Wedding Cakes
Paul Atreides x reader
Summary: Paul is sick, you're crying– he still thinks you're beautiful and you still think he's an asshole.
Warnings: THIS IS SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!! Descriptions of female masturbation, clothed sex/grinding, begging, fingering, PiV sex.
Notes: I forgot who wanted to be tagged but ermmm woo! It's here, this may be the end of their series but you guys can always request something with Paul from this universe :) I also wanna do something with bene gesserit!reader and Paul, lemme know if you're interested in that!! This is 9k words!!!
Previous.
Paul is sick.
It comes in waves– little hot flashes that consume him entirely. It sends him stumbling, racing to his bathroom or anywhere close by to empty his stomach. Pale skin digs into bright porcelain– indenting, imprinting, and somewhere, the void rumbles; content. Happy, pleased at his predicament and he supposes that maybe, he deserved it.
His stomach rolls and he prays to every star in the galaxy that his dinner stays down as he shifts in his bed– trying to cling to the warmth of his covers before it's ripped away from him. He knows he deserves it— the sickness, the paranoia, the looks he gets from her and his mother. Paul had signed his own ticket to damnation with the ‘i’s in his name dotted— he used to think that maybe if he never swore on the void, the only thing he would be experiencing is guilt– maybe anger but he can't really think past the bile colored lense that forms in his mind.
He's never been so sick before, never felt an illness such as this– the sort that crawls into your bones and settles because it has nowhere to go, the type of illness that becomes chronic because it festers.
He tries to blame it on the void— an age-old superstition, that it was truly a living, breathing, sentient being– the void cursed him because what else could it be. But the void is nothing but darkness— a promised space filled with stars, planets, asteroids, galaxies of untold stories, and untameable possibilities. The void is cold, life-ending, an endless blackness— a corrosive element waiting to eat through the strongest of material, hope, and men. When heaven and hell were always a guess, a dream— the void was an anxiety, a guilt, a promise. An end to all ends; ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
He shifts in his bed as his gut clenches and sends a spike of pain up to his head— the void clings to him like a second skin, a punishment of his own making and he lets it. He wishes he could take it back– he never meant to hurt you, never meant to make you cry but he did. He did, he did, he did, he did.
The void consumes him in the darkness of his room, in the farce comfort of his bed and he goes willingly.
He thinks he deserves it and maybe he does.
***
The crying never stops when the two of them are alone.
You curl up into the thin sheets of your bed and sob– sometimes, you'd bury your face into your pillow and wail to your heart's content. You'd cry and cry and cry— you'd cry yourself dry and barren if not for Jyn or Lady Jessica forcing water down your throat almost every day.
You barely eat as well– it's rare you leave the confines of your room outside of your lessons and when you do– it's in a whirl of wispy movement. A swirl of gray or black dresses as you rush to the kitchens and back, you're an echo of the girl you once were and Jyn hesitates to report this back to your mother— that woman was brash, cruel, and borderline insane and lashed out at the littlest things. She had thrown a tantrum of sorts less than a week ago, demanding you come back home over a lesson an advisor was teaching you. It'd take Jyn twelve letters to dull her claws– to go soft on the issue that you were nineteen and not nine, a future Lady of a house and not a decoration in it.
Lady Jessica tells Jyn that Paul is no better when they take a step back from you, giving you space– she says it in passing– a murmur of an afterthought as she watches you pick through your food. “At least she's eating.” Lady Jessica confided, her pale face scrunched in worry. “Paul can not keep anything down when he does try.”
Jyn would be an idiot not to notice the connection– she'd be an idiot not to notice the light in your eyes is gone whenever Paul is mentioned, a fool not to notice that you were angry– and the anger consumes you, molding and shifting till it had a new form. You wear grief and sadness better than any gown in your closet, you wear it better than any anger— and when She and Lady Jessica finally cornered you, begging to know what happened, Jyn thinks you'd make a mighty tailor for the anger that covers her and Jessica billows like a cloak in the cold wind. It snaps at anything that passes by– teeth bare and sharp, ready to protect.
Paul Atreides had made an enemy out of her, while Lady Jessica was slow to anger and quick to forgive– she would never truly turn against her son, but she could hold anger towards his actions. But for Jyn, the very thought of Paul sours the taste in her mouth— A love so pure and sweet turned rotten, it's a sight she rarely sees. So, she lets you– let you mourn the ruins of a relationship, mourn the loss of rose-tinted glasses required for a first love.
She lets you think that this feeling is forever– that your feelings will never change because you are young and need to experience it. Even if it hurts you now, love isn't soft petals and gentle scents– it's thorns, wilting and starting again.
So, she lets you cry until you can't cry anymore.
***
The jeweler was a buggy little fella, his mouth ran a mile a minute and his eyes bugged almost comically out of his head in excitement when you showed any slightest interest in the array of diamonds and jewels in front of you.
“Oh! That gem right there is a favorite of my clients!” The jeweler grabbed the gem with two hands, thrusting out towards you with excited hands. “A pretty thing, isn't it?”
Pretty wasn't the word you'd use – it's a gaudy thing. Fat, red, and shiny, the gem looks more like an eye of some type of beast than an engagement ring jewel. Still, you accept it gently, plastering a smile on your face as you rotate in your hands— it'd make a nice paperweight, a golf ball, a rock to throw at someone's head, but never a ring. “It’s lovely, but...I don't think it's for me.”
