#tugs at your honors robes while pointing frantically

[andminnequin]

I was feeling all sad and mopey looking through my old art and then a saw this, so: throws my obey me mc yumeship at you !!!!!! They’re so cute, your honor !!!! And look at those hands !!!!!! I did that fr !!! I am so slay cringe and free !!

When in doubt, doodle pages make you happy. Trust me, chat. Trust the process. Trust my delulu :DDD

N e ways, I rlly need to be more indulgent and post my MCs more.

Aaaaaa goes insane, m yippeeee

[trensu]

Episode 6: the One Where LWJ is Drunk and Gets Married

YES, GUYS GALS AND NB PALS, WE ARE AT THIS MOST WONDERFUL EPISODE.

OUR FIRST INTRODUCTION TO DRUNKJ!LWJ

AND THE HANDFASTING THAT INSPIRED A MILLION FICS

Okay, to set the scene, we’ve got JC, NHS and WWX having a sneaky drinking party with Forbidden Alcohol

Obviously, LWJ can spidey-sense when a rule is being violently broken so he appears at the scene of the crime to BREAK UP THE PARTY (or possibly a threesome?? He’s not sure but he’s gonna put a stop to that immediately)

HIS SERIOUS BB FACE IS SUPER ADORABLE HERE, GUYS

LIKE, I’M MORE PARTIAL TO WWX BUT UGH, LWJ IS SO CUTE HERE???

IT’S AWFUL

WWX: *bounces right into lwj’s space* join us for a drink lan zhan!! We earned it after defeating the Haunted Water!!

LWJ: *stares over wwx’s shoulder* alcohol is forbidden in the cloud recesses

WHY WON’T YOU LOOK HIM IN THE FACE, LWJ?? IS IT BECAUSE HE’S SO CLOSE TO YOU SUDDENLY???

WWX: chill out dude *playfully tugs on lwj’s sleeve*

Oh man, the glare that lwj shoots at wwx’s hand here could have started a fire. I mean, it must have at least burned a little with how quickly wwx lets go

LWJ: Report to the Punishment Chamber

Did they have to call it ‘punishment chamber’??

It sounds like some kind of kinky sex dungeon, which, like, to each their own,(i’ll read some kinky sex dungeon fic every once and a while, myself)

But this is Ancient Fantasy China summer school…seems a little inappropriate in context

ANYWAY

WWX again tries to coax LWJ in to having a drink with them. He doesn’t understand how someone can just…not drink alcohol. Oh wwx, you budding alcoholic you

And here WWX nobly sacrifices himself to save his drunk buddies by distracting lwj (who was about to call for backup, like a narc) and pins some sort of mind-control talisman on him

Wwx: sit and have a drink with me!

Lwj: *sits down and takes a shot*

Lwj: *passes out*

Wwx: omg i killed him. WAKE UP YOU CAN’T STAY HERE!! YOU HAVE TO GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM!! 

Wwx: *proceeds to gently guide lwj onto the bed*

You know after that initial panic, wwx looks too damn pleased with himself, especially after he gets lwj to call him wei-gege

Wwx suddenly notices that lwj’s ribbon is off kilter and informs him of it bc that’s what friends do

Wwx: your ribbon is crooked

Lwj: *scandalized gasp* crooked??

Why’s he so adorable when he’s drunk?? LOOK AT HIM TRYING TO SEE HIS OWN FOREHEAD AND GETTING ALL CROSS-EYED, WHAT A CUTIE

Wwx: i can help!! 

Lwj: *slaps wwx’s hand* Go Away

Wwx: you’re making it worse!!

Lwj: *slaps wwx’s hand away harder* DON’T TOUCH! THE RIBBON IS ONLY FOR FAMILY AND SIGNIFICANT OTHERS

And now we have a way to measure their queer queer love for each other without making the censors mad

How does this show do it?? This is gayer than most of the stuff aired in the US and the US doesn’t even have that kind of censorship laws media producers here are a bunch of COWARDS, disney i’m looking at you

Wwx: lol, significant others, really?

Lwj: what’s so funny

Wwx: nobody’s gonna marry into the lan clan with your thousands of dumb rules and chronic allergy to fun

LOLOLOL BOY HAS NO CLUE. JUST YOU WAIT WWX, YOU’RE GONNA EAT THOSE WORDS

Wwx: nope, you are gonna be Forever Alone

Lwj: …that’s fine

This is actually kind of heartbreaking tbh

He’s so resigned and pretending so hard not to care!!

HE TRULY BELIEVES HE’S NOT LOVABLE *UGLY CRYING*

Idk how the actor did it bc lwj still has a very placid expression on his face but it somehow manages to convey like, a sense of loneliness while still looking adorably drunk?? Idk man, i think black magic might be involved

All this to say POOR BB LAN ZHAN, COME HERE SWEETIE AND LET ME HUG YOU. YOU’RE GONNA BE FINE, I SWEAR.

Wwx is so incredulous at this response. Like he totally believes lwj would be okay staying alone forever but he doesn’t understand it

Bc wwx is a dumb teenage boy who doesn’t yet have the emotional intelligence to see that lwj is just saying that bc he’s scared and hurting

Now we get to see an acute case of Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome like we did back in episode 2!

Wwx: your mother must be so bored here all the time

DAMN IT WWX

WHAT IS IT WITH HIM AND BRINGING UP PEOPLE’S DEAD MOTHERS???

LWJ: i don’t have a mother 

He says flatly HIDING HIS SORROW

*UGLY SOBBING*

HE’S SO SAD AND LONELY GUYS

IT HURTS TO LOOK AT

WWX: you can’t not have a mother! Somebody gave birth to…oh.

There’s a crack vid somewhere on youtube with this scene voiced over “it was at that moment he realized…he Fucked Up”

And it’s true

Dumb boy

Here WWX makes up by sharing his sad orphan story with LWJ. it’s so sweet

THEIR SONG IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND WHILE THIS EXCHANGE HAPPENS

UGH THIS SHOW

LISTEN, ALL THIS HAS HAPPENED ALREADY AND WE’RE BARELY 10 MINUTES INTO THE EPISODE

LIKE, WHAT??

HOW. HOW CAN YOU GIVE ME SO MANY FEELINGS IN TEN MINUTES. THE FIRST TEN MINUTES OF THE EP EVEN.

WWX: my parents died when i was four and I can’t remember their faces–but i do remember getting chased by feral dogs

POOR BB WWX

HE CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER THEIR FACES 

OH, but we do get to see Actual BB!wwx in a brief flashback (within a flashback, remember this summer school business is not present time, how weird is that) and he’s riding a donkey while his mama and papa walk beside him. It’s adorable.

And after all that Emotional Vulnerability, he’s like “i’ll drink to that bro!” and makes a toast

I actually kind of like the toast he makes here with lwj tho

He tells him “may we never forget what is worth remembering or remember what is worth forgetting”

Idk if that’s like, a traditional toast or something he made up on the spot, but i like it

We get a brief moment of plot development here. 

AND OOOOH, THEY’RE ABOUT TO GET IN TROUBLE!!

So some Lan SNITCH barges into the room where lqr and lxc are at and is all “we caught wwx drinking Forbidden Alcohol!” and lxc’s expression is all gently amused

but then Lan Snitch continues “LWJ was with him!!” and lxc’s amused expression quickly morphs into Very Alarmed

(right before that all happened tho we get to see lwj fall out of bed, still passed out drunk and wwx laughs at him. I can’t even hold that against him bc i totally laughed at lwj too)

The camera now shows us some frankly HORRIFYING beating sticks (paddles?? Do they qualify as paddles?? THEY’RE HUGE AND SCARY AND MADE OF NIGHTMARES)

And bc LWJ is too honorable for his own good

Lwj: i am at fault and accept my punishment!

And goes on his knees to willingly get beaten. STOP THAT LWJ

WWX IMMEDIATELY steps in to take the blame, like no, it’s actually my fault bc i forced him to drink when he didn’t want to. LAN ZHAN SHOULDN’T GET PUNISHED!!

