drabble collection: moments with each LI in the sheets, told through intimate and vaguely sinister drabbles
originally posted on ao3
masterlist
Preview
You stared into the smoldering fire by the bed, amidst the sumptuous blankets and furs, from the prison of his arms, suddenly cold.
Leander
“And how does the magic happen,” you teased, now languorous and slightly drunk, your body aching pleasantly and cheek pressed to his bare chest.
“Give and take, beautiful.” His hand stroked along your back, tracing a swirling, winding pattern.The rings on his fingers brushed a cool kiss against your skin. “Sometimes, it’s a small thing: a free drink here, a favor there. For others, well… every debt must be repaid in equal measure.”
A handful of free drinks. A room at the inn.
Information, knowledge of the city, a personal guide.
Minutes - an hour now, altogether - holding your hand, resisting an ancient curse, a risk of incalculable value.
You stared into the smoldering fire by the bed, amidst the sumptuous blankets and furs, from the prison of his arms, suddenly cold.
The tip of a finger dipped in the valley of your spine and drew a line up your back. As though he felt the slight stiffening of your body, his hand settled against the nape of your neck, his palm a hot, firm weight holding you to him. His thumb sat below your jaw, stopping over your pulse.
Leander rested his cheek against your head and pressed a kiss to your hair, the words drifting across your ear like the mist enshrouding the city. “The only truth of this universe is this: nothing is free.”
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Kuras
Candlelight brought you from the shadows of your doze.
Blurrily, you nuzzled closer to the firm pillow by your face when the familiar scent of magnolia - sweet, slightly citrus, earthy - filtered through your senses, alerting you like smoke in a barn.
Your eyes opened.
The pillow was, in fact, a thick, muscled thigh covered in a layer of white cotton trousers. Following the leg upward, you took in the sight of Kuras in the dim, flickering light of a single candle by the bedside. He held a book in his lap, one hand idly turning a withered page. A thin trail of smoke drifted into the dark beyond his shoulder.
Gold eyes met yours after a moment. Even in the deep night, they glowed brighter than the flame at his hip.
He smiled indulgently. “Dawn will not break for a few hours more. Sleep.”
You stared at that smile, blinking heavily, clinging to wakefulness for just a little longer. A thought nudged at the fuzzy edges of your mind at the smile, the eyes - a thread of disquiet amidst the warm cocoon of blankets and his body.
Kuras lifted one hand and turned to the bedside table. A thin stick passed through the flame, the smoke blooming like petals from the stem, before magnolias perfumed into the air once more.
As the scent wrapped around you, filled your lungs, soothed the voice at the back of your mind, a large hand cupped your cheek. His thumb caressed the corner of your eye before coaxing the lid shut and lingering there, gently holding.
“Sleep. I am here with you. I will watch over you.”
You slipped back into the night.
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Ais
The soft bubbling of water woke you.
Your hand sleepily tugged the kimono over the bared edge of your shoulder. You’re curled into a ball beneath the thin fabric, legs fully tucked under the hem, hands curled against your chest, a tortoise sheltering from the cool, humid air drifting from the water’s edge.
Peering through the folds, you stared at the empty sheets next to your eyes adjusted to the night. Then, turning on your other side, you looked for him.
Glowing red eyes caught yours instantly.
He leaned against the open door. Moonlight painted his chest and shoulders pale silver, glinting sharp on the necklace that hung by his navel, his rings, his horns. A cigarette lingered by his mouth. As he drew another puff, embers burned and flared at the end.
“Want a hit?”
You sighed and rolled over on the bed, cheek pressed to the cold sheets. “No. Could use a drink though.” Your mouth felt dry, your belly hollow.
Ais held your gaze for a moment before releasing the smoke in a soft grin. He flicked the cigarette outside the door and strode over, bare feet silent on the creaking wood of the old pier.
At the edge sat a chalice. With two fingers, he hooked the rim, knelt by the red waters, and dipped it beneath the Seaspring.
The chalice full to the brim, spilling over his fingers, Ais took a seat on the bed and braced his arm over you. Several drops fell to the sheets; they wicked into the fabric, not fading to a blush but thickening like blood.
You glanced up from the stain to his face cast in shadow, the red gleam of his eyes thickening too, swallowing up his pupil..
“Drink up, sparrow.”
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Vere
A claw traced delicately over the crown of your head before sinking into the length of your hair. He stroked as though petting a cat - idly, indulgently, reclined against the mountain of pillows on his bed and curled above you with his chin braced on his palm and bent elbow.
You laid there on the sheets, sweaty and panting, every nerve in your body vibrating, aching with the ghost of pleasure and pain. A sickly feeling sapped the strength from your body. The gold veins across your hands and arms felt hollow as scorched earth.
“Can’t catch a breath?” His voice curled with smug satisfaction, the smirk evident without needing to see for yourself. “All that muscle and misery, with the stamina of a virgin.”
Craning your head back, you glared at Vere through the messy fringe of hair sticking to your face. His claws pricked the nape of your neck. You arched your back away from the bright points of pain and heat.
“Soon, I’ll have you trained to my tastes,” he mused, his gaze trailing down your bare body. “Enough to sate me, at the very least. It’d be troublesome to have you burn out too fast.”
Fur brushed against your thighs and stomach. His thick, russet tail flowed over your body in a fiery river, the soft pelt tickling over your skin. Heat radiated from it, the ancient magic humming in his veins, less volatile now that he’d taken the edge off.
After one last teasing prick of claw, Vere reached down and lifted the length of chain pooled on the sheets. He slipped the end around your neck and pulled through.
Then, with a rumbling sigh, he leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. “Wake me up before noon, and you’re lunch.”
With a flick of his hand, the candles extinguished.
You stare at the dark ceiling, cold steel brushing your throat with every breath.
______________________________________
Mhin
A chill settled over your skin, casting your dreams in shades of winter. Goosebumps rolled down your arms in a wave. Subtle, heavy breaths disturbed the peace of the night.
Your eyes shot open.
The window gaped open. An autumn breeze stole inside, undulating against the curtains. Clear moonlight spilled across the floor, illuminating the toe of a boot and a pool of blood. A ghostly figure sat beneath the sil.
Heart pounding, you held still, squinting through your lashes, trying to see the face hiding within shadow.
Thick leather pants and bracers. Flowing white shirt. Midnight blue hood, hooked to the collar with silver rings. The light caught the edges of messy hair beneath the hood, shining in the gloom like frost across a frozen pond.
Your hand released its taught grip on the dagger beneath your pillow.
Wrapping the blankets around your body, you sat up and leaned across the mattress. “.... Mhin?”
White eyes with red pupils appeared within the shadowed face.
You shuffled to the edge of the bed. Glancing at the blood, you asked, “are you injured?”
After a quiet moment, they slowly shook their head. Mhin folded one leg and braced their arm on their knee. In their hand was a silver dagger, twin to the one you’d hidden beneath your pillow. Fresh blood licked the edge of the blade.
“Are the bodies on the roof or the street?”
Finally, a spark appeared in their eyes. “Strung them up like gargoyles.”
You huffed a laugh. Fresh corpses lured Soulless like flies to honey. They’d never. “How thoughtful of you to help decorate for Leander’s party tomorrow.”
Mhin shot you a weary look that clearly spelled the fuck do you think, before their head dropped back on the wall with a soft thud. The bruises beneath their eyes were dark as plums. They’d never slept soundly, but since the attacks had started, a few good hours had dwindled into a half hour here and there at best.
You considered chiding them for a moment before sighing and rising from the bed. Scooping the quilt from the bed, you shuffled over and dropped down to the floor next to them.
