count: 4,829

Content and Warnings: snz (male)

-------------

“hhhK'SHOO!”

Oraion rubbed a finger beneath his still-tingling nose. Oftentimes the shift from dim to bright light would induce him to sneeze, so when he and Noelle stepped from the shade beneath the canopy of trees and into the clearing of a meadow, he felt the telltale prickle. Beside him, Noelle rubbed his arm. The gesture had become her way of blessing him without actually blessing him. As a Demon Lord, blessings didn’t so much hurt him as make him cringe, like a particularly obnoxious pun.

“Thanks. -snf-”

The young witch nodded and adjusted her round glasses. “It isn’t too much farther now. Once we hit the main road we can rest for a little while before we continue on. Then it’s a straight shot to Ateaux. We can spend the night there.”

“I still think it would be much faster if you’d let me carry you and fly there.”

His Mistress sighed. “And what if someone sees you?”

“People see monsters all the time.”

“Yes, like goblins or trolls or maybe a large, carnivorous plant. No one has seen a demon  around here in… ever. Not to mention if someone recognizes me with you, they’ll spread all sorts of rumors about me being a witch that communes with demons or something.”

“Mistress, you do commune with demons. This demon.”

“You know what I mean!”

She playfully slapped his arm and he laughed, raising his hands in a show of defending himself.

“Yes, but it’s more fun to tease you about it.”

“Ugh, you!”

Noelle tried to shove him while falling into a fit of giggles, but, being just over a foot shorter than he was and possessing all the strength of a wet kitten, she may as well have shoved a tree.

“Regardless, we are going to travel like normal people. We can get horses in Ateaux—”

Oraion groaned.

“Horses? You know I hate horses. They make me all itchy without the fun part!”

“Yes, I know, but if we try to walk all the way to Tigate it’s going to take weeks.”

“It wouldn't if I flew us there…” He muttered the words under his breath in a singsong voice.

“Oraion—”

“We could travel at night!”

A more serious note crept into her tone and expression. “I'm sorry, but I don't want to risk someone sending Adventurers after us, or gods forbid the Order or their Inquisition.”

The demon relented. “All right, all right. We can travel like 'normal people.’” As he said the phrase, he made quotes in the air with his fingers and rolled his eyes. “But I reserve the right to complain about the horses.”

Noelle dug into her satchel and came up with a small vial of milky liquid that she then handed to him. He held it up so the sunlight shone through it, illuminating the fluid in a pale green.

“Er. What's this?”

“Allergy medicine.”

He blinked, momentarily stupefied. “But… you like my allergies.”

A bit of a blush came into her freckled cheeks, and Oraion made a mental note to ensure he made that lovely color appear as many times as possible on this little trip.

“I mean, I-I do, but that doesn't mean I want you suffering all of the time. I came up with the formula for Quinns, so I made some extras and brought them along in case they proved useful.” She used her chin to gesture to the vial in his hand. “You can take it when we get the horses.”

“Huh.” He turned the vial over a few more times before pocketing it. “It never even occurred to me to try taking medicine… Thank you.”

He saw her fidget with her scarf. “Well, I… hope it helps.”

Oraion’s gaze went to the rest of the outfit his Mistress wore, a black ensemble meant for travel, and a smirk pulled the corner of his lips.

“You know, those clothes really suit you. I’m glad I convinced you to try something new, at long last.”

The color in Noelle’s cheeks deepened, and something in Oraion’s chest twitched.

“Oh, do you really think so? I must admit, the leggings are much easier to move in than skirts.” Her hands went to either side of her waist. “The vest is a bit tight, though.”

“That’s because you’re so used to wearing baggy clothes all the time. I’ve told you before, but you have a very nice figure. This look on you is awfully fetching, if I do say so.”

“S-stop, you’re making me blush.”

With a grin he stepped in front of her and took her into his arms, leaning down to plant kisses on the side of her neck, eliciting from her a little cry of surprise and delight.

“I know, and that too looks awfully fetching on you, my dear.”

“Oraion!”

“Mmm, what do you say? There’s no one around—we could take our break here. My, are those wildflowers I see in this meadow? My nose is itching just thinking about—”

He had about half a second to sense that something was amiss before he was struck upside the head by something small, flapping, and angry.

“Agh! What-?!”

Whatever it was grabbed a lock of his long, scarlet hair and pulled, attempting to drag him away from Noelle.

“Ow, ow, ow! What the Hell is going on?!”

His Mistress seemed just as perplexed. “I-I don’t—”

Another voice spoke up near his head, shrill and piping, as Oraion tried to swipe at whatever had his hair.

“Run, Miss! Don’t worry, I’ll hold the fiend off!”

“F-fiend?” Noelle only looked more confused and shook her head. “No, no! He’s my friend!”

“If he was your friend, he wouldn’t have attacked you!”

The witch balled her hands into fists. “He was not attacking me! Now let him go!”

The thing was a dodgy little blighter, so instead of continuing to grab for it Oraion took hold of his own hair and yanked it back.

“Wahh!”

There, dangling at the end of his hair, was a fairy. She was perhaps the size of his hand from heel to fingertips and possessed of a set of green butterfly wings with pink eye spots. Her own large eyes, also pink, were quite wide as she was dragged in front of Oraion’s face, wings flapping helplessly against his far greater strength.

“It would be wise to let go of me, pixie.”

The tiny creature clutched his hair even tighter to her chest with a scowl.

“NO! Not until you leave this nice young lady alone!”

“I am her companion!” He growled. “We are traveling together!”

“Liar! I saw you biting her neck! I’ll bet you’re some kind of vampire!”

The demon rolled his eyes. “Oh, for- I was kissing her! And I can’t be a vampire it’s day—”

A sudden and intense tickle seized his nose, so fast and violent that the sneeze decided to skip the accustomed hitchy buildup phase altogether and proceed straight to the action. His eyes snapped shut as his lungs drew in a deep breath before he could even finish saying the word “daylight.”

“HAESHIEW!”

That, at least, got the pixie out of his hair. She shrieked and darted away, hiding behind Noelle’s back and peeking over the witch’s shoulder.

Pixie dust. He was so preoccupied with the fairy clinging to his hair that he didn’t notice those furiously flapping wings of hers were pumping pixie dust directly into his face. This wasn’t exactly how he had imagined his first exposure to the stuff. He had thought it likely that it would set him off, but he didn’t expect it to be this strong. He’d had intense tickles and violent sneezes before—he’d recently sneezed so hard he broke through the floor in Noelle’s workshop (although, to be fair, he had also been temporarily giant at the time, and he still felt awful about it)—but these were so strangely sudden. Each urge to sneeze no sooner prickled him than it was out, explosive single sneezes without so much as a hitch between them.

“HIHSHIU! … HIHHSSHIU! … HEH’TCHOO! … EHHSHIEW! nguhh…”

He lost count at around six or seven and was starting to wish he had already taken Noelle’s allergy medicine. Eventually he hit a pause long enough to summon his handkerchief and try to expel the cursed stuff from his sinuses.

“Ugh, oh gods… -snnff- D-don’t let that thing near me… HIIHT-SHIUH!”

Noelle fidgeted. “Um, I don’t think she wants to be.”

The fairy was still clinging to the witch’s shoulder, with only her tiny hands and the top of her head visible.

“S-so scary…”

“Well it’s not my fault! If she hadn’t butt in and gotten all up in my fa- HAHSHIEW! -schnf- … face, I wouldn’t be making a spectacle of myself!”

He blew his nose again, the mess in his handkerchief tinged with glimmering, golden flecks.

“Well. Certainly the prettiest thing that’s ever come out of my nose. Ugh, I’ll be sneezing glitter for days, I’m sure… ehSHIUH!”

“Um, little one…” Noelle turned to the pixie on her shoulder. “I understand that you were only trying to help, but this man really is my companion, and he really was only kissing me.”

The little fairy fluttered a bit higher. “Then he’s… not a vampire?”

With a slightly awkward chuckle, Noelle shook her head. “Ah, no. He’s not a vampire.”

“Then why does he smell bad?”

Oraion looked aghast. “I beg your pardon, I do not!”

“Yes, you do!” the pixie shot back, “Like lightning and burnt toast! No human smells like that! They mostly smell like salt and onions, but sometimes they smell like cheese. Miss, you smell very nice, like lavender.”

“Well, at least it’s not cheese. Listen, um, do you have a name?”

“Me? Oh, my name’s Butterfly!” She flew up to fully perch on Noelle’s shoulder and flapped her butterfly-like wings for emphasis.

“Well, Butterfly, I’m Noelle and this is my friend Oraion. Now, you’re right: Oraion isn’t human, but I assure you he’s not a bad person.”

“If he isn’t human, then what is he?”

“Uh…” Noelle looked helplessly at Oraion, unsure what to tell her.

He folded his arms and sighed, and as he did so his human disguise fell away, revealing his horns and long, lashing tail. The diminutive fae seemed unphased, however.

“Oh, so you’re some kind of demon? That would explain the burnt toast smell.”

“I am indeed a demon: an incubus. You know, for as upset as you were a minute ago, you’re surprisingly calm about this.”

“Well, not all demons are bad. I actually dated an imp for a little while… Oh, but I am a fae of the Spring Court! We are the stewards of life, nature, and balance!” Her words held the tone of a rehearsed speech or indoctrinated mantra, and she placed a tiny fist on her chest. “Creatures of the undead are unnatural mockeries of life, and therefore our sworn enemy! And uh…Well, when I thought you were a vampire I sort of panicked. So, I’m sorry I attacked you… and made you, uh, ‘make a spectacle’ of yourself.”

Oraion sighed and wiped his nose again. “Yes, well. I suppose there are worse ways to discover that one is allergic to pi- AESHHIEW! -snf- … Ahem, to pixie dust.”

“So what's a demon and a human doing traveling together?” Butterfly sat down on Noelle’s shoulder and crossed her legs. “Oh, and don’t mind me, we can talk while you walk.”

Clearly the fairy had no intention of leaving, looking between Noelle and Oraion with expectant eyes.

Unable to summon the resolve to send the fairy away, Noelle cleared her throat awkwardly and started walking again.

“Ah, well, for a couple of reasons. One, my house needs some repairs, and we couldn’t source the materials in town, so we’re heading to one of the nearby cities that has a bit more trade. While we’re there, there’s also a library I’d like to visit that has some rare arcane volumes in their collection.”

“Okaaay,” the little fae drawled, “but that doesn’t tell me why you two are together. Why are you traveling with an incubus?”

Noelle felt Oraion’s arm slip around her waist as he sidled up next to her on the side opposite Butterfly, resuming his mortal guise with a snap of his fingers.

“Didn’t we already tell you that I’m her companion? We’re madly in love, you see. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“Oh… yes, uh… Oraion… is my lover, that is true.”

Technically, she declined to add.

Butterfly regarded Oraion flatly. “Do you really expect me to believe that an incubus would fall in love with a human?”

The demon placed his free hand over his heart with a dramatic flourish. “Oh, you wound me, my fairy friend. Have I not a heart? If you cut me, do I not bleed? How is it so impossible to think that I could not also love?”

“Don’t you use people for sex?”

“I assure you, my dear Noelle is the only person I have been with since we met. I swear it upon my honor as a Demon Lord. She has me wrapped quite tightly around her little finger.”

He gave her an affectionate squeeze, and Noelle’s cheeks burned. This was getting very embarrassing, very fast. She sought a way to change the subject.

“W-well, I am also a witch, and Oraion assists me in my magical endeavors.”

That grabbed the pixie’s attention. Her large eyes got even wider. “Whoa, really? You're a real witch?”

“Er, yes? I’m certainly not a fake one.”

“Do you have a wand and everything?”

“Yes,” Noelle replied with a chuckle, “I do indeed have a wand.”

Butterfly leaned forward with great interest. “Can I see it?!”

“I don’t see why not.” She reached into her satchel and pulled the slim, wooden rod out of its pocket, holding it up for the fairy to see.

“Huh. I was expecting it to be… fancier. Can I touch it?”

“Sure. There’s nothing really special about the wand itself. It’s just a focus—a tool. This isn’t even the first one I’ve made. I’ve broken a number of them over the years.”

Butterfly grabbed the tip of the wand with her tiny hands and stared at it intently for a few moments.

“The tree that this came from… this branch was already dead when you got it. You didn’t ask it for a live one?”

Noelle regarded the fae with some confusion. Ask a tree for a live branch?

“Uh… no? I-I just collected it from where it had fallen on the ground. I didn’t know I was supposed to ask.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you didn’t just rip a live branch off some poor tree without asking, but dead wood doesn’t conduct magic as well as live wood does. Once it dies and falls off, the energy inside stops flowing, and it gets kind of… stopped up. But if you take a branch that’s still alive, you can keep that energy flowing indefinitely. As long as you take care of it, it’ll take care of you too!”

Noelle blinked. “Wow, I… I had no idea. Thank you.”

Even Oraion made a little impressed sound.

“Well, I suppose fairies are useful for something after all.”

“Hey! I’m useful for lots of things!”

“Oh? Like butting into people’s affairs? Ruining the mood? Pulling hair?”

The tiny fairy made a little irritated growl. “Don’t make fun of me! I know your weakness—I’ll get up in your face again!”

“Oh gods, please don’t.”

“Then you’d better be nice to me!” she snapped with a menacing flutter of her wings.

Butterfly continued to bombard them with questions and banter all the way to the main road while staying perched on Noelle’s shoulder. Oraion was losing patience with the pixie and her incessant chatter.

“Have you not yet satisfied your curiosity, fairy? I hope you don’t expect to continue traveling with us, because that is not happening.”

Butterfly crossed her little arms. “What? Why not?”

He pointed a finger at the tiny fae. “The only reason you’ve come this far with us is because you, rather rudely I might add, tagged along uninvited! Not to mention we have business to attend to in a human city—do you really want to get caught by humans?”

“There’s plenty of time before you get to the city! I could just leave when you get to the outskirts.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t invited!”

“What did I say about being nice to me?”

Oraion scowled. “You know, it’s not very nice to threaten people to get them to do what you want, either. And besides—” He took out the vial that Noelle had given him and downed the contents. “I have allergy medicine.”

Demon and fae glared at each other, while Noelle looked down the road and shielded her eyes from the sun with a hand.

“Someone’s coming.”

“Eh?” Oraion followed her gaze and saw that, indeed, a figure on a horse was riding towards them at a brisk pace. “I see… Looks like they’re wearing some kind of uniform. Dark gray and teal.”

“Oh no.” Noelle took a step back and shot Oraion an anxious look, her face pale. “The Inquisition.”

“The what now?” Butterfly fluttered up off of Noelle’s shoulder to get a better look.

“No, don’t let them see you!” Noelle hissed, “They’re a branch of the Order, and they do not take kindly to supernatural creatures!”

The fairy just looked more confused.

“An order of what?”

The rider was growing close enough that Oraion was certain they would be able to see Butterfly at any moment.