LQR: (proving that lans are all Dramatique) ARE YOU TRYING TO RUIN CLOUD RECESSES??

Take a chill pill, old man. A teenager getting drunk is not gonna start the apocalypse (probably)

And here lwj completely ignores wwx’s attempt to absolve him and is all no, I Made a Mistake and Must Get Punished 

Wwx: STOP ASKING FOR PUNISHMENT YOU IDIOT

So the punishment is kind of…harsh, but also lol bc as soon as wwx sees lwj take the beating without flinching or even staggering under the strength of the hits (lwj is truly a stronger man than i; one look at those Nightmare Sticks I would’ve run for the hills), he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay steady

Wwx: *internally but you can totally read it in his face* i’m not gonna let that bastard one-up me!! I have WAY more experience taking punishments. I am the punishment KING.

Okay so that all happens and afterwards WINGMAN LXC STRIKES AGAIN

LXC: wwx, you should definitely visit the family’s private cold spring

LXC: you know, so you can heal faster and not miss class

LXC: not for any other reason

I’D LIKE TO TAKE THIS MOMENT TO THANK GOD AND ALSO JESUS FOR THE UPCOMING SCENE

WE ARE AT THE COLD SPRING

LOOK AT WWX RUNNING TOWARDS LWJ

WET, HALF-NAKED LWJ

Wwx: *leans coquettishly against a tree thing and pouts* why didn’t you tell me about this spring? Friends don’t keep secrets from friends!!

wwx, you’re so clever, how can you be so stupid – boy is flirting at max level and doesn’t even realize it???

Lwj: HOW ARE YOU EVEN HERE *frantically robes up like some virginal maiden which he kinda is*

Wwx: your brother told me!

Lwj: *internally* brother why

And here wwx gets into the cold spring

Wwx: so cold so cold, let me get close to you where it’s warmer~! *dives right into lwj’s personal bubble*

Lwj: *takes a HUGE step back*

Wwx: *pouts* you know i didn’t like you much before but after our Romantic Moonlit Sword Fight and our Sword Fight By the Waterfall, i’ve decided i like you a lot and we should definitely be friends forever

Lwj: *doesn’t even look at wwx* That’s Not Necessary

Wwx: before you reject me, let me show you all the ~benefits~ to being my friend! *starts to strip*

(I’M NOT EVEN KIDDING YOU, HE LITERALLY SAID BENEFITS AND STARTED TO GET NAKED)

LWJ *is Horrified in a Repressed Gay Way* WHAT ARE YOU DOING

WWX: getting naked?? To heal better?? I thought this was obvious???

LWJ: *determinedly walks away*

WWX: wait don’t leave!! I’ll keep my clothes on! Anyway you should definitely visit me in yunmeng and i can pick lotus seeds for you. That’s totally what i meant about benefits.

LWJ: no

WWX: i can also introduce you to all the pretty girls there!

I CRACK UP EVERY TIME AT THIS. WWX, THAT IS A WHOLE GAY BOY YOU’RE TALKING TO, OH MY GOD

Then it turns out the cold spring is actually Haunted Water 2: This Time It’s Personal and tries to drown them

See this is why i don’t trust any bodies of water

They’re all out to get us

AND NOW WE GET TO THE  CAVE OF WONDERS (or cold pond cave, whatev)

Wwx: what is happening

Lwj: *is fascinated by the cave of wonders*

Lwj: *internally* ooooh Magic Guqin!! (BECAUSE HE’S A NERD LOLOL)

Magic Guqin: NOT TODAY SATAN *attacks wwx*

Wwx: WHY IS IT ATTACKING ME, I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING YET!!

brief pause here to point out that we meet the bunnies now!! Hello bunnies!!! Everyone in the fandom loves you~!!! 💗💗💗

Okay so Magic Guqin continues to attack wwx but wwx is a Clever Boy and figures out that it’s only attacking him because he doesn’t have a sacred lan ribbon

Wwx: lwj, quick, give me your ribbon!

Lwj: *FLIES RIGHT OVER TO WWX and proceeds to bind their wrists together with the SACRED RIBBON ONLY FAMILY ANd S.O.’s CAN TOUCH*

Then the camera zooms in on the metal piece of the ribbon that is now swaying gently between them like, Subtlety? Never heard of her!

Camera: yep, this is totally a straight thing that straight bros do together

So now that they’re bound together for eternity the boys approach the Magic Guqin

Lwj slaps wwx’s hands away from the guqin here – just bc i let you touch the sacred ribbon doesn’t mean you can touch the magic guqin that tried to murder you

BC LWJ IS A MUSIC NERD AND IS TOTALLY GEEKING OUT OVER THE PRECIOUS MUSICAL HEIRLOOM

LWJ proceeds to reverently play the Magic Guqin and we have this moment where he’s like, floating in space surrounded by glowy blue lights??

Idk man, it’s weird but we’ll roll with it

This is the first time we see him communicate with spirits using music, btw. 

Now we meet Lan Yi!! Who is a badass and important for plot reasons but the Valid Reason she’s mentioned here is because SHE OFFICIATES THE WANGXIAN WEDDING (bc we’ve already established that we’re not here for the plot lol)

the boys are tied together with the sacred ribbon and then they bow to a clan elder. How is that not, bare minimum, a handfasting??? 

Okay, technically, lwj bowed to the elder first to show respect while wwx stood there all stunned until lwj reminded him of the Importance of Manners. Then wwx bowed. But I’m pretty sure that still counts.

“You two being here must be destiny!” lan yi says, “i’m gonna do some plot exposition so pay attention.”

Thankfully we are not lwj or wwx so we don’t have to pay attention at all!!

At some point, wwx makes a clever comment and lan yi is all “wwx you’re as smart as i thought!! 

Yes yes i definitely approve of you marrying my great great great grand-son/nephew/whatever the heck he is, idk i’ve been in this cave too long with only bunnies for company" (🎶bunnies are better than people, buns don’t you think that’s true~?🎶 I AM SO SORRY FOR THAT REFERENCE, DISNEY YOU STILL SUCK I JUST HAVE POOR SELF-RESTRAINT)

Okay, she for real complimented wwx’s intelligence (bc I guess everyone’s hot for WWX’s big brain? Idk) but i’m pretty sure she was thinking the rest of that really loudly in her head

Then more plot stuff happens and the episode ends!!!

Beautiful, phenomenal episode. One of the MOST IMPORTANT Wangxian episodes we have!! 100/10 stars, would watch again.

Return to Masterpost

[thecleverdame]

Wild Times In Charming Acres - Chapter One

Inspired by episode  14x15

JustinSmith!Sam x Reader, mentions of past Sam x Reader

Summary: Transported to another reality you find yourself married to a man named Justin Smith who may look like Sam, but couldn’t be further from a Winchester. As time goes by you decide to indulge in this Pleasantville world and wholesome husband.

Warnings: Fluff, smut and humor

Beta:  ilikaicalie

Words: 2k

Part Two is currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

-

You’ve been here a little over a month - you think. It’s hard to distinguish how long you've physically been in this place and how long you’ve known who you really are. You remember Dean casting a spell while you and Sam stood in the middle of the intricately drawn sigil on the floor.

And when you came to, you were here, in Charming Acres.

You woke up next to a man who looked like Sam but was decidedly not. Not in the way he talked or looked or acted. He rolled over in bed that first morning, shooting you a pouty little look of distress. “Who’s Sam? You must’ve had one of your dreams again.”

This Sam, or rather Justin as he insists on being called, is the polar opposite of the guy you’ve been dating for almost two years. You can’t do this on your own, you need Sam to get out of here. So for the last four weeks, you’ve been doing your best to assimilate, all the while working to jog Sam’s memories back to life.

MONDAY

“I’m home bunny rabbit!” His voice calls up the stairs accompanied by the front door slamming shut.

