#pierced nips cardy g

[laequiem]

‡ Too much

Track 5 of Dedicated, a @jurdannet collab fic with @hazelsheartsworn @figonas @lizziebxnnet @slightlyrebelliouswriter23

Dedicated Masterlist • My Masterlist

‡ SIDE A: track 1 - track 2 - track 3 - track 4 - ao3

‡ SIDE B: track 1 - track 2

Fandom: The Folk of The Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: Explicit⇢ teasing, butt plug, pegging, anal sex on male

Word count: 5,085

The revel is already in full swing by the time the High King and I approach the doors of the brugh. Compared to the late High King Eldred, my husband does everything in excess, wanting to experience the most that life has to offer. He collects strong emotions like a magpie, trying to feel at home in his nest of indulgence.

The revel is already in full swing by the time the High King and I approach the doors of the brugh. Compared to the late High King Eldred, my husband does everything in excess, wanting to experience the most that life has to offer. He collects strong emotions like a magpie, trying to feel at home in his nest of indulgence. When I first met him, he had built himself a fortress of cruelty, annoying people until they hated him. As he grew, he indulged in drugs and alcohol until the euphoric buzz led to numbness. I was blind to it at first, and so was Nicasia before me, but Cardan loves more than any sane person should. Of course, pleasure is no different. He looks for new ways to heighten pleasure, not that he is unsatisfied, far from it—Cardan is quite easy to satisfy. Simply, he has made me his mate, and aims to gift me the ecstasy he would formerly collect for himself. The revels he has ordered since being crowned are no different, full of vice and excessive drinking. He claims, however, that this revel is his masterpiece. He has spent the last week consulting every night with Taryn, ensuring her Imps—the servants tasked with setting up those events—get every detail exactly right.

Small tents, big enough for groups seeking privacy, stand on the palace hill. From the branches of the great tree, naked acrobats swing, tangled together in positions unachievable without the freedom provided by aerial silks. As Cardan leads us towards the main doors, the subjects lining the path bow. In contrast to the rest of the Court, we are overdressed, though I would consider our outfits lewd. Nothing is improper about Cardan’s slim high-waisted pants or the gold streaks highlighting his cheekbones and brow. The indecency comes from what he sports as a top. Cardan has forgone a doublet, replacing it for a mesh shirt with a lacy snake design curling around his torso. By itself, it would not be that shocking, at least when it comes to the High King’s fashion. He did, however, swap the usual barbells on his nipples for rings, linked together in a complex harness of golden chains. The chains go down his sides in a strange imitation of ribs, then disappear under the waistband of his pants.

Then, there is the matter of the other thing he wears, hidden under the layers of clothes. The pockets of my dress allow me to reach the remote control strapped under my dress. I blindly press a button and my husband squeezes my arm tightly, the only sign that anything happened.

I have to give it to him, he is good at acting unaffected.

The guards open the doors for us and we make our entrance. Immediately, I am taken aback by how different the room looks. It is the same room I preside over every day—only if the room had been designed by the most twisted fae mind. I have half the mind to think Cardan sourced his inspiration from his oldest brother’s debauched events. The decor still screams of Cardan’s extravagant style. Bioluminescent moss hangs from chandeliers and lights bob between the tangled branches of the ceiling, bouncing off flecks of fairydust. Scattered across the room, Folk pick at tables laden with mountains of food and alcohol: faerie wine of all colors, as well as a clearly-labeled bowl of cocktail made of mortal red wine, vodka, honey and berries. Yet, I cannot deny Balekin’s influence in the… entertainment. Everywhere I look, I see revelers tangled together, members and tongues and fingers disappearing in various holes—a kaleidoscope of skin colors and textures. The air is heavy with the smell of sex, wet noises and moans harmonizing to the bards’ music. The room behind the dais—the room where we first explored each other’s bodies—has been transformed into a pleasure room of sorts. Lower halves of willing folks of all genders stick out of walls, ready to “use”. On some tables, food is served atop the bodies of naked faeries, fresh fruits and bite-sized cakes decorating their body until they are picked clean.