The jeweler nods with a pleasant hum and snatches the jewel from your hands. You're left blinking as he bobbles off, rambling about another gem– something blue or maybe green to compliment your skin, you watch for a few moments, and Jyn slides up beside you, her arms wrapping around yours as she pulls you down the row of jewels, “Do you see anything you like, Mistress?”
“Everything is big and expensive.” You huff with a faint laugh, your hand reaches out and your fingers dance across the cool gems; pinks, yellows, and the softest shade of purple. Most of them were pretty in their own ways but none called out to you– if you were going to wear this ring for the rest of your life, you had to at least like it.
“What about you? Do you like anything?”
Jyn blinks, hesitating before she looks behind her and you follow her gaze to a dainty little gem that's attached to a simple silver chain laying on a small blue pillow– pushed away from the other gems like it was supposed to be hidden. The yellow sparkles in the light that weasels its way in through the large windows on the wall— it's pretty, the simplicity of it, probably one of the cheapest things in this room. You nod to yourself before calling out to the jeweler, “Aten, I'll take that one.”
Aten, the jeweler, turns to see what you're talking about and falters, his bushy brows furrowing as he takes the necklace off the pillow. “You want this…?”
You nod.
“As a ring…? I suppose it could be done, it's a small thing and not the type of gem I thought you'd like but–” Before the man could swirl into a mess of hushed rambles, you chuckle as you close the space between the two of you and take the necklace from his hands.
“No, Aten. Just as a necklace–” You smile at him before turning and bouncing towards Jyn, motioning for her to turn around and once she does, you gently place the necklace around her neck. Jyn is horribly silent, her breath lodged in her throat the whole time as you gently clasp the necklace and spin her– her eyes are wide, confusion-filled as you smile at her. “It looks lovely on you, Jyn. Aten add it to my house's tab–”
Jyn is still looking at you with bewilderment when the door opens behind her– meaning she has a full view of how your face falls when Paul walks in.
She knows him by his steps, the strong confident stride becoming hesitant at the sight of you. She turns then, her hand falling on your shoulder as she does and she freezes at the sight before them.
Paul looks downright horrible. He looks a little pale in the face, his cheekbones hollow with his hair plastered to the sides of his face– his outfit normally put together and cleanly, looks disheveled and a day or two old. He looks like a ghost, something long and forgotten. His eyes, a pale and murky green focus only on you, searching your face as his chapped lips part with a shaky breath.
He's searching for so many things; anger, happiness, even sadness.
Paul would be happy with any of them as long as it wasn't a look of disgust.
“Ah, Master Atreides!” Aten exclaims, and both your gazes snap away from each other and towards the man as he bounces towards Paul and grabs him by the forearm, dragging him deeper into the room– Paul's gaze leaves the man for a moment and goes to you.
You only frown and look away.
“I wasn't sure you were going to come– heard that you were ill. I take it you're better?” Aten questions kindly and Paul looks away from you and back towards the short man with a tight smile.
“I’m surviving. Taking it day by day.”
Aten nods and you think, he doesn't really hear Paul as he lets go of his arm and ducks under a clothed table rustling about. “Young Mistress, over here please!”
You cast an uneasy look towards Jyn who only shrugs smally. Just as confused as you but you listen to the man, moving to stand in front of the table and directly next to Paul who tenses– gazing at you from the corner of his eye. “You look beautiful.”
He really doesn't expect you to respond, but he says it anyway– so the thought would stop bouncing around his head. You always looked beautiful, but today, basked in the soft light of the room and dressed in his house colors– the sight of you was heart-stopping, he aches to touch you. To reach out and grasp your hand and pull you close, he wants everything he lost but he only crosses his hands behind his back with a hard swallow.
“Thank you.”
His head snaps so hard towards you, you fear it might fall off– his mouth opens, maybe in shock or disbelief but Aten settles a large black box on the table and pops the top open. “Kept ‘er busy, didn't want to show her without you being here. Forgive me for that, Mistress.”
Curious, you try to lean forward to peek in the box, and Aten chuckles before spinning the box around and your heart jumps to your throat. Nestled in the softest looking velvet laid a ring that sparkles as soon as the sun hits it–an array of oranges, purples, and blues shrouded by a black glassy backing. It looked like a thousand little stars forever plastered in the black hold of the galaxy.
“Strange request you had, Master Atreides. Though not impossible– this inexpensive little gem is a black fire opal with a few minor impurities.”
Aten scratches at his chin, humming a bit. “It’s from Earth, or so rumors claim. Here, here—” Delicately, Aten reaches into the box and passes the ring to Paul. “Put it on ‘er, see if it fits.”
There's a pause, a staggering one where you and Paul only look at each other. Eyes wide and breaths hitched, Paul reaches for your hand then stops– eyes darting between your hand and face, with parted lips. “May I?”
It takes Jyn nudging you gently to stop you from staring at him dumbly– with blood pumping, pounding through your ears you nod quickly, your hands clenching and unclenching as you do,
“Yeah, yeah. Of course–”
Robotically, you hold out your hand to Paul and he takes it gently in his own hand– his hands are freezing, and he seems to know that because he utters out what sounds like an apology as his fingers dance across your knuckles. A chill runs down your spine and you release a shuddering breath as he spreads your fingers slowly.
