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Fang and Crown Chpt 01

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.ᐟ pairing. ⤑ King!Rafayel x Vampire/Bodyguard!Reader (no use of y/n).

.ᐟ synopsis. ⤑ He remembered his hands tightening around the edge of the book as he had read about them. The Crimson Reign. A world of monsters ruling over men, of fire and ash, of villages burned to the ground and humans turned for the thrill of it, for the fun

It should have terrified him. But Rafayel had learnt that he doesn’t grow terrified that easily. All he could think of was you .

.ᐟ word count. ⤑ 16k posted on my ao3 [01 02 03]

.ᐟ WARNINGS, mdni!!. ⤑ explicit sexual content, warnings vary for each chapter. submissive rafayel, bath sex, masturbation in the bath, face sitting, dom/sub play, sliiight dacryphilia, possessive sex/behaviour, dirty talk, praise kink, LOTS of mentions about blood, blood sucking/kink, lots of jealousy and yearning. more warnings to come in future chapters....

.ᐟ A/N. Okay so few things before you delve in - this IS a sequel to my story Fang and Flame and you do sorta need to read that before this one... (apologies)

Secondly, I decided to do this in chapters as I've written a lot of words (16k before I even got into the sequel properly) and I also want to delve the relationship with Rafayel... this was supposed to be a one time fic but I ended up having so many ideas and I had people asking for a sequel so here we go!

With that being said, thank you for supporting my stories it means a lot! Happy reading <3

.ᐟ tag list. @kiri-tuk @beechu-beechu @kylee3e @animecrazy76 @wilddreamer98 @loreleissong @celestialforce @forfanficshaha @winterrfortress

Six nights later.

Rafayel stared at the bruise blooming across his knuckle, darkening with each slow flex of his fingers. It pulsed rhythmically throbbing that grounded him for a moment, even as the rest of him itched for something else, something he didn’t want to name.

He had sparred too recklessly.

Too harshly for a king they had told him, but that was exactly the point. He didn’t want to be a king in that moment. He didn’t want the careful deference or the weight of cautious eyes on him with every movement. He had told his sparring partner to act as if he was nothing, no one, to hit him like he deserved it and they would not be punished, and they had. They had struck him like he was just another body, flesh and bone not just a presence under a crown. He could still taste the iron of it on his tongue, the ghost of blood from where a split had appeared on his lip.

He should have felt satisfied but violence was never enough, not truly. It only reminded him of what he wanted most, of what he couldn’t have, at least not in the way he wanted.

It wasn’t neglect.. no, he was anything but neglected but once he had tasted what it was like to have you, to touch you, to hear you break apart on his tongue, he had grown hungry in a way that terrified him.. ravenous, even. His body ached for you as much as his mind did, and it was a hunger that no amount of bruises could quell.

He had tried to distract himself since that night you shared, to ease the gnawing ache you had left behind, by seeking the violence in sparring and then the quiet of the palace library. He hadn’t gone there to find you, not truly , but it was you he found in the words, in the stories that bled out from the ink in the stories he read.

He grew obsessed. He grew obsessed with the history of it all, the language and the way things were before humans destroyed everything that they touched. He learnt about the witches and their spells, and how they spoke to dead souls and created potions that could change you from human to animal and vice versa.

And vampires.

He remembered his hands tightening around the edge of the book as he had read about them. The Crimson Reign. A world of monsters ruling over men, of fire and ash, of villages burned to the ground and humans turned for the thrill of it, for the fun . Of creatures that walked in the night, with hunger so vast it swallowed everything they touched, creatures who drank deeply and left nothing behind.

It should have terrified him. But Rafayel had learnt that he doesn’t grow terrified that easily.

All he could think of was you . The way your eyes had darkened like a predator when he asked you to drink from him. The strength in your hands when you had held him still, when you had made him feel what it was like to be wanted, to be consumed, to be yours if only for a moment.

And gods, how he wanted it again.

The bruise on his knuckle throbbed as he remembered what he read and he wondered if it would leave a mark you would see. If you would touch it, if you would press your mouth to it like you did with his throat, licking the blood you left behind from your bite with that soft, hungry noise you had made when you let yourself want.

But the history wasn’t what made his pulse stutter, what made his breath catch painfully in his chest. It was the smaller notes in the margins, the footnotes buried beneath layers of ancient ink.

Vampire saliva, when introduced to wounds, can act as a powerful anaesthetic, aiding in rapid healing—

He remembered that night a few days ago. The first time he had you as his own, the night you had bitten him, the sharp sting of teeth against skin and how afterward, you had gently licked the wound clean, your tongue soothing the rawness left behind. It made sense now why the bite marks you’d left had faded by morning, they were barely visible, as if your salvia had healed him even as you marked him.

He read on.

Vampire blood when consumed may act as a potent aphrodisiac, heightening lust—

When consumed, vampire saliva can also heighten desire and sensitivity, it is used to seduce prey before the final kill.

His thumb paused on those lines, tracing over them again and again, the words sinking into him like teeth. The idea of such seductive power felt like a myth, a story meant to frighten or enchant but not quite true. Could their saliva really weave such magic? Or was the history he read tainted by fear and propaganda?

For a fleeting moment, he questioned what if you had been seducing him for the final kill… it was your nature after all, wasn’t it? Like the books and scrolls and history said. A vampire, a monster , and maybe you wanted to prove all those people who whispered about you right. But then he thought of how hard you had resisted him, how hard you resisted your feelings until you cracked. Until you were telling him how much you needed him.

He needed you the same. He thought back to the brothel, how you had watched him come undone and how you denied your touch even then and he wondered if he took you back, if you went back together now, would you indulge with him this time? Would you come undone while watching him, or would you let him unravel you like he always craves to?

His bruised hand tightened once more at the thought, his pulse hammering so hard it made the split on his lip throb, reminding him of the taste of iron, of your tongue when you had kissed him.

He realized he didn’t want the stories from dusty books or old scrolls. He wanted to hear your history, told in your voice, in the way your mouth moved when you spoke, in the secrets you carried behind your eyes. He wanted to know your truth, the real truth.. the hunger, the pain, the power .

He wanted to learn not for the history of monsters, but for you.

The world had once belonged to monsters, and maybe it would again, and maybe he would let himself become one, if it meant he could keep you.

────────

You couldn't remember the last time that you were properly loved.

Maybe it was when you were first born, when you came into the world and held against your mothers chest for the first time. Maybe it was when your first birthday came around, and your Ma and Pa did everything that they could to make it special despite knowing you wouldn't remember anything. Maybe it was when your older brother told you he loved you for the first time after you had gotten into an argument, claiming that he didn't care for you, then he made sure to be the best big brother ever after that.

Maybe it was when your Pa tucked you in after a nightmare, his rough hands gentle as he brushed hair from your forehead, promising that nothing could hurt you while he was around. You had believed him then. You had believed that kind of love was enough to last forever.

That you would be loved like that, forever. But forever came and went and people disappeared.

The love that once wrapped around you began to fray at the edges until it fell apart altogether, until there was nothing left behind. So you stopped looking for it, you stopped searching for it for centuries.

The ache dulled over time, it had to. Eventually, you stopped counting the years, not because you forgot but because remembering only made it worse.

No one looked at you the way your Pa once did and no one made you feel known the way your brother had. No one had held you like your Ma did. No one reached for you without wanting something in return and somewhere along the way, you stopped wanting to be known at all.

You learned how to survive without love. You perfected the art of stillness, of strength and you buried the version of yourself who had once cried into her father’s chest and dreamed of love that never left. She was gone now, tucked away like a relic from another life.

It was easier that way, until it wasn't.

It became difficult three years ago when you came here , this palace that first felt like a prison but became a sanctuary of some sort. You were given a bed despite them knowing you didn't sleep, you were fed food despite them knowing you didn't eat. You were trained despite knowing how to fight and you were armoured despite them knowing you couldn't die.. well , couldn't die in the way that they thought.

That cage you built around your mind and your once beating heart began to rust, the bars began to weaken and in climbed unwanted feelings and intruders.

One of the intruders being the same man who should be untouchable. The same man who was out of reach the first time you came here, the same man who should be dangerous because of his authority over you and everyone else in the Kingdom but... he wasn't. He had made himself untouchable to you, he had pushed his way towards you and drew you closer and when you were close enough he had sank his teeth into you and made you his .

Except it was you who had sank your teeth into his skin, it was you who made him yours and now you had him, you had no idea what to do with it.

He had no business getting so close to you.

You told yourself that often, as if saying it enough would undo the moments when his hand brushed yours as you walked beside him, or the nights when his voice found you in the streets where no Prince or royalty should be. He lingered, and that was a problem.

When you looked at him, when you really looked at him, he met your gaze with a quiet intensity as if he was waiting for something, as if he already knew what you were thinking and sometimes you realized that he did.

Then you had let him in completely, you had shared a night with him that no bodyguard should share with a Prince, never mind a King .

You remember the way he had looked at you that night, like he couldn’t believe you were real. Like he couldn’t believe you were his, and like he couldn't believe you were giving yourself to him.