I concentrate on the familiar clicking of Cardan’s heels on the cobblestone path as he leads us towards the throne. The warmth of his hand on my bicep keeps me grounded, steadies me while my body screams to flee. This is all too much, too faerie. The Fair Folk have long since accepted me as their Queen, but the mortal girl I once was remembers these people are dangerous. Yet these people are more my people than mortals ever were, and they have no choice but to respect me.

The High King lets go of my arm and sits on the throne. I was made aware beforehand that the Imps had to remove the second throne since they needed the space. Cardan saw it as an opportunity to make a statement, although not a political one, unsurprisingly. Most of his ideas involved declaring his devotion to me: letting me sit on the throne with him at my feet, or sitting on the throne while I ride him senseless.

Instead, we settled for sitting as a unit, strong and beautiful, the Serpent and his slayer.

I sit on Cardan’s lap sideways, my feet dangling over the side of the throne as he would. I raise an arm and a servant immediately comes over with a glass for each of us—golden faerie wine in a glass rimmed with Nevermore, and a glass of Serpent’s Blood, garnished with a plastic sword impaling a cherry. Almost as if rehearsed, we grab each other’s glass. Cardan smiles wickedly as I tip his goblet to his lips. He sips, then licks the powder off his lips slowly, staring at me.

Heat pools at my core as I watch the powder disappear in his mouth and he grins at me, proud of the effect he has on me. The smug bastard nudges his hips upwards ever so slightly.

Oh, it’s on.

If it’s teasing he wants, then teasing he shall receive.

“Are you enjoying the revel, my poison?” my husband asks, his free hand guiding my face to look at the crowd.

“I am, though…” I move my hips on his, feeling the stiff length straining through his trousers, “I believe you are enjoying it even more.”

Cardan leans forward to kiss the back of neck. I melt into his kisses, enjoying the hot fan of his breath on my skin.

“Oh, it is not the revel that has me… titillated.”

I hum. “I wonder, then,” my free hand roams up the side of his leg, then up mine until it reaches the remote control again, “what has got you so bothered?”

I power on the vibrator, immediately going up to the second level. Long canines flash as he inhales sharply. I let my head fall backwards on his shoulder, exposing my throat to him.

“Jude,” he growls, scraping his teeth over the skin of my neck.

I reach for my glass and he tips it to let me drink. As he does, I raise the speed of the vibrator twice again. He jumps in surprise and some of the wine spills on me as planned.

“How clumsy of you, my King,” I chide with a pout.

I am wearing a sleeveless crimson dress, very close to the color of the drink, so I am not worried about staining—not that I would wear such a dress to another event anyway. The décolletage is such that the neckline almost touches my navel. The dress is meant to enhance my curves, making the court envious of my mortality with the added benefit of driving Cardan crazy.

The spilled wine drips down my throat, then between my breasts. Cardan’s dark eyes follow it.

“Very clumsy,” he agrees, licking his lips. “We should get this dress off you and send it to be washed.”

I caress the inside of his thigh, slowly making my way up. His tail curls around my ankle.

“It would be unseemly to leave so soon,” I drawl, “the people of Elfhame need to see their rulers enjoying the revelry.”

“We aren’t even partaking,” he complains.

“Whatever do you mean, my love?” I ask with fake confusion, “Do you want to dance?”

Cardan groans, giving another thrust of his hips as an answer. It is not uncommon for the High King to be at attention during one of these parties. No matter how skilled a dancer my husband might be, however, I do not think he can manage graceful movements in this instant.

“I will take that as a no, then,” I croon, planting a kiss to his jaw.

The High King gestures to one of the servants carrying around platters of food. They come over, a gangly brownie wearing a translucent shift, and kneel in front of the throne, presenting the platter.

Ringed fingers deliberately brush against the side of my breast as Cardan leans forward to pluck a brightly colored macaroon from the tray. I clench my legs as I feel his cock shift under me. To think that I once convinced myself I hated him more than I wanted him. Now, I am insatiable. One hint of his desire and I starve for his touch.