All of it is strangely sensual, with how soft he's touching you, how gentle and slow he's being with you. It reminds you of the first time he kissed you, weeks before your engagement announcement– he was careful, kind, he treated you more like glass than a girl he just confessed his love to and the thought makes you feel strangely ill.
So lost in your thoughts, you don't realize that Paul had slid up the ring to the base of your ring finger till he squeezed your hand. “Do you like it?”
The ring sparkles as you flex your fingers in the palm of his hand. The silver band is light, warm, and hugs your skin comfortably– “It’s beautiful– it's... it's…” Blinking back tears, the smile on your face falls as you take a step away from Paul, your back crashing into Jyn, lip wobbling. “It's lovely– it's, um, pardon me.”
You turn, bumping into a table, sending gems scattering across the floor. “I'm sorry–” Sniffling, you duck to pick them up but Jyn shoos you away with a swipe of her hand and you jerk back to your feet, tripping over the edges of your dress– your eyes catch Paul's surprised ones and your mouth moves before you can stop it, “I’m sorry.”
You turn and dash out the room but Paul is quick to follow you, jumping over the gems and catching your sleeve just as you leave the threshold of the door, “Wait–”
“Leave me alone, Paul.”
You yank your arm away and continue at a brisk pace, wiping at your eyes as he falls into step behind you.
“If it's about the ring—”
“It’s not about the ring.”
He makes a face, flinching as if you slapped him as you both twist and turn through the halls of Caladan Castle drawing closer to your room. “If this is about what I said–”
You turn then, your dress snapping at the force of it and he nearly crashes into you. Nose to nose, a breath apart– you hiss, deadly serious. “What else would it be about?”
“I apologized.” He protests, his voice is a frail whisper as his brows dip and he crosses his arms– fingers digging into his biceps. “I’ll apologize over and over– till one of the suns explodes, till I'm blue in the face–”
“That doesn't make it okay!” You snap, your voice is shrill and you take a step back to blink back your tears– to swallow the lump in your throat and steel yourself. “You can apologize but you don't mean it–”
He takes a step forward, “I do–”
“You don’t! You don't because you don't even understand why I'm mad— Stars, Paul. Forget that you called me a dog– a bitch! That you think that I begged you for something you wanted.” You laugh, soft and disbelieving and this time you can't stop the tears that spill from your eyes. “You don't even understand what it's like for a girl, for a woman, a broad– whatever the hell you want to call her! You don't understand and you'll never understand! From the moment we're born we are property! Trained— prim, proper, and pretty.
Then– then we're married off— to boys, men, and lords who aren't soft. Men who don't think before they speak– dishing out the cruelest things and we are supposed to take it with a smile— ‘Yes dear.’ Where we become breeding cattle! Nothing but a womb holding a fucking last name!” You throw your hands out, an empty laugh leaving you as you take another step away from him– your back hits your door and your fingers grip the golden handle. “And asteroids forbid I have a daughter and the cycle continues. So no, Paul. You don't fucking understand— you'll never understand till you get your head out of your ass!”
Your door opens and you fall into your room, casting a glare so deadly it makes him feel as if his skin would catch fire and your door slams closed just as Jyn comes rushing down the hallway.
If your glare was fire– hers was ice, chilling, biting and it made his bones ache.
“Look at what you've done— half the castle heard that screaming match.”
Paul sniffles, shuffling on his feet as the void boils crawls in from the shadows of the hall– it taunts him, licking at his skin and nipping at his heels. He feels so sick, a wave of nausea coming down on him in one quick breath. “I didn't mean to.”
Jyn sneers at him, though her eyes aren't unkind— she's teetering between anger and compassion but refuses to go belly up with the boy. “It doesn't matter what you meant to do, you have to live with your actions, Atreides.”
“I know… I just… I don't want her to hate me. I don't want her–” His voice cracks and a tear falls down his cheek and he licks his lips. “I just– I don't want her to fall out of love with me.”
Jyn pauses, scoffing with a shake of her head. “You are a fool to think she'd ever stop loving you, Atreides.” She casts a wary glance to your door and frowns, “She’s hurting this much because she loves you– you want her to speak to you? Then learn. Open your eyes, see where she's coming from and maybe, maybe your marriage won't crumble from under you. Now shoo! You did enough here.”
Paul leaves faster than he likes to admit, sucking up his tears as he does.
***
“Stars, you are so pretty.”
The seamstress circles around you with a squeal. Her calloused hands pluck at the ends of the dress– pulling it out further and holding it up towards the light. She examines it for a few moments before letting it drop and circling you again and you spare her a small smile, “Are you talking about me or the dress?”
She hums, not looking up as she leans forward– fingers digging into your side as she fiddles with the fabric around your waist. “The dress, of course. But you're pretty as well, I suppose.”
Jyn chuckles as she flips through another book and you snort, grinning at the older woman. “Has anyone told you how charming you are?”
The seamstress tips her nose up with a laugh, taking a step back. “I hear bitchy more than anything– Spin for me?”
Left foot first, you step and twirl– your dress shoots out, wispy, light, and sparkling. The cream-white skirt of your dress fades into a deep blue, nearly black as the sewn-on jewels and gems glow a bright white— stars on a night background— the color stops creeping up your dress right before your waist but the longer you spin the darker the color seems to get.