You remember the weight of his hands, how he touched you like he was learning you by memory. How he whispered your name, like it was the answer to a question he had been asking for years. How he offered his throat without hesitation, the barest tilt of his head revealing skin he knew you’d want, the skin he knew you’d crave.

And when you bit it was not hunger that drove you, it was pure need . You had fed before of course but never like that, never while someone’s hands were on your waist, tugging you closer. Never while someone moaned for it.

He didn’t stop you, he had begged you to continue.

You had left before the sun rose, ripping yourself out of his arms on your own accord.

You had resumed your duty outside his door before any of his maids and servants could arrive to prepare him for his coronation, and your night together hadn't been spoken about since.

But he’s never treated you the same, never looked at you with restraint again. Now when he meets your eyes its filled with pure need, pure desire and like he's seconds away from grabbing you in the corridor and having his way with you but he never did. He never touched you, he never plainly stated that he needed you again but that didn't mean he didn't tease .

Gods does he tease... he tempts, more than before and you didn't think that was possible.

He tempts you with every smirk, every drag of his gaze, every graze of his fingertips when he hands you something he could’ve tossed instead but worse than that is what he’s become since the coronation, since the crown settled onto his head and the weight of the kingdom landed on his shoulders.

He’s grown reckless. He was always reckless, he always chased the danger and its why he was so addicted to you, its why he loved the Silk Streets because it was dangerous and he needed it to feel alive. Recently, he spars too often, he pushes too far, bleeds more freely than he ever did as Prince because now as King, he knows no one will question him. Not his advisors, not his mother or his knights, not his people and definitely not you.

He throws himself into danger with the arrogance of someone who knows he’ll be caught, who expects to be caught, and when he looks at you bruised and breathless he doesn’t wear shame but he wears a smile, one that says he did it for you .

He wore it now, even tonight when everyone's eyes were on him.

Even as he glided through the room, greeting everyone and meeting the expectations that he was expected to meet. His mothers eyes were on him, watching and monitoring because she knew she had to get him under control somehow.

A few hours ago she had scolded him in front of all his advisors. For sparring like a fool, for the bruises that covered his body and the cut that lingered on his bottom lip.

It was just like how she had confronted him about him sneaking out, except this time Rafayel didn't bite back, he just sat and took whatever she threw his way.

The only time he did speak out was when she questioned your duty, turning her blazing eyes towards you and questioning why you weren't doing better, why weren't you watching him like you were supposed to, protecting him from reckless sparing and watching his every move.

"She is doing her job," Rafayel had told her, and the Queen had seemed shocked at his words "She's here to be my shield, my bodyguard... not my babysitter"

"Rafayel-"

"Her job is to stop others from harming me and that is exactly what she is doing," His voice had grown more stern, and you couldn't help but lift your eyes to stare at him "I choose to spar, which means I choose to get harmed"

The memory of his words echoed in your head hours later as you stood by the edge of the grand hall where you first met him. You were watching him slip through the crowd like he was born to rule, every step deliberate, every glance laced with charm and so unapologetically him .

You had dressed differently tonight, and you thought maybe that's why he kept looking over at you. Abandoning your royal bodyguard uniform for a rich blue silk dress that might have had you mistaken for a princess if no one knew who you were.. what you were. You couldn't say you were loving the fabric wrapped around you, however you would argue that Rafayel disagreed with you. His eyes were easy to read whenever he glanced at you, and you knew exactly what was going through his mind.

He looked at you not like a man entertaining potential wives, but rather like a predator scanning the room for his favourite weakness. He greeted his suitors with polite smiles, made the Queen proud with every bow and brief touch of a noblewoman’s hand but he never once looked at them like he looked at you.

His eyes found yours again for the fifth time that hour. They lingered, and shamelessly dragged down your figure in a slow yearning sense, like he could peel back the silk you were wearing with just a glance. He knew what was hidden underneath, he'd seen your skin, kissed it and worshipped it and treated it like it was his and maybe that's why he had a hard time looking away from you.

Then he smiled, that same fucking smile he always gave you. The lazy, knowing and dangerous kind that drew you in every time. He was still doing it for you, still baiting you and still trying to make you come to him.

A servant offered you wine, her hand shaking while she did and her eyes didn't meet your own and you just waved her away. You couldn't deal with it, not tonight. You couldn't deal with the fearful looks or the hatred eyes being sent your way you had dealt with it long enough. You just didn't care . Once she moved away your eyes focused on Rafayel again, the way he was drifting towards you.

Not quickly and definitely not obviously, just inch by inch through the crowd like he wasn't moving with intention. Regardless, even if he was to stand beside you no one would question it. You were known as his bodyguard so by his side or behind him was where you should be but tonight his job was to entertain, his job was to seal a future for his Kingdom.

And you fucking hated it.

You hated the way that he had stopped for a moment, letting a noblewoman rest her hand on his bare chest as she spoke softly into his ear. He laughed at something she said and you didn't look away, you refused to look away because you cared too much, more than you'd like to admit.

You wanted to show everyone in this hall that he had give himself to you a few nights ago, that he gave his body and his blood to you, that he had claimed you in ways that no one else ever had and told you that you were his .

When he met your eyes as she spoke into his ears you found yourself clenching your jaw. He was baiting you again, testing how far he could go before you snapped. Because your restraint was thin, thinner than it had ever been and now you weren't so sure that you were his perfect bodyguard anymore.

And the worst part?

You could already feel the heat rising in your chest. Maybe it was jealousy, seething jealousy that you had never felt before but it also felt darker. It felt possessive, and it had felt like that moment in the council chamber after you had tasted his blood for the first time and you had the fleeting thought of draining every woman in those brothels that had had their hands on him.

Rafayel made you feel hungry, but it wasn't your usual hunger born of blood but rather it was hunger of wanting to claim. He had been yours once, and now he was pretending not to be. He had done more than climb into the cage around your mind and heart, he had melted the iron bars and ensured that you couldn't run away from him anymore.

And if he wanted to play games tonight, you were going to remind him who started this.

You didn’t move at first.

You stayed still, almost statue like as you watched him but you knew how this would end. He was still watching you, still letting her speak against his skin while never breaking that long, burning gaze. Then he smiled at her, but it wasn’t the same smile he gave you, no this one was polite, almost bored? but it didn’t matter. It was still wide, it still felt like a punch to your gut.

You stood still for a moment more, your eyes locked on his like you were daring him to keep playing this game. He tilted his head just slightly in response, not meant for her eyes but for yours and he knew you'd notice. You always saw everything he did, especially when it was for you.

Because that’s what this was, the game that he would play with you only this time, the stakes were higher.

Your feet moved before your mind could stop them.

You cut through the crowd with the kind of ease that only came from being feared. Nobles stepped aside for you instinctively, not because of your title or role, but because you looked like you might burn this entire palace down if someone dared block your path. You didn’t care about etiquette, you didn’t care about whispers or what this might look like.

All you cared about was him .

He was watching as you moved closer and only when you got close enough, he looked away and towards the woman by his side. She had just finished her flirtatious whisper, or whatever she was trying to tempt him with before she was dismissed with a nod of his head.

It was only when she was gone that he turned his attention fully to you, the only person in this hall that he was interested in and it wasn't known to you but in his mind he was screaming finally .

You didn’t need to say a word, and now when his eyes were focussed only on you, his face lit up with another smile that played at the edge of his mouth.

That cut on his bottom lip that he had been scolded for just hours ago was now split open again, fresh blood poking through and this time you knew it wasn't just Rafayel who was testing you but the world itself. There were scratches across his knuckles, a small purple bruise rising beneath the hollow of his throat and you truly wondered how hard he had sparred.

He didn’t look ashamed, not even close.

"You’re bleeding" you told him flatly, because you needed to say something before you forgot yourself.

You needed to say something before you acted on the impulse to drag him somewhere dark and private and tear him apart with your hands and your mouth and everything you’d been holding back since that night.

You kept your gaze locked on the damaged skin, eyes filled with something that wasn't concern, not entirely anyway but it was more from anger, from want , from everything else you had tried to choke down tonight.

Rafayel’s eyes didn’t leave yours.

He swiped his thumb slowly across his bottom lip, catching the streak of blood with a casualness that would have made your pulse spike. He glanced down at it, at the smear of red against his skin and then, still smiling, lifted his gaze to yours again.

"Well... I suppose that means that I’m having too much fun" he said. Shameless .

And gods, he knew . He knew exactly what that would do to you.

How the sight of his blood, the taste of it still burned into your memory, would pull at something inside you. He knew how your body would react to that line, to the sight of him bruised, bleeding and reckless all because he wanted your attention.

And now he had it.

Your eyes dropped to the blood on his thumb, bright and wet in the low light and for a moment you swore the world stopped moving. The pull was so sudden it nearly startled you. You knew exactly how he tasted. You remembered the way his blood had spilled warm against your tongue, remembered how he had moaned into your mouth like the feeling of being drained by you was more pleasure than pain.

The memory hit you as you watched the motion of his hand. His thumb hovered near his mouth, lips parting just slightly as if he might drag that blood across his tongue and you hated how badly you wanted him to.