Cardan brings the macaroon to my waiting mouth. He pushes it in, further than necessary. I keep my eyes on his as my lips close around his fingers, flicking the pads with my tongue as he pulls away. I feel a slight twitch under my ass, and I grin.

It is my turn now. I pick a lokum from the platter, grinding my hips on him for good measure as I sit back on his lap. I grip his jaw and turn his head to look at me. He obediently parts his lips, and I pop the delicacy inside. I run my thumb over his cheekbone as I remove my hand, powdered sugar mixing with his highlighter. One of his hands hovers on my waist, knuckles skimming the underside of my breasts as he idly traces patterns on my skin. He might act the absentminded ruler, but I know his mind is roaring, just as mine is.

Everything reminds me of my hunger for him. Folks having their way together, legs thrown over shoulders, acrobatic faeries dancing on swings and poles, the whole scene scored by a chorus of moans and lute. I look around for familiar faces, trying to keep my desire at bay—perhaps seeing my twin would smother the fire burning in my veins—but my gaze lands on Lady Asha. Seeing the disgusted expression on my mother-in-law’s face only makes me want to push the limits of her tolerance.

I wonder how she would react to her son worshiping me on his knees. I bet she would have a few words to say about that. None of them kind, of course—but words nonetheless.

Cardan must have followed my stare, I realize as I feel his breath tickle my neck, then his lips. The cruel side of him thrives on making his mother uncomfortable, and nothing makes her more uncomfortable than her son on the throne, happy and powerful. I take a sip of my drink as my husband paints my neck in lipstick and Nevermore. Lady Asha turns from her conversation and our eyes meet, Cardan’s wicked mouth tugging at my earlobe. Her pale complexion turns greenish, and I put on my best imitation of Cardan’s smile. Closing my eyes, I tune out everything but my husband’s skilled caresses; his nose nuzzling my throat, his tricky hand moving up my leg.

He is throbbing beneath me, his long nails digging in my skin in restraint. When his finger skims my underwear, I have to bite back a moan.

“Please, my evil Queen,” Cardan whispers, aware that I have a hard time resisting his pleading, “Let us retreat.”

Drenched as I am, I can do nothing but nod frantically.

Like a dog freed from his leash, Cardan stands up in one swift motion, scooping me up as he does. I shift, hooking my legs around his waist, and crush my lips to his. Heat pools in my core when his length presses against my center. I almost want to throw out our plans for the evening to feel him move inside me. Cardan considers it too, I realize as I see his gaze slip to the doors leading outside. No doubt his mind also wandered and had him consider taking me in one of those tents. I reach down and give a sharp tug on his tail, bringing him back on track.

We do not even bother sneaking out. We walk straight out of the door, our lips never leaving each other’s, making it quite obvious to our subjects what we are running off to do. Even more so as the High King all but runs towards our chambers.

He barrels through the door, slamming it shut behind us and pinning me to it. His lithe hands make quick work of my dress and soon enough, I am naked in front of my panting husband.

“My wretched goddess,” he breathes, his hands framing my hips.

He moves one of his hands down my stomach—no doubt to show me the extent of his devotion—but I stop him with a hand on his wrist.

“Tonight is about you, my King.”

His throat bobs, eyes glimmering with anticipation. I walk around him, straight to the desk where I left today’s toy of choice. Putting on the harness is not unlike strapping on my daggers, a mess of buckles and leather that I have to tighten just right. The spotlight item of the night, however, is the bright green cock I slip into the ring. A clone of Cardan’s own, each delicious vein replicated perfectly.

When I turn back to him, he is still rooted to where he was. His tail lashes wildly behind him as he stares at me with a large smile—he’s anxious, then.

“Color?” I ask, making sure he still wants this.

“Green,” he blurts out without hesitation.

“Well, then?” I put a hand on my hip and raise my brows. “Strip.”

Cardan scrambles for his breeches, his normally agile fingers struggling to find the laces. He removes them, then the mesh shirt, leaving him wearing nothing but the harness of chains dangling down his torso. I guide him forward with a tug on the chain linking his nipples. I trail my fingers lightly down to his lower back and pull his hips against mine.