“Sorry about this, but there isn’t time to explain.”

“Sorry about wha—?!”

Those wide pink eyes grew wider as Oraion’s hand closed around her and he unceremoniously shoved her under his coat.

“Just stay hidden and stay quiet until they leave.”

He saw Noelle fidget with her scarf as the rider drew nearer and nearer.

“M-maybe they’re in a hurry to get somewhere, and they’ll just pass us by…”

Somehow Oraion didn’t think they’d get that lucky, so he was unsurprised when the rider slowed and eventually brought his horse, a sleek black steed, to stop in front of them. He was a slim, young man with sharp features, his silver hair hanging just past his chin in a silky sheet. His almond-shaped eyes, a marginally darker gray than his hair, regarded them with suspicion behind narrow glasses. Across the bridge of his nose ran a thin, pale scar.

Time to turn up the charm, Oraion thought, and donned his most genial grin before sketching an elegant half-bow.

“Good day, Inquisitor. Is there something we might do for you? If you’re pursuing someone, I’m afraid we’ve only just arrived on the road and have not seen anyone come this way.”

The Inquisitor scoffed. “I am Inquisitor Jeong Hun Song, and I am pursuing no one. I happened to be traveling in this direction when I spotted two suspicious persons loitering about on the side of the road, and so it behooved me to investigate.”

Oraion cringed internally. So, this fellow was one of those stick-in-the-mud types, eh?

“Ah. Well, I assure you, Inquisitor Song, that we are but simple travelers making our way to Ateaux. I sincerely apologize if we have, quite unwittingly, done anything to draw your ire.”

He suppressed a shudder as he felt something squirming inside his coat, turning the motion into tossing his hair over his shoulder. Inquisitor Song looked between them with narrowed eyes before settling his gaze on Noelle.

“What is your business in Ateaux?”

“Ah, we—” Oraion began, but Inquisitor Song cut him off with a gesture.

“I was asking her.”

“M-me?” Noelle’s voice came out in a terrified squeak. “U-um, we’re just s-stopping there on our way to- to Tigate.”

“Hm. I see. You seem a bit nervous, Miss.”

“N-nervous? I-I mean- I don’t—”

Oraion put his arm around her shoulders, trying to ignore the crawling sensation moving towards his shoulder.

“Well, it’s not every day you get stopped by the Inquisition, is it? And she always gets a bit tongue-tied around handsome men. You’ve no idea how long it took me to get her to even talk to me when we first met, isn’t that right, my dear?”

An anxious titter escaped Noelle’s mouth as her face reddened, and she nodded.

“She’s frightfully shy, I’m afraid. Please don’t take it personally.”

Inquisitor Song took a deep breath through his nose before blowing it out again in a huff. His horse stamped and whinnied. Noelle’s allergy medicine must not have taken effect yet, as Oraion realized with a sinking feeling that an itch was blooming in his nose. He thumbed it with a sniffle and prayed Inquisitor Song would leave posthaste. Inside his coat, Butterfly was still wriggling about. What in blazes was she doing? She was nearing his collar now. Was she trying to get out?

“You claim to be simple travelers, and yet I detect the reek of illicit magic about you.”

Oh boy.

“Illicit magic?” Oraion echoed with a forced chuckle, “I, ah, -snf- I don’t know about ‘illicit,’ but it’s become rather commonplace for even normal folk like ourselves to carry an enchanted item or two, hasn’t it? Why, I believe my wife here has a few medicinal elixirs in her bag—perhaps that is what you are sensing?”

The man on the horse sneered, and Oraion dearly wished he could punch the fancy cap that sat upon his head right off.

“Oh, quit playing innocent. You two are no simple travelers. You’re clearly hiding something, and believe you me: I will get to the bottom of it.”

A bead of sweat dripped down Oraion’s neck, both from the rising tension and the tickle he was fighting in his sinuses.

“Hiding something? Sir, I beg your pardon, but y-you must be mistaken. Even we know better than to hide anything from a-heh n-noble Inquisitor such as yourself.”

He felt Butterfly poke her head out of his collar just below his ear.

“I could hardly breathe in there!” she whispered, “And I want to see this Inquisitor guy.”

No way could he respond to her. He couldn’t even afford to acknowledge her with Inquisitor Song watching them like a hawk. Oraion rubbed his nose again. He didn’t usually have this strong a reaction to horses, but it was taking nearly everything he had to keep his breathing steady.

“Don’t bother with flattery. Now, you can either start being honest with me, or I can arrest you on suspicion of heresy.”

“But we really are just traveling!” Noelle blurted out beside him. “W-we’re trying to get to Tigate to get some supplies that we, um, can’t get back home. That’s all, I swear!”

“Even if that is true, it does not explain the aura about you.”

“Sir, if I may—”

A furious buzz blossomed in Oraion’s sinuses, and as Butterfly squirmed about on his shoulder he realized it wasn’t just the horse making him itch. His chest heaved before he could even think to stop it.

“HEHH’TCHOO!”

The sneeze was so forceful it snapped him forward almost in half. Butterfly squealed and hurtled out of his coat like a shot before cowering behind Noelle once again. A scowl twisted the Inquisitor’s countenance.

“Ah. I see.”

Noelle tried futilely to hide the fairy behind her back. “B-Butterfly!”

Inquisitor Song shot an annoyed glare at her.

“Miss, you must think me a fool if you believe you can convince me that that pixie is a butterfly.”

“N-no, um, that’s her name…”

Slight color came to the Inquisitor’s cheeks as his mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds. Oraion enjoyed seeing him taken down a peg probably a bit more than he should.

“Oh… I, ah, I see.” Song held a fist in front of his mouth and coughed. “Regardless, I knew you were hiding something. And all this fuss over a pixie. Had I known it was something so trivial, I would have saved myself the time. Why on earth did you have a pixie inside your coat?”

“Well we- HAESHIU! W-we were- HAESHIEW! Sorry- HEH-TCHUU!”

Noelle stepped in. “Um, we just… didn’t want her to get in trouble.”

Inquisitor Song sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up for a moment, but some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders. “Look, I know the Inquisition doesn’t exactly enjoy a sterling reputation, but, contrary to what you may think, we don’t go around hunting down every supernatural being we can find.”

“Right. Sorry…”

It seemed Noelle’s allergy medicine was having some effect, since being able to count the number of his sneezes on one hand during a fit was a rare feat for Oraion. He needed to summon his handkerchief but thrust his hand into a pocket before doing so. The last thing they needed now was to give Inquisitor Song a new reason to be suspicious of them.

“I’d advise you to keep your diminutive friend away from Tigate,” the man went on, “or she may end up on the Black Market. There’s been an uptick in poaching activity of late.”

Noelle nodded her head, looking like she’d just received a stay of execution. Which, on reflection, was likely true. “Oh, um, thank you.”

As Oraion finished wiping his nose, he noticed Inquisitor Song look at him askance. A cold prickling ran across his skin as a knot tightened in his gut. Perhaps they weren’t quite out of the woods yet…

“I am in this country on business, but I am from Onteburgh in Merseheim. Have you ever been there?”

Oraion raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say that I have.”

“No family there?”

“None that I know of.”

“Hm…” Inquisitor Song shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. You remind me of someone, is all. Well then. Good day.”

He prodded his horse with his heels and set off again down the road. Oraion wondered what that last bit had been about, but he supposed they should simply count themselves fortunate that the whole affair was over. It wasn’t until the horse and rider were out of sight around a bend in the road that he heard Noelle sigh beside him. Instinctively he put his arms around her, supporting her, and she leaned into him, trembling. He patted her hair with one hand.

“It’s all right now. It’s over.”

“Sorry. I was just so scared.” She sounded calmer than when the Inquisitor was present, at least. “I really thought we were going to get arrested.”

“Well, luckily we didn’t. And I suppose we have Butterfly to thank for that.”

The pixie, now hovering nearby, pointed to herself.

“Huh? Me?”

“Yes, you. The Inquisitor assumed you were the ‘illicit magic’ he was sensing, and not—oh, I don’t know—a witch and a Demon Lord? You’re the reason he ended up leaving us alone. So, thank you, and I owe you an apology. If you hadn’t come with us we would have likely been in much deeper trouble.”

The little fairy puffed out her chest and glowed—literally. An aura of golden light surrounded her as she flew in an excited little loop with a laugh that reminded him of tiny, jingling bells.

“Heehee! I told you I was useful for lots of things!” She did one final circle around them both before hovering above their heads. “You two sure are interesting! I’ll have to drop by for a visit sometime!”

Noelle adjusted her glasses. “Wait, I thought you wanted to come with us?”

“Eh, not so much anymore. Humans are kinda scary—I don’t wanna end up poached. Don’t you do that to eggs? Yeesh. Welp, I’ll be seeing you around!”

With that she sped off, back into the forest. They watched her for some time until they could no longer make out her glow among the trees.

“Well. That was… something.”

“Mm… I-I wonder what she meant by ‘drop by for a visit.’ She couldn’t possibly know where I live… could she?”

Oraion chuckled. “At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

With his arm around her shoulders, Oraion and Noelle continued along the road toward Ateaux.

“Mistress, that Inquisitor fellow mentioned that there’s a Black Market in Tigate. Doesn’t that make you the least bit curious about it?”

Noelle scoffed. “Not really. It sounds dangerous and unethical.”

“Maybe. But what do you think someone might be willing to pay for the hair of a Demon Lord?”

“You want to sell your hair?”

“Well, not all of it, of course! I was thinking maybe just a few hairs from my tail. Perhaps we could even barter it for something of equal value. Such as, hmm…” He made a big show of thinking it over before flashing her a sly grin. “Some pixie dust, perhaps?”

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - This Feeling

Apologies for being a day late, but the fic is finally here. This one follows directly after the events of Broken, so it might be a good idea to read that first if you haven't.

(For more Accidental Mistress content, check out the Master Post.)

Title: This Feeling

Word Count: 8,531

Content and Warnings: snz (F, N-B, mention of male snz), illness, caretaking

In which Oraion must learn to adapt to a situation he's never experienced in his long life - being responsible for a sick human.

--------------------

Even without looking, he could feel those golden eyes boring into him. He always hated that unnerving, probing gaze that seemed to strip him bare despite the layers of his robes, so he kept his gaze ahead as they walked and he tried to process the words being spoken to him.

"I am sorry. It brings me no pleasure to bear this news. I know how much you care for her."

He took a breath and attempted, with great effort, to keep his voice calm.

"There has to be another way."

"Oraion." The man placed a firm hand on his arm, stopping him, but his tone softened a moment later. "There is not. Believe me, I have done everything within my power to find another path, but… there is none. The process has already begun; her fate cannot be changed. Not even by me. One way or another, she will die—"

He shut his own eyes. "No—!"

"Nothing can change that now. The only thing we can do is to ensure that it happens while she is still herself." He sighed and his touch vanished from Oraion’s arm. “I… would like to offer you the opportunity. I understand if you cannot do it, but it seemed wrong not to ask you first.”

At last Oraion turned to the man beside him, the absurdity of those words drawing him to seek some hint of alternate meaning in the other’s face. He shuddered when those eyes met his, unable to suppress the motion. One look told him everything he needed to know.

"You want me to…? Are you seriously asking me to kill her?!"

"I am not going to force you. We will find another to—"

"No! I do not wish for her to die!"

The other man lifted his chin, those horrible eyes growing narrow and cold.

"I believe I made it clear that you do not have a say in the matter. The only reason you and I are even having this conversation is out of respect for your aeons of faithful service. Her sacrifice will forestall disaster and spare countless lives. Surely you understand that. I do not make this decision lightly, but the needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few. Or do you intend to oppose the will of the gods?"

Oraion awoke.

Morning. He reached a hand up to his face and traced a lingering trail of wetness with his fingers.

"... a memory?"

It had been quite some time since he had dreamed of that day, and longer still back to the time it had occurred. Ages ago, literally.

As he sat up in bed and cast about with bleary eyes, the demon realized he was not in his own room, but Noelle’s. A moment later the events of the previous evening came rushing back to him in a fresh torrent of emotion and flashes of memory. Noelle coming home bloody and bruised, her breakdown in the front hall, the bath he had given her, tucking her into bed, brewing her the tea that lulled her to sleep, and then…

He couldn’t tell her what he’d done. She didn’t want him to seek retribution for her. Yet old habits died hard, it seemed. Besides, he hadn’t killed the young men who had beaten her—he only visited upon them the same level of pain they had inflicted upon his Mistress. An eye for an eye, as they say.

His gaze fell upon her next to him in the bed, still fast asleep. She moaned a little and turned over, her expression tense. Oraion knew well that her sleep was often plagued by nightmares, but this morning her face was unusually flush. A lock of hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, and as Oraion went to gently brush the hair out of her face he was surprised at how warm her skin felt. Her eyelids fluttered open and she blinked up at him.

“Mmh… Oraion?”

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Are you all right? You feel oddly warm.”

“Do I?” As she sat up, her chest spasmed with several harsh coughs. “Ugh, I hope I don't have a cold.”

“What? Are you… cold?”

Her brown eyes flicked to the side, hesitant. “Oh… Um, i-it’s nothing. I’ll be fine.”

She tried to get up out of the bed, wincing, and Oraion was on his feet and by her side in an instant. She gave him a sheepish smile.

“I guess I am a bit sore in a few places.”

“Your ankle—are you certain you should be walking on it?”

“It actually feels much better today, thanks to that bath. As long as I’m careful it’ll be all right.”

“Mistress, perhaps you should stay in bed and rest…”

Noelle grimaced and shook her head. “I can’t just lie around all day; I’ll only feel like a bother, and I’ve had quite enough of that. Really, I’m fine, Oraion…”

A sort of distracted look came over her face before she suddenly put her hands over her nose and mouth as her eyes squeezed shut.

“Ishoo! Ishoo! Oh gosh…”

Despite his concern, Oraion couldn’t help but think how cute she was when she sneezed. Gods, she really was rubbing off on him, wasn’t she? Well, his only real experience with sneezing had thus far been in an almost entirely sexual context, so could anyone really blame him for the association?

“Bless you, dear. You were sneezing last night, too.”

She sniffled as her cheeks turned a bit pink. “I-I know. I, uh… It- It was so chilly out last night, y-you know? I, um, guess it got me a bit sniffly.”

Oraion pursed his lips. He had the distinct feeling that Noelle was hiding something, but what it could possibly be, he had no idea. After her ordeal last night, however, he was reluctant to press the issue. Surely she would open up to him when she was ready.

“Is there anything I can do for you, then?”

“Um… Would you make me some more tea? If you don’t mind. I think I’ll just go wash up a bit—I’m so sweaty.”

Oraion nodded, glad to have a clear task to focus on. He made his way down to the kitchen and set about preparing the tea. He was embarrassed to admit it, but it occurred that he should probably learn to make proper food. He’d never needed to, not before he was a Demon Lord, and certainly not since. It always felt beneath him, but whenever he watched Noelle do it there seemed to be a sort of simple joy in it that he’d never bothered to take notice of before. More memories of the previous night came back to him.