“What are you doing,” they grumbled, frowning when you leaned into Mhin’s side.
Heedless of the blood wicking into the sheets, you spread the bedcovers across their lap and yours before gingerly resting your head on their shoulder.
Mhin sucked in a breath. “You’re not actually going to sleep like this?” When you only closed your eyes, they growled, “Ridiculous.”
Minutes passed. Then, “I’ll shove you off the second another wave hits. You realize that, right?”
You kept silent. Beneath the sheets, you found their hand and covered the back with your palm, fingers webbing through the gaps between theirs, hoping to warm them.
“Your back’s going to hurt like hell tomorrow.”
Then slowly, as the night and their body next to yours filled you with a sense of safety, their grip tightened on your fingers.
A smile slipped across your mouth as you drifted off to sleep once more.
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a/n: ending on a fluffy note - comments and likes are appreciated!
series: sweet poison (scenario-based collection of character imagines)
originally posted on ao3
masterlist
Prologue
You’re an idiot for drinking that. An absolute idiot.
You’re spilled across the floor, head swimming, burning from the inside as though you’d swallowed a star. The velvet rug brushed soft and cloying against your prickling skin as you squirmed, your heart pounding in your ears and beating an insistent rhythm in your groin.
Cooing at you from the table, her cat’s eyes curled in satisfaction, Morgana asked, “Something the matter? You look positively feverish.” She twirled a curly black lock around her finger.
Bitch.
Paintings of naked people - bathing in springs, dancing around a fire, having an orgy in front of a temple - swirled into one colorful blob as you turned on your side, fisting the rug. You attempted to pull yourself to where you remembered the door but stalled a couple inches in, weak as a newborn kitten and stifling a moan as your body rubbed on the carpet.
“Now, now, where’s the fire? Stay a while.” She rose from her chair and stood over you, her arms crossing under her full chest. “You’re clearly hot under the collar. The thought of you wandering the streets like this concerns me deeply.”
You glared up at her, using every ounce of willpower not to writhe on the floor like a worm on a hook. Your hand felt clumsily around your hip for the dagger.
“I’ll take that,” she chirped, snatching the weapon from your belt and tossing it behind her. “Can’t have you nicking that lovely skin.” Her heel braced on the other side of you, straddling your back. Her hands tugged the shirt from your waist before dragging warm palms up your back, her nails scratching on the return journey.
You bit your lip to stifle a moan rocketing through your chest, as every nerve in your body vibrated with electric pleasure. Your hips pressed hard into the floor, growing ever desperate for friction even as you struggled to focus.
Morgana sunk her hand into your nape, drawing your hair back from your face. When she leaned down to brush her painted lips against your ear, goosebumps erupted down your neck. “We’ll start with the bandages, shall we?”
______ prologue end _________
“Wouldn’t recommend it,” mused a deep, familiar voice from the door.
Your head jerked up, hazy eyes finding a blob of teal and black, bright spots of red around the collar. The relief was short-lived when your body reacted in a purely physical way to the sound.
Morgana froze. Her grip tightened in your hair, drawing a shudder. “... Ais. What a surprise. How long has it been, ten years?”
“Don’t remember.”
The madam paused, and a short, pregnant silence followed. You swallowed, breathing shallowly to keep from inhaling anymore of that incense. Then, she demurred, “I have just the treat for you. Something strange but familiar: red head, as bratty and slutty as they come, just how you like it. Let me call an attendant to show you the way.”
“If you’re offering, how about that one under you?”
Nails bit into your skin. “This one’s off the menu.”
“Oh? Had that meal last night, and I’m in the mood for leftovers.”
If the sun weren’t trying to sweat its way out of your skin in that moment, you would’ve glared daggers at him.
Morgana was silent as she digested that before asking, her voice smooth, “Perhaps another night? I’ll make it worth your while - a veritable banquet of beauties.”
A low hum rumbled through the room. “A banquet for little ol’ me? How generous. In that case…” His voice lowered, musing casually, “suppose I’ll have to bring a couple friends with me. Make it a real feast.”
The temperature dropped.
Morgana breathed once, deep and hurried at the nape of your neck, before releasing your hair and rising to her feet. When she next spoke, all the warmth and gracious hospitality had vanished from her voice. “Take her and get out.”
Leather boots thudded closer, pausing at the table. A soft chink, an audible gulp. “Spared no expense on the dose, huh.”
Morgana didn’t reply.
Then Ais crouched by your face, his chin nestled in his palm. “Lookin’ grounded, sparrow.”
You pressed your lips together, humiliated and so horny you’d probably jump in the Seaspring just to put out the fire in your veins.
“Want a lift?”
With a nod, you found yourself swept onto his back. Your arms wrapped loosely around his neck as his hands hooked beneath your thighs. Brimstone and brine filled your lungs as your face dropped onto his shoulder. The display of strength, the ease of it, sent a shiver down your back and a slick feeling pooling in your groin.
He strode from the room and headed down the hall. There was a staircase leading to the street, and every step had you bouncing against his back, the friction just enough to have arousal twisting sweetly in your body but not enough for true relief.
Your hand gripped the front of his kimono.
“Havin’ a good time back there?”
“Shut up,” you hissed through gritted teeth only to whimper when he jumped you higher on his back, your thighs squeezing instinctively. “Ah - fuck you.”
You froze at the threshold of the alley, heart pounding in your ears. A drop of sweat slid down the valley of your spine. A song of horror drifted through the midnight street: the crunch of bone, wet snaps of muscle and sinew, squelching and dripping of organ and blood on the cobblestone.
Stomach turning, you breathed slowly through your nose and leaned just enough to see around the wall.
The body splayed across the road, half here, half there. A toy with its stuffing ripped out. The Soulless nosed around the gaping cavern of the chest, teeth hooking on ribs and tossing, twisting as long trails of intestine spilled out on the street.
You withdrew, holding your breath until you were out of eyeshot. To wait or to attempt to escape. It could feast for another ten minutes, perhaps an hour. Unless other prey wandered into its path.
The crunching stopped.
The back of your neck went cold.
Fuck.
Your grip tightened on the dagger, watching the opening of the alley out of the corner of your eye, holding as still as possible. Had it heard your heartbeat after all? Without thought, your free hand left the wall and hovered over your chest, just above where the signet ring hung from its chain. Leander had said to use it whenever needed, that it would summon the hounds to your location.
Lot of good that would do you now. You’d be mince meat before they’d breached Amaryllis.
Something scratched the brick above.
You slowly craned your neck up.
A skeletal claw curled around the wall. One finger, then another, then three more. In the moonlight, latched onto the wall, the Soulless resembled a massive wolf spider, a nightmarish behemoth with glowing red eyes, its maw opening in a gash of needle sharp black teeth.
Will you walk into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.
A ringing filled in your ears.
Triple fuck.
A bark broke the silence.
You flinched hard, dagger lifting on instinct.
A second Soulless sat in the middle of the alley in a pool of moonlight. On its haunches, with its three legs primly arranged in front, twenty-odd tails writhing at its back, a dozen yellow eyes stared at the scene. Princess.
To the right, an ember sputtered in the dark.
Ais lounged on a stack of crates, his elbows on his knees. Kimono draped loosely over his bare, tattooed chest, boots knocking softly against the wooden panel. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, drew deep as the butt embered and smoked, then released it in a heavy sigh.
Your mouth opened - to scream, to laugh, to call for help, you weren’t sure - when a shadow leaned over you. A glob of something dripped onto your shoulder, stinking of metal.
A snarl ripped through the silence. Princess’s daisy yellow eyes had melted into a violent red. She prowled closer two steps, the spines on her back lifting into a jagged stripe.