The seamstress squeals again, clapping her hands and she jumps up and down. “This is my best work yet! Oh my stars! Paired with the gloves I made you— this wedding dress will be the talk of the universe! I'll be booked out for weeks!” Her bright eyes snap to Jyn, the older woman grinning at you softly and she snaps her fingers. “You.”
“Me?” Jyn blinks, using her book to point to herself.
“No, your shadow—yes you! Come, you'll help me gather the accessories… the headpiece, the necklaces, the gloves… oh yes, so much to grab–” The seamstress mutters, rubbing her face in thought as she makes for the door, she glances back towards you as Jyn stands with a huff. “Don’t you move, Darling. We'll be right back!”
Giving the two a finger wave as they leave, you wait exactly four seconds before hopping off the podium and rushing towards the large standing mirror tucked away in the corner of the room. You smooth your hands over your chest, biting back a grin as you twist every which way– giggling when the gems twinkle, they truly do look like stars but most importantly– it made you feel like a princess. While your hair was messily done and your face bare as the day you were born; you probably didn't look like one but as you turn again and your dress goes from ombre back to its original creamy white you definitely felt like a princess.
You lean closer to the mirror smiling at yourself before drawing back with a soft laugh and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It was still so crazy to you– in less than a week, you'd walk down the aisle, you'll be married to one of the most sought after bachelors in the universe, and while Paul had his numerous flaws– you know he loves you, even if his foot found his mouth regularly.
Your heart clenches when you think of Paul– a sudden spike of fear and anxiety threading through because you fear that maybe you were too mean. What would a man know about a woman's troubles? Who are you to shame someone for how they spent their time before committing to something? While you never even kissed someone– let alone slept with someone, you spent countless days eyeing the handsome guards around your home, the pretty noblemen and women at balls and galas. Concocting titillating fantasies in your mind to pass the time— maybe you shouldn't be so mad.
But maybe, he shouldn't have called you a bitch.
Scoffing, you catch your eyes rolling in the mirror. Fine, if for some reason you couldn't be mad at him for his lack of knowledge with women– you'd be mad at him for his words. A bitch in heat– asteroids strike him where he stands because even remembering the words makes your blood boil and your skin itch. You a bitch in heat? When he was a cunt drunk fool? The number of times he eagerly got on his knees for you– you've never asked, he just gave and he liked giving, the very thought of eating you out gave him a boner.
“What an asshole.” You hiss, smoothing the front of your dress again. Though, a part of you missed him… a small part of you wishes you'd just cave and forgive him– welcome him with open arms and let him sweep you off your feet– he'd take you to bed and put that mouth of his to work. But, that was the horny part of your brain— the part of your mind you only let reign control in the darkness of your room. Your fingers buried deep in your cunt and curling, chasing a pleasure only the warm, wet glide of his tongue could provide you.
“Asteroids strike him.” For cursing you to a pleasure doomed without him, for making you miss him, for being a jerk. “Asteroids strike me.” You sigh, for missing him so much, for caring– you give yourself one last look over in the mirror and jump as the door opens from behind you. You turn quickly– excuse ready on your tongue only to meet the wide eyes of Paul whose face goes stark red.
“No, you can't look!”
Paul barely lets you finish the sentence before he slaps his hands over his eyes– he turns and slams right into the door and stumbles back before throwing his right hand out and catching himself on the handle. The hand on his face squeezes tighter as he croaks out, “I didn't– I didn't look.”
A laugh of disbelief leaves your lips as you circle your arms around you and slink behind the mirror. “I saw you look at me.”
“I was looking at your… your… your eyes!” He weakly defends, his voice cracking, “Your beautiful, beautiful eyes and face...and… Stars, you're so beautiful.” He sighs, giving up. His head thumps against the door and while you can't see it, you know he's smiling. You try not to think about it while you try to strip out your dress.
“Why are you here, Paul?”
“I was passing through… I just came from my suit fitting.” Curious, you peel around the mirror to look at him but the two of you make eye contact– his eyes widen and he turns away, facing the door again as you jerk back behind the mirror. “And, um– the castle is on lockdown. The People of Caladan are really excited about our wedding, Duncan said someone got in and it's best if we get to the closest room and lock the door.”
There's a thump against the door as you reach behind yourself and pull down your zipper. You pause for a moment and you hear him clear his throat.
“Sorry, that was me.” He laughs softly, “Hit my head again.”
“Oh.”
“I did mean it– that you look beautiful.” He continues his voice softly as you step out of the dress, careful not to step on the fabric. You lift the dress gingerly, and peer around the mirror– all the movement draws his attention to you because he's staring at you again when you look at him again. You point to a hanger laying on a fainting couch not too far away and he jumps to get it for you, nearly dropping it as he plops it in your hands.
“Thank you.” You finally say, wrapping your fingers around the hanger, then you pause, looking up at him from your eyelashes. “For both things.”
Paul doesn't say anything for a few moments, simply gazing at you while he licks his lips— while you could see yourself in his eyes, you wonder what he was truly seeing to look at you like that. Like you're carved from the finest of diamonds and bathed in gold like if you were to touch him he'd crumble– a careful mix of admiration and fear.
Then, you remember that you're naked–save for a pretty pair of panties hugging your waist– naked in front of him for the first time in weeks, and chuckle– placing the dress on the hanger, you hook it to the back of the mirror and slide past Paul, shoulders brushing.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting my robe.” You pluck the thin fabric off the back of the fainting couch and quickly wrap it around your body– though, it only stops at your thighs and rides up as you sit down, folding your legs under you. Paul stares at you, you stare at him in return, frowning. “What?”