You hated how badly you wanted to lean in, close the space between you and take his hand in yours and bring it to your mouth instead like you had done once before. To taste him again. To remind you both of the night where everything was only him and only you, when the world outside these palace walls hadn’t mattered and he hadn’t been a king and you hadn’t cared that you were a monster.

He tilted his head just a little and then, eyes still locked on yours, he slipped his thumb into his mouth.

Fucking asshole.

You watched as his lips closed around his thumb and he drew the blood from his skin like it meant nothing, like he didn’t know exactly what that would do to you. But he did, of course he did. Your jaw tightened and you swore the rest of the room faded into a dull hum.

After what felt like minutes but was really seconds he pulled his thumb from his mouth and the corner of his lip quirked upward. Smug .

"Still hungry?" he murmured, and you clenched your jaw in response.

"You think this is funny?" you asked.

"What I think is funny.. is how you look at me when you're tempted," he responded, voice pitched low enough to curl beneath your skin "Like you don’t know whether to kiss me, or kill me"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt too tight and your fists were clenched at your sides, as if that could keep you from grabbing him by the collar and shoving him into the nearest wall.

He took a step closer to you, not enough to cause suspicion or enough for anyone to notice but just enough for you to feel the heat coming off him. Just enough to remind you that there had once been no space between your bodies at all.

"I don’t mind you know," he said, softer now "Either one is fine"

Your eyes snapped up to meet his and the look he gave you was all hunger, all heat, it was him daring you.

"Don’t.." you breathed, and it was all that you could manage to say.

"Don’t what?" he asked, eyes dancing with that maddening, deliberate cruelty only he could make feel like foreplay.

"I said don’t " you snapped, a little louder now and someone a few feet away glanced toward you before politely looking back down into their wine.

But Rafayel didn’t flinch, he never did. He had told you that the only thing he was afraid of when it came to you was that you'd deny him.

His gaze stayed fixed on you, unreadable to anyone else but not to you. You knew exactly what he was thinking because you were thinking it too.. what it would feel like to give in right here, in front of all these people, to throw decorum to the wind and let your hunger speak louder than your duty.

"You shouldn't say things like that," you said at last, voice surprisingly steady "Not when you know what I am"

He only snorted in response, eyes fleeting over your figure and your clenched fists before meeting your eyes again.

"You’re shaking," he said under his breath and his tone was so maddeningly gentle you almost lost it right then and there "Is it anger, or is it want?"

"I-"

He leaned in, not quite close enough to touch but close enough that the scent of him began to blind all of your senses.

"I could kiss you right now," he murmured once again "and not a single person here would be able to stop me"

You stared at him, frozen. Every part of you screaming not to take the bait but fuck , he made it so hard.

"You wouldn’t..." you managed. He tilted his head, and his smile twisted.

"You want to know what I think?" he whispered, his voice so low you felt it more than heard it.

"No" you said, even though you did, you both knew it.

"I think you want me to do it," he began, and you hated how much hold he had over you at this moment "You want me to forget the room... forget the crown, forget that anyone is watching. Just take you in my hands and-"

" Stop "

He did. Caught mid sentence, gaze drifting from your lips to yours eyes as if he couldn't decide where he wanted to look the most. He waited for you to say something else, to tell him he was overstepping and that you wanted nothing to do with him but you didn't.

You didn’t.

Rafayel’s eyes narrowed slightly not in suspicion but something crueler. Like he could smell the want on you, like he knew you were biting down on it so hard it hurt. Your mouth parted, but nothing came out. You hated him. You hated how calm he was, how deadly he could be with nothing but a mouth and a heartbeat.

Your gaze snapped back to his, a feeling of your breath catching in your throat, the fire in your belly starting to rise and you were just about to say something, do something, when-

" Rafayel "

You both froze as the voice cracked across the hall. It wasn't loud, more calm and calmer than the tension between the two of you right now and in a way you were thankful for it.

Until you weren't, until you realised just who it was who was calling him.

The Queen’s voice cut through the space between you, and you knew if there was anyone you'd have the joy of killing it would be her . For her cruel ways, her cruel words not only towards you but her very own son who even now refused to meet her eyes as she approached the two of you. Even further into her cruelty she wasn't alone, and you sighed when you realised just who was beside her.

"Rafayel," her voice spoke out again as she stood next to you both "Tara... I believe you and Rafayel haven’t had the chance to speak properly tonight"

The name alone was enough to stir everything ugly in you. Jealousy, anger, fear . You remembered the council chamber vividly, remembered how casually he had tossed out her name like it meant nothing and now it was coming back to bite not only you but him. He realised it too when his eyes left your figure to meet the cold gaze of his mother.

Perhaps Princess Tara of Linkon might be a good match . His own words, now resurfaced now more than ever and by his very own mother and now she was here, in the flesh. Everything that a good suitor should be. Smiling, and beautiful beyond words. Perfect .

"My King.." she curtsied gracefully, her voice was polite and you felt run through you because it was everything you weren't.

You saw it first, that flicker of annoyance in Rafayel’s eyes that was gone in a blink. He didn’t move immediately, didn’t rush forward to greet her, didn’t play the eager King his mother wanted him to be. His hands remained loose at his sides, body still angled slightly toward you like he hadn’t quite dismissed your presence yet.

Then almost reluctantly he straightened, expression smoothing into the polite, unreadable one he always wore at court.

"Princess," he said, bowing his head like he was taught to do "I hope the ball has treated you kindly"

"Oh.. quite," Tara said with a warm smile, curtsying deeply and feeling slightly flustered under his gaze "Though I admit, I was beginning to think I wouldn’t catch your attention tonight"

You stiffened and Rafayel’s jaw tightened just slightly, a tension no one else might’ve noticed but you did. You saw the way his eyes flicked toward you for the briefest moment, how his fingers flexed as though resisting the urge to reach back. The Queen, of course, noticed none of it... or pretended not to.

"Walk her through the gardens, Rafayel," she said smoothly, stepping beside him now with her hand resting lightly on his shoulder "She’s travelled quite far, and I think it would be rude not to accompany her"

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Rafayel didn’t move immediately. He stood still, lips parted like he wanted to speak but couldn’t quite find the words. His mother’s hand still rested lightly on his shoulder but you saw the way his spine stiffened beneath her touch. A puppet straining against his strings.

Then he looked at you, and for a second you worried what both women across from you would think. He wasn't subtle about it, not at all and you refused to meet his eyes completely out of fear that something would happen. However from the corner of your eye you noticed that he wasn't looking at you the way he usually would. No, this look was one that you'd be brave enough to call guilt, maybe regret?

Maybe it was him looking at you to see if you would stop him but you didn’t, so you gave him nothing instead, and that was the cruelest part of it all.

Because Rafayel’s hand twitched at his side again. It was like he wanted to reach for you, to take one last step in your direction but he didn’t, he couldn’t. Instead, you watched that familiar mask fall over his face again, watched him fold himself back into the role he’d been born to play.

"It would be my pleasure" he said, voice perfectly smooth. It was too perfect.

Tara beamed and slid her hand through the crook of his arm. She leaned in slightly, her shoulder brushing against his and you stood still, holding your breath as rage and ache mixed with the heat that began to curdle in your stomach as he walked past you with her.

You knew this was a show, a move on the board and a decision he hadn’t made for himself but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Didn’t stop the violent possessiveness that whispered to you to tear the whole charade down. He didn't look back.

And you wondered, in fact you hoped that maybe he was thinking of you the entire time.

Then, like she had been waiting for the exact moment your guard would falter, the Queen appeared closer at your side. She didn’t speak right away, just stood beside you as you both watched them retreat away from the hall and towards the gardens. You turned slowly, ready to face her because you knew that you had no choice. You had never had a choice when it came to her.

"I was beginning to wonder if you knew how to wear something softer," she said coolly "You almost look... tame "

Tame . The word was suited when it came to you, at least she thought it was. That's what you were taught to be like. Tame, a beast roaming around without chains because it knew its place and knew the consequences of stepping out of line. That's what she wanted though, to provoke. To remind you that in her eyes, no matter what fine clothing was draped across your skin or how many times you fought to protect her son, you were still what she called you in the early days.

A thing. A creature .

You bowed your head in submission.

"Only for special occasions, my Queen"

Her lips curved, in nothing else but amusement. As if she enjoyed seeing you like this , bowing before her like the animal she knew that you were. In this exact moment you were thankful that she didn't know exactly what you were, because you knew that she would destroy you in front of all these people and not feel an ounce of guilt.

"You carry yourself with such conviction," she said the word as if it was an insult, as if it was a compliment she didn't want to give you "as if loyalty could erase what every one already knows what you are but... no amount of nice clothing can hide the monster that you actually are"

You didn’t flinch, you never did, not in front of her. But the words dug deep anyway, the familiar burn of rage and humiliation washing over you and no matter how many times you stood in these halls, dressed like them, trained like them, loyal past the point of reason it never mattered, not to her. Not to the woman who still saw you as something else, something that was made not born.

Instead you lifted your chin, hands at your side even though everything inside you was screaming to bare your teeth and show her exactly who she was provoking. Then again, that is what she wanted.. she wanted for you to rise to it, to prove her point, anything to prove to everyone that you couldn't be trusted no matter how many times Rafayel vouched for you and protected you.