“You could always, um, stay here with me. We can just… live like this.”

Could he actually stay here with her? Live like a mortal with her until…

Until she died.

Death. It was what made mortals mortal. It would happen to her one day, hopefully many years from now, but it would happen all the same. So many years had already passed Oraion by; the span of a mortal life was but a fraction of his own. Was he really going to put himself through the pain of staying with her, only to lose her when her time ran out? What was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking, he was letting his emotions rule him, just as he had back then.

Oraion closed his eyes and sighed. How had he gotten in so deep in a single year? Was it this contract that bound him to her? Was it influencing his mind? Making him care for her? Or were these feelings real? Did he… love her? Gods, it had certainly felt like it the night before.

He could still feel the heat of rage that seethed just below the surface, even after giving those thugs the thrashing they deserved. He knew, though, that much of the rage that remained was self-directed. He had failed to protect her, ostensibly his most important duty as her Servant, a role he had come to accept, even enjoy. At first he only felt distaste towards the very idea of being anyone’s “servant”, but Noelle never treated him like an inferior, never enforced a typical Master/Servant relationship. She had always treated him as an equal, a partner…

How did she feel about him? Did she harbor similar feelings as he did?

The demon took both hands and rubbed them up and down his face with a groan.

“Ugh… fuck. I really need to get a grip on myself and make this damned tea instead of having an existential crisis in the kitchen.”

Once the drink was ready, he carried it carefully upstairs. Noelle wasn’t back in her room yet, so he set the tea down next to the bed. Should he check on her? Or was he being overprotective? Caring for her had felt so natural last night, but now he couldn’t help but second-guess his every move. He’d certainly done an excellent job of confusing himself, that was the only thing he was certain about at this point.

He approached the bathroom door and stood outside it for a moment, hesitating, before he steeled himself and rapped on the door.

“Mistress? Are you all right?”

No answer, only the sound of running water. He knocked again.

“… Mistress?”

When silence remained the only answer he grabbed the handle and opened the door, anxiety snaking through his stomach before it dropped as though it fell through the entire tower.

Noelle was lying on the floor, unmoving.

Oraion didn’t even remember crossing the distance before he was at her side, cradling her in his arms.

“Noelle?!”

He lifted her off the floor and carried her to the bedroom, placing her gently on the bed before checking her over. She was breathing and he could sense her heartbeat, but she remained senseless no matter how many times he called her name. Her body felt even hotter than it had before, like she was burning up.

Wait, was this what humans called a “fever”? Her odd behavior, the sneezing and coughing, it all clicked into place.

Noelle was sick.

Oraion racked his brain, trying to remember anything he knew about human illnesses. It had been so long since he’d needed to concern himself with such things, though—at least a thousand years, if not more. Sickness had not even occurred to him as a possibility. What was a simple fact of life for humans was a foreign concept to demons, who were no more familiar with getting sick than they were with growing old: it simply did not happen.

He vaguely recalled something about humans becoming ill if you left them cold and wet for too long. Noelle had been awfully cold when she’d arrived home, and her clothes were soaked through. Was that what she meant when she said she might “have a cold”? Another reason those hooligans deserved what they’d gotten. It was their fault his Mistress was now ill.

Let’s see, what do I know about fevers…? There was that one village back in Shinchuro Province, about three thousand years ago, I think. A fever swept through and they begged for a cure because so many were dying.

He looked back to Noelle with renewed alarm. Were fevers really so deadly to humans? He began to pace, his tail lashing. Had he his full power, he could cure her in an instant with but a touch, but now… His hands balled into fists, enraged at his own impotence. He was only just beginning to untangle his own feelings for her—would the gods really take her from him now? Hadn’t he suffered enough for them?

No, there had to be something he could do. She’d only just fallen ill, so perhaps there was a way to stop the disease from progressing before it was too late. How was he supposed to figure out what that was, though? Most of Oraion’s knowledge of healing herbs was related to their properties on wounds and other physical injuries, not illnesses. Was there anyone he could turn to for help?

His pacing came to an abrupt stop. There was one person he could think of…

* * *

“Hyah!”

Metal bit into wood with a thunk as sword struck training dummy, shaving a chunk off of what would have been an actual person’s shoulder. Quinns wiped a sleeve across their brow: even in the crisp air of an autumn morning they were working up quite a sweat. A number of other members of the Knights honed their skills on other wooden or straw opponents and sparred against each other. Quinns stepped back and shook their shoulders loose, lining up for another go. A shoulder shot wouldn’t take down a truly dangerous opponent. They needed to do better.

They tightened their grip on their sword, assumed a fighting stance, pushed off with their back foot, and—

“Quinns!”

“Hhhgk?!”

Their strike went wide, missing the training dummy altogether. They stumbled as their sword met nothing but empty air, their shoulder protesting as they bounced off the training dummy and fell backwards, landing on their backside.

“Whoa! You okay there, Shaw?”

They heard several snickers and felt everyone’s eyes on them as they climbed back to their feet. The guy who’d called out to them wore a grin they dearly wished they could wipe off his smug face. Instead they took a deep breath and kept their voice even as they wiped the dirt off their uniform.

“I’m fine. Just lost my footing. I’m taking a break.”

Without another word Quinns sheathed their sword and went off to the side of the training grounds before sitting on a low wall.

“What the hell was that? It almost sounded like—”

“Like Oraion? Yes, hello, it is me.”

Quinns blinked as their mouth dropped open, barely stopping themself from swearing aloud.

“What. The. Fuck. Are you seriously inside my fucking head?!”

“Mm, yes and no. I’m not in your head to the point where I can read your thoughts or anything, but I am speaking directly into your mind.”

“What?! Why? HOW?”

“With great effort, and it’s only working because you’re relatively close by. Now, I don’t have time for a lesson in psionics: I need your help.”

“... What did you do now?”

“Nothing! Why do you always—? Ugh, never mind. Listen: Noelle is sick, and… I don’t know what to do.”

“Sick? Sick how?”

“I, uh, I think she has a fever? Her body is very warm. She said it wasn’t anything serious, but then she fainted. That’s- That’s not normal, right? I mean, is she going to wake up? What if she doesn’t? I-I don’t know anything about caring for sick humans. What if I do something wrong and make things worse? Gods, I can't even cook! I—”

“Whoa, slow down. Does she have any other symptoms?”

“Er, she was sneezing and coughing a bit last night and this morning.”

“Okay. Yes, it is a little concerning that she fainted, but it might just be a cold.”

“Yes, yes, she said that as well, but I don’t know what that is!”

“Oh… Uh, a cold is a pretty minor disease that humans get. It usually affects the nose and throat—coughing, sneezing, runny nose, sore throat, that kind of thing. It’s kind of like if you had an allergy attack for a week straight, and you were also tired and achy. It’s not fun, but it usually resolves itself on its own, and it’s rarely serious.”

“Then… she’s not dying?”

Quinns did not exactly trust Noelle’s pet demon, but there was no mistaking the note of hope and relief that colored his pseudo-voice in Quinns’s head. Maybe he wasn’t all bad…

“I doubt it. If she’s got a fever and she’s sweating a lot, then she might be dehydrated on top of feeling sick, so that may be why she passed out. Make sure she gets some water when she wakes up. If she doesn’t wake up after a few minutes, though…” They chewed on their bottom lip as several trains of thought fought for dominance in their mind. “Give me some time to get ready, and then I’ll come over to help. I’ll bring some medicine and food.”

They heard Oraion sigh in their mind, which was thoroughly weird.

“Thank you, Quinns. I don’t—”

“I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Noelle.”

“I know, but still… Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get out of my head already, would you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Very well.”

Quinns waited for a few seconds but didn’t hear anything else in their head. Had the demon actually gone?

“... You still there?”

When no response came, there was a moment where Quinns wondered if they had just hallucinated the entire conversation. Noelle’s tower was several miles away—was Oraion actually able to find where Quinns was and speak to them over that distance?

They shook their head in an effort to clear it. If they dismissed Oraion’s message as a trick or hallucination, and Noelle really was in trouble, then they’d be abandoning their friend when she needed them most. If they showed up at her tower and nothing was amiss, then they could figure out what was actually going on after they knew Noelle was safe. They had to assume it was real, and that Noelle needed their help.

They made a stop at their personal quarters for the medicine—a trip to the infirmary could raise too many questions about what they needed the medicine for. Unlike the Order, the Knights of the Midnight Falcon recruited on a volunteer basis, which meant that the number of healers in their ranks was never consistent. Add to that the fact that most Knights were, like Quinns, knights errant, and the chances of a healer who could prepare medicines being at headquarters were middling at best. As such, medical supplies were carefully rationed and kept track of. 

Food they could procure more easily and with fewer questions, so they went to the kitchen and started loading a basket with supplies for making soup. They may not be the best cook, but they could make some simple dishes. That was leagues better than Oraion, who even went so far as to admit he couldn't cook. Besides, how hard could soup be? You just threw a bunch of stuff into boiling water and let it sit for a while, right? Quinns grabbed some fresh meat and a bunch of different vegetables. Spices they could get from Noelle’s pantry—she always kept that well-stocked since she used the herbs for both cooking and magic.

“Oh, hey Quinns! What’re you up to?”

Quinns swore internally. There could not be a worse time for this. They blew out a breath and spoke without turning around as they tucked the last of the ingredients into the basket and covered it.

“Hey Ollie. Just grabbing a few things. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re not in my way. I was just gonna get something to eat.” He let out a warm chuckle. “I kinda overslept and, uh, missed breakfast with everyone.”

“I see. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. I have some things to take care of—”

Quinns picked up the basket and turned around to find Oliver standing right behind them. For being such a big klutz he sure moved as quietly as a cat sometimes. Quinns took a step back with a start.

“Oh, right, sorry.” Oliver rubbed the back of his neck with an apologetic smile and took a step back of his own. Oliver Dietrich had a fluffy, orange cat tail that swayed behind him, while the orange-furred ears that poked out of his light blonde hair flicked. “I forget you’re allergic to me sometimes.”

“N-no, it’s, uh, it’s fine… Well, I gotta go, so, uh…”

Even having taken a step back, Oliver was still blocking Quinns from leaving the kitchen. The younger Knight showed no indication of moving out of the way, either, and instead tilted his head to one side.

“What’s the basket for? Are you having a picnic?”

“What? No, I’m just… getting some ingredients for something.”

“For what?”

“Look, it’s nothing, okay? Can I please leave?”

Oliver crossed his arms and didn’t budge. “Well, is it something or nothing?”

“Nothing! It’s nothing. I don’t have time for this, Ollie!”

“If it’s nothing, then it shouldn’t be a problem for me to see, right? So show me what’s in the basket.”

“No.”

“Show me or I’ll hug you.”

Quinns physically recoiled. They were already starting to feel itchy just being this close to him.

“What?!”

“Kidding! I’m kidding! Sorry, it’s just- agh, I’m so curious! Can’t I see what you have? Or at least tell me what you’re making! Pleeease?”

With his pleading eyes and the way his tail lashed, Oliver gave Quinns the impression of an excitable golden retriever rather than a cat.

“Oh my gods, will you go away if I do?”

“Yes! On my honor as a Knight!”

Quinns sighed and opened the basket, showing Oliver the contents. “Fine. I’m making soup, okay?”

The time Oliver spent staring silently into the basket with his brow furrowed started to border on uncomfortable.

“Uh… Can I go now?”

“You said you’re making soup?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

“No, no, it’s just that…” He looked like he was struggling with some sort of internal dilemma. Or maybe he had indigestion. “Well, um, you’re not gonna be able to make a very good soup with this stuff.”

Quinns blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve only got chicken breast meat: you should really have a whole carcass if you want to get a flavorful broth. You need the bones and stuff. And these beans should really be soaked overnight before you cook them. You’d do better with rice or pasta as a starch if you’re planning to make and serve the soup right away. You’ve got some good veggies, but if you put them all in at the same time you’re either gonna end up with half of them undercooked or half of them cooked into oblivion.”

For a few moments Quinns just stood there, stunned, but then they froze up for a different reason.

“Uh… Quinns?”

Damn it, this always happened. They couldn’t move or speak, they just had to wait until—

“Etchoo!”

“Oh no! I’m sorry! I got too close!” Oliver finally backed off to the other side of the kitchen with a guilty look. His tanned skin gained an embarrassed flush.

“Whatever. -snf- It’s fine… I, uh, I didn’t know you knew how to cook.”

“Oh, yeah. I have a bunch of younger brothers and sisters, and both my parents work a lot, so I often cooked for everybody. Soup is a great way to feed a crowd: it’s warm and comforting, and you can really stretch it with the right ingredients. And whenever somebody got sick, I always made ‘em chicken soup.”

Quinns frowned. Oliver was a little naive, impulsive, clumsy, dense, and irresponsible…  but he wasn’t a bad guy. In fact, Oliver was quite possibly the kindest person Quinns knew in the Knights. For all of his faults, he was also loyal and surprisingly discreet, a fact that Quinns had recently discovered after Oliver had walked in on them in the shower.

“Hey, Ollie… Can I tell you something?”

* * *

It wasn’t long after Oraion finished speaking with Quinns that Noelle stirred. In all she'd been unconscious for perhaps a couple of minutes, but to the demon it felt like centuries may well have passed.

“Oh no… I fainted didn’t I?”

Oraion sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his as he softly brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yes. I came upstairs and found you lying on the floor of the bath.”

She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I must have worried you.”

“It did give me a bit of a fright, yes.”

“I-I’m not sure what happened. I was just running some hot water to wash up, but then I, um, started to feel dizzy. Maybe- Maybe it was the steam?”

Trying to hide it, even now? Oraion shook his head with a little sigh before looking Noelle in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

She gave a guilty start and looked away, her voice going quiet.

“I… I didn’t want you to worry even more than you already have… but I suppose it’s too late for that. I’m sorry.”

“Mistress…” Oraion leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Taking care of you is never a bother for me, all right?”

“A-all right…”

When he leaned back, it was difficult to tell if the red in her face was from blushing or fever. A slight smirk graced his lips, then he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. A cup with water appeared on the bedside table.

“Here. Quinns said you might be dehydrated, so you should drink some water now that you’re awake.”

She took the cup from his hand and propped herself up enough to take a few sips. “Oh, thank you… Wait, Quinns is here?”

“Ah, no, not yet. But they’ll be on their way soon.”

“Then… how did you talk to them already?”

“Oh, I spoke to them telepathically. When you collapsed, I…” He looked away and swallowed something harsh in his throat. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t understand what was happening. I don’t know how to care for a sick human. I-I didn’t even realize you were sick until that point. I’m sorry, I should have asked you to explain what was wrong, but after last night… I thought it best not to press you.” He took another shaky breath and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I knew that I needed help, and Quinns was the only person I could think of, so I reached out to them through their mind. Fortunately they were close enough for me to reach.”