I drink his whimper like the finest wine. A shift of my hips earns me another one and I realize the toy touches his aching cock whenever I move. His noises invigorate me. I reach between us and grasp both of our cocks in my hand.

He moans my name and I reward him with a long stroke. It’s different from the way I usually touch him, so I let his moans guide me. I move my hand over our lengths in a steady rhythm, punctuating every move with a thrust of my hips.

Cardan chants my name like his very own hymn, his slick forehead resting against mine.

The next thrust of my hips sends his knees buckling and his head droops to my shoulder. My other hand cards through his hair, gently stroking.

“Jude—” his voice is more sob than words and I know what is coming before he even utters the words. “Please, Jude—”

I tighten my grip, but slow my movements to a long drag. “Please what, my love?”

“I want you inside me,” he chokes out, panting, “Please.”

I grin—petty revenge for all the times he made me beg for him—and let go.

I nod towards the bed, “On all fours, Kingling.”

He climbs on the bed, tail whipping in excitement. He kneels on the bed, sinking to his elbows with his ass high up.

I trail a finger down his spine all the way to the base of his tail and purr, “Good boy.”

I hear his breath catch, and I ache for him—my strong husband, who still longs for any kind word thrown his way.

I run my hand over the smooth skin of his ass as I kneel behind him. The touch is meant to be reassuring, but Cardan’s fingers twitch eagerly against the covers and he arches his back further. I know the waiting is as much part of the game for him as the act itself, so I play along. I thumb at the jeweled plug, just enough for him to feel the shift.

“You’re beautiful like this, panting and waiting for me.” I pluck a kiss to one of his cheeks. “If only the Court could see you at my mercy.”

I pull on the plug slightly, earning me a surprised yelp. I continue to stroke his bottom in reassuring circles, gently pulling the plug out. It resists at first and when it finally lets go, Cardan sighs into the sheets.

I reach over him to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand, making sure that my cock rubs against his ass as I do.

“You were so good today. You barely complained,” I say as I squirt some of the lube in my hand and lather the strap-on with it. “Do you think you deserve this, love?”

His answer comes out in a breath, a barely audible “huh-uh”. I line up the tip of the toy, but make no move to enter him.

“I can’t hear you, Your Highness,” I purr. “Do you deserve my cock?”

“Yes,” he mewls, “Please, Jude—”

I guide the silicone penis in. It goes in smoothly. I have been teasing him all day, after all. I keep my hands on his hips as I retreat slowly, then slam back in. Just like he would do to me.

“Fuck, Jude—” he moans, his head practically buried in pillows.

I bend over him, my chest flush against his scarred back. I thrust shallowly into him as I run my mouth over his scars. They are healed by now, a stark white over his pale skin, but the sight of them always reminds of the pain he had to endure. So I kiss away the memories, trail my hands up his back and trace them. His tail circles my waist, holding me close as I rock into him.

“How does your cock feel, Cardan?” I croon, planting a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Do you like it as much as I do?”

“Ah! Amazing,” he cries out, his voice quivering. “You—You feel amazing.”

I kiss my way up his nape, up to his ears and whisper, “Prove it.”

I pull out, then sit on the bed. I grab his hips, guiding him backwards to sit on me. He sinks on the dildo effortlessly, my name tumbling out of his lips.

I circle his torso with one arm, my hand sitting splayed under his throat. His heart thunders underneath, every moan reverberating in his chest. My other hand sits on his hip, guiding him up and down my cock until he takes over, impaling himself in earnest.

He chants my name everytime our hips touch. I meet him thrust for thrust, my hand leaving his hip to grab hold of his cock.

I gorge myself on his moans, on the sound of our hips slapping together. They keep me going when my thighs start to give out from the effort, when my biceps feel sore from holding him up. I pump him in time with his thrusts. It takes no time at all before I feel him throb under my hand and I know he is close. His tail wraps around my wrist and pulls my hand up to his throat.