You sigh, earmarking the journal in hand and hollering back. “Oh good, I’m coming down!”

You had found a series of journals hidden the back of the closet inside a hat box, although you’re not sure why the former you, Beatrix Smith, hid them. All they are is a compilation of recipes, dull-as-dirt gossip and detailed gardening arrangements.

Bounding down the stairs you’re met with the sight of him. It still gets you every time. There he is in a Mister Rogers sweater and tie, glasses perched on his nose, hanging his overcoat in the closet. You’re married to Ward freaking Cleaver.

“How’s my girl?” He smiles, leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek.

“I’m just great.” You force an unnaturally wide smile.

“I could smell dinner from the driveway.” He tilts his head, admiring you as if you’re his prize chihuahua. “It smells delicious.”

“Just meatloaf and mashed potatoes.” You never really took the time to cook before, but you’ve been forced to learn on your feet. In Charming Acres cooking and cleaning seem to be your primary functions.  “Nothing special.”

“Everything you make is wonderful,” he quips. “Let's have a drink before we eat, shall we?”

--

At supper, he drones on and on about some meeting at work that you could less about. You sit, sipping white wine, and try to feign interest.

“You know I don’t like to think ill of people, but I swear to you sweetheart, I’m not sure the man has honorable intentions. He inserts himself into every conversation, by golly it’s all I can do to hold my tongue.”

“That sounds...just awful.”

“Thank you!” He nods enthusiastically. “Bob thinks I’m overreacting, but the man is almost intolerable.”

“Bob is an idiot,” you comment without thinking and Sam sits up straight. Too harsh. “Sorry, I just meant, you’re so good with people honey, and Bob doesn’t strike me as a person who reads people well. That’s all.”

“Well,” he relaxes a bit. “You’re probably right.”

You’re not sure how much more you can take of this bland existence. It’s bordering on mind-numbing, the same mindless details day in and day out. You decided this morning you’re just going to go for it. There’s been hardly any physical contact since you got here. Sure, he occasionally put his hand over your shoulder but the most intimate he gets is the pecks on your lips every night before he rolls over to go to sleep.

“What’s that on the counter? Do I spy a letter from the Women’s Lit Society?” He purses his lips, looking like he’s discovered a naughty little secret.

The Charming Acres version of you writes poetry about sunflowers, spring rain and hummingbirds taking flight.

“Nothing gets by you,” you chide. “They’re publishing my poem, Morning Dew, in the national newsletter next month.”

Sam leans in, both forearms on the table, “I am just so darn proud of you.”

“It's really not that big of a deal.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You know, some guys have wives who just watch TV and gossip all day long, but you, you’re pursuing your talents. I say bravo and well done.”

He’s smiling to himself as he goes back to cutting his meatloaf into neat bite size pieces.

“S-Justin,” you almost slip. You’re getting better at it but continuity is still a weak point.

“What is it?” He looks up, setting down his fork to give you his full attention. Justin is nothing if not attentive.

“Do you find me….attractive.”

He scoffs like you’re asking the most ridiculous question he’s ever heard.

“Of course, you’re my wife. The most beautiful woman in Arkansas,” he affirms and you can’t help but smile.

“I was thinking...” you have to be careful. You don’t want to spook him. “You’ve been working so hard and on Saturdays you have the bowling league and I have my book club. It feels we haven’t had the chance to spend much quality time together. I’ve been a little...lonely.”

“I had no idea.” He’s gravely serious, his head nodding in thought. “Well, I’ll tell you what bunny rabbit, this weekend I’ll say heck to the league and we’ll go to the opening of the new botanical gardens. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

He’s not even in your orbit.

“That does sound nice, but to be honest I was thinking I’d like us to spend more time together in terms of...romance.”

“Romance?” He sits back in his chair, a grimace overtaking his mouth. “Right…”

“I just - I miss you like crazy and I thought it would be good for us to...to rekindle our marriage.”

“To be honest I feel like a complete numbskull. You’re right, you always are. When’s the last time I brought you flowers? Or we went dancing at Joey's? We used to go out every Friday night. I haven’t been showing you just what a special little lady you are.”

“That’s not exactly what I-”

“I’ll start right now.” He thrusts a finger into the air. You watch as he gets up with determination, opening the cupboard under the sink and rooting around until he retrieves two tapered candles. Then he’s sorting through the junk drawer for matches. He sets both candles in the middle of the table, blowing the dust off the wicks before striking a match and lighting both.

Then he takes his seat, looking rather proud of himself and reaching across the table to squeeze your hand.

--

He’s having a nightcap, watching the news while you’re frantically flipping through the pages of Beatrix’s most recent journal. The other version of you tracked everything from menstrual cramps to Justin’s favorite television commercials, there must be something about your sex life.

Halfway through the pages, you spot a red dot on the upper righthand corner of a page. You flip back scanning the notes and sure enough at the bottom, in tiny cursive letters is the sentence: made sweet love

Rolling your eyes you keep going, page after page until you find another telltale red dot and the words: most romantic evening, made love and talked for hours

You flip back looking between dates. Six months.

You double check, scanning through the pages again, but there’s nothing other than sewing tips and cocktail recipes.

Six months between sweet love making, no wonder he’s wound so tight, he’s must have blue balls big enough to be seen from space.

“What are you reading?” He asks from the doorway, scaring the living daylights out of you.

“Just...some old gardening techniques.” You rebox the journal and shove it to the back of the closet.

“I’m beat,” he yawns, taking his pajamas out of the dresser drawer.

He disappears into the bathroom for his nighttime routine and you rummage through the closet in search of the one and only piece of lingerie in your wardrobe. It’s a silk nightgown that leaves plenty to the imagination. It comes almost up to your collarbone and halfway to your knees. But it’s sleeveless, thin little straps over your shoulders that show more skin than any other article of clothing you own.

“Honey,” you call to him, stripping down and pulling it over your head.

“Yes?” His voice is garbled, brushing his teeth.

“I was thinking about the conversation we had earlier and I wanted to talk to you about something else.” Pulling the thick, floor-length robe off the closet door you put it on as he wanders out of the bathroom in striped pajamas.

“Is something wrong?” He looks at you, concerned.

“No, well, nothing’s wrong per say, just...not enough.”

“I don’t follow.”

“When I was talking about wanted more romance in our relationship, I was thinking more along the lines of...intimacy.”

“Intimacy?” He stares blankly.

God, he is clueless. You’re going to be forced to spell this out.

“Tonight, I was hoping that you would...make love to me.”

Several waves of realization fall over his face. Eyebrows shooting up, his mouth falls open for a moment before he recovers. “But...my birthday isn’t until next month.”

“Why should we wait for a special occasion?” You open your robe letting it fall to the ground, revealing the modest nightgown and he reacts as if you’ve flashed him your pussy.

“Oh - oh my goodness,” he gasps softly, cheeks flushing red.

“You don’t like it?” You step closer, swinging your hips.

“I do!” He gushes, his eyes looking you over from head to toe. “I just - I wasn’t prepared.”

“What do you say?” You press yourself against him. His breath hitches as you slide two hands over his chest and around the back of his neck. “I want you.”

“What has gotten into you?” A nervous, excited grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I told you, I miss you.”

“Well…” He’s clearly embarrassed but also aroused.

After methodically turning off all lights, pulling the curtains, setting the alarm and slipping over the covers, your husband kisses you with a series of closed mouth kisses. He gently pulls your nightgown up past your hips and rolls between your legs. He almost grabs your breast through the nightie but thinks better of it, instead shoving his pants down and grasping his cock.

You can’t see much, between the darkness of the room and multiple layers of blankets covering you both, but you can feel him. Sam’s cock is huge, but Justin doesn’t have a clue how to use it. He just shoves himself inside with a mighty heave, moaning and rocking deeper and deeper until you open up for him.

Normal Sam, your Sam, would have his thumb on your clit, sucking on your nipples while he's fucking you into oblivion.

