𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐭
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Titus Danforth x fem!reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The wedding night
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Smut, Cursing, Arranged Marriage, mentions of devil worship, etc
𝐀/𝐧: guys I have the fanfic writer curse everything is happening to me I promise my drive is full of drafts. Anyways here’s a quick thing while I work on everything else.
A few hours to yourself after the wedding ceremony was just what you needed. A few hours is all it took for your life to change forever. No reception, no cake, no vows, just unholy blood oaths exchanged on a satanic altar.
Praise be to Le Bail.
Bathwater went cold an hour ago, still and clear. You hadn’t moved from your spot at the vanity since coming into the bathroom. Frozen, time felt. The lock on the bathroom door was horizontal waiting to be clicked upward and surrendered by your beloved husband.
Mrs. Danforth. Wife and beneficiary of Titus Danforth, heritor of the Danforth empire and the High Seat.
The Danforth’s were a quiet ruling family over the high council. Six families made up the council, with your family being one. Before the wedding you encountered Titus a few times, with few words. Nothing that was said would stick, not enough for a marriage to be proposed.
What terrified you most about marrying a Danforth was Titus himself. Ursula would’ve made a more suitable bachelorette if she wasn’t already married. His reputation preceded him. Impulsive, quick-to-anger, jocular, there wasn’t much to go off of when doing your personal investigation on him days before the wedding.
Many conceptions made of him in your mind came from YouTube. TED talks, meetings, college tours where he preached bullshit about hard work buying success. The corporate world ate straight from his hands.
There were rumors being spread on Reddit, some technically true ones, that credited seed investing or colonization for the Danforth’s success. None mentioned devil worship.
Titus wasn’t a man to marry, he was one to avoid. Strangely, he was you and your family's safety net.
The bathwater didn’t feel so bad when you finally garnered the courage to get in. Your eyes were still fixed on the lock and the quiet that seeped through the crack in the frame. Was he on the other side? Waiting? Titus talked about spending most of his free time in New York. Perhaps he’d taken off after the ceremony to indulge in one of his consorts. Men like him kept women in every country.
Apple, Microsoft, Samsung, those technological companies that dominated the American markets were your family’s doing. Investing for family. You were related to those founders one way or another. Being the youngest of the family, you were often overlooked. Money came easily, you lived a lavish life but when your father finally dies, you would get close to nothing, not if your brothers helped it.
The water turned milky and warmed with your movements. There wasn’t much of the day left on your skin to scrub off.
“No matter what you will be on the council.”
Fathers words echoed in your mind.
The High Seat belonged to Titus’s father, Chester. Chester died, the High Seat was left vulnerable. Everyone knew that it would either be the L/n’s or Danforth's getting that seat. The union solidified that.
You were getting sick of the bathroom, the cold water, the ambient lighting. Using your foot to click the drain and get rid of the water, you stood and stepped out the basin into a robe. The vanity was littered with body and skin care that they likely took from your home in Tribeca.
“Have kids and we’ll never struggle for power again. Don’t you understand, you will be the most powerful woman in the world.”
“Only because of my husband!” You snapped back.
It hurt to be reduced to the wife of the High Seat. You had a life. Friends, money, a studio apartment in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in America, and that was all overlooked because of one vow.
May death do us part.
Titus smiled wickedly. He knew you didn’t want this. A young woman with her entire life ahead of her marrying a 50 year old for the sake of strengthening the bond between two families. Both of you had a role to play. The relieving part for you was knowing that your great-great-great grandchildren would never have to want for anything. Gluttonous and full of sloth they would be. A worthy sacrifice in your eyes.
The robe on your body had the Danforth insignia on it. Obnoxious, but a reminder of who you were now.
You opened the door to the ensuite and froze seeing Titus in an armchair, facing the unlit fireplace, puffing on a cigar. He waited.
“Did I keep you long?” You asked to extinguish the silence.
He took a drag of the cigar. “No.” The odious smell filled your nose to your disgust. It was sweet smelling, not as bad as a cigarette. “Cuban.” He spoke again. The way your face grimaced at the scent of the cigar didn’t go unnoticed by him. “Not a smoker, hm?”
You shook your head. Titus let out a deep sigh. The vice of his was something you would have to get used to as time passed. That was the downsides of marrying an older man, they didn’t do a lot of mind changing.
He nodded to the changing divider at the opposite side of the room, then he turned to the fireplace to give you a semblance of privacy. A nightgown was folded over the top of the divider for you to change into.
A sheer gown, a lacy bra, and thong. The butterflies started when you realized Titus intended to honor every aspect of this union.
“If the bra doesn’t fit, leave it off.” His gruff voice echoed from the other side of the room. You dropped your robe and put on the garments.
The bra was too small, or at least it wasn’t full coverage. The top half of your breasts were exposed, nipples threatening to spill out. You adjusted the bra in the mirror to no avail.
“I…This isn’t full coverage.” You cleared your throat.
“Leave it off.”
Internally you screamed. You took off the bra and discarded it on the mahogany floor, then moved to put on the gown. At least the gown would give you some sort of coverage.
