Inspired form the art of @lieutenant76
A/N: This is the second time I’ve written this piece after losing the first draft of the original, and by losing the first draft I mean posting it, getting embarrassed and sending it away to whatever hell from whence it came, planning to rewrite it and then forgetting about it.. I’m slowly getting over this irrational embarrassment to 1. Keep my word to the lovely artist and 2. Gain the confidence to share my mental cacophony with the world and perhaps make some friends.
I’m sorry for Google translate Romanian
Also, of course I’m tired my lord, but I have just started university. I will sleep when I’m dead.
Lord Dimitrescu x Gn! Reader
Prompt: “Try not to squirm too much, I’m still a man, I won’t promise my body won’t be honest.”
It’s been so long that you’ve lost track of exactly how long you’ve been in this castle. Supposedly, it was a place of blood and death.
And you’ve certainly seen your fair share of blood. Not so much death. You were still certain it was there, and the Lord of the Castle just kept it under wraps. Whether for the sake of his servants, (yourself included) or his reputation was up for debate.
When Mother Miranda returned, so did the council of the Four Houses, of which your Lord participated in. With this return came the deaths of your friends, family, neighbors, everyone you’ve ever spoken to. Foolishly, you opted to take shelter in the castle that loomed over your humble village. In your panic, you just thought “Oh, both of the reliefs for the gates are there, might as well go in while it’s open.” Not even the “scarecrows” guarding your Lord’s vineyard steered you to a better decision of running the other way.
You’ve struck a deal with the behemoth of a man that dwelled within the castle with his three sons: You stay and work for him, or, you stay and work for him as a blood bag. Either way, there was no way you were leaving the castle.
Eventually, you’ve settled into a routine that soon became so familiar you could go about your day blindfolded. Wake before Lord Alexander Dimitrescu and his sons, just in time to supply them with breakfast (complemented with some poor bastard’s blood, of course,) see your Lord off to a meeting, look after the boys, and tend to your Lord upon his return. You’d finish your chores for the day hours early, and grow numb to the overgrown children whining and screaming at you when their father was absent. Or, Dimitrescu would send his sons off before giving you your next list of tasks or even scolding them for hounding you to themselves. If you were lucky you’d find yourself engaging in casual conversation with the Lord.
You’d fancy the thought that the man liked you, but you were smarter than that.
Like the rest of Miranda’s inner circle, he was infected with Miranda’s “gift”: The Cadou. He was at least 9 feet tall, and eternally young. He’s been under Mother Miranda’s thumb for at least a century, and yet, he looked as if he was forever in his mid 30’s. His clothes, a remnant of a time he’d must’ve come, certainly tailored specifically for him. He was exceptionally groomed, slicked hair and all, and carried himself as such. An air of poise and sophistication lingered about him everywhere he went, even when disciplining his beloved sons.
Today, it seemed as though that poise and sophistication was lost on him. Today you were selected to escort your Lord to a meeting with Mother Miranda and his Siblings. Never an event he enjoyed. Just as luck would have it as the meeting was adjourned after hours of aimless arguing, the two of you had found yourselves caught in the rain. Upon entering the Hall of the Four the first thing you noticed on your lord was that his hair was disheveled, the collar to his shirt was undone and his tie which was normally adorned on his chest in a perfect trinity knot was slung over his shoulders. Another thing you noticed aside from him being soaking wet (as were you,) was that one could catch a glimpse of what was underneath the sopping wet white shirt. That “quieter” part of you thought he looked even more dashing than usual in his stressed state.
Three clouds of blowflies made their way buzzing towards you and the Lord before materializing into three young men completely ignoring you and immediately rushing to their father’s aid. One taking his hat and coat, another taking his tie, and a third offering a light for the cigar that hung loosely from his mouth. Allowing his son to light the cigar he took a long deep drag, tilting his head back as he slowly exhaled. You certainly weren’t imagining that the man was posing for you.
Turning your head and daring to face him after his sons had fussed over him, your stomach leaped into the pit of your chest upon seeing your Lord, in all of his disheveled yet elegant glory. Even standing at your full height you still felt incredibly small. Upon looking at his stern features, you couldn’t help but notice a ghost of a smirk begin to rise on his lips.
“This day has turned for the worst. Get a bath ready.”
You stammered for a reply. “Oh, yes! Of course. Would you like something warm for being wet, sir? Perhaps a blanket or-”
He raised a hand to stop you. “No, but fetch me a Fetească neagră if we still have it. You remember where I keep my native vintages, do you?”
“Good. Once you have the wine and the bath is prepared, meet me in my personal chambers, won’t you?”
You might as well have laid down and died at that request. You had toyed with the thought that the Lord might’ve liked you, but he’s never invited you into his private bedroom, nor has he had you do something for him as intimate as running a bath. Sure, he asked you to accompany him during meetings with Miranda and the Four Houses but that was about it. Shaking your head to rid these thoughts you made quick work in finding the wine. It was one of few in Castle Dimitrescu that didn’t have a trace of blood in it. You quickly left the wine cellar as it was quite chilly and you were still uncomfortably wet.
Unfortunately to actually get to the tower in the castle with your Lord’s private chambers you had to cross the courtyard, causing you to be even more soaked. Making quick work on reaching your destination you began to run a warm bath for your Lord. Since the tub was absolutely massive to accommodate his size, you knew it would take a while for the water to rise. You even poured in some of the scented oils you knew he likes. You were shivering earlier but the warmth from the water warmed you significantly. You felt a pang of jealousy for your Lord being able to relax in a bath after being drenched. Perhaps you will warm yourself by the fire. You began to make your way out of the room when the sound of a door opening stopped you.