But in contrast, this version of him is moving on top of your body with both hands braced beside your head. His face tucked into the crook of your neck, moaning breathlessly as he pants about how much he loves you and how beautiful you are.

You just lay there, staring at the shadow of the ceiling fan as he humps you for the better part of twenty minutes before giving a few finishing strokes and cumming.

“That was amazing.” He kisses your cheek, pulling out and rolling onto his back. “Come here, let me hold you bunny rabbit.”

It’s the first time, in a long time, that you’re utterly speechless. He pulls you into his arms, stroking your hair as if you’ve just gone wild on each other and require some kind of aftercare.

“Yeah,” you nod, laying against his chest. “That was...something else.”

“My little minx.” He teases, patting your back.

While it’s not exactly the vigorous lovemaking the vague journal entries lead you to believe, it does spark a thought. He’s got no clue what he’s doing with that beautiful cock and powerful body. But as luck would have it, you are just the woman to teach him.

-

-

Part Two is currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content.  >> CLICK HERE <<

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[snootysith]

Chapter 3 (4/5) WARNING: NSFW, Dub-con, biting, choking, slapping, mild gore. (Gravus is entirely to blame.) (Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.)

Note: Ignore the installment numbering on Part 3. Part 5 is definitely the last for this chapter and will be in Vowrawn’s POV.

Cytharat knelt at their feet as was right and proper.

Darth Vowrawn thread his fingers through his hair, soft and slow as a doting grandfather might, guiding him ever downwards, forcing his throat open around Darth Gravus’s cock. “Breathe,” he murmured in his ear. “Breathe through your nose. Relax your jaw. That’s it... mind your tee—” Too little, too late.

Cytharat whimpered, scalp prickling in pain when Gravus suddenly seized him by the hair and pulled him off his cock with a low growl.

“Was it your intention to make me a eunuch?” Gravus sniped. “I thought you’d broken him in by now.”

“F-Forgive me, my lord, I didn't mean—” Under the crushing weight of Gravus’s disapproval, years of high education wiped from his mind, incoherent babbling expelling from lips, and to his everlasting shame, tears began to trickle from the corner of his eyes as Gravus’s scowl deepened.

Vowrawn swatted Gravus’s hand away and rubbed soothing circles on Cytharat’s scalp. “Accidents happen. All he needs is proper guidance.” There was a quiet shift of robes and Cytharat gave a start as Vowrawn lowered himself beside him. One hand came to rest on Gravus’s thigh while the other reached over to thumb Cytharat’s tears away. “Come now. This is most unbecoming of a Sith. If at first you don't succeed...” He pointedly glanced at Gravus’s lap.

“I was under the impression this was entertainment,” Gravus drawled. “Not a school lesson.”

“So unimaginative. Can’t it be both?” Vowrawn bid Cytharat to watch, his smile unwavering as he wrapped his fingers around Gravus’s cock. Cytharat watch, transfixed on Vowrawn’s mouth as it closed on the swollen head, cheeks hollowing as he sucked and pumped the shaft in tandem. Gravus sighed, sinking deeper into the overstuffed armchair, his eyes falling shut.

Without a moment’s pause, without even looking at him, Vowrawn beckoned to Cytharat with his free hand and Cytharat shuffled back between Gravus’s legs obediently, never once tearing his eyes off Vowrawn’s performance. He watched him lavish attention to his cock countless times before, in this same bedchamber, in the dining room, in a storage closet, but it was an altogether different pleasure to witness him like this. Vowrawn seemed like an enraptured artisan, worshiping the flesh in his hands.

Cytharat’s own cock ached to be touched, and the temptation to slip a hand down to stroke himself only grew stronger with every noise emerging from Gravus’s throat. Gravus rested one hand on the back of Vowrawn's neck, urging him to move faster. Not only did Vowrawn ignore it, he drew back entirely, eyes flashing with mischief at the frustrated groan he elicited.

Cytharat wasn’t surprised. The time he spent in Vowrawn’s company was long enough to make one thing clear: no one commanded Darth Vowrawn to do anything he did not want to do.  

Vowrawn turned slightly and smiled, soft and almost fond. “Have at it.”

Cytharat licked his lips nervously and bridged the distance, taking Gravus’s cock deep in his mouth, working his lips and tongue over the shaft of it, striving to emulate Vowrawn’s technique and finesse.

“Just so...” There was a touch of breathlessness in Vowrawn’s voice. “Always use your tongue. Flick it over the head... swirl around the— oh, yes. Don't forget your fingers. Grip him like— mm, like that..."

The taste of Gravus’s skin mingled with the tang of wine still lingering on Cytharat’s tongue. Vowrawn’s implicit touch on the nape of his neck urged him to take more and more, his throat straining to accommodate the hard flesh filling it. Gravus’s hand fell heavily upon his hair, twisting it between his fingers as he pushed Cytharat even further until his lips were finally pressed to the base of his cock.

Vowrawn traced the slight bulge in Cytharat’s throat. “Well done,” he murmured. “All the way down the hatch. Now let’s have ourselves a test of fortitude.”

Cytharat’s only warning was Gravus’s fingers tightening in his hair before his throat was fucked at a brisk pace. He choked and whined, saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth and streaking down Gravus’s cock with every hard thrust. Peering up through damp lashes, the sight of Gravus’s cool amusement merely heightened his arousal and he could take it no longer. Cytharat dove both hands past his lower robe, fumbled open his trousers, and frantically jerked at his own cock, just barely remembering to breathe.

There was a sudden sharp sting on his cheek and Cytharat reeled back in pain, half-dazed and retching weakly.

Gravus glowered down at him. “I see the boy is as selfish as you are,” he said. “Reprehensible.”

“Reprehensible is your behavior,” Vowrawn huffed. “He’s not one your cheap cast-offs. Please refrain from slapping him.” He stroked Cytharat’s hair almost apologetically and pressed a kiss to his sore cheek. “You're doing so well, dear boy.”

Cytharat leaned into his kiss, reveling under his attention, but his cup stopped short of overflowing at a sudden scoff.

“That demonstration hardly deserves praise,” Gravus said. “It was adequate at best.”

Cytharat’s cheeks burned and he dropped his gaze down to the rug, hands curling and uncurling on his thighs anxiously.

“You can hardly expect him to match my ability,” Vowrawn retorted.

Gravus hummed thoughtfully. “You do make it something of an art form...”

“I’ve had excellent reviews.”

“I suppose I'll have to settle for less then.”

“And you call me selfish!” Mischief edged into Vowrawn’s smile as he turned it upon Cytharat. His gaze flicked towards Gravus’s cock and back to his face, once, twice, but the memory of Gravus’s cruelty was fresh in Cytharat’s mind and he hesitated. Vowrawn’s smile crimped ever so slightly and Cytharat’s heart leapt to his throat. Losing Gravus’s approval was one thing. Losing Vowrawn’s approval was entirely another.

Lust quickened Cytharat’s blood as he watched Vowrawn languidly stroke Gravus’s cock. “Darth Gravus expects more, hm? How ungrateful.” Vowrawn rested his cheek against Cytharat’s as he considered the hardened flesh before their eyes. “Well, Lord Cytharat? Will you help me serve his just desserts?”

Cytharat swallowed thickly and nodded.

Gravus’s head hit the back of the armchair the moment their mouths descended upon him. As in all things, Cytharat followed Vowrawn’s lead, tongues fluttering, lips shiny with spit, very nearly kissing as they glided up and down the sides of the shaft. Gravus had gone unusually quiet, hiding his mouth behind his hand. Upon closer inspection, Cytharat realized Gravus was not merely muffling his moans in his glove but gnawing on his knuckle.

Something dark and eager surged up inside him.

How glorious it was to turn the tables on him— to discover blood, not ice running through his veins! Was this what Darth Vowrawn enjoyed? This power to make a man come undone with a delicate touch?