“Telepathy… You can do that?”

He looked back at his Mistress—even in her sickbed, her eyes were sparkling with interest at the prospect of learning something new. Another smile tugged his lips, one that held more warmth than he’d felt all day.

“Not easily and not for long. Not as I am now, anyway. It takes a lot of energy to maintain, especially in the Mortal Realm.”

“Why is that?”

“Mm, because there’s less ambient mana around, I think. In the Demon Realm, damn near everything is magic to one degree or another. So if you need power, you simply snatch it out of the air or the ground or what have you and shape it to your will. Here, there is far less of that energy around, so I need to rely mostly on my own reserves and whatever I can find to supplement that. Of course, my power is not insignificant, so it is sufficient for most workings, but truthfully the lack of mana within the Mortal Realm puts me at a fraction of my power, even without this damned collar.”

“Can you teach me how to use telepathy?”

“Heh. Maybe.” He took the cup of water from her and picked up the tea he had brought up earlier. “How about this: if you’re a good girl and drink your tea, I’ll start teaching you about it.”

“Ooh, I like this bargain.” She sat up further, wincing, and put a hand to her forehead. “Ugh…”

He leaned in, as though a magnet drew him to her. “What is it? Does it hurt anywhere?”

“No, no. I’m only a bit dizzy. Just, um, give me a moment.”

Oraion reached out with his free hand and touched her arm to steady her.

“Take as much time as you need. I’m right here.”

“Thanks, Oraion. I—”

She was cut off by a series of hacking coughs, crackly and phlegmy things that made him wince to hear.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry- I- uh-oh… eh-hishoo! ehshoo! Ugh, oh gosh, I’m so sorry Oraion. -sniff- I-I don’t want to get you sick. Maybe- maybe you, um, shouldn’t stay in here.”

“Oh, nonsense. Demons don’t get sick.”

She looked doubtful. “Are you sure?”

He smiled and handed her the tea. “Mistress, I am very, very old, and I have never once in my life come down with an illness. I don’t think I’m going to start now.”

Noelle looked down into the teacup, concern still writ on her face. “But… you’d never had allergies before either. How do we know for certain that you can’t, um, can’t get s-sick now too? eh-hishiih!”

Her sneezes made her hair fall forward again, so Oraion reached out and tucked it behind her ear once more. “I think you’re worrying too much, my dear Mistress, though I appreciate your concern. I will be fine, I promise.”

“Okay…” Noelle sighed and took a sip of the tea, then made a face. “Oh, it’s so bitter!”

“Right, sorry,” Oraion chuckled, “I ought to have warned you first. This blend is a little more medicinal, I’m afraid. I may not know much about human illnesses, but I do know some herbs that fight inflammation and have astringent properties, so I thought that might help. The only thing is that they are rather bitter.”

“Blech, what is in it?”

“Well, the base is black tea, then I added witch hazel, turmeric, yarrow, and, uh, lavender.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I must have sneezed a dozen times while making it, I’ll have you know.”

Noelle’s cheeks reddened considerably as she lifted the cup to her lips like she was hiding behind it. “Oh, I, um… thank you.”

Gods, she was adorable when she blushed. Oraion leaned in towards her with a smirk.

“Bet you’re sad you missed that, eh?”

Her cheeks grew even redder. “Um, m-maybe.”

“Heh. Well, next time you’ll just have to come watch me.” He gave her another quick kiss on the forehead before sitting back up. “The black tea already has a bit of bitterness, and the witch hazel and yarrow are both bitter herbs as well. Don’t force yourself to finish it if you don’t want to.”

“But I have to! I want you to teach me about telepathy!”

Oraion barked a laugh. “I only said you had to drink it, I never said you had to finish it.”

“Oh… um, I still want to, though. You made it for me, so…” Suddenly she waved a hand in front of her face. “Uh, s-sorry, I need to- nx’kishiu! Ugh, ow…”

Concern drew his brows together. “That sounded like it hurt.”

Noelle nodded with a hand on her throat. “My throat is getting sore. Ugh, that’s always the thing I hate most about being sick.”

“Hmm. I’ll see if I can figure out a remedy that might help.”

“Thank you.” Noelle pulled the blankets closer around herself with a shiver. “My, it’s chilly, isn’t it?”

“Er, I honestly find it quite pleasant. Is this why you call it a ‘cold’? Because it makes you feel cold?”

Noelle laughed. “Ah, no, you don’t always feel cold when you have a cold. Sometimes it’s unbearably hot. Right now, though, I’m freezing…” She looked down shyly as her cheeks got red again. “Um… do you think… you could hold me?”

With a gentle smile Oraion took the teacup from her shaking hands and placed it on the bedside table, then he climbed into the bed behind her and pulled her in close. Her body still felt so warm, poor thing. She snuggled into him, her back spasming against his chest with more wet coughs followed by another painful-sounding sneeze. He rubbed her shoulder as she whimpered from the abuse to her raw throat.

Even so, before long she had fallen asleep. Being ill must be awfully tiring, Oraion surmised. Her slumber seemed more restful now, at least. The demon carefully slipped out of the bed and headed back down to the ground level to wait for Quinns.

He was not surprised that they did not knock when they arrived. Quinns was never in the habit of doing so when they visited. What did surprise Oraion, however, was that the Knight had brought a new face with them. Behind Noelle’s slim, androgynous friend came a taller, broader fellow with tanned skin and an innocent bearing, as well as the orange-furred ears and tail of a cat. Quinns knew that Noelle wanted to keep the location of her tower a secret, so why was this unknown person, who also wore the uniform of a Knight, here in the first place?

Wary indignation smoldered in Oraion’s chest as he crossed his arms and straightened to his full height. “Who is this?”

The cat boy looked at him with wide eyes, which Oraion noted were of different colors: one gold, one greenish-blue.

“Whoa. Is that the guy?”

“Yeah. Oraion, this is a friend of mine, Oliver. Oliver, this is Oraion, the demon I told you about.”

“Wow, he is really hot…”

Oraion raised an eyebrow as Quinns’s cheeks colored.

“I didn’t say—! Ugh, whatever. Look, he’s trustworthy, okay?”

“Are you saying that to me or to him?” Oraion asked, making no attempt to hide his sarcasm.

“Both. We’re all going to have to get along right now. I know it was risky to bring someone else here, but Oliver is a good guy and he knows how to keep a secret. Most importantly, he can cook.”

Oliver’s face lit up in an excited grin. “Quinns said their witch friend is sick, so I’m gonna make soup!” He strolled up to Oraion as though they were already fast friends and held out his hand. The cat boy was only shorter than he was by a few inches. “They already told me you’re not bad guys, so it’s nice to meet you! I’m Oliver Dietrich, First-Rank Knight of the Midnight Falcon.”

Oraion looked down at the young man’s hand for several seconds before slowly reaching out to take it in his own. “You do know it’s usually your job to hunt creatures like myself, right?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s not always so black and white, y’know? It’s one thing when a Devourer is terrorizing a trade route, but you’re just here trying to live your life, right? You’re not hurting anybody. Far as I’m concerned, no one back at headquarters needs to know about you guys.”

“How do you know we haven’t hurt anyone? You’ve only just met me, and you haven’t even met my Mistress.”

He beamed. “Because you’re Quinns’s friends, of course! I trust them, so I know I can trust you.”

“I see. How… refreshingly forthright.”

Despite his mistrust of the newcomer, Oraion felt a twinge of guilt. Would the young Knight still think the same if he knew what Oraion had done to those men from the village only the previous night? Even if they deserved it…

“Oh hey, you have a tail too! All right, welcome to the Tail Club! Man, yours is way bigger than mine.”

Quinns pinched the bridge of their nose, and Oraion heard them mutter. “Oh my gods…” They then raised their voice to full volume. “Okay, I think that’s enough with the pleasantries. Where’s Noelle? Did she wake up?”

“She did, fortunately. Now she's resting in her room.”

They nodded and lifted a basket they carried. “I brought some medicine, so I’ll go ahead and take that up to her.”

Oraion stepped in front of them and held out a hand. “Allow me. You can show our new friend here to the kitchen.”

“Uh, why don’t you show him the kitchen? You live here, you know where everything is.”

Oraion’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh, it’s not very difficult to figure out. Besides, I hardly touch the cooking equipment, so I can’t say I really know my way around.”

A scowl crossed Quinns’s face. “Yeah, well, I know more about administering medicine than you, since you outright admitted that you don’t know how to care for sick people, so I should be the one to take it to her.”

Oraion took a step closer to them. “You know, it occurs to me that Noelle had only just fallen asleep when I left the room. We should probably let her rest. So, why don’t you just tell me how to use the medicine and leave it with me, and I’ll make sure she gets it when she wakes up.”

Quinns stepped closer in turn. “Now listen: Oliver and I came all this way to—” They cut off suddenly mid-sentence and looked around the room with an expression of mild but increasing alarm. “Uh… Where’s Oliver?”

* * *

Elegant music swept through a pillared hall lit by glimmering crystal chandeliers. Dancers in splendid finery spun and twirled in time with the tune. Usually Noelle would feel out of place at such a lavish event, but now she was dressed in an exquisite gown of blush pink, the full skirt trailing behind her in a train embroidered with hundreds of flowers. The trailing sleeves hung off her bare shoulders, and, with the plunging neckline, created the perfect canvas for showing off her beautiful necklace of sparkling diamonds. Her hair was done up in perfect ringlets instead of her usual messy curls, set with a glittering hairpiece. She felt just like a princess, and lo: there, on the balcony that overlooked the dance floor, stood the Prince.

He gazed out over the hall of dancers with crimson eyes, his blood red hair pulled back in a high ponytail that trailed past his shoulders. He was just as she imagined him, dressed in a fine coat of burgundy and gold over a lovely silk shirt and vest in ivory. As though drawn by some unknown force, his alluring eyes turned to her, locking with her own, and widened in amazement at her beauty. His full lips turned up in a radiant smile, and he extended his hand, beckoning her to come to him.

Elation filled her breast as she lifted her skirt and crossed the hall of dancers, still spinning and twirling like so many clockwork dolls. She began to ascend the stairs to the balcony where the Prince awaited her, when her path was abruptly blocked by a large, orange cat. It regarded her with strange eyes of different colors, one a sort of teal and the other yellow, as it lashed its fluffy tail at her. The motion snared her attention. That tail looked awfully soft and fluffy…

She reached out and touched the cat’s tail, running her fingers through its fur, which to her delight was just as soft as she’d hoped. There was something she was supposed to be doing, wasn’t there? The cat was so soft and warm, though.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you and all, but could you let go of my tail?”

“Huh?”

Did the cat just talk to her?

“I-it’s just that it’s kind of, uh, sensitive…?”

Noelle blinked her sleep-gummed eyes as the vision of the ballroom faded away, to be replaced by the far more ordinary sight of her bedroom, bathed in the sunlight of early afternoon. What was not ordinary, however, was the strange young man in Knight attire standing next to her bed with a bright red blush on his cheeks. Indeed, he did have cat ears and a fluffy, orange tail attached to him as well, the latter of which was currently clutched in her hand.

She shrieked and dropped the man’s tail before crawling as far back as she could in the bed without falling on the floor.

“Wh-who are you?! Wh-what– What are you doing in my bedroom?!”

“Oliver!”

Quinns came bursting into the room with Oraion fast at their heels. The demon grabbed the cat-eared man by the shoulder and wrenched him away from the side of Noelle’s bed with a snarl before placing himself between them. He even went so far as to spread his wings.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing, coming in here?”

“I-I’m sorry! I just- I wanted to- to check on her! That’s all, I swear!”

“Damn it, Ollie! Why did you go off on your own?” Quinns stepped in front of him, Oliver apparently, and guided him back another step a bit more gently than Oraion had. Their voice, though quieter, was no less irate, however.  “I took a big risk bringing you here, and I vouched for you. Do you know how this makes me look?”

“I said I’m sorry! I-I promise I wasn’t gonna do anything bad! I was just…” He sighed. “I was really, really curious. I’ve never met a witch before, and… Well, then you two started arguing about who was gonna come up with the medicine, and I figured, y’know, somebody should go check on her. Besides, I… I didn’t wanna lose my chance.”

Quinns made an exasperated sound. “Lose your chance? What are you– Wait, do you mean to meet Noelle? Why would that even happen?”

“I-I don’t know… If you didn’t get to bring the medicine up, I guess I thought… maybe I wouldn’t get to come up either.” He looked down at the floor and scuffed it with the toe of his boot, cat ears drooping. “I’m so, so sorry. I know it was a stupid thing to do.”

“You certainly have the right of it there, Cat Boy,” Oraion snapped as his wings folded and vanished once more, “Now get out, before I throw you out.”

Quinns held up a hand. “All right, calm down. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh, really? And how do you know he isn’t simply playing dumb? How do you know he hasn’t been planning all along to sneak up here for the chance to take out a witch?”

Oliver looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. Noelle recalled his appearance when she had first woken up, with his blushing face and the way he had politely asked her to let go of his tail.

“It’s all right, Oraion. I don’t think he was going to hurt me.”

Her Servant turned to her with an incredulous look.

“You can’t be serious. You’re all right with a man barging into your bedroom like that?”

“Well, n-no, but he apologized, and, um, I believe he’s sincere. I would appreciate it, though, if someone could explain to me what he’s doing here.”

“I brought him, Noelle.” Quinns took a step towards her with an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry—I know you don’t want people to know where you live, but I swear, all of this nonsense aside, Oliver really is a good guy. He’s just… a little naive and impulsive sometimes. I brought him along because, um, I really wanted to bring you some soup, but… I-I don’t know how to make it, and… he does.”

With all of them crowded in her bedroom, and between Quinns looking chagrined, Oraion’s incensed protectiveness, and Oliver’s crestfallen, drooping cat ears and tail, Noelle couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course that just led her to start coughing again.

“Oh, right, the medicine.” Quinns shoved the basket they were holding into Oliver’s arms. “Take this down to the ground floor and into the kitchen, okay? And wait for me there—don’t wander off again, please.”

The other Knight nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you down there. And, um, I’m sorry again, Miss Noelle. It was nice to meet you.”

“Er, likewise?” She gave him a little wave as Oliver left the room.

Quinns reached into their belt pouch and produced a little bundle wrapped in cloth, which they then handed to Oraion. The demon looked at the bundle in his hands as though he was not expecting to receive it.

“Here: these are the medicines. They were prepared by our own healers in the Knights, so they should be pretty effective. Go ahead and open it, and I’ll explain what each one is.”

“Ah. Right…”

As Oraion unwound the tie that held the wrappings in place, Quinns turned to Noelle.

“Noelle, you’ll probably want to listen to this too…” They squinted. “What happened to your lip?”

“Huh? Oh…” Her hand went to the split on her lip, which had scabbed over but was still rather swollen. “Um, I must have hurt it when I fell earlier.”