A breath of warm, putrid air billowed around your head, forcing a gag from your throat. The tip of a needle brushed your ear.
His eyes opened.
An instant later, the Soulless skittered back from the corner. Its claws scratching and teeth clicking as though enraged at being denied, the eldritch monster slithered back down the road, one of its arms snatching the broken corpse as it went.
Gasping, heart thudding away in your chest, you dropped to your knees and struggled to breathe. Every hair on your body stood on end, goosebumps rippling down your back and arms. You forced your grip to loosen on the dagger - you’d clutched so tightly the leather binding on the handle had dug into your palm.
“Don’t you just hate gettin’ hit on in a dark alley in the middle of the night?” drawled Ais, his chin propped on his palm. “Romance’s dead.”
Princess trotted up to you, her spikes relaxed once more, writhing tails swishing happily in greeting. Softening, the adrenaline settling in your blood, you greeted her.
“Hey, girl,” you murmured gratefully, still breathless. You extended a hand and managed a smile as she curled her leathery skin into your touch. “You thought about letting me get eaten.”
Ais smirked. “Caught me. I wonder what you taste like.” His eyes flared red in the dark.
You turned back to Princess and scritched her chin. “You’re the only one I trust in this shit hole.”
She woofed, curling a tentacle around your wrist to keep the pets coming.
“Princess wonders too.”
Ignoring him, you gave her another few good pets before rising to your feet. “You owe me a shirt.”
“The fuck I do.”
You pointed to the glob smeared across the shoulder of your cloak, unwilling to look too close and potentially identify what it was made of - who it was made of.
“Smells like a personal problem.”
“Was that a pun? Because fuck you.” You strode closer until you could steal the cigarette from his loose fingers. You didn’t smoke, but this was a night for a little smoke and ash. “Fine, I’ll just steal one from Leander. You’re not the only big-tit asshole in this town.”
Red eyes smoldered above with laughter. “But I’m also big where it counts.”
A sharp laugh cracked through the lingering terror that stifled your chest and refused to exhume with the smoke. “Wish he was here for that, he’d probably cry.”
“Night’s still young.” He held out his two fingers. You sighed but returned the cigarette. “How bout a drink instead?”
“Deal.
He took one last drag before dropping the stick into a puddle - you carefully did not think about how it hadn’t rained that day - before leaping off the crate and landing seamlessly on the stone, agile as a cat.
“Vere might be there. Borrow some of that tissue he calls a shirt.” Ais glanced down your body, lingering around your hips and chest.
“Pass. I’ve been drooled on enough for one day.”
Princess trotted along at your heels until you reached the main street. Ais stroked a hand down her back before sending her on her way home, before leading the way across the street and into the Wet Wick, boisterous and full despite the hour.
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a/n: thanks for reading! comments and likes are very much appreciated
His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes.
She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey.
The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.
Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.
Interesting.
_________________________________________
The Red Banquet ebbed and flowed around you in a roiling, scarlet ocean of silk and sound.
You watched over the early embers of the party as Eridia’s elite mingled, sparkling jewelry swinging as they danced, laughed, sneered, and drank themselves to oblivion. Soon the ceremonial dance would begin, and you would be called to the stage - for now you hid in the shadows and explored the palatial inner sanctum of the temple.
“The night’s still young, yet some are already getting sloppy.”
You glanced over your shoulder as Mhin approached, slinking through the shadows of the wall until they had reached your side.
They were already dressed for the dance, in the ensemble that the troupe leader had painstakingly chosen for the occasion: the silk top hooked around their neck in a glittering chain of pearls, descending in a shimmering garnet swath to a matching band across the hem wrapped above their waist, the tiny beads bouncing against bare, pale skin. Two gossamer shawls hung from their arms, cinched at the shoulder, a golden cuff around the bicep, then once more at the wrist. Trousers of the same fabric billowed down their legs to golden anklets that sparkled and chimed with tiny bells.
Mhin moved silent as a ghost despite the jewelry dappled across their frame. A veil of silk hung across his nose and mouth, masking his expression.
“The more, the better,” you said. Drunk people were easier to manipulate.
They braced themselves on the banister, lilac eyes trailing over the crowd. “I always knew their kind never gave a fuck about the common folk, but this is… beyond even my imagination.” Their eyes narrowed on the massive fountains of white wine, tables full of enough fine food to feed ten times the guests present. “Throwing a party, wasting so much money and food, while hordes of Soulless terrorize the villages. Disgusting.”
You crossed your arms and leaned your hip against the pillar. “We’ll have to remember to circle back round to the kitchens after…” you trailed off, sharing a look. “With Leander’s help, we can haul back some of the food for the kids.”
Though the mask hid their expression, you could tell exactly how Mhin felt at the idea of eating the noble’s leftovers - in a word, homicidal - but the thought of Fenrir, Silvia, and the other troupe children stalled that infamously sharp tongue.
“They would certainly appreciate it more than this lot,” Mhin scoffed. “I doubt a single one of these prissy noblewomen will eat much, even as their pig partners gorge themselves.”
Hoping to lighten the mood, you nudged them with your foot and smiled when they met your gaze. “Silvia would be beside herself at that mountain of fruit.”
The corners of their eyes crinkled as a reluctant smile likely formed beneath the veil. “Huxtly would stick his whole head in the chocolate fountain. Make himself sick, probably.”
“Fenrir could eat a whole one of those pheasants by himself.”
“If he could snag one before Yulia devoured them all.”
Grinning, you pushed off from the pillar and leaned on the banister next to them, your shoulders bumping. For a moment, you both enjoyed the idea, the banquet and all its glamor falling away amidst this pocket of peace. Your heart lurched wistfully in your chest.
“Soon.” At their sideways glance, you continued in a hushed tone, “Soon we’ll be able to give them that. To see the look on their faces, when they have so much food they can’t possibly eat it all.”
Mhin stared for a long moment, before they sighed. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. One wrong move, and our heads will stand on pikes outside the temple gates.”
You frowned. “We’ve swam through far more dangerous waters than this,” you said with a nod toward the party.
“Don’t be flippant. Monsters roam these halls, the likes of which we’ve never seen.” Their hand reached out and grabbed your wrist, their words a fervent whisper. “Don’t trust anyone. Never let your guard down.
You huffed and stood up, tugging your wrist back. “This isn’t my first performance, Mhin. Don’t you trust me to handle this?”
“You, I trust. Them… him ….” They shot a seering glare at the stage. An empty throne sat in prime of place, a behemoth crafted from snow white, glittering Abaranth silver. A priceless treasure, bought with the brutal culling of the Abaranth people. Mhin’s people. “Never.”
Seething hate burned in their eyes - an enmity born of extraordinary suffering and loss. They had never spoken in detail about the massacre of his village, but you had noticed the remnants of that pain all the time: in the way he gripped his dagger in his sleep, the way he flinched at a campfire that flamed too high, the viciously protective way he guarded you and the troupe members, especially the children.
You looked over the party again.
These people had rejoiced. They had clothed themselves in jewelry hewn from that purest silver and danced on the mountains of corpses they had wrought to attain it. Thousands killed to slake that insatiable lust.
All of it made possible by the god of this temple.
The Vessel of the Seaspring and his army of Soulless.
“I’ll be careful,” you reassure them softly, your gaze on that empty throne. Determination to see this through burned white hot in your chest. You would succeed. And with this victory, the futures of so many would be saved.
Spurred by that thought, you glanced at the entrance of the hall and immediately caught the eye of a man lingering in the doorway, his arms folded over his thick chest. Leander’s mouth lifted into a smile, his chin jerking toward the interior.