“I talked to my mother.” He takes a step closer, eyes searching your face, “About everything– about what I said, what you said.”
You blink, folding your arms over your chest. Where was he going with this? Lady Jessica already knew about his comment– knew about her anger long before he did. “Okay?”
He takes another step, closer to the edge of the couch– his fingers dance over the velvet material, he risks a glance at you. “I’m sorry.”
“I know you are, Paul.”
He nods slowly, biting his lip as he hesitantly sits at the end of the couch. “For everything— for not understanding. When I talked to my mother, she… she opened my eyes. She was trained for my father, she wasn't meant to stay, she was meant to have a daughter. A daughter who was meant to marry a noble son.”
You eye him warily, swallowing as he scoots closer. “Oh.”
His lips quirk up, “You say that a lot.”
“Sorry.” You say instead and he nods, looking away from you as he continues.
“My mother… She knew my father wanted a son, so she gave him one. She disobeyed her orders and to this day she's still being punished for it.” Paul takes a breath, looking back towards you. “We may have a war on our hands in the future and my mother– she would rather that than bring an innocent girl into this universe and ship her off as if she's cattle.”
“Well…” You search for the right words, tying and untying the knot in your robe. “Your mother is a very smart woman.”
Paul grins. “She is.”
“Am I… am I expected to have a daughter in her stead?”
“No! No–” He almost launches himself to you, his hand covering yours, “There was a loophole— a distant cousin with nothing but daughters, all willing to get married to a man that's of higher standing than them.” He squeezes your hands, one of his hands comes up and cradles the side of your face– a move that he doesn't seem to realize he's doing as he swipes his thumb across your cheek. Once again, trying to soothe you– your heart hammers in your chest and you swallow harshly. You missed this. You missed him.
“You are free to have a boy or a girl. Or– or no kids if you want, and stars, I'm so sorry for never understanding. Void above and below, I made you cry.” Tortured green eyes meet your own, and his voice breaks as he blinks back tears. “I never meant to make you cry– I didn't think, I threw the first words that came to mind and I regret it. If I could go back in time–”
“You can't.” You interrupt with a watery laugh.
“– If I could, I'd take it all back I'd say I was the cunt-whipped fool who couldn't even think straight unless my tongue was in you–”
The laugh that leaves you is lighter and you push at his chest and he grins, pulling you closer until you are on his lap facing him. “You’re insufferable.”
He rests his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry, truly. I know I can never take back the words I said to you and this is probably one of the worst times to say it— but I am, I'm so sorry, my star.” His hand caresses the side of your face, drawing you closer as his thumb traces your lip– his eyes dart up and search yours for a moment, your breathes mingling as he leans closer and–
You pull away.
“Not yet.” You murmur, you reach forward when he nods, a frown pulling at his lips as doubt flashes in his eyes. It's dark, murky and it only melts away when you reach forward and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You can kiss me on our wedding day.”
Paul grins.
***
And kiss you he does. He doesn't stop kissing, from the moment the words ‘I do’ are uttered, he can't seem to separate himself from you. Kissing you whenever you were in reach, kissing you in front of your mother who sucks her teeth in distaste, in front of your father who pats him on his back.
He takes the most joy in pulling you away from a conversation with Jyn to spin you around and kiss you– making sure to slip his tongue in as he does. The chaperone only sighs, a small smile tugging on her lips as her bubbly date who hasn't stopped gushing about being booked pulls her away.
“Good luck with that one, Mistress.” She calls, then her eyes flicker to Paul and back to you. A real grin appears on her pale before she disappears into the crowd, “And congratulations!”
You wave animatedly as you clunch Paul's arm— he's taking to kissing up and down your neck, as you do— “We’ll be in touch!”
Paul pulls away only for a moment, gazing at you with mirthful eyes. “Whatever would you keep in contact with that woman for?”
“Oh, I want her to become one of my ladies in waiting.”
The smile on Paul's face drops but you don't let him get the chance to speak or talk you out of it as you pull him to the dance floor when an upbeat tune begins to play.
“Holy shit.” he breathes when he spins you and your dress flares out, fading into the colors of the night sky. Somewhere in the crowd of awed responses, there's a high-pitched squeal that he mostly blocks out as he pulls you close— chest to chest, “You did this for me?”
“Please,” You begin with a grin, laughing as he spins you out and your dress fades back into its original white. “I simply have an infinity for the stars, Master Atreides.”
“Hmmm.” He pulls you closer, placing a soft kiss on your lips as the both of you sway. “I wonder where you gained that infinity, Mistress Atreides.”
You grin against his lips, laughing as he dips you and deepens the kiss, his hand carefully threading through your hair as he pulls you back up and parts your lips with his tongue– grunting when you meet him in kind.
“Erm, excuse me.”
Paul is slow to pull apart, groaning as you spin in his arms to face the mousy servant. He buries his face in your neck, peppering the skin with small kisses as he makes you sway with him. The girl looks absolutely pale in the face as regards the both of you but you only smile– pinching Paul's arm when he kisses the sensitive spot behind your ear. “Yes?”
“I was sent– um, sent by Marigold to f-fetch you but if you're busy–”
“She is,” Paul says, rolling his eyes when you pinch him again.