“Huh. I see…” They did not seem convinced, but they didn’t press the issue, to Noelle’s relief. They didn't need to know about the men who attacked her.

They instructed Oraion and Noelle on when and how each medicine was to be administered. There was a pill for fever that should be taken twice a day, morning and night; a tincture that would speed the healing process that could only be taken once per day or else it could cause unpleasant side effects as the body tried to heal itself too rapidly (the worst of which, Quinns explained with their usual grim decorum, was coughing up blood because your body produced too much). Lastly, there was an oil that could be applied to the neck and chest, which contained a number of pungent-smelling botanicals that worked to clear a stuffy head. One whiff immediately set Oraion sneezing, of course.

Once they had finished going over the medicines and ensured Noelle got her first doses, Quinns and Oraion both left her room and headed back down towards the first floor to meet up with Oliver.

“So…” Quinns spoke up from behind Oraion as they passed the library. “Do you want to tell me what happened to Noelle’s lip?”

Oraion’s hands briefly formed fists at his sides, the knuckles popping.

“Some loathsome bullies in town happened to her.”

Quinns voice rose in alarm. “What?”

Oraion sighed. “She went to town on her own. I know I should have accompanied her, but… I had something I needed to take care of here. When she returned, it was clear she’d been beaten, and she confirmed as much.”

“Did she say who it was? What they looked like?”

“No, but I…”

A moment of tense silence passed before Quinns spoke, their voice already turning accusatory. “You what?”

“I found them later.”

Quinns grabbed Oraion by the arm, stopping him.

“What do you mean you ‘found them’? What did you do?”

Oraion lifted his chin. “I didn’t kill them, if that’s what you’re asking. But I did ensure they would regret their actions.”

Quinns pressed their lips together and took a deep breath. “Look: I understand, and I don’t necessarily disagree with what you did, but please tell me that you did it in your human form and not looking like, well, a demon.”

Oraion wrenched his arm away. “I felt the message would be more effective if I used my true form. “

“Shit… Oraion, you…” They sighed. “I really, really hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, man. I truly do, because if the Inquisition gets wind of a demon around here, then there won’t be anything I, or anyone else, can do to stop them from coming looking for you.”

Oraion scoffed. “I think I can handle a few humans coming after us. Besides, you know how well-hidden this place is. They’ll be lucky to even find us here.”

“Yeah… Well. Let’s hope that’s true.”

They shook their head once and pushed past him on the stairs. With great effort, Oraion managed not to roll his eyes as he followed them down. Quinns worried overmuch at the best of times, and this was no exception. No mortal could stand against a Demon Lord. Let anyone try to harm his mistress again; they would be shown the error of their ways with swift and terrible judgment.

Once the soup had been prepared, Quinns had the good sense to escort themself and Oliver out, to the latter’s obvious disappointment. He was calling back to Oraion even as Quinns was pushing him out the door.

“Um, it was really nice to meet you! Thanks for having me over! A-and I really hope Miss Noelle feels better soon!”

The door closed behind them both with a heavy thud, and Oraion shook his head. Something was not right with that boy.

When he arrived back upstairs with a steaming bowl of soup, he found Noelle nodding off while sitting up in bed. Her head popped up with a start when she heard him enter, and Oraion couldn’t help but chuckle. She was too cute, with her flushed cheeks and slow, sleepy blinking.

“Oh, um, is that the soup?”

“It is.” Oraion placed the bowl down on the bedside table and flashed Noelle a smirk. “Shall I feed it to you?”

The deepening of her blush drew his smirk into a grin as she frantically waved her hands in front of her.

“Ah, n-no! No, no, no! That’s- that’s quite all right. I can, um, feed myself. Thank you.”

“Heh. As you wish.”

She must have been hungry, for though she started eating the soup slowly, she soon made short work of the rest. Oraion sat on the edge of the bed and watched her silently, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. He must make time to study mortal diseases. Humans were such fragile creatures. This time it was a minor ailment, but what if one day she contracted a more serious affliction?

She finally noticed him looking and gave an awkward laugh.

“What, do I have something on my face?”

“No. I’m simply admiring how lovely you are.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m certain I look awful.”

“Never. You’re always lovely to me.”

She hid her face behind her hands with a sound that was part groan, part giggle.

“Stop! You’re making me blush!”

“I know. It’s delightful.”

“Ugh, you!”

Noelle gave him a little shove with another peal of laughter, which quickly turned into a fit of coughing. Oraion’s smug grin faltered, and he reached out to rub her back with an anxious touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No- no, I- hh’kchiuh! htshhiuh! Ooh… I-I think I just need to rest.”

“Then… allow me to keep you company, at least.”

He climbed into bed next to her, enfolding her in his embrace and holding her tight against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and basked in her scent, in her closeness. Noelle Violette. His Mistress. He cared about her. He could admit that much. To himself, anyway. But whether that feeling was a result of their contract or genuine affection… He wasn’t certain, and he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that the woman in his arms made him happy, and he wanted to do everything in his power to do the same for her.

If that was love, well… perhaps that wouldn’t be so terrible, after all.

[accidentalmistress]

There are a lot of good ways to start a day, but I have to say that receiving fan art has got to be one of the BEST. @confused-snz THANK YOU!

Look at them.

LOOK AT THEM.

I am screaming.

They're adorable and amazing and perfect and I love these sooooo much T^T

Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh

What a special treat for a release day, huh?

(Today's story will get posted later, I have to finish editing lol)

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Growing Up

Today's release is an attempt to step outside my comfort zone and try using tropes that I haven't really worked with before. I hope I did okay with it ^.^;

(For more Accidental Mistress content, click here.)

Title: Growing Up

Word count: 4,597

Content and warnings: snz (male), giant snz, destructive snz, mention of mess

In which a spell gone wrong leaves Noelle and Oraion with a very big problem...

---------------------------

 “And what, exactly, is this spell supposed to do again?”

Noelle adjusted her glasses with a finger as she checked over the symbols she’d drawn on the floor once again, making a few slight adjustments with a stick of white chalk she held in her other hand.

“Theoretically it should provide a provisional increase to the power and stamina of the muscular system, allowing the subject to exert a greater degree of force against external resistance without the expected hypertrophy—”

“I would appreciate it if you could dispense with the theoreticals and just tell me what it does.”

Noelle sighed and looked up at the man looming over her with his arms crossed.

“It’s supposed to give you temporary superstrength.”

The Demon Lord Oraion narrowed his crimson eyes as his long tail gave a quick lash.

“Uh huh. And I need to be the guinea pig because…?”

The young witch kneeling on the floor waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already done some preliminary testing on a live subject.”

“Meaning?”

“I tried it out on Nutmeg.”

“The chicken?”

“Yes.” Noelle turned back to her preparations, ignoring the way Oraion placed his face in his palm. “I’ll have you know the experiment went off without a hitch. I rigged a custom harness and sledge, and I measured how much weight she could drag before and after the spell. She was able to pull four times as much weight with the strength enhancement than she was without.”

“Well, that’s reassuring.” The remark oozed with so much sarcasm, Noelle thought it might come to life and start inhabiting a dungeon.

“Hmph.” She pointed to a sofa sitting against a wall that had a stout frame of oak set with thick, upholstered cushions. It was so large it could comfortably accommodate Oraion’s tall frame should he choose to lie on it. “You’re skeptical now, but we’ll see what you have to say when you can lift that with one hand.”

The demon heaved a resigned sigh. “Yes, very well. Let’s just get on with it, I suppose.”

Once her preparations were complete, Noelle instructed Oraion to stand in the center of the circle she’d drawn upon the floorboards. She knelt just outside it, flanked on either side by a motley assortment of pillar candles in various colors, shapes, and sizes. With a gesture and a whispered word, she called the wicks to flame, and with another sweep of her hand all other lights in the room were doused.

“Why do we need to have the lights off?”

Noelle blew an irritated breath through her nose before fixing Oraion with a glare.

“Because I need to concentrate, and it’s easier for me to do that when it’s dark. And on that note, I would appreciate it if you could be quiet throughout the casting.”

He raised both hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. Shutting up.”

The witch drew a steadying breath deep into her lungs and began to focus her intent. Her wand lay before her, so she took it up and raised it with both hands, her gaze intent on the tip. That was the focal point, where the manifestation of her will, augmented by Oraion’s power, would connect the latent arcane energy around her with the prepared ritual and set the spell into motion. She then let go of the wand with her left hand, keeping it held aloft in her right, and dipped her fingers into a bowl of spring water charged beneath a full moon. She anointed her brow, placed the tip of the wand on the edge of the circle, and closed her eyes.

Energy flowed through her, raw magical power that she gathered and fed into the magic circle. Had she looked, she would have seen the symbols on the floor take on a pale glow, growing brighter as more power fueled the spell. She kept her focus on that single point, the connection between the potential and the true, and willed her desire to come into being.

“Uh, Mistress?”

Noelle’s brow twitched. “Not now, Oraion.”

“But, ah, it feels r-rather strange. Tingly.”

“That’s to be expected. Now stop distracting me!”

When she heard him sniffle, however, was when her focus truly began to slip. She attempted to wrench it back, to keep her grip on the arcane energies flowing through her. If she held on for a few more seconds—

“I-I know, but it- it’s going to m-make me s-sn- ih-hiihh! hiih-SHHHIEW!”

Noelle’s concentration shattered. The spell flew from her grasp and was gone, fizzling into nothing as the escaped energy rushed in all directions with a gust of air and a whiff of something like pine. The candles guttered and extinguished, plunging the room into total darkness so that when Noelle opened her eyes there wasn’t much difference. She heard a resonant thump in the dark, then a crash, followed by something heavy hitting the floor.

“Oof! Agh, damn it!”

“Oraion? Are you all right?”

“Nngh. Mostly, I think. I tripped and hit my head on something. I, uh, may have knocked over some furniture…”

Noelle pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

“All right, give me a moment.” She waved her wand around the room and called on the lights to brighten again. “I may need to make some adjustments…”

As the room came back into view, Noelle’s voice died in her throat as a weighty knot coiled itself in her gut. Her wand slipped from her fingers to the floor. She blinked several times, as if perhaps doing so could somehow alter what she beheld. Oraion had indeed fallen and was sitting on the floor in front of her, except the two curling, ram-like horns that sprouted from his forehead were now nearly brushing the high ceiling of Noelle’s workshop.

He rubbed the base of one horn with a hand and a scowl on his face, before regarding Noelle with some puzzlement.

“Mistress, you’re tiny! … Wait.”

His crimson gaze swept the room, then his own body, eyes widening in horror as comprehension dawned.

“Wh-what did you do to me?! I’m huge!”

By that point Noelle had recovered from the initial shock enough to protest his accusation.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen! I-I told you not to distract me!”

Oraion scowled once more and ground out his words through clenched teeth. “That’s why I tried to warn you that I had to sneeze!”

Noelle pushed her glasses to her forehead and dropped her face into her hands with a frustrated growl.

“Uuuugh! Okay, okay. It was an accident. Trying to shift the blame to each other won’t fix this.”

“Well, I suppose with that I can agree.”

After fixing her glasses, Noelle rose to her feet and made for her desk, shouldering past Oraion’s now-massive boot. His clothing had maintained scale with him, by the grace of the gods. Atop her small writing desk were scattered papers filled with notes and drawings, and she began sifting through with the crinkling of loose pages.

“I just need to figure out exactly what went wrong. Then I can find a way to reverse it.”

“You said it was temporary, so it should wear off eventually, right?”

“Theoretically, yes.”

She could almost hear him rolling his eyes behind her.

“Okay, and, ‘theoretically’, how long should that take?”

“If it’s in keeping with the intended effects: about eight hours.”

“Eight hours? You mean I might have to stay like this for eight hours?!”

A groan passed Noelle’s lips. “That’s why I’m trying to figure out how to reverse it! I don’t want you to stay this large either; what if the tower can’t take the weight for that long?”

Oraion crossed his arms. “Hmph. I think I might break out from sheer boredom before then.”

Noelle spun around and pointed a finger at him, though it felt rather silly and ineffectual being so much smaller. “Don’t you dare! Do you know how long it took me to restore this place?”

He scoffed. “Well, of course I’d fix it!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and took a breath before turning back to her notes. “Let’s just make sure that doesn’t happen, all right? I’ll figure this out, I just need a little time.”

Behind her, Oraion continued to grumble. “All right, new rule: experiments like this are to take place out of doors. This might have actually been fun if I wasn’t trapped in here. Can’t even sit fully upright. And what is poking me in the— oh. Well, it appears I crushed a chair. And an end table. Tch, I liked that vase…”

Noelle tried to ignore him as she continued to sift through her notes, flipping through the pages of the well-used and slightly tattered journal where she’d recorded the development and initial testing of the spell. She’d been so close to completing this casting before everything went haywire. In fact, if she closed her eyes and reached out with her senses, she could still barely feel the arcane energies lingering. They brushed against the very edges of her perception like floating threads or torn strips of fabric. If she broke down the spell into its constituent parts, looked at each rune individually, maybe she could pinpoint exactly where it had gone off track, and then, maybe, she could complete the casting of it. But would that produce the desired result and return Oraion to normal size, or would the demon simply become a super strong giant? Or some other unknown outcome entirely?

“Well, you were right: I can pick up this sofa with one hand. It’s almost like… being inside a doll’s house.” Held in his enormous hand, the piece of furniture did look almost like a toy. “Which I suppose makes you the doll.”

Suddenly he put the sofa down and looked sharply at Noelle, his face lit up with an expression that told her she was not going to like whatever idea he just had.

“Oooh, can I pick you up? Please? I promise I’ll be careful!”

She took a step backwards, heat creeping up her neck. “What?! N-no!”

“Oh, come on! I might never get a chance like this again, and you’re so cute and tiny!”

“I-I’m not a doll!”

“Well, of course not. I’m not actually going to treat you like a doll, I just… you know… want to hold you.”

He looked down at the floor and then back at her with a pleading look, like a little puppy. Noelle felt it ridiculous and unfair that he could pull off that look, being a grown man who was, at present, probably twenty-five feet tall. She took the papers in her hands and held them up in front of her reddening face.

“Oh… fine.”

She turned and placed her notes down on the desk and was just turning back around to approach him when his hands closed around her torso.

“Kyaahh! A w-warning would have been nice!” she squeaked with a rather undignified yelp.

True to his word, Oraion was quite gentle with her, though it was still unnerving to be held so high up in the hands of a giant.

“Sorry, I just— Look at you! You're adorable! It's like holding a- a baby or something. No, wait, a small pet of some kind. A little cat!”

Noelle puffed out her blushing cheeks.

“I am not a baby, a doll, or a pet! A-aren't you satisfied yet?”

He brought her closer to his face with a self-satisfied grin.

“Hm, no, I don't think I am.”