“Looks like it’s time to get dressed,” you murmured before rising and heading toward the staircase. After a moment, you felt the shift in air as Mhin caught up and walked at your side, their arm brushing against yours.
_____________________________________
Ais hated shit like this.
When he reluctantly strode out of the shrine gate and took his place on the thick cushions of the throne, the crowd of nobles cheered and toasted their glasses, spilling wine onto the floor. They didn’t seem bothered at all by his lack of response, too caught up in the drunken revelry to care if he watched them all with utmost apathy.
With a pointed look at his man by the door, Ais enacted his plan to hurry along the events of the night and return to his rooms to laze about in solitude. Well, mostly solitude - he’d probably invite Princess to join him, maybe one of the dancers if they excited him.
Much as he’d like to, Ais couldn’t abstain from the entire banquet altogether - Ocudeus demanded his due from the horde of bloodthirsty humans - but he could decide how long and when. He figured, if he came for the dancing and ceremonial offerings, he’d at least be somewhat entertained and fed well.
Then, he could leave and sink into oblivion once more.
Chin propped on his palm, one leg thrown over the arm rest of the throne, Ais sat through two performances. The first was an instrumental ensemble with a variety of horns he’d never seen before. The second had dancers, but the kind that put on a theatrical performance, with exaggerated drama and a scene where one person was tragically killed by another.
The crowd dabbed the corners of their eyes.
Ais yawned.
He’s contemplating the swirling red wine in his goblet, contemplating leaving early regardless of Ocudeus’ wrath, when the third performance swept into the room.
Near drowsing, he watched the dancers glide into position in the center of the room, draped in fluttering red robes and glittering pearls. A cluster of musicians set up close to the stage, their instruments polished and primed. He paused as a familiar face appeared just behind the musicians: short dark hair, emerald eye, a winsome smile on his handsome face. Leander.
Ais tilted his head, curiosity peaked. The mage rarely made an appearance in the palace of the Seaspring - before Ocudeus had swarmed his influence over the kingdom, Ais had been a frequent visitor at Leander’s pub. They used to be something close to friends.
Leander’s attention was riveted to the center of the hall. Ais followed his gaze.
The dancers had formed two rings around the stage, fixed in place with their arms out and curled artfully around them like the blooming petals of a flower. They waited, eyes bright and smiles hidden beneath silk veils, for the music to begin.
At the center of the formation was a single dancer - the prima.
Even at a distance, she shone brighter than the rest.
In addition to her ceremonial garb, she was draped in an additional robe, this one as delicate and transparent as sea foam and embroidered with the tiniest glittering gems that caught the light like a river of stars. Her long hair was swept high on her head and fixed with a crown: its frame comprised of curling, golden tendrils, cresting in the center around a massive garnet, each tentacle fixed with dangling pearls that danced with every turn of her head. The tail of her hair flowed to the small of her back, a long silky length that curled like rolling waves and gleamed under the torchlight around the hall. Her hands were the color of summer storms, in which rivers of gold branched across the dark sky.
A feast for the eyes.
Ais rose from his slouch and leaned forward on the throne.
At some unspoken signal, the musicians began to play. An eerie, seductive melody began to fill the room, a string instrument singing through the sharp beats of a drum. The dancers began to turn in place, slow and winding, before curling toward the center and rolling together, their robes forming the waves of a shore.
They twirled and writhed to the music, twining around each other, the two rings weaving together, separating, leaping around the floor as one. At their center the prima rose and fell with them, her lithe form undulating, each stroke of her arms through the air prompting an ensuing wave amongst the other dancers, as though she were the moon commanding the tides.
The lethargic tempo gradually grew more passionate and alive. He’s reminded of the insidious curl of clouds that grew in strength and torrent, until a hurricane descended from the heavens - only this particular tempest, wrapped in red silk and gold, burned like an inferno.
The prima leapt recklessly through the ranks of the other dancers, the glitter of her crown and robes parting the sea of fire like a lightning strike. At one point she danced to the front of the stage, as close to the throne as she could, and her gaze caught his over her veil.
Bright, burning eyes encircled by thick lashes and red paint. Pearls had been fixed in clusters around her temples, then scattered around her taut stomach and back, gleaming against her skin. This close, he could watch the undulation of muscle and sinew in each curl of her body, each movement graceful, effortless, as smooth as the silk clinging to her frame.
She spun back to the center of the formation as the music rose to a crescendo, her dancers all around twisting in a frenzy, and then lifted her arms. Every dancer but the prima paused, then fell to the ground like dolls whose strings had been cut.
The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end.
The gold veins across her hands and forearms suddenly flared. An aura enveloped them, golden mist issuing from her skin, and then a single ball of light formed between her palms.
Ais sat up as the ancient magic welled from within the dancer’s body.
He tensed, claws gripping the armrests, as her hands molded the sphere of magic, radiating light like a miniature star, before twisting sharply.
It burst across the air like a firework. Sparkling comets of magic flew through the air, delighting the crowd into shrieks and screams of delight. He flicked a finger as one shot toward him, redirecting it with ease, and watched as it merrily spun in the air before crashing into a statue and dissipating in a last, popping spark.
Ais eased back onto the throne, surveying the crowd. The magic hadn’t harmed any of the humans, from what he could tell. They continued to clamor rapturously, some even chasing after the last few rays of magic and grasping with their hands to try and catch it.
His gaze soon returned to the prima, inspecting her with fresh eyes.
She was panting slightly, her face turned upward as her arms slowly dropped to her sides. Gold magic continued to exude from them, the fine mist now cloying and viscous, drooling from her veins like honey.
Ancient magic presented amongst beings - humans and monsters alike - rarely but on the chance that it occurred, it did so in unique ways. He’d never seen magic quite like this, in all his centuries of existence.
The prima then glanced up, searching for a moment before finding him in the crowd. She held his gaze for a moment, a flicker of something sharp awakening in those pretty eyes.
Ais tilted his head back, his mouth curling.
Interesting.
_________________________________________________
When the servant had arrived at the guest quarters of the troupe with a summoning from the Vessel, he was met with little surprise or fanfare.
Mhin had answered the door and, after a moment, nodded tersely. “She needs time to prepare. Wait out here.”
“The Vessel will not be kept wait - “ the servant tried to stop them, only to jump back as Mhin slammed the door in his face.
Grimfaced, Mhin joined you in your corner of the dressing room. Fischa was dabbing the sweat from your body with a couple cotton pads, taking special care to refresh the makeup around your face and apply fresh glue to any pearls that slipped on your skin. “It worked.”
“Oh!” The other dancer gasped, her cheeks flushing, before she lunged for the box full of perfumes and essential oils. “How long does she have? Oh, but it’d be best if you could bathe - you can’t service the Vessel with a sweaty body. A wardrobe change, at the very least?”
A nerve in Mhin’s clenched jaw jumped, but they said nothing as Fischa was soon joined by the other dancers, who dithered around you and argued how best to prepare you for a night with the temple god.
After much debate, they bullied you into changing into a fresh ceremonial outfit - still vibrant red and accentuated by pearls and garnets, but clean, dry, and embroidered with gold sparrows and delicate blossoms.
“Just a dab of this, and you’ll be ready to go!” Fischa beamed, her fingers dipping into a lotion compact. She rubbed circles into the crook of her neck and wrists, the scent of honey and clover brushing against your senses.
You wondered whether they would be as excited preparing you for a night with the Vessel, if they knew what you intended to do with it. Still, you would never return their kindness with anything less than gratitude.