“Ignore him, is it time?”
Paul peers at you curiously as the mousy servant bobs her head. You only let out a little hum, turning to face Paul again and placing a kiss on his lips. “I have to go.”
He frowns but allows you to kiss him again– your fingers curling around his neck and scratch at the base of his head– massaging his scalp as you trail your kisses down to the corner of his lips, ending on the underside of his jaw. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, a sigh leaving him. “Why?”
“You’ll find out soon.”
You trail your way back up to his lips and kiss him fully one last time, trying to pull away but his hands' loop around your waist and pull you flush against him. “I wanted to sneak away with you sometime tonight, just you and I but here you are, leaving your poor husband.”
Hands planted on his chest, your wedding ring glimmers in the chandelier light– you eye it for a second, a coy grin growing on your lips as your fingers slip down the slope of his chest. You angle your body to block the sights of what you're doing with the poof of your wedding dress– your hands' ghost over the front of his pants, following the faint outline of his dick and your grin grows when his eyes widen and he pushes into your hands. “Trust me.” You purr, kissing the side of his jaw again. “My poor husband would be much more upset if I stayed.”
His hips roll against your palms and he leans forward chasing your lips with a desperate kiss but you only lean away. “You’re horrible.”
“I must go.” You say again, grinning as you wriggle free of Paul's arms. “Do enjoy the party till one of the ladies fetches you!” You blow him one last kiss, laughing as the mousy servant leads you away, deeper into the crowd who part and greet you with smiles.
He stares after you for a few moments before someone settles at his side. He peers at the corner of his eye and sees Duncan, slowly drinking from a glass of what looks like wine.
“Yes?”
Duncan grins, tilting his head to the side while angling his glass down. “Looks like you have a problem, Paul.”
Paul looks down and his face explodes red. Clearing his throat, he pulls his coat over the front of him, his voice cracking. “Pardon me.”
***
Marigold and her maids were ruthless from the very second you stepped into your new bedroom— hands of all sizes and ages pulled you in different directions. One moment, you were in the bathroom– neck-deep in nearly boiling water, a maid at each arm scrubbing you down while two more worked at your legs. The only reason you managed to keep your head above water was Marigold herself had settled behind you, folding her knees under her and pulled your head back until it was settled in her lap as she rubbed mixtures that smelt like coconut and cucumber into your hair, massaged your scalp and carefully cleaned your face with a wet rag.
Then, with the help of the four maids and Marigold, they whisk you from the bath– dried you with too many towels, and rubbed you down with various lotions and oils that smelt of vanilla. A nervous laugh bubbled out of you when the women didn't shy away from rubbing your backside or breast– spraying you with a sweet-smelling perfume as Marigold fussed over your hair.
“Up or down? Up or down– Stars, it doesn't matter, he'll probably make a mess of it anyway.” She huffed, pushing you into your walk-in closet that was filled with even more maids who rushed up to you holding various lingerie sets.
“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” You asked as two maids argued lightly over a pastel blue set that was missing its crotch area but Marigold only rolled her eyes, holding up a pretty green to your bare body– it was filled with little flowers and a hummingbird stitched into the left breast.
“Nonsense. Ladies, what about this one?”
“No!”
Now, forty minutes later– with skin as smooth as silk and smelling like a child's sugar-filled daydream, you shift around on your new massive bed. There's a strange anxiety that bubbles in your gut as you roll back and forth– trying various poses to look more alluring, more beautiful, more tempting before groaning and rolling over and stuffing your bare face into a soft pillow.
This was all so stupid. Stupid to feel nervous– to feel any type of anxiety over this situation at all. Paul had seen you naked before– has spread you with his fingers, he's licked you clit to tit and still, this was different from all those times. Different because if he wanted to, he could put it in. He could fuck you if you'd allowed him to— he'd never force you to agree, never make you feel bad for not wanting to go that far despite the wait. He'd give you that space, that peace without batting an eye.
You groan again as you roll off the bed, landing on uneasy feet as you pad over to the mirror and look at yourself. After forty minutes you, Marigold, and the maids had decided on a thin lace nightgown that hung off your shoulders– the material was basically see-through but it felt nice on your skin, it was easy to slip on and off, something Paul would appreciate Marigold commented on.
“Men are simple creatures.” She said as she carded her fingers through your hair. “We could have laid you here bare and Master Atreides would still think that was the best thing in the universe. But we have more class men.”
It is stupid. Plain and simple, all of it is stupid down to all your newly waxed bits and vanilla perfume.
“How long are you going to stare at yourself?”
You nearly jump out of your skin at Paul's voice, whipping around to face him as he grins lightly. He's already pulled off his coat and is toying with a few of his buttons as he walks towards the bed, his shoes laying discarded by the door.
“How long were you–”
“A while. I was hoping to see a little bit of action,” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as he slides off his shirt, slumping into the softness of the bed with a groan. “I hope I'd come into you touching yourself.”
You make a choked sound, your entire body heating up as you round the corner of the bed. Your knees knock against his as you squeeze between his legs and he gazes up at you softly– his hands reaching out to settle on your hips as you speak. “Thought about it but I got nervous, I'm sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, starlight.” He squeezes your hips– using them as leverage to both pull himself up and pull you down a bit. His breath fans across your lips as he searches your face, “You know we don't have to do anything, right?”
“I want to.”