His adam’s apple bobs under my hand. I tighten my grip, feeling his pulse racing under my fingers. The pressure tips him over the edge. Cardan comes with a strangled sob, spending over his pale chest. I stroke him through each pulse, my hand gliding easily with the semen coating him, but I stop my thrusts. I let him take the reins as he comes down from his orgasm, legs shaking as he moves leisurely on the toy. His moans are weak, breathless. He jerks under my touch, and I am tempted to make him beg me to stop.

I don’t, though. He played along with my torturous game, and seeing him so completely undone has me wanting to care for him. I kiss his neck as he slows to a halt, lightly nuzzling my nose against the back of his neck. I don’t trust him to stand on his own, so when I guide him off the dildo, I steer him around to sit on my lap.

Even covered in sweat, with his hair limp and his eyeliner smudged down his cheeks, he is still stunning. The cutest flush spreads from his cheeks to the angled tip of his ears and his dark eyes shine brighter than before.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, brushing a wet strand of hair off his face.

“If you get this affectionate every time I let you take me,” he says, resting his head against my shoulder, “we ought to do it more often.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I say with mock offense, “I am plenty affectionate.”

“More than I have ever known,” Cardan says offhandedly, his tone one of amusement more than the sadness such a statement warrants.

Yet the comment pierces through my armor, right to my heart. I must have gone stiff, because Cardan pulls away from my shoulder to peer at my face, staring right through my soul.

“Jude?” He traces a long finger down my cheek, concern written clearly on his face even when he raises a groomed brow, “I was promised a bath. I feel… sticky.”

Right, the bath. I slide one arm under my husband’s knees, bracing the other one against his back as I pick him up. I carry him to the bathing chamber where a bath has been drawn before we even started. I lower him into the bath, then add rose essence and salts, sprinkling in some flower petals I know he likes.

I let him soak alone while I remove the harness. I slide the dildo out of the ring, then thoroughly wash it and leave it to dry.

Finally, I join him. I settle behind him, combing my fingers through his hair. We take turns cleaning each other, trading kisses each time the soap exchanges hands. I linger on the hard planes of his chest, removing the chains attached to his piercings, while he spends more time than necessary cleaning my breasts, my thighs.

The water stays warm, thanks to the High King’s magic, swirls of aromatic steam arising from the milky water. I could spend the rest of my days here, letting my fingers prune and my hair frizz from the humidity. It seems as if Cardan could, too. He is all but purring against me as I trace the sharp angles of his body with my fingers. Yet, suddenly he stands, nothing but a wicked smile to warn me that his brain cooked up some new scheme. With the stiff manifestation of it at eye-level, it’s quite easy to imagine the lewdness of his newest idea.

My pulse races, a mixture of dread and arousal coursing through me as I watch him hop out of the bath. I’m too busy admiring the view to notice his tail coming up to brush against my cheek. The furred tip is wet and floppy and I swat at it with a scowl. He laughs.

He walks up to where I left the dildo and holds it up as he inspects it.

“Do you remember, Jude dearest,” he says, the lilt of his voice promising the sweetest sins, “what you said when we bought this?”

Cardan turns to me and I have to force myself to look at his face, to prevent my gaze from dipping down to the twin of the toy he is holding. I shake my head.

“You said,” he continues, stalking towards me, “that you wouldn’t need me anymore if you had a clone of my cock.”

His crude language knocks the breath out of me. I swallow. That must have been the desired effect, because he does not wait for an answer. He gets back in the tub and kneels in front of me. I part my legs unconsciously to make room for him and I just stare.

As a young mortal, I was taught what to do when facing predators. Some of them flee when you stare them down. Others will attack if you do. I find myself wondering which one Cardan is, and if I have ever been taught what to do when a faerie looks at me with such hunger.

The hand holding the dildo disappears under the water. Cardan leans towards me, his nose tickling up my throat before he whispers to my ear, “prove it.”

I gasp as I feel something nudge at my entrance. Too big to be his fingers, but lacking the give and warmth of flesh though the flare of its crown feels the same.