"Of course not, my Queen" your voice was soft when you responded, not meekly but more controlled. You spoke carefully to her, you had to. The Queen smiled once again, it was curved as if she could taste your restraint, as if watching you hold yourself back was more uplifting than you being broken entirely.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see Rafayel as he left through the open arch toward the gardens, his head bowed toward the girl beside him. He hadn’t looked back, he wasn't aware of what he had left behind and the thought made you want to call out to him. To beg him to make his mother stop .

The Queen’s gaze followed yours, and the faintest sound of amusement slipped from her throat.

"They look well together, don’t they?" she said, as if commenting on a painting or the weather "She knows how to walk beside him... not behind "

Ouch.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t even blink, though your chest pulled tight and you wanted out of this fucking hall, out of this conversation and back to where you were stood before you foolishly stormed your way towards him. You knew that if anyone was going to get you to react, it would be him.

For a moment the Queen’s smile faltered, as if disappointed you hadn’t snapped and she stepped closer again, her voice dropping to a whisper so venomous it could have melted through your skin.

"You’re good at pretending," she said, almost kindly "At playing the loyal dog but make no mistake, I will not let you forget what you are, and when he finally sees it too... I’ll make sure there’s nothing left for him to salvage"

Then, like she hadn’t just flayed you open with her tongue, she straightened and walked away. Elegantly like always, robes trailing behind her like the ocean, as though your silence had satisfied her after all.

You stood there long after she was gone, and if you still had a pulse it would have been screaming loud in your ears. It was quiet now, or at least it felt that way, the hum of the grand hall had dulled slightly, like you were submerged beneath water, watching it all happen.

Someone laughed a few feet away from you and it made your jaw clench. They weren't laughing at you, but it felt like they were.

Your hands were still at your sides but they ached from how hard you were holding yourself still, fingers curled so tightly you wouldn’t be surprised to find crescents pressed into your skin later. You blinked once, slow, and then turned your head just slightly, back toward the archway that led to the gardens.

No sign of him.

No flicker of plum hair returning, no hurried steps, no glancing over his shoulder like maybe he remembered. Like maybe he felt the shift in the air the moment his mother decided to plunge her claws into you. He had walked away with her on his arm and hadn’t looked back.

And gods , you wanted to believe that it meant nothing. That it was strategy, politics, his duty, that it was the price of the crown but it didn’t feel like nothing. Not when the echo of the Queen’s voice still clung to you, not when her words sank their teeth into your spine and twisted, not when she’d looked at you and spoken of loyalty like it was a costume you wore, not a choice you made every fucking day.

You felt hollow, like the effort of staying still was the only thing holding your body together and still you didn't crack, still you didn't snap or break but it was getting harder to remember why that mattered.

Now standing here alone, you once again tried to remember the last time you had been properly loved.

────────

Whalefall city looked different at night.

Despite knowing exactly what kind of chaos lived in those forbidden streets below the palace, from here, from this place above it all it seemed too quiet, too calm. You just wished that the war inside your mind was just as peaceful.

You hadn’t meant to end up here. Your feet had just carried you, like they remembered something your mind was too tired to chase and now here you stood, hands curled around the large balcony railing, eyes locked on the moon like it might have something new to offer you.

He had brought you here once, that night after his first council meeting as the new heir. Back then, it had been easier. You had only been his bodyguard, his shield and his sword, and you hadn’t touched him, he hadn't touched you. You hadn’t tasted him, you hadn’t ruined yourself for him.

The breeze stirred your hair and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the wind do what it pleased. If only it could sweep all of this out of you.. the weight, the wanting and the yearning. The memory of his hands.

You really couldn't deny it anymore. You couldn't deny that it was him you truly wanted, no one else, and that thought made everything so terrifying.

The ball had ended hours ago and it was well into the night now. You hadn’t seen him since he left to the gardens with Princess Tara and your jaw clenched at the memory. You didn’t hate Tara, you couldn’t bring yourself to as much as you told yourself it would be easier to. You didn’t hate her soft smile, or the way she had looked at him like he was the answer to every question she had ever wanted to ask. You hated how easy it was to imagine her at his side, the perfect future queen, everything he deserved and everything you weren’t.

She was perfect, and you envied her. She could freely walk with him as a partner, she could freely touch him and she could freely express her admiration and love for him and you...

Love? Is that what you had for Rafayel? It couldn’t be, could it?

The thought made you shake your head to yourself. No, you were a vampire, a monster , a creature that was controlled and if it was love then it could only be described as the love a dog has for its owner.

The more your mind swirled the harder you gripped the railing until you heard it creaking under your grip. Stupid stupid man who had ruined everything for you. Ruined your mind, your body, your soul.. and the worst thing is, it hadn’t been ruined for the worst.

Why did he have to tempt you, this was a King who could have anyone he wanted and he did. He cruised through the Silk Streets with any woman he desired and no one batted an eye but why was it you he chose in the end. Why did he seek you out, why did he call you his if he wasn’t going to do more about it.

You stepped away from the railing before it could snap in two and made your way down the hall. It was muscle memory that guided you, your feet retracing the familiar path through the palace halls, past the guards who had long since learned to ignore your presence, to the corridor outside his chambers where you had stood a thousand times before.

You were supposed to stay here, posted outside his door and that was your place. That was all you had ever been meant to be.

You stood there for a while, staring at the large door, at the faint glow of light beneath it, your breath caught in your throat as you focused on your hearing for any sound from within. Any sound that she was with him. You could only hear the low crackle of the fireplace, the muffled splash of water and you realised that he was bathing, and your once beating heart stuttered.

You should have turned away. You should have taken your place beside the door, as you always had, as you were meant to do but your hand lifted, hovering just above the handle, trembling as you tried to convince yourself to leave and to walk away, to be the weapon you had been trained to be.

Instead you ignored your morals and your oath and stepped inside, shutting the doors behind you.

The damage had already been done.

The door clicked softly behind you, sealing the warmth around your cold skin and for a moment all you could hear was the fire and the gentle splash of water as Rafayel moved in the bath. As you moved around the corner to where his bathroom was you noticed the steam that curled around him, drifting past the edges of the marble tub where his long frame was folded into the heat, water beading and rolling down the sharp cut of his shoulders, his hair damp and sticking to his temples.

You could see the way his chest rose and fell. His head lifted, eyes catching yours in the low firelight and there was a moment of stillness that pulled tight between you.

He didn’t look surprised for long, and what replaced it was worse because it was softer, warmer, the kind of warmth that made you want to walk forward and sink into him, even when you knew you shouldn’t. His gaze swept over you, dragging over the lines of your body as if memorizing the way you looked in the doorway and the way you looked in those unfamiliar clothes.

"This is a nice surprise.." His voice was low, a hint of amusement there but you noticed the edge of his words, as if he was holding back on saying more.

You didn’t move, your hands still curled into fists at your sides, your feet planted to the floor like leaving would be easier than stepping closer, like you could still pretend that you didn’t want to, that you hadn’t come here on purpose even if you didn’t want to admit it.

"I’m not supposed to be here" you told him, clenching your jaw tightly. The words tasted like ash on your tongue because they were true, and yet you were still here. He moved his hand up his arm, moving water along his skin where he began to grow cold and your thoughts began to swirl.

You saw the way his gaze didn’t leave you even for a moment, pinned and burning as if he was afraid to blink and lose you.

"No," he said softly, thumb brushing over his own wrist before lowering his hand back into the water, ripples shifting around him "You’re not"

In this light you could see the extent of his bruises, the cut on his bottom lip that he had teased you with hours before. His golden skin battered and tainted by cuts and purple splotches and it was all for you. All because he wanted your attention.

He didn’t know that he didn’t have to try that hard, that your attention was always on him and always would be.

Your hands curled tighter at your sides, nails biting into your palms as you tried to anchor yourself, tried to remember every reason you shouldn’t cross the space between you, every law you had already broken and every promise you had already shattered for him. Your chest ached, there was a thunderstorm in your mind, and your breathing betrayed you with how uneven it was, how hungry it sounded in the hush of the room.

"I should leave.." you whispered, but the words were a lie because you didn’t move, couldn’t , your eyes tracing the lines of his throat, the way a droplet clung to his collarbone before sliding down lower, disappearing into the steam.

He leaned back against the marble, arms resting on the rim of the tub, stretching himself open for you without shame and you saw the way his chest rose again, deeper this time, a silent invitation willing you closer.

"Then leave" he said calmly but you saw the way his jaw flexed, the way his fingers tightened against the marble, the way his eyes flickered down to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes. Don’t leave .

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

The room smelled of fire and warm water.. of him , and the air was heavy, coaxing heat into your blood until you felt dizzy with it, your legs refusing to obey you as you stood there trembling from want, from everything you had been pretending you could push down.

His eyes softened but there was heat there too, the kind that licked at the edges of your resolve and made your throat tighten.

"You didn’t come here to leave.." he murmured, the smallest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth but it wasn’t cruel, it was almost tender and that was worse, so much worse because it made you want to step forward and let him ruin you all over again.