He nods, leaning forward to kiss you but stops before you or him could deep it. “We could do it how we used to, I don't want you to be scared.”
You stare at him for a moment, your stomach clenching and unclenching in thought as you force out a breath– Paul let you take your time, watching you softly but his eyes widen when you plant both hands on his chest and push him back to the bed. He bounces for a second, scrambling to catch his bearings as you climb onto his lap.
“Do you want to fuck me?”
Eyes wide, Paul gapes at you– his lips part and his grip tightens on your hips. “Stupid question.”
You roll your eyes, your fingers ghost the underside of his jaw before clamping down, keeping him still as you lean down and press a kiss to his lips while you rock your hips against his. He groans against your lips, pushing into you—into your hand, into your kiss– into the warmth he felt radiating from your cunt, but you pull back– why did you pull back?
“Answer my question, Paul.”
He whines– truly whines as he sinks back against the bed, green eyes blinking up at you as he gnawed on his bottom lip. You had let go of his face but your hands had found their place on his chest again, keeping him pinned to the bed, you roll your hips, barely rocking into him, barely giving his rapidly hardening dick any type of relief. “Stars, yes. I want to fuck you– I'll take you in any way you want just–”
“Beg for it.” You murmur, pushing him back down when he tries to sit up. You eye him coldly despite your hammering heart, despite your arousal that pools from you in warm, murky waves. You fear if you moved, there'd be a damp mark on his pants but if he had felt it he didn't mention it or seem to mind. Paul blinks up at you mystified as his hips shift– trying to grind up into you. One of your hands leaves his chest and stretches behind you and plants firmly against his legs, stopping him from moving. “Beg for it like you said I did. Beg for it like a bitch in heat.”
His breath catches in his throat, his voice weak. “You can't be serious.” When you don't crack, his face begins to turn a touch pink as he blinks and looks away from you. “Starlight, I apologized.”
This time, you settle your whole weight onto his dick, grinding into him and he moans– hips jerking up to meet the friction. A curse leaves his lips as you meet each thrust of his hips with the roll of his hips– your own soft sigh mingles in the air as jolts of pleasure shoot up your spine, then as his grip tightens and he pulls you down– simply grinding into you, you stop him. Pushing him back to the bed and you hover over him, panting as his teeth dig into his bottom lip and his eyes clamp shut.
“Fuck, starlight, baby– why, why–”
“Beg for it, Atreides.” You repeat, leaning forward you press a kiss to his lips and his hands shoot up to cradle your face– trying to drag you closer but you pull away, grinning. “Beg for it and I'll let you fuck me. I’ll let you put it inside.”
“You can't– this can't–” His voice dies off into a whimper when you bend, kissing your way down his neck and worrying the flesh above his pulse between your teeth. He gasps out your name, a gentle mewl fueled with nothing but want and adoration that sends heat spiraling straight to your gut and makes your head feel dizzy. He was completely intoxicating when he wanted to be. “Stars, fine. Fine, please–” His voice cracks when you trail lower, lips peppering kissing into his freckled chest. Mimicking his past actions, your lips wrap around one of his nipples– teeth just barely scraping the flesh and it sends him sputtering, his head jerking up to stare at you with wide eyes and you stare back, equally as confused.
“You’re sensitive, here?”
“Stars, this is so embarrassing.” He tries to wiggle away from you– but you keep him pinned, your finger ghost over his nipple, and he grunts, biting down on the inside of his cheek– he looks a little mortified as he looks anywhere but you, and his hands come up to cover your own, his cheeks a warm pink as he finally looks back to you. “Next time.” He says, pulling you back up the length of his body. You settle back on his lap as one of his hands disappears between the two of you, working at the buttons of his pants– shoving them down. “Next time we can…we can explore that i-if you want but stars–”
His erection sits heavily between the two of you, hard, pink, and leaking– weeping at the tip. He drags his hand down it, smearing the precum onto his dick– he swears when your hesitant hand echoes his movements and he surges to kiss you. Breathing a shaky sigh against your lips, “–I need to be inside you or on you. Please, my star, let me make you feel good, let me fuck you– let me bury myself in your cunt and get lost in it, please–”
“Okay, okay– ” your laugh is cut off by him kissing you again, his tongue gliding across yours before exploring your mouth– your hands tangle in his hair, pulling when he flips the both of you over and kicks off the rest of his pants and rocks up your nightgown. He pauses for a second before reaching up and pulling the dress off your shoulders and exposing your breast. You laugh as he swoops down, giving each of them a quick peck– Paul grins against your chest, using his knee to part your legs as he settles in between.
“It may hurt.” He starts, his hand settling on your mound, and his thumb circles your clit, you jerk against his touch, heart thundering. “You’re wet but maybe you need more–”
“Next time, Paul.” You whine, rolling your hips to meet the lazy pace of his thumb– his fingers slip down and he carefully teases your folds with two of his fingers– scissoring his way in as you mewl. “Next time, next time– just need you to fuck me.”
And while he'd never want to experience what the void– his guilt and shame had put him through again, he bites his lip as he curls his fingers, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest– His mouth moves before mind could process it. “Void take me.” He pulls his hand free of your slick, sucking them clean and his other hands grasp his dick, using it to swipe through your folds. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won't.” You protest and he huffs. He takes your hands and settles them on his shoulders– it was a rather awkward position and you had to sit up a bit to keep them there but he steals your focus.