His hand grasps my wrist and guides my hand to wrap around the base of the dildo. The hand that was holding it against my core comes to rest above mine, guiding my movements.

“By all means, lovely little liar. Pretend I am not here.”

Cardan gives our hands a small push and the thick head enters me. Just like he would do if it was his body, he enters me slowly, the movements calculated to make me beg and writhe for him.

“Cardan,” I whisper, the only thing I know to say in this instant.

He hums and shoves into me ever so slightly. “Would you still say my name, alone in the dark?”

“Yes.”

He tries to stifle his groan but I hear it, I always do. His eyelids droop and he leans forwards to kiss my throat, as if he cannot restrain himself. I feel his erection, hard and throbbing, like a brand against my thigh. I want it in me so badly, but he wants to play, and I am not about to let him win. Not anymore. I have done that enough for a lifetime.

I undulate my hips as I drive the silicone cock all the way in. I moan as it bottoms out, my other hand going straight to my husband’s hair and pulling.

“Fuck,” Cardan swears against my neck, his cock pulsing against me.

I start thrusting the dildo then, imitating the lazy pace Cardan likes to tease me with. His hand is a vise against mine, his long nails digging lightly in my skin. The size is perfect, a complete copy of Cardan’s organ, and yet… It’s not the same. Even if I follow every dilatory drag with a deep, unrelenting trust, it still does not feel like it does when it’s him doing it. I could come from this, just like I can come with my own fingers. But not unlike when I take care of myself, I know the orgasm would not be the same earth shattering, tear-jerking feat that he can coax from me.

“Cardan,” I whisper again, “touch me.”

To my surprise, he does. He does not make me plead, does not make me ask. He simply obeys, his unoccupied hand going straight to my clit. He kisses his way down my neck to my heavy breasts. His mouth latches to a nipple, sucking it in before giving it a quick lick.

His thumb moves in quick, precise circles over my bud, ever so careful not to scratch me with his nail. Cardan’s teeth graze my nipple, teasing, then he bites it. I cry out as I buck against him. He grins against my skin, then does it to the other breast.

I drive the toy in myself faster now, the game of pretend that started this completely forgotten. He has to know I was teasing when I said I wouldn’t need him. He is the maestro of my pleasure, conducting it with expert hands. His orchestration is as masterful as ever, shaping my climax with fingers and tongue and touch. I am too aware of the warmth of his mouth sucking marks under my breasts, of the quick flick of his thumb over my clitoris. I notice everything and nothing—how he jerks against my thigh with every moan I give him, how he takes the lead of thrusting the dildo when I feel my arm tiring with the effort.

He works me to a crescendo and I come screaming his name. I completely let go of the toy to grip the lip of the tub as my body convulses in waves of pleasure. I am barely aware of the water splashing out of the tub, of the hot spurt of Cardan’s seed against my leg, as that dexterous thumb strums me down from my frenzy.

I let myself sink in the water, floating in fragrant water and bliss. Cardan sits between my legs, resting against my chest with his tail curling around my ankle.

“I believe I have proven myself useful,” he muses, his fingers idly tracing nails over the curve of my breast, “or my fingers are, at least.”

“You have,” I tell him, “not that you needed to.”

A long nail flicks over my nipple, once. I grip his chin and force him to look at me.

“Did you really think I would replace you with… a toy?” I ask, raising a brow as I gaze into those deep black eyes.

I see him open his mouth, tongue touching his palate as he tries to spell out the word. No. The word refuses to leave his mouth.

I take his hand, raising it above the water. I bring it to my mouth and kiss the ring on his ring finger.

“Don’t you remember our vows? Let us be wed until we don’t want to be,” I remind him, “I am with you because I want to be.”

And the High King smiles, a warm and genuine smile.

A happy smile.

--

Tag list @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thefolkofthefic @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn @jurdannetrevels

[laequiem]

Queen of Nobody [ONESHOT]

/ Cardan has been teasing Jude for a week, and she decided to get her revenge. Sub!Cardan, Dom!Jude, PWP. 