The steam curled around you, wrapping your body in warmth as you took a single, dangerous step closer, your eyes locked on his and for a moment you let yourself remember how it felt to be under him, to taste the sounds he made when you dragged your teeth along his throat, to feel him break apart in your hands.

"I shouldn’t be here" you said again, softer now but you kept walking until you were at the edge of the tub, looking down at him, your breath catching when his hands lifted, hovering in the water, like he was resisting the urge to reach for you.

His eyes darkened, a storm rolling across the sea and for a moment, the mask of the king fell away, leaving only Rafayel. The man who had begged to see the most monstrous part of you and still called you beautiful. The man who kissed you like you were his salvation and made you his and made you never forget what his touch felt like.

"But you are" he whispered, water dripping from his fingertips as he finally let his hand rise, stopping just short of your leg, close enough that the warmth of him kissed your skin without touching.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin that was yet to touch you properly but his presence was so strong you felt him everywhere at once without him even laying a hand on you.

For a moment you let yourself imagine stepping back, letting this end before it could begin, before it could swallow you both whole but when you opened your eyes again, you were still there, standing over him, your pulse a wild, hungry thing in your throat as you looked down at him, as you let your eyes sweep over the lines of his shoulders, the cut of his throat, the way the soft glow of the fire painted every drop of water on his skin in molten gold.

He looked like royalty, but he was yours .

" Don’t... " you whispered, and you saw his eyes flick up to yours, confusion flickering across them before you took a slow, deliberate step closer, so close that your knees brushed the marble, so close that if he breathed too deeply, you would feel it against your thighs "Don’t touch me"

He was confused for a moment, wondering if that was you telling him not to touch you ever again and he would, he would listen although it would kill him.

But your eyes said differently.

Oh .

His fingers curled, water dripping from them as he pulled his hand back, obeying you and you saw the want flash across his face before he shuttered it away. There was a presence of excitement swirling in his eyes, and he didn’t look away for a second.

Not even when your hands lifted to the back of the silk you were wearing, undoing the string at the back. Your fingers working slowly, carefully, your eyes never leaving his as you let the fabric loosen, exposing the skin of your collarbone to the warm air.

You saw the way his eyes darkened, the way they dropped to your throat, to the slow reveal of your skin, his breath quickening even as he tried to hide it, his hands gripping the edge of the marble so tightly that his knuckles went white beneath the water.

The silk around you was as loose as it was when you first put it on, and it was your hands that held it against your chest. Testing .. waiting, waiting for any indicator from him that he wanted you to leave, wanted you to walk away, that you were crossing lines you shouldn’t be.

But he didn’t, so you let the silk fall to the floor, leaving your skin bare to the glow of the firelight and to him .

His lips parted. A soft, broken sound leaving him that he tried to swallow down, his eyes dragging over you with a hunger so sharp it made your knees feel weak, but you stood your ground, letting him look, letting him want , letting him break.

Because he wasn’t the only one who could tease, who could tempt. For the first time with him, you felt like the predator and him the prey. The monster and the human. You weren’t equals, you never would be. You overpowered him in strength and he overpowered you in status, and yet there was no fear between you.

"I shouldn’t be here.." you said once more, only this time there was a hint of confidence, a hint of dominance that you didn’t usually have around him "But you shouldn’t be looking at me like that "

Your voice was soft at the end, dangling the prey in front of his eyes and the edge of a cruel smile tugged slightly at your lips as you stepped away from your clothing, leaving yourself bare in the glow of the fire.

He made a sound, one you had never heard from him before, it was so quiet it might have been mistaken for the breath of the fire if you hadn’t been watching him so closely. The sound of a man fighting himself, fighting the command you had given him, fighting the way every part of him was begging to reach for you, to pull you down into the water, to ruin you and himself in the same breath.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and his eyes... gods , his eyes looked almost pained, glazed with want so sharp it looked like it hurt him to hold it in, to keep his hands wrapped around the marble instead of around your hips, your throat, your hair.

You let your hair fall forward as you tilted your head, letting it brush against your collarbone and down across your chest, watching the way his eyes tracked it, the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to bury them in it, to pull you down and lose himself in you.

The steam curled around your bare skin, kissing at your thighs, your waist, your breasts, and you knew you looked like sin itself standing there, bathed in firelight, your body glistening with the heat and the soft sheen of your own sweat. You felt powerful, felt the monster they all feared you were, felt the creature they whispered about in the halls and you saw the way Rafayel was looking at you now, like he finally saw it too.

And he wasn’t afraid.

No, he was captivated, even drunk on the sight of you, on the power you wielded so effortlessly in that moment, on the way you held him there without a single touch, without a single command beyond that soft word, don’t .

You let your hand hover above the water for a moment, above his chest, so close that he could feel your heat. His eyes flickered to your hand, to your face, back to your hand and his jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep his breathing even, as he tried to hold on to the last scraps of the prince, the heir , the man who was meant to rule and not to beg for anything in his life.

But when it came to you, he was willing to beg and plead for anything.

You held his gaze as you shifted your weight, your bare foot lifting and the water below was inviting as you hovered it over the edge of the bath. His eyes tracked it, the way his jaw tightened betraying the war inside him, the way he was fighting not to reach for you, not to break your rule.

You let your foot dip into the water, heat searing up your calf as you stepped over the edge of the tub without asking. Then without warning, you lowered yourself slowly, letting him watch the water crawl up your thighs, your hips, your waist as you descended into the bath.

You settled in front of him, your knees brushing his own under the water as you knelt in between his parted legs and he was more than happy to make some room for you. You were now close enough to him that if you leant forward, your chest would press against his, your mouth would brush his jaw and your skin would slide against his as you both wanted but you didn’t. You held out just that moment longer.

His hands had moved, gripping the edge of the bath again, knuckles pale, his tendons straining, like the only thing keeping him from reaching for you was the marble beneath his hands.

You tilted your head, your steam wet hair sliding across your shoulders as you looked at him, letting your eyes trace the curve of his lips, the dark and hungry look in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell like he had just run from something that terrified him.

"You’re shaking," you said softly, your eyes holding his own as you leant more towards him, your breath ghosting his jaw and he shuddered at the feeling "Is it anger, or is it want ?"

He gasped slightly, recognising those words from earlier in the hall, the same ones he had uttered to you only this time you were using them against him. The thought made him smile blissfully, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to give you more room to work.

" Want .." he responded, fingers aching from the grip he had on the sides of the bath tub "It’s always want with you"

You let your lips curve into a smile, and a breath of amusement escaped from your nose, warming his skin even further as you moved closer. He felt your hardened nipples graze his chest and he was willing himself not to give in, not to take just yet because he had no idea if you’d deprive him altogether if he disobeyed.

"But you can’t touch me.." you whispered again, and the way his breath stuttered out of him, the way his hands trembled, made something dark and satisfied curl in your chest.

He nodded, jaw tight, the muscle ticking as he forced himself to obey you. Even now, even when you were so close he could feel the heat of your skin, smell the clean, wild scent of you, the soft warmth of your breath on his neck.

"I won’t" he whispered in return but it sounded like a lie, sounded like it cost him everything to say it, like the promise was tearing him apart from the inside.

The satisfied smile soon drifted from his lips the longer you made him wait. The longer you sat there, between his parted legs with just your breath ghosting his skin. You let yourself look at him for a moment, let yourself see him. The prince, the king , the man who ruled everyone but you, the man who was breaking in your hands without you even touching him.

And you liked it.

You missed having this control. This was the control that you as a vampire should have, but instead it was him who had this power over you.

You leant forward once more, letting your lips hover just above the skin of his throat, so close that you could feel the warmth of him, the rapid and desperate pulse beneath his skin, and the blood pumping through his veins that was so inviting. Your canines poked slightly but you willed them down.

"Good boy.." you whispered, and you allowed your lips to peck his throat just once and from your words and action alone his hips bucked slightly under the water.

You pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes again and they were filled with so much lust, so much willpower to stay still and let you have this because he was enjoying every second of it. He was enjoying being at your mercy, but gods did he want to lay his hands over you.

He missed you.

And you saw it, just about. You also saw the way the last of his control splintered behind his eyes, the way the king fell away, leaving only the man beneath, the man who wanted you so badly it was killing him, the man who would do anything, give anything just for the permission to have you.

And for the first time in a while, it was you who held that power.

Your fingers skimmed just above the water, tracing lazy patterns in the heat, the soft ripple of it brushing against his chest, his ribs, his thighs beneath the surface. You let yourself look at him as you did it, let yourself see the way his lips parted around a sound he swallowed down, the way his chest rose and fell too quickly and unevenly.

" Hm you’re trying so hard, aren’t you?" you murmured, your lips brushing his ear, just the tip of it before you moved lower, letting your mouth hover over the point where his pulse beat the fastest "Trying to be good.. trying to be strong"

" Fuck .." he uttered the curse out the second he felt your teeth bite into his lobe and pull, his blood rushing to the neglected body part between his legs.

"Is this hard for you?" there was a ghost of amusement threading through the question, and your head tilted as your eyes met his, refusing to give him a place to hide.