As if sensing his thoughts, Vowrawn caught his eye. The corners of his mouth turned up and they shared a knowing look before doubling down their efforts.

Gravus grunted weakly, hips stuttering to meet their coy tongues and fingers. His tooth caught on a loose thread and he bit down, tearing fabric and skin alike, and blood seeped into his pristine white glove. The pain must have been enough as he all but seized them by the hair and shoved them back. “Enough!” he rasped.  

Vowrawn blew a wayward lock of hair out of his face and smirked. “Is something the matter, old friend?” he asked innocently. “You look awfully flushed.”

If looks could kill.

“Don't mind him.” Vowrawn snickered. “He's worried he won't be able to get it up again for the main course.”

Dazed, Cytharat yielded to the gentle pressure on his jaw, turning his head as Vowrawn’s lips met his, stealing his breath and licking into his mouth to share the taste of Gravus that lingered inside. Cytharat inhaled sharply, darkness stirring within him once more, and he pressed closer, hands coming up to cup Vowrawn’s face and to tug impatiently at his robes but Vowrawn drew back, breaking the line of spittle connecting their mouths, smiling that strange smile again.

Cytharat lowered his eyes, silent and respectful, though his blood thundered in his veins. It was always an honor that Vowrawn would stoop to undress him but an even greater one when he was invited to return the favor. It still surprised him how comfortably Vowrawn moved about in his skin, seemingly relishing the opportunity to flaunt himself.

“On the bed,” Vowrawn instructed as he rifled through his bedside drawer. “Hands and knees now.”

Cytharat obeyed.

A single tap on his thigh and he immediately canted his legs further apart, moaning as slick fingers trailed down the cleft of his arse, teasing the twitching ring of muscle before sliding further down to take his cock in hand and pumping it in slow, measured strokes. Vowrawn’s other hand splayed across his chest, tweaking a nipple almost playfully. Cytharat gasped and writhed, and it spoke to their utmost generosity that they tolerated the unseemly cries he made. He felt Gravus’s gaze upon him, though he spoke not one word in all the time it took for preparation. Cytharat couldn’t help but wonder if he thought him weak in wishing to serve them like this so freely, so eagerly— but then Gravus emitted a low sound of approval.

“Such a pretty picture,” Gravus murmured.

“Aren't I?” Vowrawn’s cheek earned him a chuckle. “You know, dear Cytharat was so excited to meet you. His face lit up like a Life Day tree when I mentioned inviting you, but he was terribly coy about it.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed! He feared your disapproval. Dear, sweet thing. So devoted but so sensitive!” He smiled at Gravus, demonstrating his point with hard nails against Cytharat’s nipple, and Cytharat choked back a whimper.

Gravus’s lips curled. “He has not displeased me entirely yet.”

“Then enjoy him however you please,” Vowrawn purred. “What will be your pleasure tonight?”

“You know him best. I’ll watch you take your pleasure first.”

“Why, thank you.”

Cytharat suddenly found himself staring up at the ceiling, Vowrawn’s familiar weight straddling his lap, and he hadn’t realized how hard he was until he found his cock pressed under Vowrawn’s. He strained to buck upwards but Vowrawn laughed and raised his hips once more and Cytharat nearly sobbed at the loss of contact.

“Well, dear boy?” he murmured, rocking his ridged cock against his own. “Why don’t we show our guest what you’re capable of?”

Cytharat groaned and rolled Vowrawn unto his back, running his hands across the length of his body in reverence. The contours should be achingly familiar by now but Cytharat still found himself in awe of the warm, smooth skin beneath his palms, all of Darth Vowrawn spread out and admiring him in a way that still made him blush. And he wasn’t alone tonight.

A sharp inhale momentarily distracted Cytharat and he glanced over at Darth Gravus. The older man drank in the scene before him, caressing his own cock too lightly to provide any relief, keeping himself on edge. Then their eyes met and Gravus cocked his head, favoring him with a thin smile and Cytharat suddenly felt as if he were being pinned by an unseen hand, trapped in an irresistible grip as subtle as it was strong.

Vowrawn’s hand touched his cheek and turned him away, breath catching in his throat halfway between a laugh and a moan. “Eyes on me. You’ll find it’s much easier.” He slid back and wrapping oil slick fingers around Cytharat’s erection, stroking him once, twice, before guiding him into position. “Don't disappoint me now, darling.”

Cytharat hissed, body shaking with the effort of staying still as he sank into his body. Vowrawn purred, his legs wrapping snug around his waist. Cytharat wanted to be gentle— he always did— to bestow all the care and worship a man like Vowrawn deserved but time and time again Vowrawn’s clever tongue eroded all his good intentions.

“Won’t you give me what I need?” Vowrawn breathed, soft, tight flesh gripping his cock like a vice. “All that practice... you've gotten so good at it. Show him. Rut me like an animal.”

This was too new. Too much. The humiliation too great. “My lord, I don’t think—”

“It's a wonder you find any satisfaction with the boy's attitude,” Gravus sniffed. “How do you endure it?”

Cytharat froze.

“As if you know how to apply a soft touch, you brute,” Vowrawn retorted. It was a paltry defense. Cytharat could see the truth of his thoughts in the subtle tightening in his face. Brute force was precisely what he desired. Cytharat must deliver. To fail to serve was worse than any humiliation. There was no option left but to offer everything he had and more. Cytharat held nothing back, and gave Vowrawn every ounce of his strength, pounding into him, punching a startled gasp from him with each hard thrust.

“What was that about a soft touch?” Gravus never let Cytharat forget his presence for a moment. The thought of being watched, of two powerful Sith Lords witnessing every jerk of his hips and every arch of his back, set Cytharat ablaze with shameful pleasure. He fucked Vowrawn with wild abandon, keeping his gaze fixed on Vowrawn’s face, on those lips and those hungry eyes, letting the room pull out from under him until there was only the two of them, pleasure singing in his veins, and—

— And Darth Gravus really did not take kindly to being ignored.

Suddenly Cytharat could feel cool fabric against his back. Gravus’s hands gripped his hips, and he could feel his cock pressing against him, firm, hot, and insistent. Every stroke he gave to Vowrawn forced him to grind against Gravus and all Cytharat could think of was how it would feel to be fucked as he was fucking Vowrawn.

“Well, well...” Gravus murmured. “More in common with each other than I thought.”

Slick fingers probed deep inside Cytharat’s body, twisting and curling just right, just enough to make him pant and squirm until they were replaced with the head of Gravus’s cock, nudging at his hole almost impatiently. An invisible hand closed upon his throat once more, dots littering his vision with every arbitrary squeeze. It mattered not that Taris was a distant memory, Gravus employed aggressive tactics now just as readily as he did then. He desired to conquer and Cytharat could not hide the thrilled moan he inspired.

“Gentle,” Vowrawn chided.

There was a quiet huff, but his grip eased, allowing Cytharat to take a moment's breath before his cock pushed roughly past the tight ring of muscle, stretching and filling him, forcing cries and whines from his lips until his hips were flushed against Gravus’s. He fucked him brutally, every thrust grinding away Cytharat’s pride bit by bit. It was shameful enough to be treated like a toy but Vowrawn's hungry, wandering eyes made Cytharat’s cheeks burn. Gravus wasn’t as big as Vowrawn but he felt bigger, his thrusts more swift and cruel, slamming directly into Cytharat’s prostate, setting a pace that Cytharat was forced to obey, pinned between the unsparing demands of both Sith Lords.

And how they demanded.

Every bruise that Gravus bestowed upon him was closely followed by Vowrawn’s soothing kiss. Every pinch chased away by a caress. Every insult softened by a compliment. A medley of sensation that made Cytharat’s head spin and his body crave more, more, more. The Force undulated around them like a churning sea and he drowned under the crashing waves of their combined arousal. Cytharat felt their fingers twine together where they gripped his shoulder.

“I missed you.” Vowrawn sighed, hips twitching helplessly.