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 1,769

His gaze was wild with restraint as I sat facing him and grabbed the soap. While he did not move, I could see his tail whipping from left to right, a cat waiting to pounce. I made a show of washing myself, scrubbing dirt and sweat from my body. I was very aware of his intense stare, the way he grasped the sides of the tub until his knuckles were white.

“Jude…” he whined.

“You’ve been so eager to tease me this week. Isn’t this fair, husband?”

Read it on ao3

For the last week, we barely had time to ourselves. I attended Oak’s birthday party last weekend, which Cardan had to skip on to deal with a visit from Queen Nicasia. The rest of the week was filled with the usual: revels, diplomatic dinners, boring meetings... As always, we sat on opposite sides of the table at dinner. During our meetings with the Living Council, we kept our façades: the irreverent king and his fierce queen, never looking like they enjoyed each other’s presence. Our sleeping schedule was staggered. I crashed first, tired from my training and stressful days, and Cardan would join me a few hours later, wasted after entertaining our people at the night’s revel.

Day by day, it was getting harder to slip out of his arms when I woke up to train. Not only did I miss the warmth of his body as I changed out of my night clothes, but I missed the… intimacy. He had done his best to tease me all week. His tail trailing up the side of my leg as we pretended to ignore each other at revels. A hand brushing my hair when he walked past me. On days when he had more to drink, he would risk more public displays of affection; coming up behind me and tugging me to him as he kissed the nape of my neck.

I met with the Ghost and trained harder than usual, trying to get rid of this tension building in me.

It did not help.

When I got back to the room to bathe, I was surprised to find Cardan lounging in the bath, eating from a bunch of grapes. As I drank the sight of him in, I realized he meant for me to find him here. Everything about the picture before me seemed deliberate. The bathwater, sprinkled with golden petals, was milky white, hiding the lower half of his body. He had kept most of his jewelry on, I noted, as my gaze went up his body. Even his crown, tilted over his damp curls. His makeup was perfect, which makes me think that it wasn’t leftover from yesterday - he actually did his makeup before getting in the bath.

His grin widened as I stood there just gawking at him. I had to say something. Not let him see how much I want him.

“How surprising to see you here, Your Infernal Majesty. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I’m exactly where I want to be. I cancelled the meeting.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “What reason did you give, this time? Hangover?”

“Something like that.”

I sat on a low stone bench and started undoing the lace of my boots. When I tugged off the second one, I looked up to find Cardan staring at me. I smirked, then turned my back to him. Bending way more than necessary, I removed my leggings. I heard him inhale sharply as I got back up. I unbuckled the strap holding my knife to my thigh and let it fall on the floor, though I doubt he would mind if I kept it.

“How convenient that you’re here exactly when I come back to bathe myself,” I say as I turn around to face him.

I kept eye contact as I started slowly undoing the laces of my tunic, then tossed it over my head. I saw him straighten and inch forward a little as he drank in the sight of me in my mortal underwear: a dusty pink lace bra that left little to the imagination, and a white lacy thong. Not the worst combination, but definitely not matching.

“A lucky coincidence,” he whispered. I wondered how he could justify this not being a complete lie. If he said it, he must believe it to be true in some way.

I slipped one arm behind my back and easily unclasped my bra. I saw his throat bob as I slowly, so slowly, removed my bra, then my panties, until I was bare before him. He kept staring as I walked towards him and joined him in the bath. The royal bath was more close to the jacuzzis we have in the mortal world. It’s a large tub with benches, enough space for a king and a few consorts.

His gaze was wild with restraint as I sat facing him and grabbed the soap. While he did not move, I could see his tail whipping from left to right, a cat waiting to pounce. I made a show of washing myself, scrubbing dirt and sweat from my body. I was very aware of his intense stare, the way he grasped the sides of the tub until his knuckles were white.

“Jude…” he whined.

“You’ve been so eager to tease me this week. Isn’t this fair, husband?” I chuckled. He snarled.

I put down the soap and crossed the distance between us. I sat on his lap, facing him, his erection pressing hard against my aching core. His hands were instantly in my hair, pulling it while still pushing my head towards his as he claimed my lips with his own. His tongue explored my mouth and I could feel my heart thundering in my chest. It always felt so right with him.