“Thank you, sisters,” you murmured, clasping her hands and offering a slightly wan smile.
“You know, I can’t remember whether we’ve had a talk about… intimate relations,” Rukia chimed in, wrapping an arm through your elbow. “Have you been with a partner before?”
“Yes,” you said immediately, shutting down that frightening prospect before the other dancer got any further. “I’m aware.”
A series of knocks banged impatiently on the door to the quarters.
Fischa shared a look with Rukia when something seemed to occur to her. She hurried to a small dresser and dug around inside before returning with a small compact. She handed it to you with slightly pink cheeks. “Take this. Surely the Vessel won’t be… too passionate, but just in case.”
Confused, you opened the lid. A clear, viscous salve sat inside. You stared at it for a moment before her words sunk in.
Your cheeks burned.
Clearing your throat, you screwed the lid back on with clumsy fingers and tucked the compact in your pocket. “Thanks, Fishca,” you said, avoiding everyone’s gaze and turning toward the door.
Mhin grabbed your arm and pulled you to a stop just before the door. In their hand was a thin, ornate dagger, the blade purest white.
You tucked it within the folds of your pants, strapped to your hip with a leather belt. The drape of your robes should hide the slight bulge - it might cause a bit of trouble unsheathing the dagger, but you’d make it work.
Mhin leaned close and murmured in your ear. “Don’t hesitate. If anything seems off, do whatever you have to to get the fuck out of there.”
You nodded.
“I’ll be nearby.” Their hand brushed across the bracelet at your wrist. It was enchanted with a spell that, when activated with magic, would signal the matching one on Mhin’s wrist to vibrate.
“If you need me.”
You nodded again, this time grabbing their hand and squeezing for a moment, before lifting your chin and striding toward the door.
The harried servant, clearly both irritated and panicked to have been kept waiting, hustled you through the palace at fast as he could.
Despite having an excellent sense of direction, you soon found yourself struggling to remember the turns you’d taken, as each hall looked identical with its blood red walls and black marble floors, when the servant guided you around one last corner that opened up to a larger room with a vaulted ceiling.
You paused on the threshold, sucking in a gasp.
Amongst the luxurious velvet walls, the towering, worn mahogany doors set at the top of an equally ancient set of stairs looked unnatural. Around the circular room, grotesque statues lined the walls - no, not just statues.
Soulless.
Your stomach lurched.
“Come, this way,” the servant ushered, hovering and gesturing insistently but apparently unwilling to touch you. “Please. He’s been waiting for so long now.”
You swallowed around a dry throat and followed on slightly shaking legs, your eyes darting around the room, trying to keep as many of the monsters in sight as possible. Still, even as you reached the bottom of the stairs, not a single Soulless had so much as twitched in your direction.
Hell of an entrance. Literally.
“Up the stairs, through the doors. Go, go.”
You’d ascended halfway when you realized the servant hadn’t accompanied you. You looked over your shoulder.
The servant was gone.
Only the Soulless remained in the room. Where before they had remained as still and lifeless as statutes, now every red eye in the room opened and fixed upon you.
Terror shot like fire through your body.
Sprinting up the steps, you burst through the old doors and slammed them shut behind you, your heart pounding in your head, your chest.
Fighting to calm down, you forced your breath to slow and let your hands fall from their panicked barricade on the door. You sighed as your body cooled, a drop of sweat racing down your spine. Fischa’s anxious attempts to blot your sweat were all for nothing.
Once your heart had stopped racing, other sounds began to filter into your senses. The soft whistle of a breeze through a cavern. Gentle, bubbling movement of still water. Groaning wood beneath your feet, the faint creaking of hanging metal.
Steeling yourself, you turned around and faced the inner sanctum of the Seaspring palace.
From atop the rafters, Ais watched as the dancer took short, quiet steps further into the sanctum.
She drew her robes closer, the chill of the room drawing goosebumps across the bare skin of her stomach and arms. She stopped at the edge of the water, taking in the vast temple encircled by the aging pier, the torii gate that towered above, the lanterns and talismans swinging idly amongst the mahogany pillars. Sweat cooled on her brow, her eyes bright and calculating.
“Hello? Venerable One?” she called out into the room, her voice echoing to the depths of the cavern.
He rolled his eyes at the title. The humans found something new to call him every decade or so, each more foolish than the last.
She waited but, upon receiving no response, began exploring the left side of the pier. When she reached the tea pot and cushions, she hesitated before lifting the lid and peering inside. Searching for poison? Or just curious what the Vessel drinks?
Ais smirked as her nose crinkled.
She stood up again and looked around. Her curiosity led her to the closest pillar, covered in white paper talismans. For several minutes, she read their contents, a furrow in her brow.
“What would you wish for?” he asked.
The dancer jumped, her hand reaching instinctively to her hip as she searched for the voice. Soon, she looked upward, finding him amongst the rafters. Her eyes narrowed above the veil.
“Your Excellency,” she demurred with a bow, even as her sharp eyes held fast on his form.
He tilted his chin, resisting the urge to smile. “Answer.”
She considered him, that quick mind working behind those bright eyes, before she replied, “I would never dare to wish for anything, without a full understanding of the terms.”
Now, he smirked. “Smart.”
He could tell from the spark in her gaze that she held a sharp reply on the tip of her tongue but kept silent. “Speak freely,” he said, bracing his arm on his bent knee, a pipe hanging from his fingers. “I prefer honesty to pointless pleasantries.”
The dancer bowed her head in acknowledgement. “As Your Excellency wishes.” After a moment of silence, she asked, “For what reason has Your Excellency called for me?”
“Good question. Not sure yet.”
Her brow furrowed again. Her hands twisted in the silk, the many folds of her robes flowing over her arms. During the performance, the other dancers had reminded him of flowers, but she was too animated to remind him of such a staid thing. No, more than a flower, her movements - the way she dove and soared, leaped and tumbled through the air, reminded him of a sparrow flitting through the many bows and trees of a forest, carrying the light of the sun on her wings.
She looked around the room for a moment before turning back to the tea pot. “Shall I prepare a fresh pot then?”
“No need.”
He watched as she moved to the tea pot and prepared to remove the leftover grinds, then hesitated. Where moments before the pot had stood cold and empty, a full, steaming pot of tea awaited her. Her gaze darted toward him in question.
Ais pulled from his pipe and said nothing, curious what she’d do.
After a moment’s deliberation, she lifted the handle and poured two servings into the nearby cups, her brow furrowing at the deep red color of the tea.
A short laugh escaped him.
Affecting an air both graceful and ever so slightly annoyed, she settled on a cushion and held her cup in hand, her nose poised over the steam as she tried to subtly smell the batch.
“Is this wine?” she finally asked, after failing to place the flavor.
“Something like that.”
He blew out two long furls of smoke from his nostrils before rising from the rafter and dropping down onto the pier beside her. She stiffened briefly but recovered well, her head dipping in a chime of clinking pearls and gold, as he approached and took the cushion opposite her.
Ais leaned back on the pillar and whistled.
Soon enough, the scratching of claws across the ancient wood grew closer until Princess turned the corner of the temple gate, her many tails wagging behind her, the handful of wet, amber eyes around her head rolling as they surveyed the room, the dancer, and himself. She trotted toward him, her snout prodding into the side of his face, before curling up at his hip.
Ais dropped a hand on her back, his fingers brushing her fur.
The dancer had stiffened, her back ramrod straight, fear mixing in with the lovely scent of honey and spice around her. Bemusedly, he realized the addition didn’t put him off in the slightest.