“You say that to every man,” Gravus said, a touch too breathless to be truly callous.

“Oh, you’re horrible. He’s horrible. Isn’t he, dear boy?” Vowrawn rolled his hips, pushing Cytharat backwards along Gravus’s cock and wringing a moan from them both. He brought his lips to Cytharat’s throat, soft skin rasping against the ridges there before sliding them up and resting his chin on his other shoulder.

Cytharat could see neither of them like this but there was no mistaking the sound of kissing, lips moving hot and wet over lips just as eager.

“Always—” Grunt. “— Always was the best way to shut you up.” Gravus’s voice was low and ragged against the shell of Cytharat’s ear. He bent forward to catch his earlobe between his teeth, biting down hard until he elicited a pitiful little whimper.

“You love it,” Vowrawn whispered savagely, gleefully, hips starting to lose their rhythm. “You perfect bastard, you wretch, you rotter—you love this, don’t you? Always someone between us. Someone more pliant. More obedient. What you wish I could be for you.” His laughter was rich with scorn. “Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you? A Dark Councilor at your beck and call. Ready to bend to your every whim. How could you get anything done when you have me spread out and begging for cock?”

Gravus sucked in a breath between clenched teeth and groaned, Vowrawn words affecting him more than Cytharat’s body could. His fingers dug hard enough in Cytharat’s hips to leave bruises as he seized more control, fucking him hard and fast and deep and so, so good.

Vowrawn tossed his head back with his own groan as every motion slid Cytharat ever deeper inside and he slipped a hand into the sweat-slick space between his and Cytharat’s body to wrap around his neglected cock. Cytharat was so close. So close. Barreling wildly towards a mind-shattering orgasm that he was sure to feel for days to come. Cytharat saw the way Vowrawn’s brow furrowed, how he bit his lower lip, and he knew he wasn’t alone.

Behind him, Gravus shifted and closed his mouth on the line of his shoulder and Cytharat’s only warning was the sudden alarm in Vowrawn’s eyes before teeth broke skin. He threw his head back with a cry of pain, struggling to shake him off but the man only gripped him tighter, ground his hips into him, and chewed into the wound, his canines scraping like daggers. Terror and agony obliterated pleasure. Cytharat’s scream was cut short by the Force closing around him and he writhed, choked, clawing instinctively at his throat, darkness trickling into the edges of his vision.

For one terrible moment, Cytharat feared Gravus’s teeth would meet.

Vowrawn’s free hand shot out to seize Gravus by his silver hair. “Release him!” he snapped. When Gravus did not budge, there was a crackle of electricity in the air that set Cytharat’s teeth on edge. “Now, Max!”

Darth Vowrawn never raised his voice before.

Gravus jerked backwards as though shot, pressure releasing on Cytharat’s windpipe the very moment his mouth unlatched, and he spat something on the rug that glistened like wet pulp.

Cytharat’s shoulder burned like a brand. He felt hot liquid running thick lines down his back and front, staining Vowrawn's skin several shades redder, and growing sticky between their joined bodies. He tried for an apology, for the mess, for his tears, but his tongue was suddenly too thick in his mouth. He wanted to dig his fingers into his wound and rip out the pain out, to stop each breath from coming so quick, to stop from shaking. What had he done? What had he done to deserve this?

Vowrawn eased out from under him and Cytharat dared not look at his face as he was maneuvered unto his good side, shutting his eyes as dizziness and nausea overtook him. There was shouting above him, shadow of movement flitting behind his eyelids, the sound of drawers being yanked opened, items being scattered across a hard surface, and throughout this Cytharat remained motionless— until someone touched his hair.    

Cytharat cried out and blindly thrashed, his hand meeting its mark with a harsh slap.

There was a moment of terrible stillness before hands— too many hands— clamped down on his limbs and, despite all his squirming and pitiful noises, physical hands carefully and meticulously attended to his shoulder, only lessening their grip upon him once a patch was secure and a needle pinched his upper arm. Cytharat hiccupped a sob of relief as the pain began to ebb away and darkness slowly enveloped him.

He slept, dreamless.

[thedreaminus]

How to magic, part 4

<<previous | next >> Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | and more ….

Tao clucked his tongue, cooing as nicely as possible while he laid on his stomach, his lower arm tucked into a sinister opening. Over him crouched M, watching his actions with a mocking grin. "Come on, I'll do you ... ouch!"

Hastily, Tao withdrew his hand and shook it. At the tip of his coat a wolf puppy hung on the fabric and shook his head to and fro. His siblings followed with tattered footsteps, stumbling over each other and carefully extending their heads. There were three in all, about the size of quails.

"Master, if you are a little smaller, the puppies could eat you better," M mockingly offered and cracked his fingers.

"Haha ... no," Tao glanced at M's claws, carefully removing the puppy from his coat and putting it down next to his siblings. He had to remember to buy some gloves to hide M‘s claws. At the latest in the next village, or better before that.

"Hm, I'm actually looking for your mother," Tao explained to the puppy, who were now pulling at his clothes and could not be shooed away. "See if her wound healed well before I go." He laboriously saved his belt, and with it his honor, from a particularly inquisitive dwarf.

"You did not win the Wolfblood by dead?" M asked unexpectedly.

"Of course not!" Tao picked up one of the puppies and held it out to M. The little creature yowled happily. Or so Tao guessed. "I would never have taken the little one's mother. No. "The magician shook his head determinedly. “I only took a little while after asking the she-wolf."

The demon, to his surprise, reached out and took the puppy from him. For a moment Tao feared that M wanted to do something to the little wolf. Instead, M grunted to his surprise, gently rubbing his face against that of the puppy, who in turn licked it and apparently could not stand his joy.

Ah, right. Wolf blood. Maybe M was something of a wolf demon?

"They are hungry. Their mother has been gone long now."

Tao's head jerked upwards, "You understand them? That makes me a bit jealous." Tao smiled sheepishly and thought to himself that M could probably give him useful answers, if only because he wanted. "I can talk to them and I think they understand me too. But I do not understand what they answer me." The magician watched as M bit the puppy very gently into the muzzle and then set him down again.

"So, where is your mother?"

"She is here."

That was not M voice. In fact, the demon stood relaxed and looked over his back. Slowly Tao straightened up and turned around. Behind him stood a mighty knight in heavy armor and behind him step by step cloaked figures pushed forward. Ah, fuck. He had not ordered M to warn him when someone approached.

"Krantz."

"My prince," Krantz did not even sound nearly as mocking as M, but it was enough to guess the emotion. Behind him, Tao could see movements of hooded figures. He did not have to see the wands to know what kind of people they were. Meanwhile, Krantz glanced at M and then turned his eyes to Tao. All the while he was clearly stroking a wolf skin over his shoulders.

Tao clenched his fist and bit his lower lip, "Why'd you ...?"

"My prince, it is of the utmost importance to bring you home safely. But as you resist and run away like a child, we were forced to follow every trail."

Tao felt sick. His magic. He had cured the wolf's wound after taking the blood. His magic must have stuck to her when he left, and they had tracked him down through it. A pull on his robe distracted him briefly. One of the puppies was back biting at his robe and tugged at it. As in a trance, Tao turned around and pushed all three back into the cave. He sealed the entrance with Magi to keep the little ones from going outside. Or someone to them inside.

"Give me the fur."

Krantz narrowed his eyes and handed said fur to a lackey next to him. "I would like to talk to you, my prince ..."

"Give.Me.The.Fur!" Tao spat angrily and stood up. All surrounding trees shuddered as he reached for his magic and the air crackled with energy. Krantz's lips twitched in amusement and his hand moved slowly down to his belt where the sword hung. It was obvious that he did not take Tao seriously.

"My prince …"

"That is an order!"

Krantz opened his mouth to reply. The blood which hit the side of his face interrupted his words. The lackey, whom Krantz had given the wolf fur just a few seconds before, only gave a weak rattle and fell to the ground like a sack of wet corn. There was a gruesome wound in his throat and M leaned over it, his mouth covered with blood, reaching for the fur the man still held in his limp hand.