“I missed this, my cruel queen,” Cardan whispers as he broke the kiss to nip at my neck. “I miss you.”

I could not find words, so I just hummed in response. It was enough, he understood. He always had. Suddenly, he turns us around and lifts me to the cold lip of the tub and parts my legs.

Just as I thought he had snapped and would take me right there, he ran one of his fingers through my folds. Once. Twice. He teased the entrance, but quickly removed his finger. He cussed when he saw the slickness already on his finger, then brought it to his mouth and sucked on it. “I missed your taste.”

Then, he lowered himself and flicked my clit with his tongue, and I couldn’t help moaning his name. I felt him grin against me as his tongue explored my folds. I grabbed his hair and pushed him into me, grinding against his face as he sucked on my bundle of nerves. That wicked mouth of his worked me, prodding and licking and sucking in a steady pace, until I was close to the edge. And as I pressed his face harder into me, he brought two fingers to my entrance and pushed into me, curling exactly in that spot where I wanted him. I went over the edge, twitching and screaming his name through my orgasm, clinging to his hair as if it was a lifeline.

As I came down from my high, I let go of his hair and let my head fall down against the cool wall behind me. As I caught my breath, he got up to kiss me slowly, gently.

It might be the orgasm making me vulnerable, but I couldn’t stop myself. “I missed you too, Cardan.”

He kissed me again, then got out of the bath, offering me a hand to stand as well. I saw him reaching for his robe, but I caught his arm.

“Who said we were done?”

Surprise shone on his beautiful face, then that amused grin. “My mistake, my Queen.”

I traced a finger down his torso, to his length and gently poked it. “Get on the bed.”

“Are you commanding me?” I couldn’t command him anymore, not with magic at least.

“Yes.”

He backed up to the bed and laid on his back, one arm behind his head, waiting. Smug. I approached slowly, hoping I looked like a predator approaching a prey.

“While you were busy… teasing me last week, I thought of ways to pay you back in kind.”

He was biting his bottom lip, staring at me intently. I got on the bed on top of him.

“I hope you will find me merciful,” I said as I tried to give him the most wicked grin I could muster.

From above him, I could see how his makeup had smudged, his hair going in all directions. He looked like a mess. A glorious, pinned down, submissive mess. I felt heat pool in my core at the thought. I lowered my face to his and kissed him fiercely, quickly. I pulled his bottom lip with my teeth. I kissed my way down his neck, his chest, leaving a trail of bruised marks I know he loves. I pulled on the jewelry on one of his nipples with my teeth, pinching the other with my fingers. I felt him twitch against my belly.

I continued making my way down his torso, leaving a particularly nasty love bite on his ribs, until I reached his cock. I looked up to see him staring at me in anticipation, still trying to look cocky through his long lashes. I traced a finger up the length of him, while my other hand cupped his testicles.

“Jude, please…”

Such a whiny child. I took him in my hand and he moaned as I licked the tip slowly. I started moving my hand around him, watching as the precum built up at his tip.

Cardan might have the expertise, but he had been my only lover, and I knew how to please him. I ran my index finger through the precum, coating the pad of my finger.

I looked up at him and grinned. “I wonder if I ever did this to you when you fantasized about me.”

He screamed my name as my finger entered him. Slowly, I moved my finger in and out of him as I took his cock in my mouth. My finger worked gently into him, my other hand moving up and down his length in time with my mouth. When he lowered his hand to tangle in my hair, I crooked my finger up to probe at his sweet spot. His grasp tightened on my hair, and I increased my pace.

As I felt him get close, I continued my ministrations with my finger but removed my mouth from him and sat back. I watched as he spent on himself, his head thrown back, moaning my name.

Once he was done, I laid next to him and kissed him tenderly.

Cardan put a hand on my cheek. “You wicked thing.”

I smiled at him. “I love you, Cardan.”

He put an arm around me, bringing me closer to him, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I love you, too.”