“Now, where do you think you’re going?”
You swore your heart stopped at that moment. Your first thought was “How the hell did he get in here so fast?” Then you remembered “Oh, right, two doors.” Taking a deep breath you supposed that you’ve forgotten something, or he had something for you to do for him at the last minute. But then you heard the distinct sound of the door locking. You turned around to face your one way out that was now locked and back to Dimitrescu undressing. Pausing after removing his shirt, he stared at you expectantly. “What? See something you like?”
You swiftly averted your gaze and turned around “Nothing, my Lord. I’m sorry, I mean-”
“Now, now,” he stopped you amidst your stammering. He absolutely knew you found him extremely attractive. He knew this and was toying with you. And loved every moment of it. You remained with your eyes screwed shut and your back turned towards him, and now suddenly very much aware that you were drenched and shivering.
“Y/n, turn around and look at me, won’t you dear?” Reluctantly obeying, you saw that the man propped himself against the doorframe leading to the massive adjoined bathroom. He was posing for you, and you weren’t imagining it. “Tell me, what do you see?”
Your mouth ran dry. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? “I, well, I…” Dimitrescu raised a graceful brow, expectant of your answer. Taking a deep breath, you responded with the first thing that came to mind: “Perfection, my lord. I… I see perfection.”
“I see.” Dimitrescu seemed satisfied with your answer, but he has not unpropped himself from the doorframe. It took everything within you to keep eye contact with your lord, as his godlike build didn’t stop at just his face and height. Before you was a muscular ivory chest decorated with a healthy patch of hair, meticulously groomed, powerful legs and even more powerful thighs, and what hung between them, you dared not to look. You’d certainly faint. You wondered how much of the muscle mass was from the Cadou, and how much was from heavy lifting, perhaps from the “death” that occurred in the Castle. He still wore that expectant look on his face. “Well? Do you plan on just standing there in your wet clothes?”
Now you were certainly about to faint. “What?”
His expression remained unchanged. “I’d imagine you’re freezing. Why don’t you undress and join me?”
Never once since you’ve been here have you refused a request from Dimitrescu. But today might be the day you break that streak. There was no way you, a servant, merely a scullery maid, were sharing a bath with your lord. Absolutely not. Entirely unprofessional. Your words became caught in your throat as you made your way to the door. A stern look crossed your Lord and you immediately regretted thinking you could get out of this. “Y/n, I know you’re uncomfortable, but I’m concerned for you. If you stay in those wet clothes any longer you’ll catch a cold. Now undress and join me. Allow me to warm you.”
You knew from the tone of his voice that that was an order. He had (thankfully) left you to your privacy and went into the bath chambers as you stripped from your wet clothes. Completely bare and with as much dignity as you could muster, you held your drenched clothes to you to hide yourself and made your way into the bathroom. Steam rose from the tub where your Lord was lounging, waiting for you. A glass of the red you’d brought from the wine cellar, and oddly enough, an extra empty glass beside him. Upon your entry, he spoke up.
“Y/n, I don’t think you’ll be needing those, dear.”
Without looking at him, you placed the bundle of your wet clothes aside, ignoring the fact that you were naked before the man of your dreams and your lord. If this were in any other setting, this would be a dream come true. But now that it was actually happening, you felt reluctance. How strange. Hesitantly, you stepped into the tub with your Lord. you felt relief from the cold immediately. It was piping hot and smelled divine. You could practically swim in the tub given how big and how deep it was. Yet you were once again very much aware of Dimitrescu watching you.
A smirk grew on his lips as he watched you settle into the water. “Do you want to know what I see, darling?”
You didn’t know how to respond to that. You just stared at him as he poured the second glass and passed it to you. “Frumuseţe.” You took a sip of the wine he gave you to calm your nerves, taken aback of how strong it was. “I see beauty compared to that I haven’t seen in a long time, darling. What a blessing that has found its way into my castle.” He smiled at you, yet this smile wasn’t grim or menacing as you’ve seen before. His eyes were gentle. His smile was genuine and adoring. His massive hands hovered over your sides. If he were to grab you they could meet around your frame and he would be able to somewhat intwine his fingers. “May I?”
You nodded, allowing him to briefly pick you up, turn you around so that you were facing away from him and place you directly into his lap. You felt warm water cascade down your hair and then his sharp fingernails massaging something–shampoo?–into your scalp. “Breathe, Y/n.” he murmured into your ear, reminding you that you were unintentionally holding your breath. His fingers continued to work on your hair, which you both noticed calmed you down considerably.
When the initial embarrassment began to ebb away you spoke up again. “I didn’t know I’d be joining.” You were beginning to enjoy this quality time with your Lord. That was, when the embarrassment spiked back as you felt… something poking into your thigh.
Dimitrescu must have noticed you felt something and sighed. “Try not to squirm too much. I’m still a man. I won’t promise my body won’t be honest.” He rinsed your hair and tilted you back so that you were leaning against his chest. He had lathered something cool onto his hands, perhaps liquid soap, and was rubbing it on you. A perfect excuse for him to have his hands all over you. And you both were beginning to enjoy it. You couldn’t help but close your eyes while being pampered by your Lord, and you could sense, no, feel, the tension evaporate from him. You briefly repositioned yourself in his lap and you became acutely aware that what was digging into your leg was still there, still throbbing, and still rock hard.
Your face flushed and a chuckle rumbled in your Lord’s chest. “You don’t need to worry about that right now. I’ll have you take care of that in due time, my dear.”
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