After a brief moment of shock, the enemy magicians began to curse and frantically cast their ramparts. Some of them backed away, bumping into their colleagues. Krantz drew his weapon and raised the blade to M. Only that it did not interest the demon. Tao watched with dry mouth, as M took the fur calmly, returned to him and put his prey on the ground in front of him. Only then did Tao understood what had happened. He had ordered M to attack and the demon had obeyed. Without hesitation he had killed the man, completely unaffected. At Tao's command, a human had died.

What did you expect? Scoffed Tao's inner voice. Summon a demon to drink tea? No. He had known that he had to fight to get to Takeo. He had known that there would be deaths. And still ... he still had some hope. A little hope to find another solution.

"Men!" Krantz shouted, and the mob around them began to move, arms pointing at them.

"Master," M was still standing in front of him, just slightly turning his face to watch the opponents. Tao could hear the contempt in his words clearly. He just did not know whether it applied to him or his opponents. His eyes fell back to the ground where the fur laid.

"Fight."

Tao could feel M's eyes on him. Slowly he raised his arms, pulled back his sleeves and called down his entire offer of magic. The air around him began to vibrate.

"Kill them all."

"Yes Master."

And that was the beginning of the massacre.

[canhandledecisions]

Part 3

Silas peered nervously over the brim of her fan and past the edge of the doorframe, trying not to tremble. Her gut churned with fear that even the steadying pressure of her father’s hand on her arm did little to help. She felt like she might vomit, or worse, pass out during her entrance.

Despite the pounding of her heart against her ribs, her eyes remained dry. She was too overwhelmed to cry, although the rest of her family had shed more than their fair share of tears already that morning. Her mother had barely looked at her since they had arrived at the entryway, but from the few glances they’d shared, she could tell that Ethel’s face was full of shame.

“Silas?” She didn’t respond to the sound of her name. Her father’s voice sounded muffled and far away, almost as if she had imagined it. “Silas, are you all right?”

Of course she wasn’t all right. It was a ridiculous question, and it should have made her angry. Instead, all she could manage was a weak and unconvincing, “Yes.” The single word was hard enough to force from her trembling lips, so she didn’t bother saying anything else.

“Can you move?”

Once again, Silas hesitated. She wasn’t sure. Her legs felt like water and her head was spinning. The few steps it would take to pass through the door might be too much, even with her father’s arm for support.

“I… I don’t know.”

The grip on her elbow loosened, and she managed to turn her head. Her father’s brow was furrowed with worry, and he looked only slightly less awful than she felt. “Silas, I’m not going to make you do this. I always swore I would never force my children to marry, no matter their status. If you can’t go through with this, I’ll help you run. I can buy you a few minutes, at least—”

This time, Silas managed to speak. “No,” she said, with far more confidence than she felt. Her answer came out cracked, and she tried again, soft and resigned. “No. You know what will happen to our village. What will happen to our family…” She flashed back to the memory of her mother and uncles encased in metal prisons, and a spike of panicked pain pierced her chest.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ethel said, finally meeting her gaze. Silas almost recoiled at the pain in her mother’s eyes. They were angry, and sad, and full of anxiety and self-loathing. “Your father is right. You were right. We can’t just give you to them like some kind of prize to flatter their ego—”

Silas shook her head. Despite her fear, she was level-headed enough to know that running would only make things worse. “No, Mom. I’m just one person. If they… need me to prove a point to their ‘Empire,’ I’ll do what they say. As long as she keeps her promise to leave our home alone.”

Evegeni did not seem convinced. “But what if she doesn’t?” he whispered.

“I… believe her.” It felt strange to say such a thing, especially about Sylphene, but it was true nonetheless. “I don’t trust her, but she wouldn’t have agreed to this if she didn’t want it to work. She had her chance to fight, and she didn’t take it. That has to mean something, right?”

Her father let her go, a look of resignation crossing his face. “I hope it does. But…” Whatever he had been about to say, he couldn’t manage to finish. Instead, he straightened her robes. They were beautiful, from what Silas remembered of the brief glimpse she’d taken of her reflection while dressing, but she didn’t much care.

I don’t want to look pretty for her.

The heavy tones of the traditional Elven wedding processional began to play, and Silas had no more time to stew. On either side of her stood her parents, escorting her out into the hastily bedecked hall, but she had never felt more alone. She could feel the tension in their postures, but as much as they might have wanted to comfort her, there was nothing they could say to make this better. The fan that she held over her face was her only consolation. At least everyone else wouldn’t see how miserable she was, wouldn’t realize if she began to lose her composure.

The great hall of the High Elf palace wasn’t that big, but the walk still felt like it was a hundred miles long. Just keep putting one foot in front of the next, she told herself. The only thing worse than enduring this wedding would be collapsing in the middle of it. Passing out wouldn’t even do any good. They would probably just have me dragged up to the altar anyway.

Somehow, she managed to make it between the rows of guests without falling. Many of them were people she had known for years, and yet she barely saw them, keeping her eyes on her feet. She nearly tripped over them when she reached the platform, but she kept her balance long enough to reach her designated spot.

Her parents left her at last, breaking off to take their seats in the high-backed chairs behind the altar. At least there was a friendly face waiting to take their place. Mors had volunteered to officiate at the wedding, and though Silas still resented him for having supported this in the first place, she took a crumb of solace in the Boy’s faith in Sylphene’s underlying decency.

“Hey there, Silas,” Mors whispered, a reassurance kept quiet enough so only she could hear it.

Silas looked up from behind her fan, and immediately, the quiver in her legs went from bad to worse. She’d been so focused on keeping her eyes down that she hadn’t seen her intended until that moment. Sylphene wasn’t bad looking by any means, but now she was just so… striking. The dress she wore wasn’t that different than her usual attire, but it was more impressive, decorated with silver braid and well-tailored to fit her trim but toned frame. In it, she radiated power and authority, but the aura around her was warm and inviting. At this distance, Silas felt it more strongly than she ever had before, and her body couldn’t help but respond.

Spirits! Why is she having this effect on me? It’s not right.

She was so flustered that she missed the first several sentences of Mors’ speech. “… gathered to join Sylphene and Silas in the loving embrace of marriage. It is our hope that their union will represent the strong bond shared between these villages and the High Elf Empire, and cement a new era of peace.”

For a moment, Silas’ mind was taken off both her impending doom and the striking figure. It was kinda funny that Mors took it upon himself to write the entire script for the ceremony. The thought that her new friend had actually played a big part in the ceremony confused her, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. She was already dealing with far too many emotions to keep track of.

She almost looked over at the front row, where some of her old friends were looking at her nervously, but instead, she found herself stealing another glance at Sylphene.

Only the sound of Sylphene’s soft warm voice snapped her out of her trance. She felt her heart race and refuse to slow down. “As a gesture of goodwill, it would be my honor to present my betrothed’s parents with a gift.” Although she was afraid, Silas couldn’t resist peeking as Sylphene left her place at the altar and took a small porcelain cup from one of her father’s attendants. She balanced it carefully, approaching Suyin and giving a respectful bow. She looked extremely uncomfortable despite her attempts of hiding it. “White dragon tea, the rarest brew I could find. And with it, I ask for your blessing.”

Silas half-expected her mother to smash the gift on the floor, but after a long hesitation that almost bordered on rudeness, Ethel accepted the steaming cup and saucer. She sipped slowly, and then nodded her head once. It was the only grudging approval she seemed willing to give.

An awkward silence reigned for several moments. Mors cleared his throat, hurrying to continue. “Um—I guess we should get on with the vows,” he muttered, fumbling with a wrinkled sheet of paper. Sylphene returned to her place, and as Silas lowered her fan, she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She only hoped she would be able to say the single word required of her when the time came.