"Yes," His voice was raw and he responded without a thought. His eyes were black in the firelight, pupils blown wide "You know it is"

Your fingers dipped lower, letting them brush against his knee under the water and his entire body jerked as if you had burned him. His hands tightened around the marble, water dripping from his wrists, arms trembling with the force of keeping them there.

You let your lips ghost against his throat once more as your hand lifted out the water, droplets trailing down your arm as you brought it to his bare chest. You placed your hand there, feeling the way his heart stuttered under your palm, the heat of his skin soaking into your own as your thumb brushed the edge of his collarbone.

You felt powerful, and you also felt alive.

His breath hitched, a soft, broken sound leaving him as his head turned slightly, enjoying the feeling of your lips on his throat. He pressed the tiniest bit closer to your lips before he caught himself, a quiet whimper tearing from him as he forced himself to stop.

"Please..." It slipped out of him, a single word carrying all the desperation he was trying to hide, and it made something hungry coil inside you.

"Please, what hm ?" you asked, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke, letting him feel you, letting him imagine what it would feel like if you just bit down, if you just took what you wanted "use your words now"

His hands spasmed against the marble, water splashing as he choked on his own breath, his chest heaving under your palm as you pressed just a little harder.

"Please.. please let me.." His words died, dissolving into a gasp as your thumb stroked down the line of his throat, tracing the dip there.

"Let you what?" you asked, your voice a whisper as, your other hand lifted to trail wet fingertips up the inside of his thigh under the water, so close to where he was hard and aching for you but not touching, just letting him feel every inch of the distance you kept between you.

"Let-Let me touch.. you" His voice was a plea, a confession, a whimper that nearly made you give in if you didn’t enjoy having him putty this way.

His head fell forward, his forehead brushing against your shoulder as if he couldn’t hold it up anymore, as if the weight of wanting you was too heavy to bear.

Your lips curved as your fingers slid higher, tracing the crease of his hip, the hard edge of muscle there, letting your nails scrape lightly across it as you leaned down, your lips brushing the shell of his ear once more.

" No, " you whispered, and you felt the way his entire body shuddered "but you can watch"

The hand that was on his chest slid down and into the water, nails grazing his abs before landing on your own thigh, slipping between your legs under the water. You didn’t take your time, he had no chance to drink up your movements and that almost crumbled him. Your eyes never left his as you touched yourself, the slick coating your fingers, letting him see what you weren’t allowing him to touch.

Yet .

His eyes snapped open in shock, fixed on you with a hunger so sharp it was almost pain, his breath ragged as he tried to hold himself back, tried not to move, tried to be good for you.

But you saw the way his resolve cracked, the way a low and helpless moan escaped him, the way his hands clenched so hard around the marble that his knuckles were bloodless, the way his entire body strained toward you despite himself.

" Fuck .. no" he whispered softer this time, like he was begging you not for your body, but for your mercy.

You smiled again. Tilting your head, your wet hair sliding across your skin as your lips curved, your fingers sliding against yourself under the water, letting him see the way your body moved, the way your breath caught, the way your eyes fluttered as you touched yourself in front of him. Touched yourself for him.

"Watch me, Rafayel.." you whispered, your voice was low but trembling with power, your eyes locking with his as you let yourself fall into it, let yourself take what you wanted while letting him burn for you, letting him know that this was yours.

That he was yours.

And as his lips parted around another broken sound, his eyes wide and dark and hungry as they devoured you, you knew that he would give you anything you asked.

You saw him fighting it, the sight was slightly amusing. You saw the sharp rise and fall of his chest as your fingers moved slowly under the water, the ripples carrying your own heat to him without letting him take anything for himself.

Your eyes dragged over him, drinking in the water beading down the bruises on his ribs. Deep purple blooming across the sharp planes of his body from the training floor, from the weight of the crown pressing down on him every single day. The cut on his bottom lip, split and healing, pink and raw and the same one that teased you just hours ago.

You reached out, letting your free fingertips brush across that cut. The lightest touch, and he flinched, his lips parting on a soft gasp.

You let your thumb press lightly against the cut, dragging it down across his lip deliberately, and you watched as his eyes fluttered closed, his head tilting forward, forehead brushing against your collarbone as if he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

"Stay still" you breathed against his temple, your other hand still working yourself under the water, your breath catching as you felt the slow, sweet burn of pleasure building in your belly, your thighs tightening around your own hand.

But he didn’t stay still.

His lips found your shoulder first, a soft kiss pressed to the curve where your neck met your collarbone, water dripping from his hair and sliding down your skin. Another kiss, higher this time and closer to your throat.

"Raf- Rafayel " you said but your voice wasn’t sharp enough to stop him, your body betraying you as it leant into the warmth of his mouth, into the desperate softness of each kiss he pressed against your skin.

"Please.." he whispered against your throat, his breath shaking, his lips brushing over the pulse that was once there, lingering as if he could taste how fast it was, how close you were to falling apart in front of him.

Your hand tangled in his damp hair, pulling lightly to tilt his head back, forcing him to look up at you. His lips were red and parted, that cut on his bottom lip shining in the firelight and you saw the way his pupils had swallowed the pink and blue of his eyes, leaving him looking almost wild, almost feral but he was still yours.

"You don’t get to touch" you said, a moan trailing off the edge of your sentence. Your hand moved from his hair, thumb now brushing across his bottom lip again, collecting a small bead of blood where the cut had reopened under your touch.

His breath hitched and his tongue darted out to taste the blood you had coaxed free, his eyes never leaving yours as he did it.

"But I need to," he breathed, voice wrecked, a whimper in his words "I need to-"

" No " you cut him off, your hips shifting under the water.

Your thighs brushed his as you worked yourself harder now, letting your head fall back, letting your eyes flutter closed for just a moment as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you as you rubbed your clit faster.

He made another one of those delicious sounds, something so hungry it cracked through the air and you felt him press another kiss, this one to the hollow of your throat, ignoring all your warnings.

"Don’t move " you ordered, your voice sharper now, your hand tightening in his hair to hold him exactly where you wanted.

And he obeyed, even as tears began to prick at the corners of his eyes from the effort, from the need, from the raw ache of wanting you when he was not allowed to take you.

Another kiss that was softer this time, pressed to the space just below your jaw, a silent worship as you let your pleasure build and shatter inside you, your body trembling as you held him there, letting him feel every second of your unravelling while he remained helpless and shaking.

At some point you gave up trying to stop him from kissing you, because it felt too fucking good.

You just pressed your hand to the back of his head, holding him there, forcing him to keep kissing, to keep worshipping you as your hips rolled in small desperate movements, as your lips parted in a gasp you couldn’t swallow down.

"You’re so good," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling and eyes fluttering as his tongue dragged over your pulse, as he tried to suck a mark into your skin "gods, you’re so good for me, Rafayel-"

The way he moaned at that, the sound breaking apart against your skin, his teeth scraping gently before he pressed frantic, open mouthed kisses across your collarbone, up your throat, to your jaw.

The pressure in your stomach coiled tighter, tighter , your thighs trembling, the water sloshing softly around you, the firelight dancing across your skin.

And as your climax finally ripped through you and your body tightened, your breath caught in a sharp, desperate sound and he felt every second of it.

He felt the way your body shivered under his mouth, felt the way your hand tightened in his hair holding him in place as your pleasure poured through you like fire and he kissed you harder, rougher and hungrily , moaning into your skin as if he could come undone from your pleasure alone.

You came on your fingers, hips stuttering under the water as you did and you were so surprised how quickly it happened. Without his help, other than the feeling of his lips on your skin, you wanted to give up the hold you had on him in this moment and just let him devour you.

But you hadn’t finished having fun.

When calmed from your orgasm, you let your head lower, eyes meeting his as he looked up at you with that shattered hunger. His lips swollen, the cut bleeding softly, bruises across his body, every inch of him looking like something beautiful that had been ruined just for you.

Your hand fell from his damp hair and the tips of your fingers brushed against his temple. For a moment you let yourself just look at him, at the way he panted for you. His pupils were blown wide, hunger making him look younger and for the first time you let yourself see him like this, not as a king, not as a prince but as yours.

He swallowed, throat bobbing and you saw the way his chest heaved, the way his arms trembled where they gripped the edge of the marble tub. He was fighting himself, fighting the need to reach for you.

You let your thumb drag across the cut on his bottom lip again, smearing the blood across his mouth, watching the way his tongue darted out to taste it, the way a shudder ran through him as your fingers traced the line of his jaw, down the bruises on his neck, pressing softly until he gasped.

"Do you want me to touch you?" you asked, your other hand slipping from between your legs and finding the edge of his thigh once more and your nails dragged lightly over the bruises there.

"Yes" he breathed, desperate .

Smiling, you leant down just enough for your breath to ghost over his mouth, close enough that if he moved he would kiss you but he didn’t, he wouldn’t, not unless you allowed it.

"Then beg for it"

His breath caught, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as if it hurt, as if it killed him to say it but when he opened them again, his eyes were glassy with need.

"Please," he whispered, voice hoarse "please, I need—I need you, please, I can’t.."

