I love the Damorius character! I need more of him in my life! I would gladly design clothing inspired by the mini-fic you wrote! Please write more! That is, if you aren’t too busy... -😗
I’m glad Damorius is getting some attention. He’s fun to write for. And I’ll gladly write a little more for him. As for clothing, I might write a little domestic thing with that cause I would like to develop his character more.
You always slept in late. Curled up among the bed-sheets of his chamber bed. Swallowed by the massive pillows Damorius had made from both beast fur and soft fabrics. If it was one thing Damorius and you had in common, it was the comfort and need of a soft bed, many cushions and blissful sleep. If he was able too, Damorius would happily lay in bed with you all day. With you curled against his side as he slumbers. But he was a Prince; responsibilities needed his attention or else his land would fall apart.
Damorius attempted to stay quiet as he dressed. Mortals needed more sleep than Demons did. But when it came to strapping on the armoured gauntlets, his claws clicked against the dark metal as he strapped them to his forearm. And the sound was enough to stir you from sleep. Further so, when he slid on some pants. The chausses matching the dark metal gauntlets and the unavoidable clicking of his talons.
“My apologies, my dear.” Damorius spoke softly. Watching you stretch lazily and cuddle into a pillow. “You should rest more. I won’t be long.”
You mumbled something into the silken material. Your half lidded eyes watching Damorius as he stood. A flutter of excitement running through you as your eyes drank in the sight of his bare chest. You were very happy that Damorius was stubborn and didn’t wear protective chest plates. Despite the high chance of being stabbed in the heart.
‘Armour is sign of weakness’, He had explained to you. ‘If I cower behind metal plates than what kind of ruler am I?’
‘A smart one.’ You had responded. But your words fell on stubbornly deaf ears. He had been trained since birth to fight and kill; and from what you knew, it was tradition for Demon Rulers to leave themselves open for an attack. Since Damorius’ rival also wore no armour whereas his army wore thick plates. You guessed it was something to do with scare tactics. Where the less armour you wore, the stronger you must be? But to you, it was stupid. And every-time Damorius left his chambers, you imagined a spear piercing through his unprotected chest.
“You’re staring again, little one.” Damorius’ teasing tone brought you back to reality. He stood at the end of the bed, his arms crossed and a smirk gracing his lips. You glared playfully and rolled your eyes.
“It’s hard not to when your nipples are staring me in the face, Damy.” You said. Smiling when Damorius scoffed. Grabbing your ankles, he tugged you down to the edge of the bed. He lifted your torso up so you were in a sitting position, allowing him to bend only a little to kiss you. He tasted of a bitter sweetness, his tongue like a fire teasing your bottom lips. Damorius left you breathless as he leaned back. Chuckling when you chased after his lips.
“You’ll get more later, little one.” Damorius purred, ticking your hips with his fingers. “But now, I need to go settle a disagreement.”
“You mean beat some heads together.” You replied.
“I’m old fashion like that.”