The demon’s beauty was something Noelle had appreciated from the moment they’d met, but there was something exceptionally captivating about him like this, studying him so close. His pale skin, an unearthly gray, was without flaw, the mark beneath the left corner of his full lips more an accent than a blemish. She took in his bone structure: narrow features, high, defined cheekbones, and an angular jaw. Those red eyes made her blush. His hair was the color of blood, but his eyes were brighter than that, like strawberries or the petals of a poppy flower. Of course, it also did not escape her notice how close to his nose she was, a light pink flush from his earlier sneeze still lingering around his nares.

“Hm, are you thinking naughty thoughts?” he teased.

“Wha-? Of course not!”

“Oh, come, you know I can tell when you're… excited.”

“W-well, looking at you this close… what am I supposed to think?”

 “Looking at this, you mean?” He twitched his nose at her, and Noelle's face burned all the way to her ears.

He laughed, a booming thing at his current size, then carefully placed her to sit upon his bent knee.

“Oho, I can tell you liked that. Aren't we discovering new things about ourselves today? You know, I've changed my mind: this is fun.”

“I'm not sure that's how I would describe it…”

Her position felt rather more precarious than she liked, so Noelle managed to get herself straddling Oraion’s leg instead, ignoring the highly entertained expression on his face as she did so. She couldn't deny that there was a strange sort of… excitement to their current predicament. Still, that did not change the fact that she needed to reverse it as quickly as possible. Every time Oraion shifted, she could hear the floorboards groaning.

He crossed his arms again and looked at her sitting on his leg with a grin on his face that was the very definition of smug. The demon looked like he’d just won something.

“... why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I know what you’re thinking about.”

She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t she rolled her eyes.

“And that would be?”

His grin grew wider. “Oh, only that we could get some really big sneezes out of me right about now, eh?”

Noelle looked aghast. “What?! No! That’s a terrible idea! Gods know what would happen, and the floor is already straining!”

Before her eyes, Oraion’s expression rapidly sobered, from cheeky amusement to mild alarm.

“Oh… well… I think I h-have some bad news, then…”

Fairly certain of what was happening, Noelle’s stomach plummeted. With mounting horror, she remembered the ring she was wearing on her right hand.

“My ring—it’s silver! Oh gods, did it touch you?!”

“It m-may have. Th-that would explahehhain the ti-ti-hiihh-tiiihckle! he-heh!”

“No, don’t!”

He pressed two fingers under his nose to his septum, but already his breath hitched, his muscled chest twitching with increasingly erratic movement. Noelle tried to steady herself on his leg, which began to sway in time with his shuddering breaths.

“Nnggh… I-I do-don’t know ih-hiiih- if I can huh-HUH-hold it!”

“Then a-at least stifle it!”

He couldn’t speak, only nod as his eyes rolled back and screwed shut, nostrils flaring before he pinched them closed at the last moment.

“hhehh-hhiihh! HEH-CHNGXT! Guuhh…”

Even stifled, the spasm made Oraion’s leg rock, and Noelle had to cling on for dear life with both arms and legs lest she be thrown off.

“S-sorry, I’ll get you down. -snf-”

He quickly snatched her up and placed her back on the floor. It was a little less gentle than before, but Noelle didn’t care so long as she was back on stable ground. Oraion sniffled again, rubbing a knuckle beneath his rapidly flushing nostrils.

“You m-might want to heh-hurry. Ngh- -sniff-”

“Right!”

Noelle dashed over to her desk and began a frantic search through her papers. There had to be something, she just needed time to find it. Time she didn’t have.

“Ugh, h-how could suh-huh-hiihh! nngh- s-something so small, m-make me itch so muhuuhch! ih-hihh- hiihh- hiiHH! HH’CHHXT! huuhhh…”

He stifled the sneeze into his wrist, but Noelle still felt the floor shiver. Damn it, how was she supposed to focus? She looked at the page she happened to hold in her hand, which bore a hand-drawn diagram of the spell. Where had the spell gone wrong? Could she figure it out in time?

Behind her Oraion made a valiant effort trying to hold back his sneezes and stifle the ones he couldn’t, but there were only ever two outcomes when he stifled. One: he would stifle so much that the sneeze would get stuck, leaving him itching and hitching until one of them induced it out of him, resulting in a spectacular fit. Two: the tickle would get so bad from not having a proper sneeze that eventually his attempts to stifle would fail, also resulting in a spectacular fit. The former scenario was preferable. Somehow Noelle didn’t think they’d be that lucky.

She went back to her first line of thinking, which was to look at the individual runes that made up the spell. There were so many… Here, several interlinked to affect endurance. There, a cluster of them ensured the effect would be temporary. This group boosted power while preventing hypertrophy—increasing strength without increasing mass. And here—

“Wait… Could that be it?”

If that’s where the spell went wrong, then maybe it increased his strength and mass, but it went so awry that instead of making his muscles bigger it just made him bigger. If she isolated that part of the ritual, cast the proper runes, and wove them into the frayed edges she still felt of the existing spell…

“Oraion! I think I’ve got it!”

Not a moment too soon, it seemed. Oraion was hunched over, his head nearly between his knees as he clutched both hands over his nose and mouth, his eyes shut tight and streaming. The tip of his tail twitched with erratic movements, like an agitated cat’s. 

“Heh-hehh! HEH! I… I c-can’t- hehhHHEH! I… can’t-!”

Noelle had the sinking realization that she wasn’t just in time. She was just barely too late.

“hih- hih- hihihh- HIH HIHH- HNNGGXT- TCHHIIEEWW!”

Despite one last attempt to stifle it, a violent sneeze wracked Oraion’s body, and the entire tower trembled. All Noelle could do was dive for cover as Oraion descended helplessly into a desperate fit.

“HEISSHIIUUH! heh-heh-! … hah! AAH! HAAEESSHHIEW! hii’isshiu-isshiu-ISSHIU! Oh p-please- hehh! ihh-hiihhh! HIIHH! HIIH’DTCHOO!”

Wood cracked and splintered. The floor of the workshop gave way, dumping the demon-turned-giant, as well as much of the room’s contents, into the floor below. This area was much disused and seldom cleaned, so, consequently, the tremendous disturbance kicked up an enormous amount of dust. Poor Oraion remained at the mercy of his inflamed, irritated sinuses, unprepared for this fresh assault. He clapped his hands over his nose in a futile attempt to stave off the allergen already teasing his sensitive nostrils and making his chest heave with heavy breaths.

“N-no, no, n-not agahehhhaiinn-! heh! HEH! HEHISHOO! hih-hiihh-hiiHH! HIIH! HIHHIII’ESHHIUU! heh-ESHU-ESHUU! ihh-hhiiIIHHhh-! HIISSHHIEW! Nnggeh… -snnfff- hehh- hih- Oh n-no… hiiHIIhihh… hiiihhHHIIH… HIIHH-IIISSSHHIIIEEW!!”

When the literal and figurative dust settled, Oraion lay breathless in the wreckage of what had been the floor of the room above and ceiling of the room he fell into—along with broken furniture, strewn books and papers, and whatever had been beneath him when he fell through. Judging by the crushed boxes, it was being used for storage. 

His breath came in pants, punctuated by self-pitying moans around thick, wet sniffling. Pathetic. His face and hands were a mess. His backside was surely bruised, his sinuses ached, his head pounded, his throat felt raw. Worse than any physical hurt, however, burned the humiliation in his chest. What a fucking spectacle. He was a gods-damned Demon Lord, reduced to a whimpering wreck all because he failed to control his own body. How long had it been since his eyes stung like this? At least they were already streaming.

A lone volume from one of the library shelves above tumbled into the void, bounced off an exposed beam, and disappeared into the chaos. Oraion sat up and summoned a handkerchief to attempt cleaning himself up. The cloth, he realized, was the appropriate size, and a stunned moment later it sank in that so was he. Somehow he had returned to his normal height. He pulled himself up out of the mess he had made and looked around the destroyed room.

“Mistress?”

Nothing answered him but the creak of settling wood and a few chunks of falling debris. Anxiety gripped his stomach like a hand of ice. If something happened to her… His fingers flew to the collar about his neck—it was still there, still fastened tight. That meant she had to be alive, didn’t it? Yet she could be badly wounded, perhaps clinging to life as she bled beneath some piece of ruin. He started moving hunks of broken wood and plaster in a near panic.

“Mistress! Noelle!”

A sound reached him, then: a deliberate tapping somewhere in the rubble.

“I… I’m here!”

He rushed to where the sound was coming from and began moving debris. Wooden beams, chunks of masonry, broken furniture—it felt like it weighed next to nothing. Then the strength spell had worked after all…?

At the bottom of the pile he found the sturdy frame of the large sofa sitting upside down, legs in the air—those that were still attached, anyway. He lifted it out of the way with a shower of pulverized masonry, and there, kept safe in the space beneath, lay his Mistress, her clothes and face covered in dirt and dust. He fully expected her to be upset, furious even, but instead she waved up at him and smiled.

“Hello~!”

Oraion fell to his knees and gathered her up into his embrace, something harsh and tight gripping his throat as he buried his face into her hair.

“I’m so sorry. I-I tried. I tried so hard not to, but… it tickled so much—”

Her slender arms slipped about his waist as she hugged him, rubbing a hand along his back that soothed him far more than any healing could.

“Shh, it’s all right. I know you tried, and you couldn’t help it.” She pushed back and looked up at him. “But you’re all right and I’m all right—and that’s all that really matters. Besides, look at this!”

She unfurled a piece of crumpled and torn paper and held it up in front of her, like a child showing a particularly favorite drawing to a parent. On it were a number of symbols—runes—drawn crudely in something red.

“Wait—is this… blood? Are you hurt?!”

She held her arm up, revealing a neat gash on the outside of her forearm. It didn’t look deep, yet still it oozed a bit of red. Oraion took her arm in his hands.

“We need to get this clean and bandaged.”

“Oh, it’s just a scratch, really. And a lucky thing, too: I didn’t have anything else to draw with! But look: I fixed it! I fixed the spell! And I did it on the fly with the whole tower collapsing around me! Isn’t that incredible?”

The demon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, but no sound issued forth. For the first time in a long time, he’d been rendered speechless. Not only was Noelle not angry with him, she was more excited than he had ever seen her before, and, for the first time since he’d met the young witch, proud of something she had accomplished. When his voice did find him again it was to bark out an incredulous laugh.

“Oh, you're pretty incredible, all right. I'll give you that. Are you seriously not upset that I just sneezed half your tower apart? I'm bloody mortified.”

Noelle rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish look, a slight rosyness blooming in her cheeks.

“I can't say I'm not upset at all, but, well… It is sort of my fault, too. Besides, they’re only things, and what's done is done. It's more like a third of the tower anyway.”

“Well, first it was the whole thing, then half, now a third—by the time we’re done talking it’ll be like it never happened at all.”

“Don’t forget that you promised to fix it if you broke out.”

“I meant on purpose, but I suppose fair is fair. You know, if you took this collar off and let me access my full power, I could fix all of it in mere moments with a snap of my fingers.”

She placed the tip of her index finger across her lips, as though she were really considering it, though she couldn’t hide a smirk. “Hm, are you still planning to kidnap me and take me away to the Demon Realm?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.”

“Oh, but I think I would so enjoy having you as a pet.” A mischievous grin suddenly lit up his face. “Do you think we could figure out how to do the spell in reverse? So we could shrink you down instead? Then you really could be my pet!”

Noelle scoffed and gave him a playful shove. “No, I am absolutely not going to turn myself into your tiny, little pet witch! I am still your Mistress!” She paused and rubbed a hand thoughtfully across her chin. “Although, if we did make me smaller instead of turning you into a giant, your sneezes wouldn’t be so destructive…”

Oraion pulled Noelle in close again with a smirk.

“Oh, so we did discover something interesting about ourselves, did we?”

“W-well, I– Th-that is– I-It’s just something to, um, experiment with? Er, variety is the spice of life?”

His eyes narrowed as his tongue passed over his lips. “Mmm, you’re so delicious when you’re all flustered…”

“Oh my gods, are you serious? Here? Now?”

Oraion laughed. “No, definitely not. First I need to get out of all this dust and into some fresh air. I think that’s the hardest I’ve ever sneezed in my life, and my sinuses hurt.”

He couldn’t even sniffle anymore, he was so stuffed up. Every time he tried it felt like trying to suck an egg through a straw.

Noelle touched his cheek, her delicate brows drawn together in concern. “Poor thing. You do look awful. Well, as awful as a creature of unearthly beauty can look. I don’t think you could be ugly if you tried.”

“Is that a challenge? You know I can shapeshift, right?”

She gave his shoulder another shove. “Oh, stop it, you know what I mean!”

Their laughter slowly died away to silence, but still neither of them moved. Oraion looked down at the human woman in his arms and wondered why, even though it had only been a handful of months since he’d arrived at her tower, it felt like she belonged at his side. It was like he’d been living alone in a portrait meant for two, and now the outline of the missing figure was starting to fill in. In her shape.

Had he really allowed himself to grow so attached so quickly? To a mortal, no less? In his heart of hearts he knew the painful destination to where such roads led. But here, with her large, brown eyes looking deep into his own, her soft lips just slightly parted, as if inviting him to kiss them, there was only this moment, this small sanctuary in the midst of the destruction that surrounded them. Perhaps he would regret it later, but he had to say something.

“Noelle… I’m glad.”

She tilted her head quizzically to one side. “Of what?”

He touched her chin and just barely brushed her lips with his own.

“That you are my Mistress.”

[accidentalmistress]

Dust in the Wind

It's that time again! The latest installment of Accidental Mistress is here! Join me for another adventure! Separately. In our own homes. Preferably away from other people, because we are all filthy degenerates... Ahem, anyway...

(More Accidental Mistress content can be found in the Master Post.)

Title: Dust in the Wind

Word Count: 2,359

Content and warnings: snz (male), technically snz (fem) but just the one, lol

An incident in the tower library leads Noelle and Oraion to discover that the demon might have a slightly worse dust allergy than they thought...

-----------------------

About a mile and a half outside of the small town of Chambelf in the country of Schorseau, an old stone tower stood in the middle of a forest. Its original purpose and progenitor were lost to time, and for many, many years it stood empty and crumbling, a relic from a bygone era. To a casual observer it would still appear as such, the reason being that the tower’s current occupant wanted it to. She had cast a number of warding and trap spells, not the least of which was a glamor that caused anyone who came upon the tower to see it as a dilapidated, and furthermore uninteresting, ruin. The passerby would then continue on their way and soon forget they had seen anything at all.

The spell was a work of genius, and Noelle knew she could never have pulled it off without Oraion’s help. As an incubus, he possessed intuitive knowledge on magic that influenced the mind, and together they had formulated the intricacies and inner workings of the complex ritual. Then, with the power and control that Oraion provided her through the link created by the contract that bound them, Noelle had woven the spell over an area that kept the entire tower and much of the surrounding land nicely hidden.