After several moments, she relaxed again, hiding her eyes behind the thick rim of lashes. She lifted the cup to her mouth, took a delicate sip, and then set it back on the ground again. “How can I be of use to you, Your Excellency?”
“Use?” He took a long drink of his own cup and savored the burning down his throat. “What do you think?”
Ais watched the quicksilver calculation flash through her eyes. Then, her posture shifting, she seemed to settle into her determination.
Her robes loosened, the sumptuous weight falling down around her elbows, pooling around her hips. The smooth skin of her shoulders were bared, her head tipping forward to allow her long hair to spill over them in soft curls. Her eyes narrowed again, not in calculation, but in sleepy, languorous seduction.
Ais let his bent leg fall to the side, opening his lap.
She took the invitation without hesitation, all curves and silk as she crawled across the distance and settled on top of him. This close, he could sense the brimming magic swimming in her veins, the golden branches across her hands and arms shining with power.
Her hands smoothed across his chest, the tips of her fingers teasing beneath the folds of his clothes, before sliding around his shoulders and settling at the nape of his neck. She curled into him, those bright eyes inches from his own, the veil hanging between their mouths.
He could sense her breath on the air, could taste it across his tongue.
The smirk that spread across his face was an evil thing, even to his own mind, but still she did nothing as he tugged the edge of her veil from its fastenings and took her mouth.
______________________________________________
He kissed like a demon.
His tongue invaded in a hot rush of teeth and breath, his mouth working with a fervor at complete odds with his attitude thus far. You’re swept in the tide, hands seeking purchase on his thick shoulders as his hot tongue found yours, each brush of rough wet muscle a torrent on your senses as you struggled to keep your wits about you.
He tasted strangely spicy, the thick mulled wine from the teapot seeping across your palate. Each shallow swallow of the taste burned a line down your throat and settled in your stomach like whiskey.
Countless times, you’d lured targets just like this. Honeypot was something of a specialty, for all that you’d rarely engaged in true intimacy. You could separate the sensations from your head, your thoughts always focused on the mission, dissociating the physical from the mental. Missions just like this were a dime a dozen - entice, approach, distract, execute. Simple. Straightforward.
Nothing about this felt simple. Never before had the pleasure been this strong, this mind-numbingly good - never had it been this difficult to just think when a target laid hands on you.
Heat flooded your body, pooling in the pit of your stomach. When his hands braced your waist, scorching palms a brand on your skin, mischievous thumbs stroking along the dips and plateaus of your stomach, every nerve in your body seemed to perk up and come alive with tingling pleasure.
You broke the clasp of his mouth, panting as his tongue swept across your lip.
Red eyes bored into you, their weight intense and all-consuming. The Vessel pulled you against his chest, his hands guiding your hips down into the valley of his lap, and instinctively they began to grind against him, as though called to dance by a lewd melody you couldn’t hear.
A stifled moan rose in your throat as the hard jut of him notched against your sensitive mound and rose to meet you, rubbing deep and slow against your clit through the perilously thin fabric. God, he’s big. You felt yourself growing wet, your arousal dampening the silk further, heightening each brutal brush against your folds.
Sweet, heady fog began to slip into your head, teased and tormented on the precipice of that perfect, elicit friction.
The air between you felt cloying, humid and hot. You tossed your head back, fighting for breath and swallowing a moan as his eager mouth found your throat and proceeded to nip and suck.
The mission. Don’t forget what you’re here for - oh fuck, that’s good .
You struggled, searching your memories for the fuel to keep on trick. Mhin’s face, the glimpse of hollow grief on his face at the mention of his village. Fischa and Rukia. Huxtly, Fenrir, and Yulia, playing out in the fields around the tents, the breeze carrying their laughter.
Gritting your teeth, you dragged your hands from around his neck, down the firm planes of his chest and covered his where they sat on the curve of your waist and guided your hips in their lazy, exquisite dance against him.
You held his wrists and drew him upward, until his palms smoothed over the bottom of your rib cage, his fingers teasing along the hem of your top, pearls on thin gold chains slipping over his knuckles. He took the invitation eagerly, roaming beneath the silk until his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, testing the firm points as those terrible red eyes watched your face, devoured your flushed cheeks and hazy eyes.
Your pleasure seemed to feed his and vice versa, a conduit forming as riotous heat and lust charged the air between you.
Your hands left him to his devices, namely torturing you with flicks and pinches and hot handfuls of skin, and then returned to your waist, gripping your own hip bones as though bearing down on the thick ridge of his cock. Your right hand slipped within your pants and found the handle of the dagger.
His tongue licked a hot swath up your neck, his mouth lingering by your ear, his breath puffing against your jaw. You turned and caught his mouth again, sucking his tongue inward, your head swimming even as you fought to think.
With a quick jerk, you pulled the dagger out of its sheath, cutting through the fabric of your pants, and lifted it into the air, poised above his neck. Your grip tightened, prepared to tilt and plunge the blade into his jugular, when -
Your body froze.
What - what’s happening . Every single nerve in your body continued to sing with pleasure, your mound aching like an open wound, your skin tingling with the heat radiating from his body and touch.
Your mouth gaped, paused in the middle of a deep kiss, as he sighed and leaned back, his gaze tracing the blush on your cheeks, the dawning horror in your eyes. His hand slipped out from your breast and cupped your jaw, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip and dipping inside to tease your still tongue.
“Should’ve known not to drink from my cup, sparrow,” the Vessel said, his red eyes narrowed in satisfaction, before inspecting the raised dagger with interest. “Looks sharp.”
Then he withdrew a couple inches, just enough to bring his face closer to the weapon. “Oh…?” He met your paralyzed gaze over the blade. “Abaranth steel?” He tilted his head thoughtfully before a smirk spread across bruised lips. “So it’s personal.”
You watched, terror quickly replacing the fading pleasure in your body, sucking the warmth from your veins until sweat lay cold and dry on your skin, your heart racing furiously.
The Vessel dragged his hand down your neck, across your shoulder and down your arm in a mocking caress, fingers cupping your elbow teasingly, before reaching the thick gold veins embedded in your skin. “Wanted a closer look at these, but… turns out there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
You fought against the unnatural paralysis with all your might, those same veins he traced with his thumb lighting up with stifled magic - but to no avail. His words bubbled to the surface of your panic. You glanced down at the mug you’d taken barely a sip of.
The wine?
The Vessel hummed low in his throat, his gaze pausing on your face, before a slow smirk spread across his mouth.
Checkmate, sparrow , he whispered, but not once had his lips moved to form the words.
Your heart pounded in your chest, panic building to a crescendo, your body vibrating as though struck by lightning. What is this? What did you do to me ? you thought feverishly. What did I drink ?
His scarlet eyes flared, their malevolent glow burning like banked embers in the gloom of the temple. Then, with a flick of his wrist, the tea pot’s lid spun off the frame and onto the ground nearby. He hooked his fingers over the rim and lifted the pot until the chamber was level with your eyes.
Thick, blood red water sloshed from within, dribbling down the side of the pot.
The same water that ebbed beneath the pier.
You stared, a scream echoing from the distance.
Now , he mused, his voice almost bored even as it invaded your mind, let’s see what secrets you’ve got tucked away in this head of yours.
“He wants you to become one with the Seaspring. To bind your soul and body within this temple. To drown forever in these waters.”
His hand slid up your back and sunk into your hair. He crushed your mouth against his, more bite than kiss, his breath hot against your face. “Sometimes, sparrow,” he said softly, pressing the words into your lips, “I want that too.”
______________
A thin trail of cigarette smoke issued from the open maw of the Seaspring’s temple.