His throat bobbed with a swallow, tears glinting at the edges of his lashes and he tried to keep his hips still, tried to be good for you but his cock jerked under the water, flushed and hard, begging for your hand, your mouth just anything.

Your thumb pressed into the bruises on his thigh a little harder, hearing the way his pulse fluttered, the way his mouth fell open and how his breath came out in a soft gasp.

And oh, how you liked the way he looked like this. The way his dark hair clung wet to his temples, the way droplets of water slid down the lines of his throat, the way the cut on his bottom lip was inviting you, a single bead of red sliding down to the corner of his mouth.

You leaned in, letting your breath kiss the wound before you darted your tongue out, licking the blood away, tasting the sharp copper and the salt of his skin, and everything he had denied you earlier in that ballroom. He let out a half moan half whimper sound, his head falling back against the edge of the bath as he shuddered.

"You always taste so sweet," you whispered against his lips while hovering, letting him feel the shape of you there without granting him the touch he was begging for "I don’t hear much begging.."

" Gods please, I’ll.. I’ll be good—" his eyes locked to yours, pleading "please, I—I need you, I need your hands, your mouth, I— fuck please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, I promise, just—please touch me"

A smile curled at your lips, your nails scraping lightly down his thigh leaving trails of goosebumps in your wake. His breath hitched, a tear finally spilling over as he bit into his already wounded lip, trying to hold himself together.

Maybe you truly were the monster they said you were, because the sight of him with tears in his eyes and on his cheeks turned you on more than you thought it would. Who knew someone could be this desperate for you. Someone who wasn't pleading for their life but more for the pleasure you could give them.

You fucking loved it.

"Look at you," you murmured "falling apart so easily"

His hips twitched again, his cock straining helplessly under the water, the flushed tip breaching the surface with each desperate jerk, slick with precum and the water rippled with the motion. His fingers were digging into the marble so hard you could see his knuckles whiten, the tendons in his arms straining as he fought the instinct to grab you, to take what he wanted.

"Please," he whimpered, eyes blown wide, pupils devouring his irises "please, please, please —"

Your fingers finally, finally wrapped around him, squeezing just enough to make him choke on a gasp before he finished his sentence. His head snapped forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his hips bucked into your hand with a broken cry, his body shuddering violently, the tension in him unravelling as he clung to the edge of the bath, sobbing out your name against your skin.

And you smiled, your lips brushing his ear, letting him feel everything he deserved to feel as your hand began to move slowly, owning every stutter in his breath, every desperate moan that spilled from him as you pulled him apart piece by piece, making the king yours in every trembling, begging moment.

"You’re so pretty like this," you whispered against his skin, your tongue flicking out to taste him, your teeth grazing "so fucking pretty"

You watched him fall apart for you, trembling under your hand and for a moment, it was everything . The power in it, the way he whimpered into your shoulder, the way his body was at your mercy, the way he was at your mercy… the king, the one everyone bowed to who was now begging and pleading, so desperate for the pleasure only you would give him.

Look at him, you thought as your thumb brushed over the flushed head of him under the water, smearing the precum that leaked out, feeling the way he twitched violently at your touch. Look at how he begs. Look at how he breaks for me.

You let your nails graze the sensitive skin of his thigh as you stroked him slowly, pulling another strangled moan from him, his teeth catching your skin as he tried to muffle the sound but you wanted to hear it, wanted to hear how you made him come undone.

He is so beautiful like this.

"Don’t stop.." he gasped, hips jerking up against your hand, water splashing gently around you, his voice cracking. You had no intention of stopping "please don’t stop.."

And oh the way that please went straight to the heat pooling low in your belly, the way your fangs pressed against your lip, aching to sink into his skin, to taste him as he shattered for you.

You leaned down, letting your lips brush over the shell of his ear, letting your breath ghost against his skin as your hand tightened around him, pumping a little faster, feeling how hard he was, how he pulsed against your palm, the heat of him so intense it almost burned.

He needs this. He needs me.

"Such a good boy" you told him, letting the praise slip out because you wanted to see the way it made him shiver, the way it made him groan, the way his head snapped back, exposing the bruises on his throat, offering himself up to you even when he didn’t realize he was doing it.

He wants to be good for me. He wants to please me even while I’m the one giving him everything.

Your thumb brushed over the leaking slit again, rubbing gentle circles as your strokes continued making him gasp, making him beg with every breath and you watched his lashes flutter, tears spilling as his hips bucked desperately.

"You’re perfect.. you’re so fucking perfect Rafayel and you don’t even know it," you murmured, letting your tongue dart out to taste the salt of his tears as they slipped down to his jaw "so perfect and all mine "

His name on your tongue made him keen. A high, broken sound that shot straight through you, making your thighs press together, your own need throbbing between them but you held yourself still, focused only on him, only on the way his pleasure was building and building under your touch.

Mine. All mine.

His breathing turned ragged, stuttering with every pump of your hand, every gentle squeeze, every soft praise you let fall against his skin like a blessing.

"I can’t— please , I’m—I’m going to—"

You kissed him then, catching the trembling gasp that fell from his lips, your mouth moving over his, taking in the taste of his desperation, the blood, the salt, the water, him . It was messy, uncoordinated, all teeth and tongue, your fangs grazing his lip as you kissed him deeper, swallowing every cry as his hips stuttered helplessly into your hand.

And you felt it, the way he broke. The way he came apart in your hand, spilling between your fingers under the water as he moaned into your mouth, body shaking so violently you had to hold him steady, your free hand sliding to his jaw, keeping him there, keeping him yours .

Look at him. Look at what you’ve done to him.

You slowed your strokes, letting him ride it out, letting him gasp and sob into your mouth as the pleasure wrecked him, every sound he made fed the fire in your veins, making you feel powerful, alive, hungry and satisfied all at once.

When you finally pulled back your lips were swollen, your fangs pressing hard against your tongue, your eyes locked on his. His lashes were wet, cheeks flushed, lips bitten red and parted as he tried to catch his breath, looking up at you like you were the only thing in the world.

And for a moment you let yourself feel it, the way he looked at you, the way he needed you, the way he would let you do this to him again and again and again.

Because he was yours, and you were his and nothing could take this power away from you. If you couldn’t have him in public you were stopping at nothing to have him in private.

Your hand stilled on him at last, warmth and slickness coating your fingers beneath the water. Rafayel slumped back against the edge of the bath, chest heaving, lashes damp but his eyes never left your face.

You raised your hand from the water, the evidence of his pleasure glistening on your fingers, and you watched the way his gaze followed the movement, his lips parting as he swallowed hard. Slowly, you brought your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean as you held his eyes.

You could hear his breathing, the softest whimper catching in his throat when you finished and it made something in your chest tighten, a strange ache you tried to ignore as you leant forward, your forehead resting against his, wet hair dripping onto his shoulders as you let out a soft, breathless giggle you hadn’t meant to let slip.

And it was like the world stopped. His eyes widened and for a moment, something soft and helpless flickered across his face.

"What?" your lips brushed his as you spoke, still tasting salt and blood and him.

"Do that again" he replied, a shaky smile pulling at the corner of his bruised, bitten mouth.

"What? Laugh ?" you questioned softer this time, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone as you did.

He nodded, his breath catching as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your jaw, then another to your cheek, then another just below your ear. Each kiss was gentle and you felt your own body stutter.

"I’ve never heard you laugh," he said, meeting your eyes and pressing his forehead against yours as if to ground himself "You’ve always been so... controlled. I didn’t know you could sound like that"

You swallowed, your lashes fluttering as heat bloomed in your chest, a tight and unfamiliar vulnerability rising.

"I don’t usually..." you admitted softly "I can’t remember the last time I did"

Rafayel’s gaze softened, his bruised lips parting as his thumb brushed across your lower lip, smearing a droplet of water. His fingers still trembling from the high you had given him moved to cradle your jaw, tilting your face toward him when you tried to drop your gaze.

"I want to remember it," he whispered, so quietly it was almost a plea "let me remember it"

Your chest tightened, that unfamiliar, sickly warm ache uncurling, threatening to crack the careful armor you wore. Your first instinct was to pull back, to close off and turn away but his hand followed you, refusing to let you hide.

"Rafayel.." you tried but it came out too soft, your breath catching when he pressed another kiss to your cheek.

"Don’t hide from me," he murmured, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth, lingering there "not now.. not when you sound like that "

You felt your lips twitch, a sigh slipping through your teeth as you tried to turn your face away from him.

"Stop" you whispered, embarrassed by the way it sounded, soft and girlish and it was something you hadn’t felt in centuries.

" Never .." he breathed against your skin, pressing another kiss to your jaw, trailing down to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, making you shiver.

His hands moved, slipping under the water and finding your waist, his thumbs tracing slow circles against your ribs. When you tried to push back, his grip only tightened, pulling you closer, dragging you until you were flush against his chest, your knees bracketing his hips.

You gasped, the hardness still persistent against your thigh, making your body tense instinctively but he only pressed a soft kiss to your collarbone, then another and another, moving so slowly it nearly hurt.

"I like it when you laugh," he murmured, lips brushing against your skin as he spoke, each word sinking into you "I like seeing you like this"

Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands fisting against his shoulders, nails digging into the bruises there trying to hold on, trying to not let yourself crumble under the softness in his voice.