The tower itself was round save for a wider, square level at the base. That was where the entrance hall was, as well as the kitchens. Above that were six more levels, plus an attic, which was far more space than Noelle could reasonably utilize alone. Her bedroom was near the top, as well as her bath and a room that was now Oraion’s. One level of the tower was a single open space with large windows that let in plenty of sunlight, and it was this sprawling room that had become Noelle’s workshop, study, and library. It was easily her favorite room in the tower.

Another thing she liked about it was how high the ceilings were, nearly twice the other levels, which meant she could install huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with one of those ladders that moved along a rail. Like everything else in her tower, they had been cobbled together with whatever materials she could buy from the nearby town or scavenge on her own, but she still thought they made the room feel like a proper library. She’d made a lot of progress in filling them up with books over the years, some that she had purchased and many that had been given to her or that she had rescued after being thrown away by their original owners. Sure, that meant her collection was a touch eclectic, but where else might she have acquired an out-of-print, first-edition copy of Trexala’s Trove of Trivia, Vol. 4?

At the moment, however, she needed an old volume on thaumaturgy, an astronomy text, and a thin pamphlet she had tucked away somewhere that contained some useful diagrams of ancient Pre-Jaksdasan runes. She had reached the top of one shelf with no success in finding the pamphlet, and was just about to descend when she saw something sticking out from between two books at the far end of the next shelf over. If she could grab it, it would save her the trouble of having to go down, move the ladder, and climb back up again. She set the two books she already had down on the shelf in front of her and steadied herself on the ladder. It wouldn’t do to take a fall from this height.

She leaned out to the side and reached for the pamphlet, barely brushing it with her middle finger. With a frustrated snort she tried again, adjusting her footing so she could reach further, stretching out as far as she possibly could. She was rewarded with another brush of it with her finger, but she’d managed to pull it out slightly. Now, if only she could—

Crack.

The ladder shifted beneath her, coming loose from the rail entirely as some part of the fixture gave way. Noelle tried to grab onto one of the shelves in front of her to steady herself on the ladder, but the plank of wood tipped forward under her weight, dumping books to the floor before slipping completely from her grasp.

“No, no! Ah-!”

It all happened so quickly. For a moment she was weightless, and she closed her eyes, bracing for impact. Then she hit the ground, but with admittedly less force than she was expecting. It still hurt a bit, but it felt like something had broken her fall. When she opened her eyes, she saw exactly what it was. Or rather, who it was.

“Ow…”

“Oraion! Oh my goodness, are you all right?”

The demon scoffed with a wry smirk. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, Mistress? You’re not hurt, are you?”

He was sitting on the floor beneath her, holding Noelle in his lap with his muscular arms. His wings were out; from the look of it he had flown across the room to catch her.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine, um, thanks to you. So, uh… thank you.”

“Of course, my dear, but please be more careful next time.”

One more straggling book fell to the floor, landing on several others in a heap.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Seems I’ve made quite a mess… I think the ladder is broken, too.”

“A bit of a mess and a broken ladder can be cleaned up and fixed, I’m just glad you’re… you’re, um…” He trailed off, and Noelle couldn’t quite read the look on his face. Distracted, maybe?

“Oraion…?”

He sniffed, nose scrunching. “Uh, would you say those books were a bit dusty?”

“Wh- dust? I- Oh no, I haven’t dusted in ages.”

She looked again at the mess, and sure enough the sun shining through the windows illuminated a veritable galaxy of glowing motes of dust floating in the air. Poor Oraion’s nose was already turning pink.

“I-I must be a bit more allergic than I th-thought, because I have such a-an intense tiiihhckle. -snf- Nguh…”

He let go of her with one hand to rub his nose, pressing a knuckle under his septum as he took in a shaky breath. In his lap, Noelle had the perfect view of his quivering nares as specks of dust swirled around them.

“I s-swear I’m n-not doing this on p-purpose, I- I- heh! Oh no- hiihh-HIHH-heh- -sniff- s-sorry- heh-heh- hehhh ih-hiiiHH HIH-ITCHOO! HEHGTCHIUH! HESSHHIIU!”

Oraion's broad chest heaved against her, spasming muscles visible through the thin fabric of his shirt, as he was rocked by sneeze after powerful sneeze. Noelle didn't think she'd seen him sneeze with his wings out before. They twitched and flared throughout his hitching buildups and the outbursts that followed.

"S-so strong- oh- eh-heh! HEHIIH'TCHIU! Gods- ehGHISHUH!"

"Um, maybe you should put me down?"

Oraion could only nod in response, hardly able to keep his crimson eyes open between sneezes as forming tears glistened in his eyelashes. Even Noelle's own insensitive nose was starting to run a bit. His grip on her slackened, and she clambered out of his lap with all the grace and dexterity of a newborn foal. At least she didn't kick him anywhere sensitive.

She immediately set about throwing open the windows, hoping for a breeze to air out the room. Oraion's fit showed no signs of stopping or even slowing, a bright red flush blossoming across his nose, cheeks, and even his long, elf-like ears.

"haESHOO! IISSHHIU! Nguh- Mistress, I- eh-heh HEH! HIISH'IUUU! I c-can't etchu! etchu! ngh- suh-stop- heh-hehh-HEHH-HEHHTCHUU! EHH’SHYU!"

Sometimes Noelle couldn’t be certain if he was playing it up for her benefit, or if he was actually distressed. This particular episode seemed especially bad, though, worse than any she’d seen him go through before.

“I-I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to get it cleared out, just try to hold on a little longer.”

What else could she do? Was there really nothing else but to wait it out? The aggrieved demon pressed a hand over his nose and mouth, catching his increasingly wet sneezes against his palm.

“Oh!” Noelle rushed over and crouched next to him, pulling a simple, white handkerchief out of her pocket. “Here, use this.”

Eyes streaming, he reached blindly for it, so she pressed it into his hand. He immediately unleashed another strong sneeze into the cloth. At least now he wouldn’t have to use his hands. The harsh expulsions were so forceful and close together, Noelle imagined he couldn’t focus long enough to summon his own handkerchief. She heard him try to blow his nose into the one she gave him, only to be cut off by another hitchy outburst. Unsure what else she could do, Noelle placed her hand on the demon’s shoulder.

A sudden pause in his sneezing gave Noelle a fleeting hope that at last his fit was letting up. Yet his chest heaved, pulling air into his lungs in stuttering gasps. Breathy hitches shifted into vocal ones, rising in pitch and strength. His reddened nostrils flared, eyes squeezed shut, nose crinkled with intense irritation. Noelle caught the tip of a fang visible through his parted lips. The longer the buildup went on, the more desperate his hitching became, until at last it reached a fever pitch and Oraion’s torso snapped forward.

“HIIHHSSHHHIIEEWWW!!”

He barely got the handkerchief over his nose as a tremendous sneeze seized him, launching him into a violent, uncontrollable paroxysm of sneezing that had him hunched over, both hands clutching the handkerchief to his face as his torso convulsed again and again. A spasm made one of his wings nearly clip Noelle across the head, and she had to duck aside to avoid being hit. After about half a dozen or so powerful sneezes, the fit finally began to subside, leaving Oraion panting and gasping for breath.

“Oh, by the Princes of Hell… That was… s-so intense… hehchiu! Gods…”

“I-I’m so sorry, Oraion, I…”

Noelle trailed off, unsure what else to say. She’d apologized a few times already, and… Well, she wasn’t ready to acknowledge the part of her that had enjoyed watching his positively desperate fit.

He waved a dismissive hand as he finally stopped sneezing long enough to blow his nose.

“Nothing to apologize for. I’m f-fine. Note to s-self: extremely allergic to d-dust in s-suffi- heh-hehh! HEEISHHOO! Ngh… sufficient quantities.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger up and down his nose in an itchy fervor. He then wiped the tears from his face as he took a bleary look around the room. There was still dust floating around, Noelle noted, despite the open windows. Oraion flapped his wings several times, which sent a light breeze across the room, encouraging fresh air through the windows to replace the dust-laden air in the room, before the appendages vanished into his back once more.

“That should help clear the room. Now I just need to get the stuff out of my damned sinuses… hihh-tchoo!”

He raised the handkerchief back to his face and gave several forceful blows. Noelle still felt somewhat sniffly herself, and rubbed her own nose with the back of her hand.

“I, um, I know what you mean.”

Almost on cue, she felt a prickle, and she raised both hands toward her face.

“Uh-oh- heh… heh-itchu! Ugh. -snf-”

She hated her own sneezes: all high-pitched and kittenish, while still being incredibly ordinary and boring. When she looked up, though, she found Oraion staring at her with an intensity that sent a tingle across her skin. Her cheeks burned under his scrutiny as she rubbed her nose again.

“Um… please excuse me.”

All at once his entire face began to turn an alarming shade of red, and he kept a hand firmly clasped over his nose and mouth. A tendril of anxiety touched Noelle’s spine—was he about to have another severe outburst?

“O-Oraion? Is everything all right?”

“Oh, yes, I… uh… I-I’ve just… never seen you, ah, sneeze before… and it… i-it was… really… really… cute…”

He practically whispered the last word behind his hand, and it took Noelle a few seconds to parse out what he’d said. Once it hit her, her eyes went wide as volcanic heat flooded her own face.

“C-c-cute?! B-but, I— I mean, it just- just sounded normal, d-didn’t it? My, um… m-my sneezing isn’t anything special…”

Either Oraion found something on the wall very interesting, or he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. His voice was an embarrassed mumble behind his hand.

“... still cute.”

Noelle had never seen Oraion this flustered, and, truth be told, it was almost as attractive to her as his sneezing. Sitting there with his bashful red face and sniffly nose; she couldn’t think of a time when he’d looked more adorable. Beautiful, haunting, sexy—he always embodied those characteristics to a T, but this? This was, well…

Cute.

She leaned forward. “Hey… Oraion?”

He finally turned back to face her and dropped his hand away from his mouth, and Noelle was waiting. His full lips were warm from the flush in his face as she covered them with her own. He tensed up, frozen for half a heartbeat, but then he melted into the kiss, and she felt his fingertips tickle her cheek in a gentle caress. Noelle put her arms around his neck and shoulders, breaking the kiss for just a moment to look into his bright scarlet eyes. She didn’t even care how hard she was blushing, since his face was just as red.

“I think, um, that you’re pretty cute right now, too.”

Leaning back, she began to pull him down towards the floor. There was still the mess of books and papers, and she would have to set aside some time for inspecting the library ladder to assess if it could be fixed. Right now, though, all she could think about was the gorgeous man in her arms, the decidedly hedonistic things his tongue was capable of, and the fact that the wards and traps she’d placed all around her tower meant that no one would be nearby to hear them.

[accidentalmistress]

GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS

No, it's not hump day. It's Accidental Mistress Release Day!

(Really showing my age with that reference, lol)

Man, has it really been two weeks already? Time sure flies, don't it? OH, and I sneezed today! It's been exactly 15 weeks since the last one! An auspicious day indeed!

Today we have a relatively short piece, but it's one of my favorites. This is a very snz-centered piece that's entirely from Oraion's point of view, so please do enjoy the next installment of Accidental Mistress...

Title: Silver Metal

Word count: 2,044

Content and warnings: snz (male)

----------------------------

Oraion waited patiently for the perfect opportunity to present itself, and the time had finally come. One of the middle levels of his Mistress’s tower was one sprawling room that served as her library, study, and workshop. Today, he found Noelle standing before her workbench, fussing over a number of glass bottles, vials, and beakers. She had her back to him and was quite absorbed in whatever she was working on, so he took a moment to let his eyes rove her figure. Noelle was a petite little thing, barely taller than five feet while he stood three inches over six. Today she had on one of her usual ensembles of a plain dress in a neutral color with a knit shawl around her shoulders. Despite his efforts, Oraion had not yet convinced his Mistress that simply because she was a witch did not mean she needed to dress like someone's grandmother. At least she was wearing the silver earrings he had gifted her back when they visited the Silver Market together with that Knight friend of hers.

He crept into the room as silent as a cat, crossing the distance until he was standing directly behind the young witch with her being none the wiser. Her focus was intent on a metal bowl on the table—Oraion hesitated to call it a ‘cauldron’—and the small vials she held in each hand, one containing a luminescent green fluid and the other a substance that was milky and pale blue. It seemed she was just about to add some measure of each to the mixture.

Oraion waited until he was nearly touching her, leaning to peer over her shoulder, before he spoke.

“My, that looks fiddly.”

Predictably, Noelle shrieked and jumped, the two vials in her hands dropping from her grasp completely. With a satisfied smirk, Oraion reached out a hand and snapped his fingers, and the falling vials of liquid froze in the air as though time had stopped. Noelle turned to look over her shoulder with an indignant look, but her freckled cheeks were a delightful pink.

“O-Oraion! Do not sneak up on me like that! What if this was something volatile and explosive? Or if it produced some kind of toxic gas? It’s dangerous to startle me when I’m working!”

“Oh, come now, I had everything well in hand.” The demon twirled his finger and the liquid that had begun to spill from the vials flowed right back in. “See? No harm done.”

Noelle snatched the two vials out of the air before flashing Oraion an irritated pout.

“You still scared the life out of me.” She turned back to her work and added in a sulky grumble, “I’d say that’s some harm done.”

“Oh dear, it seems I’ve upset my Mistress.” Oraion placed his hands on her shoulders and started to massage the tension there with his thumbs. “I do hope she will allow her humble Servant to make it up to her.”

“W-well, I suppose that does feel nice…”

He could feel little ripples of pleasure radiating out from where he touched her—not the same as what he felt when he pleasured her in more intimate ways, but it still provided him with a tantalizing taste of her. She really was different from anyone else he had ever fed on, an intoxicating nectar more exquisite than the finest wine and sweeter than the most tempting dessert. Now that he had gotten that small taste, though, it only left him wanting more. He leaned down as though he were trying to get a closer look at what she was doing.

“Hm, perhaps I could also offer my Mistress some assistance? After all, is it not my duty as your Servant to lend a helping hand with your magical endeavors?”

Being a demon, his ears were long and pointed, like an elf, and as he bent down with his head next to hers, he allowed the tip of his ear to brush hers and the silver earring that hung from it.

“Ah, sorry.”

“Oh, n-no, it’s all right. Um, this potion, though, is really more manual than magical. I don’t know what I would have you do to help.”

“Hmm, I see… Then perhaps it would be acceptable for me to simply observe?”

“I-I suppose… I don’t see why not.”

Oraion smirked and straightened back up. “Wonderful. Well, don’t let me interrupt you any further, Mistress.”

“Um, all right…”

As she resumed her work with the potion, readying the vials to add to the mixture, Oraion felt the telltale prickle in his sinuses blossom. He had only barely touched the silver for a fraction of a moment, so it was a tenuous tickle stirring at the bridge of his nose, but it was enough to start a sniffle forming.

“So what is this potion you’re -snf- making?”