You felt the tension leave your shoulders, breathing in a lungful of briny air as you breached the steps and entered. This must be what it felt like, to tread on the tongue of a colossal whale: humid, salty air drifting around you, almost cloying to the skin; the arching red gates and rafters forming the palate, stalwart pillars covered in white talismans like teeth; a lake of blood pooling below like saliva.
As you surveyed the room, a form lounged between the pillars on the left, one long leg hanging over the pier, his boot stirring the water below. Your gazes met over the embering butt of a cigarette, his eyes glowing amidst the shadow and gloom of the temple.
You waited for a moment, gauging his mood, but, when the corner of his mouth slowly rose, you approached. The pier creaked underneath your boots, the talisman’s fluttering against the current of air.
“There you are.”
Ais took another long drag from his cigarette before a smirk curled his mouth. “Missed me?”
“Not you.” You instead knelt next to the Soulless lounging at his hip, three tails writhing with what you’d come to recognize as happiness. “Hey, good girl. I brought you a little something.”
Reaching into your bag, you tugged out a parcel wrapped in butcher paper. Once the massive hunk of meat and bone was revealed, Princess leapt to her feet and whined, prancing on the pier. You checked to make sure all the paper had come away clean before lifting it with both hands and offering it.
Vicious jaws bit with savage glee into the middle, sending rivulets of blood falling to the ancient wood below. She spun to the left and leaned into Ais, as if to show him the gift proudly, before he gently guided her back with a hand on her shoulder.
“Good for you, Princess,” he said with a smile, the hard lines around his eyes softening a bit. “Mind eating over there? You’re dripping.”
With a happy whine, she took her prize a few yards away and began tucking in with glee. You smiled but glanced away, ignoring the visceral wet sounds of hundreds of teeth gnashing into meat and scraping against bone.
“Where’s mine?”
You dropped down across from him, crossing your legs and propping your back against the pillar. “Jealous?” you asked, an echo of before that had his mouth curling again. “Have you been a good boy?”
“Doubt it.”
“Then,” you continued, “earn it.”
“Woof.”
Glowing red eyes watched you, their depths inscrutable, as he took another pull from the cigarette. The smoke curled from around his lips, slipping from the cracks in his teeth. The shadows under his eyes had darkened since you last saw him, the hollows in his cheeks deeper.
“You weren’t at the Wick the other day,” you said, careful to keep your voice level. “Skipping out on your tab?”
Smoke exuded from his nose as he sighed, head drifting back as his eyes closed. “Hm. Didn’t feel like company. Pissed I didn’t show?”
“No. Not like we’d agreed to meet,” you said easily. That was true - though over the past few months, it had become something of a regular thing: moseying into the Wick some time after dusk, having a drink with the other at the bar, sometimes lazing the night away in the booth in the corner, nursing pints and heckling Leander. “And now?” At his look, you added, “feel like company?”
“If I don’t?”
Witha short nod, you swept your bag over your shoulder and prepared to leave, when Ais’s eyes opened. “Stay.”
“Ass,” you murmured under your breath but slouched back to the ground.
In silence, you watched the water, the blood red surface still as stained glass. Ais resettled, his head back, eyes closed, his expression almost meditative except for the furrow on his brow. Once in a while the cigarette was lifted, his frowning mouth wrapping around the end, before another ghost exhumed from his lips.
You sat back, content to wait, thoughts drifting hazily as though you were spread out on a sunny hillside rather than the threshold of hell.
Ais could be mercurial at times - his moods swinging from playful smirks to grim contemplation, sharp with an icy rage or coddled by an almost drowsy boredom, with little warning. Some of that you knew was due to the Seaspring and the hivemind created amongst those who had drunk from the water, but it was difficult to tell how much.
Every now and then, Ais would disappear for a while, locked somewhere deep in this temple, and resurface after a time, his countenance steadier, more controlled. You couldn’t be sure - you had only known him for a few months, after all - but you wondered if that was his time to center himself amidst the hundreds of others swimming through the hivemind’s pool.
Hours could have passed before you felt his gaze on your face. The cigarette was barely a nub between his fingers. He dropped it into an iron tray by the tea kettle with a flick of his wrist and watched you for a long moment before he lifted his hand.
You lifted one brow in silent question, but Ais just curled his fingers, beckoning.
With narrowed eyes, you sighed before rising from your slouch and approaching him. Once in range, his hand whipped out and grabbed your arm, tugging you into his lap. Your knees hit the ground behind his hips, burning white hot for a moment before aching like a fresh bruise.
Muffling a curse into the front of his kimono, you sat back on his thighs, pushing against the hand that had settled on the small of your back. “Here I thought you wanted to earn that ‘good boy’ title,” you griped, shooting a glare at the mouth just inches away.
But Ais wasn’t teasing as you’d expected. His mouth, rather than twisting into a smirk, had stiffened, a muscle flexing on his tight jaw. Red eyes bore into you, the color of wine, not bright with humor but full of a deep, bottomless darkness that hooked into you with a strange mixture of trepidation and desire.
“Far from it,” he said, his voice low and empty. Before you could react, his hips turned, both legs hanging over the pier, as he slowly leaned forward.
Your arms, once draped loosely around his shoulders, now clenched around him as he held you over the Seaspring with an arm bracing your back. Your hands clutched fistfuls of the kimono, the fabric slippery between your sweaty fingers.
Ais continued to bend until your back was near parallel to the surface of the water. Out of growing panic, your legs had wrapped around him, thighs gripping as tightly as you could hold.
“Ais,” you started, but froze, the words caught in your throat.
His face turned toward you, burrowing deeper into your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. “Sometimes, the thought of you drinking from the Seaspring grows inside me.” His nose trailed against your cheek as until his mouth hovered against yours. “I dream of it. Taking a drink myself. Letting the blood pool in my mouth. Then…” A brush of hot, wet tongue teased against your lips, trying to coax you into opening for him.
A shudder ran down your back. Heat pooled and thrummed between your thighs, even as your stomach twisted at the idea. You’re caught between fear and desire, struggling to keep pace with him.
“Or like this,” he continued, his body pressed tightly to your front as he lowered you ever closer to the water. You realize with a thread of panic that the ends of your hair were now dipping beneath the surface. “Trapping you in my arms, and just… sliding in.”
Something hard and unyielding pressed against your groin, rubbing against you.
You swallowed thickly, staring into his eyes. The simmering red had been completely subsumed within the black. An abyss peered back at you.
“He whispers it, in my head.” His arm loosened at your back, dropping you another inch closer to the water even as your legs and arms tightened desperately.
The words sent icy fear flooding through your veins. He whispers it, in my head. That could only mean one thing, one being. A name you had only heard once before.
Ocudeus.
“The thought of losing you, of someone taking you far from here,” Ais whispered, his voice rough. “He wants you to become one with the Seaspring. To bind your soul and body within this temple. To drown forever in these waters.”
His hand slid up your back and sunk into your hair. He crushed your mouth against his, more bite than kiss, his breath hot against your face. “Sometimes, sparrow,” he said softly, pressing the words into your lips, “I want that too.”
For a long moment, you hung there over the still water, holding him as tight as you could. You felt cold, your body paralyzed with fear.
Beneath you came the sound of faint, thin pops of air. Bubbles. One, two, a cluster breaching the surface.
A scream was building in your throat. Instead of giving in to it, you stared into his eyes, searching. “You’d have to think of a new nickname for me,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Sparrows can’t swim.”
You licked your lips, your tongue just brushing against his, and - there. A flicker of that familiar red curling around his pupil. “‘Seagull’ doesn’t have - quite as nice a ring to it,” you gasped, heart pounding in your chest.