"I don’t know how to be like this.." you admitted, so quietly he might not have heard you if he wasn’t so close.

"You don’t have to know," he said, pressing his forehead to your chest, kissing just above where your heart lay "just let me see you"

Your breath hitched, another soft, breathless giggle slipping out when he kissed the spot again, his hands tightening on your waist. You tried to pull away, tried to hide your face but he caught your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Please..." he whispered, the word trembling with need that wasn’t lust but something warm "let me have this"

You opened your mouth to argue but his lips caught yours and you melted, your body sagging against his as he kissed you like he was trying to memorize you. His thumbs brushed over your hips under the water, sliding up to trace the curve of your waist, your ribs, memorizing the shape of you with callused hands that trembled.

And you let yourself have it, just for a moment. Letting him see you, letting him hold you as the warmth in your chest expanded, letting your soft laughter spill into the space between you while he pressed kiss after kiss to your jaw, your cheek, your throat, your lips.

Letting yourself be his, and letting him be yours.

Later, you didn’t remember how you ended up in his arms, only the warmth of him as he lifted you from the water, your body slick and shivering in the chill air, steam curling around your ankles as he stepped out of the bath with you held against his chest.

He was careful, so careful, setting you down on your feet on the soft rugs before the hearth, the heat of the fire kissing your wet skin as you stood there, breath trembling, water dripping down your thighs.

Rafayel knelt before you, naked as the day he was born with a heavy towel in his hands and you could see the way his eyes drank you in, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, trying to keep himself steady. His hair was dripping, sticking to his forehead, the cut on his lip dark and healed over and when he looked up at you through his lashes, it felt like the world itself went silent.

"Let me.." he had whispered.

You didn’t move you didn’t speak, only watched as he pressed the towel to your skin, starting at your calves, slowly the fabric dragged softly up your legs as he dried the water there, taking his time, like every drop of water was something precious he wanted to take from you, something that belonged to him.

When he reached your thighs he paused, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes flicking up to yours, asking for something he couldn’t name and it was something you didn’t want to deny him either.

You let your hand drift to his hair, brushing it back from his forehead, your fingers tangling gently as he let out a shaking breath, pressing his lips to the inside of your knee. The kiss was soft but it made your breath catch, your hand tightening in his hair as he kissed higher, letting the towel fall away so his hands could touch you instead, warm and steady as they smoothed up your thighs, parting them gently.

You felt the air there, the vulnerable chill against your skin mixed with the heat of him so close and when he kissed the inside of your thigh you shivered, your knees threatening to buckle as his tongue darted out, tasting the water there, tasting you .

"Rafayel..." you breathed, your voice breaking around his name.

He looked up at you, his eyes so dark but soft too, impossibly soft as he pressed another kiss higher, his lips brushing the sensitive skin where your thigh met your hip, his hands holding you open for him, steadying you as he kissed and kissed, leaving warmth in his path.

"You’re so beautiful" he whispered against your skin. His breath was hot, his lips moving lower, his tongue flicking out to taste you where you were already aching and wet and the groan that tore from him was deep like he was the one coming undone.

You gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair, your hips rolling forward without permission, seeking the heat of his mouth, the softness of his tongue, the hunger you could feel trembling through him as he kissed you there again, licking into you with desperation that made your vision blur.

He was worshipping you there on his knees, holding you open while his mouth pressed hot, open mouthed kisses against your most sensitive places, his tongue tracing slow patterns that made your stomach twist, your breath coming out in gasps.

When he pulled back for a moment, his lips were swollen, slick with your essence and his eyes met yours. There was nothing left of the king there, nothing but the man who wanted you.. who would give anything, do anything just to taste you again.

"Let me," he pleaded softly "please"

You nodded and your hips tilted forward, and the smile that flickered across his lips before he buried his mouth against you again was enough to break you, your hand tugging at his hair as he worked his tongue against you, letting you grind against his mouth as he moaned softly, the sound vibrating through you making your legs shake.

"Just like that..." you gasped, your head tipping back, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer.

His hands slid up to your hips, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue pressing and curling and his lips were soft and wet against you and you couldn’t think about anything other than him.

And when your knees buckled, when your body started to tremble and the heat twisted tight and sharp in your stomach you felt him groan against you, felt his fingers dig into your hips as he pulled you closer, letting you ride his mouth, letting you take what you needed as your climax crept closer.

Your legs were shaking so hard you nearly collapsed, your hand fisting in his hair as your hips jerked, unable to pull away from him even as the pleasure blurred your vision white. He felt it, he saw it, saw the way your strength faltered.

You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt him moving, felt the wet slide of his lips pressing kisses up your thigh as he lowered himself down onto the warm rugs by the fire. His back hit the floor with a soft thud, his dark hair splaying around him, eyes heavy and blown with hunger as he looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you forward with a groan as he settled himself beneath you, dragging you down until your knees were bracketing his head, until you were hovering over his mouth.

"Rafayel—" your voice cracked but you weren’t sure if it was a warning or a plea.

"Sit," he rasped "don’t run from me now, please"

You tried to protest you really did but your hips betrayed you, rolling forward as he tugged you down, his breath hot and desperate against your slick, sensitive skin. His hands guided you, pressing you down onto his mouth and when his tongue slid against you again, your head fell back like it had many times already tonight.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, finding his hair once more letting it ground you as your thighs clenched around his head, your knees digging into the rug as you gave in, letting yourself sink down onto him.

He moaned, moaned into you, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you’d feel it tomorrow but you didn’t care. His mouth was everywhere as he devoured you, tongue curling and pressing exactly where you needed it, lips dragging with an almost feral need as he pulled you down harder, until you were riding him with slow rolls of your hips, your thighs quaking around his head.

You let your thumb brush over his cheek when you lifted your hips up, smearing your slick there before you sank down again and rocked against his mouth, your head dropping forward as pleasure coiled in your belly.

He whimpered, actually whimpered into you and you felt him grow harder beneath you, the desperate tension in his body as he gave himself to you fully.

Your hips rolled faster, your thighs shaking as you pressed down onto him, your breath breaking in your chest "Don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—"

He didn’t. He couldn’t . His tongue moved faster, his hands dragging you down harder, his mouth a perfect, messy worship as you shattered against him, your cry high and broken as you came, your body bowing forward, your thighs clenching around his head as he moaned and licked you through it, tasting every last drop you gave him.

You collapsed forward, your body trembling as you felt him still licking softly, his hands stroking your thighs with tenderness, kissing you between your legs.

He was merciful when you told him to stop, that you were too sensitive after he had just given you everything. Your legs were trembling too hard, your hips stuttering with aftershocks as you forced yourself to lift and to slide off him, a grin set wide on his face.

You stumbled forward, dropping to your side beside him on the floor, your hands sliding across his chest which was still wet from the bath, the scent of steam and just him filled your nose, flooding your senses until it was the only thing you could feel.

And then you were on him, your mouth crashing into his with a soft, wet sound that made him groan as his arms finally moved, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other sliding down your spine pressing you flush against him.

The kiss was messy, all teeth and tongue as you devoured each other. You didn’t care that your teeth scraped against his cut lip, didn’t care when you tasted the copper of blood mixing with your taste still on his tongue. If anything, it made you whimper into him, your hand fisting in his damp hair, tugging him closer.

His hands roamed your back, your ribs, never once dropping lower even though you could feel how hard he was, how his hips lifted off the rug, seeking friction against your thigh as you pressed your body down to his.

You kissed him like you would drown without it, like you would die without the taste of him. Gasping between kisses, your breath mingling with his, your noses bumping, your teeth knocking and his lips parting for your tongue as you pushed deeper and he let you. He let you take control, let you take what you needed, his hands trembling where they held you, his breath ragged as he moaned into your mouth, swallowing your sounds as you swallowed his.

When you pulled back just for a second, your forehead was pressed to his and your noses brushed. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his and his pupils were blown wide as he stared at you like you were the only thing that existed in the world.

"You taste like me..." you whispered.

You kissed him until your lips were numb, until his lungs burned for air, until your body was pressed so tightly against his you could feel every shudder, every shake and every needy gasp as he clung to you, as if he would fall apart if you let him go. For a moment you let him. You let him hold you, let him kiss you like you were everything.

You weren't sure who pulled away first, or how long you devoured each others lips.

You just knew it was nice to be here with him, wrapped up in his arms by the fire while there was nothing separating your bodies. Your legs had slid against each other until you were fitted perfectly, like you had been made to slot into him like this. His hand had moved to your face, brushing wet hair from your cheek, thumb stroking under your eye tenderly.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you exhaled, letting your forehead drop to his, letting yourself just exist here with him, in this moment where nothing else mattered.

"Stay" he whispered, so quietly but you heard it, the plea that threaded through his voice.

Your fingers traced the edge of his jaw, feeling the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the way his breath hitched as your thumb brushed over the cut on his lip, now on its way to being healed.

You nodded once, the smallest movement but it was enough to accept his command.

"Okay," you whispered back "I’ll stay"

[01 02 03]

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