“Oh, um, it’s an energy potion. I’m trying to perfect the formula, so whenever I’m feeling a little tired I can take some for a quick boost. I have to be very careful with the proportions, though. I don’t want it to be too strong, or, um, I won’t sleep for days.”

Oraion chuckled. “Sounds like you’re, ah, -snf- speaking from experience.”

“Y-yes, well, it’s a… work in progress.”

He could tell he had her attention, but it wasn’t entirely uncommon for him to be a bit sniffly at times. She wasn’t getting riled up quite yet, but half the fun was the slow build, wasn’t it?

He moved his hands from kneading her shoulders to lightly rubbing the nape of her neck. The silver charms dangling from Noelle’s ears were shaped like luna moths, and he surreptitiously brushed one with a finger. The effect was more immediate now that his sinuses were already irritated, and the tickle began to spread.

“Mmh…”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, -snnff- sorry.” His nose was beginning to run, giving his sniffling more substance, and he could just barely detect a stirring of desire within her.

“O-oh, okay…”

He watched her add the ingredients from the two vials and put them away, then start stirring the concoction with a metal rod. He stopped rubbing her shoulders so he could instead rub his own nose, which he was certain was starting to flush. Though the itch had spread, it still wasn’t enough to send him over the edge, and as he bided his time it even began to subside a bit.

A slow burn was his aim, no need to rush things. So far his sniffling was nothing out of the ordinary, just enough to catch her attention and interest.

“So, ah, what’s our -sdnf- next step?”

“Um, well, I need to keep stirring it until it changes color. Right now it’s a dark blue, but as I stir you’ll see it lighten and change to a sort of lavender color.”

“Lavender, eh?” He seized the opportunity to tease her. “Just saying the word makes my nose itch.”

Looking at her profile, he could see her cheeks turning redder as the desire within her sparked. She laughed as well, but it was more of a nervous giggle.

“W-well, it, um, it won’t smell like lavender, it will only take on the color. So, uh, no need to worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. Even if it did smell like lavender. That would only make things more interesting, I think.”

Things were about to get more interesting either way. He touched her earring with a finger again, and a flare of irritation swept through his sinuses so quickly that he very nearly lost control right then and there. He pressed a knuckle beneath his septum as his breath caught.

“hehHEH–  Oh, g-goodness, I’m sorry. -snnff- I-I suppose it’s all that talk of lavender.”

That spark of desire within his Mistress began to smolder and burn, and he had to suppress a shiver as the feel of it washed over him. Another anxious titter crossed her lips.

“Oh, um, sorry, haha. W-we can talk about, um, something else.”

Now it was getting fun. Time to turn things up a little more.

“Ah, yes, I certainly wouldn’t want to interrupt you again, Mistress.” He snapped his fingers, and a handkerchief appeared in his hand. “This ought to help. Excuse me for a moment.”

He turned and blew his nose into the cloth, a satisfied smirk crossing his face. Under the guise of trying to restrain himself, he could wind her up even more. It was delicious.

“R-right. Um, oh, look: the potion is changing color. See?”

He craned over to peer at the bowl on the workbench. Indeed, the liquid inside began to change from the sort of navy blue color it was before to a lighter color. A perfect opportunity: he brushed her ear with his own again, and a sharp buzz lanced through the bridge of his nose. He felt his nostrils twitch and flare. 

“Oh dear— eh-heh-hehh! S-sorry, I duh-heh- d-don’t know what– what, um… hehh-HEHH!”

Gods, he was barely hanging on. He wasn’t going to be able to hold it back much more than this. If he touched the silver again, that would surely be the end of it. He pressed the handkerchief desperately over his nose and mouth and somehow wrested control back over his sinuses.

“Nnhehh… P-please forgive me, -snndff- Mistress. I-I’m so sorry to be such a- such a-hah! Mmnh- -snnf- A d-distraction. I don’t know what’s c-come over me. -snf- You know, s-sometimes the, ah, littlest things can se-set me off.”

Oh, she was enjoying this. The more he apologized, the more flustered she became and the brighter her desire burned. It was becoming difficult to stay in character, all contrite and genteel, when his instinct was to embrace her and whisper in her ear all the things he could do to her right there on the table. He’d been with her long enough now, though, to know that something like that would only stoke her anxieties. His Mistress required more care, a gentler touch—Oraion suspected she might be a virgin. And so, the perfect gentleman he would remain, with his remaining hand on her shoulder being the only touch between them until she wanted more. Until she wanted him.

Noelle shifted, barely paying attention to her potion at this point. Oraion could feel her body heat radiating through the charged air between them. The sight of her face, so flushed and red, set his pulse racing.

“Um, i-if you really need to, you can, uh, you know, g-go ahead. It wouldn’t… bother me.”

The demon grinned and leaned down close to her ear again.

“Then do I hihh-have your p-permission, Mistress?”

She didn’t reply, only nodded with a little closed-mouth squeak. He leaned in even closer and nuzzled her ear, brushing the silver earring directly against his nose.

“Oh- p-please excuse m-me, I- hiihh- iihhHHIIIH-! HIIESSSHHHOO! HNG’TCHIU! heh-haaESHHIUU! S-sorry- hiih-! hih-hih-hiTCHIU! HIIHTCHUU! Nguh… -snnff- I c-can’t seem to s-stop- heh! … hehhHEHHhheh-! … heh-HEH-HEHHIISSHIIEEW! HEH-HIISSHHIIEW! HEH- HEH- HEH-TCHOO!”

Once the sneezing subsided, he dabbed at his running nose with his handkerchief.

“Oh my, -snnfff- that feels much better. -snf- Thank you, Mistress.”

“Y-yes, of course. I’m, um, glad you feel better.”

He could think of one thing that would make him feel even better…

“I think I -snf- must have touched your earring. I quite forgot it was silver. -snnff- I-I’m terribly sorry. I can tell that I’ve worked you up into quite a state, -snnf- s-so if there’s anything you need, Mistress, please let me make it up to you.”

She finally turned and looked up at him, her potion work forgotten. Oh, but she looked so adorable like this, all rosy-cheeked and impassioned, her large brown eyes batting shyly beneath her lashes.

“Um, well, h-how long has it been since you last, um, fed?”

With supreme effort, Oraion managed to keep a triumphant grin off of his face.

“Oh, about a week, I think.”

Noelle fidgeted with her fingers and gave a thoughtful nod. “Well then, maybe we should… go to my room?”

He took her hand in his own and bowed over it, placing a gentle kiss upon her fingers. Now he could no longer keep the smile from his face.

“As you wish, my Mistress.”

[accidentalmistress]

Accidental Mistress - Take

Know what today is? IT'S DOUBLE POST DAY.

That's right, I'm posting two Accidental Mistress fics, because the one that was scheduled to be posted today (this one) is really dang short. And you, my lovely readers, deserve more. So more you shall have!

Also this one is kind of sad and doesn't have any sneeze content, only whump. WARNING: this piece delves a bit into Noelle's past trauma and therefore may be a little heavy. If you're only in the mood for sexy fun, you may want to skip to the next piece.

(More Accidental Mistress content can be found on the Master Post.)

Title: Take

Word Count: 660

Content and Warnings: whump, sexual assault (remembered)

In which painful memories make a midnight manifestation.

---------------------

"You are forgetting your place, my dear little Single-winged Sparrow."

Such a voice, soft as a mother's caress and beautiful as the rain, should not be able to say such things. If felt as an injustice to the very order of the world.

"Remember, I have but a single use for you, as you have failed my every other expectation."

Fingers cold as death touched her face. She wanted to shrink away from that touch, but her body would not obey.

"I do not tolerate failure, my dear… but I am not wasteful of things with some value. There is still a chance for you to bear the Sisterhood a daughter who possesses the aptitude you do not. So long as you serve this purpose, you have worth to me."

Those fingers grabbed her jaw, sharp nails digging into her cheeks, as the smoking void that was a face glared at her with unseen eyes.

"I will send another this night. You had best hope that this time your womb accepts the seed, for if you cannot fulfill even this simple task… then I have no use for you."

The hand released her jaw with a harsh shove that knocked her back onto the floor.

"Things that are useless, worthless, have no purpose or value—such things I do not squander my time upon. I am not wasteful. Remember that, little Single-winged Sparrow."

Somehow she found her voice as the sound of footsteps retreated and darkness closed in.

"Mother… Please, no… Please! Mother?"

The gilded cage with the void-face inside swayed as it was carried further and further away, ignoring her cries.

"Mother! Please don't… I don't want to…"

As the last of the light faded, leaving her in suffocating darkness, another set of footsteps approached. Heavier. Harder.

"No… No, please! I don't want to! Mother!"

A vague shape in the dark, an oppressive shadow, pressed in on her, smothering her as rough hands touched her body, held her down. Her movements were sluggish and weak, powerless against the unfolding horror. The shadow forced her legs apart, even as she sobbed.

"Mother!"

Noelle shot up in bed, clutching her blankets to her chest as sweat ran down her back and dripped from her brow. Her lungs pulled in gulps of air with shuddering breaths. The room swam in the darkness without her glasses, but relief washed over her with the affirmation that it was indeed her room.

"Mmh? What is it?"

His sleepy voice beside her was tinged with concern. Even as traces of the nightmare lingered in the tears on her cheeks, she didn't want to worry him. Those memories belonged in the past.

"It's n-nothing." Her voice betrayed her with a quaver. "Just a… a dream."

She waited for him to turn over and go back to sleep. She could process this on her own, always had. Instead Oraion sat up next to her, his touch a gentle warmth on her arm.

"What do you need?"

A sob welled in her throat. His hands were never rough with her, never touched her in ways she did not like, never forced her to do things she did not want. Noelle fell against him, pressing her face into his chest. How could a demon be the kindest person she knew? The only people in her life that deserved to be called demonic were always human.

"It's all right, I’m here. I will never allow anything to harm you… my dear Mistress."

Strong arms pulled her in close, rubbing her back with a large, warm hand. Sheltered in his embrace, she believed him. Under the protection of Oraion, wielding the power of a Greater Demon, she would never again experience those horrors. Even if she was a sparrow with only one wing, Oraion would always be there to lend her his.

Once Noelle’s tears had dried, she fell asleep cradled in her beloved Servant’s arms, and that night she dreamed no more.

[accidentalmistress]

This post contains spoilers for my latest fic, Beneath the Mask, so if you have not read that fic yet, ye be warned.

I'm not the greatest artist, but I spent way too long on this sketch of approximately how I picture Oraion's "true" form to look. Or his head, anyway.

Floofy dragon horse. I imagine his fur being super soft and comfy to hug and snuggle. In size his body would be about like an average-sized horse, but with a longer neck. And batlike wings, of course. Floofy winged llama dragon horse. With horns and fangies and cloven hooves. I wish I could capture him how I really see him in my head (said every artist ever), but this is the best I got right now.

[accidentalmistress]

Handkerchief

An Accidental Mistress post that's not on a release day? Impossible, you say? Nay, for it is true!

Yeah, this is basically a drabble, so I figured it didn't really warrant waiting for a release day. There isn't any snz in this one, either. It's just a little character interaction between Noelle and Oraion.

Word count: 838

No content warnings.

--------------------

“Here.”

Oraion raised his gaze from the novel he held in his hands. He’d spent the morning lounging upon a sofa in the expansive room that served as his Mistress’s workshop, study, and library. A number of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were set against the wall and held an eclectic variety of volumes, including a surprisingly robust selection of novels. He spent much of his free time there, reading one book or another. Most never pegged him for the bookish type, but he quite enjoyed literary pursuits and even had a proper library of his own at his manor in the Demon Realm.

Noelle stood over him, one hand extended towards him with her gaze glued to a side wall, as though she might spontaneously combust if she looked directly at him. In her hand was a small, folded piece of cloth of deep red, a color her cheeks were trying to emulate in their blush. He did so love to see her flushed and flustered, but as he had done nothing to work her into this state, he was more confused than anything else.

“Er… and this is?”

He sat up straighter and reached out to take the cloth into his hand, noting that it was a near perfect match to the color of his hair. The fabric was soft and cool in his fingers, the color stark against the pale gray of his skin.

“It's a…” Noelle's voice was so quiet it trailed off into an incomprehensible mumble.

A smile touched Oraion’s lips—there was something about his Mistress’s bashfulness that he always found irresistibly endearing. “Sorry, but I didn't quite catch that.”

“I-it's a handkerchief!” she blurted, and her cheeks colored further. “I, um, I noticed that… Well, that you a-always use a silk one, and, um, silk isn’t… very absorbent… Y-you should really use one that’s thicker, like cotton, so… I want you to have this one.”

The demon looked again at the cloth in his hand. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers—it was indeed more substantial than what he usually used.

“I see. I admit I hadn’t given the material much thought. Well, I’ve never had a need for a handkerchief apart from ornamentation. Until recently, of course. Where did you find this color?”

“Huh?” For a moment her brown eyes widened behind her glasses, then she cast her gaze at the floor. Again, that adorable shyness. “Well, I, um… I dyed it. You… seem to favor red things. O-oh, and I used magic in the process, so, um, the color won’t bleed when washed.”

Oraion was, for a moment, uncharacteristically speechless. When his voice found him again, even he was surprised at its quiet sincerity.

“Then… I shall be certain to treasure such a thoughtful gift. You have my thanks.”

He meant it, too. The thought and care that had gone into her gift was clear, and it touched his heart in a way that interminable, lonesome eons had convinced him was lost.

“That's… th-that's wonderful to hear. I'm glad you like it. Um…” Noelle took a few steps backwards towards the doorway, her blush spreading across her entire face as the speed of her speech started increasing to a nervous babble. “I-I have a few things to take care of, chores and such, so I really ought to get to those. I'll, uh, I’ll just be going, then. I… suppose I’ll talk to you later! Bye!”

Before Oraion could respond, she turned and left the room, though ‘fled’ might have been the better word to describe it. The incubus shook his head with a quiet chuckle as he turned the handkerchief over in his hand. He closed the book he still held in the other and took two corners of the neatly folded cloth, letting it fall open. As he did so, he noticed something on one of the opposing corners: a neatly hand-embroidered 'O' in a golden yellow thread.

Oraion was well aware that Noelle possessed very little in the way of wealth, yet she’d done her best to give him something nice. She'd dyed it, which meant it had once been a simple, plain handkerchief. Perhaps it was even one of her own. He could easily picture her at her workbench, fiddling with magical reagents until she got an enchanted dye color she was happy with. She’d likely done the embroidery at night, in her room, working by the soft light of her bedside lamp. The image in his mind's eye shifted to her sitting up in bed with thread and needle, a light blush in her cheeks as she personalized the cloth just for him. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, detecting within its fibers a delicate scent—her scent.

Something tightened in the demon's chest.

“Getting in deep,” he murmured, a pensive frown on his lips. One hand dropped to his lap with the handkerchief while the other ran through his long, scarlet hair, and an uneasy sigh heaved his chest. “Think I might be getting in deep…”