The bubbles were emerging more frequently at your back, the water gurgling, near boiling.
A thin whine from nearby cut through the air.
Just as it seemed the Seaspring might reach up and wash you beneath its undertow, you’re jerked upward. As easily as he might a bag of flour, Ais rolled you both back onto the pier. Stars burst behind your eyes as your head knocked on the pier, your hair snagging on splinters and nail heads.
Blinking through the pain, you forced your eyes open.
Ais was braced over you, his hair drifting about his face, the white tips hovering along his jaw and his horns. He was stiff and pale, his jaw taut, his eyes clenched shut as he fought himself.
When you twitched, his whole body tightened around you. His hand beneath your head which had once softened the blow, now slid down and gripped your nape, holding you in place. The silver pendant that rested on his chest now nestled against your collar, a cool kiss of metal against your clammy skin.
Panting, shaken, you laid there without complaint as your body slowly calmed.
After a long moment, the tension seeped from him, a tidal wave easing back into the ocean. His eyes opened, and the familiar bright, brimming red finally set your heart at ease.
His lips parted but no words came forth. He seemed unsure what to say.
Gathering your courage, you sighed, “... good boy.”
Ais blinked.
Stared, inscrutable, for a tense pause before his head hung between his shoulders. His forehead dropped against your collar bone, his face practically nestled in your chest, and just like that your heart was thundering again, knocking insistently at your rib cage.
He tilted his face toward you, his cheek rubbing against your shirt like a cat. “Do I get my treat now?”
“Think you deserve it?” you shot back, still shaken, but fighting through it to smirk. “After that performance… maybe I should muzzle you.”
Ais hummed, his hands idly stroking up your waist. “Would find a way to bite you regardless.”
“How about you bite my buns instead, if you’re so desperate for a nibble?”
His brows rose, but Ais smirked, his hands drifting lower, headed for your ass. “Read my mind, sparrow.” He managed to grab two, squeezing handfuls while you were reaching above your head and digging through your bag.
Wiggling out from under him and sitting up, you pushed another parcel into his now empty hands, flushing hot beneath your clothes. “These buns, asshole.”
Bemused, Ais maneuvered himself back into his preferred seat, leaning against the pillar with one knee drawn up. He inspected the parcel before unwrapping the edges. Three golden balls of bread were crowded together, their skins glazed with butter and lightly roasted. Inside, he’d find braised meat and chopped root vegetables, all marinated in a spicy sweet sauce.
He looked up, that fanged smile spreading across his face. “Really did miss me, huh. Sap.”
Huffing, you avoided his gaze and stared out over the water, drawn inevitably to the place where the Seaspring had begun to boil. The surface was once again calm, the depths impossible to distinguish. A shiver slipped down your spine, the hair on the back rising.
“Here.”
A bun hovered in front of your mouth. You stared him down over the top.
“Sharing is caring. Can’t be known as that terrible of a host,” he said dryly, “Think of my reputation.”
“You just want your balls in my mouth,” you grumbled but bit into the bun to hide your smile as he grinned again.
“Been told the taste is to die for.”
“Who told you that, Vere? I guess he would know.”
“Ask him. Get a second opinion.”
“An expert opinion, I bet. I’ll do that.”
Debating the point amidst bites from the mean buns, you sank into the comfort of the familiar as that moment grew further and further away. Princess, evidently finished obliterating her cow shoulder, approached and curled up next to you for a post-dinner nap, her head resting on your thighs. She seemed a little unsettled but calmed after a couple scritches.
As you stroked her head and fed her the last of your bun, all beneath the soft, dark veil of Ais’s gaze, you resolved to tuck that memory to the side for now, to examine later.
The first true moment that the Seaspring’s maw attempted to swallow you whole.
“Barkeep said you’d be back here,” Ais’s voice echoes through the empty kitchen, sounding bemused. “Gotta admit this wasn’t what I expected.”
You glance over your shoulder, snort, and continue to knead the large, lumpy mass of dough on the counter. “Thought I’d be butchering the cow for them?”
“Cleaning the bones for a necklace, bottling marrow for potions,” he adds, his footsteps drawing closer until he appears at the edge of her counter. “Scrying prey with skin or eyeballs. The usual.” He leans over and braces his elbows on the stone, chin notched in his palm.
“Ha ha.”
“Just thought you’d be doing something a little more badass.”
The dough softens and pulls beneath your hands, wisps of flour puffing into the air with each roll. For a long time, you’d been afraid to touch not just anyone but any thing . When you were young, your teacher had eventually convinced you to work on more crafts and skills, to grow more comfortable with your bare hands - and despite all they’d put you through, those memories still held bittersweet solace even now. “There’s still time to add more ingredients. A cup of chopped, eldritch sea demon should add some spice.”
“I was just about to ask if that was a meat cleaver in your pocket, or if you’re just happy to see me.”
You roll your eyes and pause to spread the dough between your fingers, before balling it up and dropping it in a pot to mature in the shade for a while. “Guess Leander’s getting most of my loaf tonight. I know he’ll appreciate it.”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “Most? Who else?”
“Vere will probably sneer, express his utmost disdain for such peasant fair, and then eat a fourth of it. He’s a slut for a honey glaze.” You sidle closer and prop your hip on the edge, looking him over. It’s a little unusual to see him out and about during the day. His hair windswept, the folds of his kimono draping around his belt and down his left arm, Ais looks as though he just rolled out of bed.
“Mhin seems like they’d have a sweet tooth too. Kuras… hmm.” You shrug and flick the tail of your hair over your shoulder. “Hard to know what the good doctor likes. Have you ever seen him eat?”
“No, despite Leander’s best attempts.” Red eyes trail lazily over the quiet kitchen: stacks of copper pots, a shelf full of knives and spokes, the massive iron cauldron warming in the hearth, before stopping on you. “He likes you, though.”
“Think he’d break bread with me?” You ask with a laugh in your voice.
Ais only hums, but the faint smile evolves into something with a little more teeth.
“It’s a shame my bread’s not badass enough for the Seaspring’s master,” you muse, biting on your tongue to keep from grinning. “Guess I’ll go and have a cry about it.”
“Always wanted to make you cry, sparrow,” he says, rising from his slouch and stepping toward you. His broad shoulders cage you up against the counter, his body looming over you. He’s not hot like most men and monsters - Ais seemed to exude the same chill that drifted in mists from the Seaspring, smelling of brine and brimstone. “Didn’t think I’d manage it like this.”
You look up at him from beneath your lashes, hooking your finger into the lip of the leather belt. You’re exceptionally careful of what you touch and where, without your bandages to shield him. “How did you imagine it?”
Ais leans into your space, his heavy-lidded gaze settling on your mouth with smoldering heat, like embers roasting on a bed of coals. His finger drew a line across the counter before lifting, a peak of flour sitting there like a snow cap. “No clothes. Less flour.” He blows it off, smirking as the cloud drifts into your face.
“The counter’s unexpected, but… not bad.” He wraps his knuckles against the top. “It’ll probably hold up.”
Heat curls within you. “ Probably .”
Ais shrugs. “Probably.”
You take a long, steady breath, feeling your stomach brush against him. “Better chances than that pier, I suppose.”
Something swam through his red eyes, the glow brightening for a heartbeat. “Now that’s a thought, sparrow.”
“You haven’t had it before? I’m offended.”
“Figured you’d want a bed, at least.”
“I’m not picky.”
Ais chuckles, the sound so low and pleased that it hooks into you with electric warmth. He leans his body forward until his weight presses against you, pins you to the cold stone at your back, and cranes his neck. He presses a grinning mouth against yours.