Do you, Sylphene, take Silas as your wife? Do you promise to cherish and care for her, just as you cherish and care for your Empire?“

A sour, disapproving look crossed Mors’ face, and Silas almost burst out into frantic laughter. Although Mors’ hand in the script was obvious, Sylphene’s father had obviously had something to do with the writing of the vows themselves.

"I do,” Sylphene said. Suddenly, Silas didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

Mors turned toward her, and Silas’ stomach flipped. “Do you, Silas, take Sylphene as your wife? Do you promise to love and honor her, just as…” His lip curled, and Silas could tell she wouldn’t like what was coming next. “…just as you love and honor your Empire?”

Silas froze. She tried to form a ‘Yes’, but it lodged in her throat, refusing to budge. She swallowed hard, and her fan slipped several inches. Sylphene’s eyes locked onto her face, pleading her to speak, and an answer finally tripped past her lips. It was stammering and uncertain, but thankfully audible. “Y—yes.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Sylphene’s face, and for an instant, Silas could have been fooled into thinking it was genuine. Now that the words were out, relief and dread warred within her. She had done what she had to, but there was no turning back.

By the time she could perceive anything else, Sylphene lowered her body, and Silas returned the gesture mechanically. She dipped low when Sylphene rose, and rose when she dipped, while next to her, Mors recited the traditional phrases. He explained that the four bows honored the spirits, the gods, the families of the newly-weds, and each other, but his words were little more than a hum in Silas’ ears.

Once the sequence was finished and the pair stood upright and faced each other again, Mors said looking close to tears, “And now, you may kiss the brides.”

Silas’ whole body tensed as she was pushed forward and she watched as Sylphene leaned up towards her. A part of her wanted to pull away, but she felt trapped, not just by the weight of social pressure, but by the force of the other elf’s aura. It was so potent as to be overwhelming, and something deep within her wanted to feel the her lips on her own. Sylphene’s hand settled safely on Silas’ shoulder, drawing her in closer, and she held her breath as the two of them moved together.

It was hard to imagine any part of Sylphene being soft, but her lips were surprisingly gentle. Urges to retreat and advance warred inside of her, leaving her unable to do anything but let this happen. Sylphene applied a slight amount of pressure, and at the mix of softness and power, Silas couldn’t help herself. Her cheeks flushed, and a tiny whimper slipped out before she could stifle it. Though it was inaudible to everyone else, she realized with horror that Sylphene must have heard her. However the other elf made no signs of acknowledgment, and she let their embrace linger for an eternity of seconds. When she finally pulled back to the applause of the crowd, Silas could only stand there like a statue. As much as she’d expected to hate the kiss, liking it was even worse. ____________________________________________

Sylphene held open the door to the bridal chamber, standing aside and allowing Silas to pass through first. Though she tried to remain stoic for the sake of their audience, she couldn’t resist stealing a quick glance at her new bride. Silas’ red and white-trimmed wedding robes didn’t reveal much skin, but the cut did highlight her curves in a pleasing way. Sylphene had almost enjoyed watching her walk down the aisle, at least until she had gotten a glimpse of the terror on Silas’ face. Perhaps it was foolish and sentimental of her, but she had never imagined her wedding going quite this way. Growing up, she had hoped her future mate would love her, or at least like her. I suppose that was childish. And she probably won’t be any friendlier once we’re alone. Although, maybe… She blinked slowly, remembering the kiss she and Silas had shared at the altar. Silas had been surprised, but not exactly reluctant or disgusted. Sylphene shivered as she recalled the small sound of desire that had slipped into her mouth just before they broke apart.

Sylphene snapped out of her haze and realized that several stares were fixed on her. Mors was standing a yard away, wiggling his eyebrows and wearing a silly look that could only be described as mocking yet understanding.

She met the half-elf’s eyes briefly in an effort get him to stop before turning to Ethel. Her new mother-in-law’s glare was sharper than a blade, but Sylphene didn’t flinch. Ethel could disapprove all she wanted, but it would make no difference.

“We’ll see you at the banquet,” she said, politely but firmly dismissing the onlookers. “Please, don’t wait to start the festivities…” She hesitated, but in the end, even if she knew it was inappropriate, she couldn’t resist a slight dig. “We may be a while.”

Ethel fumed, but Mors hastened to fill the gap before she could explode. “Good idea,” he said, in a chipper voice. “Silas looked a bit faint up there. She might need a minute to rest.” He practically dragged Ethel away by the arm, cutting off the brewing conflict before it could start.

Sylphene decided not to goad her new mother-in-law any further. Ethel wasn’t the type of woman to pick fights, but the look on her face had been almost murderous. Instead, Sylphene slipped into the bridal chamber, closing the door behind her. Silas had crossed to the opposite side of the room, most likely to get as far from the bed as possible. The lights were tastefully dimmed, but Sylphene could still read the expression on her new fiancé’s face. It was all fear.

“You don’t have to plaster yourself against the wall like that,” she said, trying her best to sound calm. “I told you last night, I have no intention of hurting you.”

Silas clutched her fan in a death-grip, but her eyes flashed with anger. “I don’t know why you expect me to believe that. Your army was prepared to execute my family and invade my city a week ago.”

“They were.” Sylphene would not deny her empire’s actions. “But it was my father’s command and not mine, also that was politics. Everything He does is to advance the interests of his Empire. How would harming you do that?”

“You think I know what’s going on in your twisted head?” Silas demanded. “I assume you’re going to just have your way with me. Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

Sylphene took a deep breath, trying to decide on a response. All during the ceremony, she had been feeling a decided pull of attraction to the other elf. Even in her anger, Silas was beautiful, and her presence, the soft pull of her aura was more than enough to draw Sylphene in.

But her heart felt differently. Even if it wasn’t for Ethel’s threats, the thought of hurting Silas held no appeal, and if Sylphene tried anything now, that was what she’d be doing. The prospect clearly terrified Silas. True, she’d had a physical reaction when they kissed, but that wasn’t the same thing as her true desire. Perhaps their wedding had been an awkward, tortured affair, but Sylphene would not cap it off with a rape.

“I won’t lie, I do feel a physical attraction towards you,but I have no attentions to act on it, not like this. Whatever you and your family may think of me, I am not that kind of monster.”

For a moment, her words seemed to have the desired effect. Sylphene could hear the slight exhale of breath as Silas’ chest relaxed and the fear receded from her eyes. “I… appreciate that,” she said softly.

“It is nothing,” Sylphene replied, feeling a touch of hope. “Whatever you think of how we came to be wed, we are bound together now. We should make the best of the situation.”

The moment didn’t last. As quickly as Silas’ softness had appeared, it vanished once more. “Don’t make too much of my thanks,” she snapped. “Showing some minimal decency and not assaulting me doesn’t make you a good person. You’re still the daughter of a tyrant, and just because I’m married to you doesn’t mean I’m going to help you run this terrible empire they’ve built.”

Sylphene shook her head, trudging over to the armchair on one side of the bedroom. The soft cushions were comfortable after standing through the ceremony, but her mind was harder to relax. Clearly, she had hoped for too much from her gesture, and at first she wasn’t sure what to say next. Silas didn’t seem to have any better idea, because once her outburst had ended, she retreated to the far wall, keeping her head pointed towards the carpet.

“Maybe you should lie down,” Sylphene finally told her. “Or sit. We are going to be here for some time.”

“What do you mean?” Silas stammered. “You said you wouldn’t…”

“I won’t.” She mentally kicked herself for not being more careful with her words. She had not meant to summon Silas’ fears back to the surface like that. “But there are expectations that have to be met, and appearances to keep up. It wouldn’t do for us to go back out there too soon. We will wait in here for a time, and then change and join our guests. I don’t expect you to lie about what we did, but a discreet silence on the topic would be appreciated.”

“Fine,” Silas agreed, but her sullen tone made it hard to count her acquiescence as much of a victory. She sat down on the edge of the bed, facing away from her, and Sylphene sighed. It was going to be a very long couple of hours.