“You’ll tap me twice to slow down. Three times to stop.”
“And if I want you to go faster?” You tease, grinning as he rolls his eyes but the grin drops when he moves closer– the blunt head of his dick pushing at your entrance.
“Then, you'll be a big girl and use your words.” He muffles any reply with his lips, slowly pushing into you with a groan and you tense– it doesn't hurt, it just felt like a little bit of pressure, a pressure that makes you whimper as he pushes in further and your fingers rap against his shoulder– only two quick taps and he freezes, breathing deeply through his nose as his thumb once more starts to circle your clit in slow circles. “Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”
You take a deep breath, blinking up at him with a wobbly smile– your hips twitch at the steady pleasure he's giving you and it makes his brow drop as you smooth your hand over your shoulder. “It’s a lot, just– just go slower, okay?”
Paul wasn't sure he could go slower but he'll humor you– you cunt squeezed the head of his cock hungrily– as if it was trying to suck him in, it takes everything in him not simply sheath himself in with one quick thrust. You'll never forgive him– well, maybe you would but he'd never forgive himself so he pushes, slow as a snail till he was fully inside– the pressure blooms into a slight tingle, a burn more than a stress but it was manageable. Testily, you allow yourself to clench and clench around him– trying to get used to the feeling of him and he moans.
“Void above and below.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your hairline. He rolls his hips gently, not quite pulling out as he grinds himself your clit, swallowing your moans with a desperate, messy kiss that bleeds with chants of your name off his tongue and your soft whimpers. He hooks your leg around his waist, somehow pulling you closer as he finally drags himself back out and that's when you really felt the burn– it felt like your body was trying to pull him back in, crying out at the briefest loss of him– your hips try to follow the movement but he's already pushing back into, ducking his head to press wet kisses against the base of your neck.
“Fuck.” You cry, scrambling as he sets a steady pace. He rolls into you and with each steady kiss of his dick, it pushes you further up the bed– one of your hands shoots down twisting in the sheets as you try to keep yourself steady. There's a thump in your gut, one that links with each pound of your heartbeat and each thrust from Paul and– “Fuck, Paul, fuck.”
“I know, baby.” He huffs pulling out almost completely before slamming back in. The moan that leaves you loud, needy, and desperate– it's nearly as squeal as he pounds into you, chasing something you can't quite describe. It doesn't feel the same when it was just his tongue, his or yours fingers, that pleasure was slow to build it waited for you– beckoned you too it but this one, it ran from the both of you– no matter how hard or fast he thrust into you– ground himself against your clit till stars dotted your vision, it ran and ran till he cursed as slipped out of you and flipped you over to your stomach. He only gives you a quick apology-ridden kiss to your shoulder before he sinks back in and you shove your head into bed to keep from crying out.
He's babbling now, mixed words of love and lewd comments– fucking love your cunt, starlight. You're doing so good, so good for me– as he pulls you up by your hips but pushes your front down– the position is familiar, so much so it sends your legs trembling as he reaches around to rub at your clinch– pinching it between deft fingers and whatever the thing is, it trips– stumbling and Paul is there, only inches away as he thrust and thrust and– your body goes lax as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your knees nearly give out. It felt like you were floating, drowning and burning all at once– your body burns bright with pleasure, it tingles– it lingers because Paul doesn't stop thrusting, chasing his own release.
His fingers don't leave your clit and it's almost painful, each swipe of his thumb and punch of his dick sends your stomach fluttering with thrills of aftershock, he kisses you– pressing hot, damp kisses behind your ear and neck as you whimper and moan under him, you clench and that sends him over, his space stuttering as he cums. It's warm and it settles deep within you– even deeper when he continues to rock his hips, he pants your name as he rubs his hands up and down your back.
Lazily, he pulls out from you– messily trying to fix your dress as he rolls you over to press a soft kiss to your lips. He grins as you lean into him, biting his bottom lip. “You good?”
“Would you laugh if I said I can't feel my legs?”
He thinks for a moment before frowning and shaking his head. “Last time you said that we fought.” He presses another kiss to your lips before stumbling out of bed with shaky legs. He disappears into the bathroom as you roll onto your back and stretch– cringing when the movement sends his cum gushing out of you. “Gross.” you felt strangely like a packet that burst open and strangely disappointed that it hadn't stayed in. “Gross.” You repeat as you realize what you just thought, you rub a hand down your face as he reappears with a wet rag.
“What’s gross?” He asks as nears the edge of the bed. He reaches forward and grabs you by your ankle pulling you towards him. “Me?”
“Me.” You answer, shivering when he gently rubs between your legs. He pulls your legs further apart, watching you drip a mix of you and him and hums.
“I could clean you up with my tongue.”
“Gross.” You laugh as he grins, he's extra careful as he rubs the rag along your cunt before pulling it away.
“So it was me.” He teases, throwing the rag somewhere in the room as he crawls back into the bed. He hovers over for you a second, pressing a kiss to your lips, then he settles into the crook of your neck, breathing out a soft. “I’m sorry.”
You blink, “For what?”
“Making you cry.” He murmurs, “Making you angry, for everything.”
“It’s okay, Paul.” You laugh, you run your fingers through his hair as he snuggles in closer. “We have our whole lives together, I'm bound to make you angry in the future. We'll be even.”
“Hopefully.” He yawns.
And for now, that was enough.