Nope. The nightgown was sheer. Stopping right at the hips and offering no coverage for vanity purposes.
Nothing would be concealed from him tonight.
“You okay back there?”
Zoning out was a habit you would have to break if you were married.
“M’fine.”
Titus was sitting on the edge of the bed when you finally decided to emerge from behind the divider. His eyes scanned you, cigar abandoned on the tray dying out.
He stood and met you halfway. “I’ll…buy you a bigger size next time.” His arm jerked upwards to cup your boob, but he paused. An inhale through his nose and he finally touched you, holding on to your torso so the fat of your breast fell over his index and middle finger.
“I didn’t mean to take so long,” You apologized. “Had I known we would-”
“Consummate?” His fingertips flexed into your flesh. “I take my vows to Le Bail very seriously.”
He guided you to sit on the mattress in front of him, “Open.” He commanded and snaked his thumb inside your mouth. You swallowed any saliva you were holding and took him in.
“That didn’t take too much.” He muttered and watched you with a lax mouth. “Didn’t have much opposition to the marriage did you?”
You shook your head.
“Smart girl. You know what's at stake.” He pulled his thumb out to rub your bottom lip, saliva making the motion even more slippery. “Not only did I need that seat, I appreciate beauty.” He stepped back and began tugging off his vest and undershirt, revealing his well-built 50-year-old body. You crossed your legs when you suddenly throbbed between your legs.
“Having a pretty thing like you as a wife, without all the courting, the work, the…drama was just too good an offer to pass up.” Titus then kneeled into the bed next to you, tapping your knee to get your legs uncrossed. He reached into your thin underwear and ran his middle finger along your smooth folds. An exhale left your lips. “Has anyone touched you here before?” His voice pitched.
You knew better than to lie, but you knew with men like him you had to give him a show. A false sense of power. To make them think that they were special.
“No.” A head shake accompanied your answer.
“No?” His finger entered you. With a gasp, his face brightened.
The mattress hit your back, becoming a grounding for you. Your eyes fluttered shut and the feeling of his finger dragging along your walls was the only thing consuming your mind. He leaned over and displaced a kiss on your lips, a peck, unlike the kiss he gave you at the altar.
“How about two?” He inserted his index finger. The sudden stretch made you breathless. His fingers curled upwards, stroking your walls. It was becoming a lot.
Circling your hand around his wrist he slowed, then stopped. His fingers left you with a ‘pop’, leaving you used and empty. Titus began working on his belt again, pulling the leather from the trouser loops and dropping them to his ankles. “Come ‘ere.” He pulled you closer to the eye of the bed. When you tried to sit up, he pushed back with a kiss. His tongue dragged across your lips.
Lips, neck, he trailed his teeth along your jugular. Collarbone, sternum, “Gown off.”
He backed up enough so you could properly remove the gown. Titus moved forward and sank his teeth into your breasts before the fabric could even hit the sheets. It didn't hurt, but it was enough to elicit a moan from your lips. His tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple, causing the throb in your panties to get more violent. A long groan marinated over your chest along with the warmth of his mouth.
“Titus,” You called his name for the first time that night. He tugged on and away from your nipple with his teeth. Trailing his nose down your abdomen he inhaled your scent, your youth, your ‘purity’. “I was right to say yes.” He knelt in front of the mattress, hooked his fingers around your waistband and pulled your thong off with ease.
He let out a guttural moan seeing a string of arousal from your thong snap back against your entrance. You bit your bottom lip and pulled your legs back to give him access.
A few hours ago you would’ve been repulsed at the way you were acting. Desperate, needy, wanting. Your body reacted to the sight of him, the sounds he made, the cracks and pitches in his voice when he was teasing you.
You would never have your hands entangled in his grey-brown hair, digging your nails into his scalp while squirming under him. You would never curl your toes and tense up when you felt his tongue circle your clit for the hundredth time.
“Titus I’m coming!” You whimpered out. He didn’t respond. His lips never left your clit, sucking until you leaked all over him.
Titus was entranced by the pleasure he was able to bring out of you. He had sex all the time, with women all across the world, but there was something different about you. His wife. Even splayed across his bed you were sweet, carried yourself with a class none of the women he fucked had. The High Council effect. You watched Titus stand and suck the fingers that had just been inside of you. His boxers were bunched at the crotch with evidence he had been fondling himself.
“Ready for me?” He climbed over you. With a mind of their own your hands reached down to drag his boxers down until he kicked them off.
“Mhm.” You nodded.
“Yeah?” He breathed against your lips.
You were prepared enough, slicked up with his saliva and your juices. He stretched you when he pushed into you, being thicker than anyone you’d been with before.Your bottom lip was strained between the two rows of teeth. Canines almost breaking flesh from how hard you were biting. Toes were curling, nails digging into his vein-lined biceps, wounding him.
Titus found a rhythm and watched your face contort in different ways as he rocked into you. His grunts were minimal. He wanted to hear you. “Tell me what you need.” He placed a soft kiss to your lips then dragged them over to your ear.
It wasn’t hard to immerse yourself in him. His stomach on yours. The ‘whooshing’ of his breath in your ear. His hands that gripped your thighs to hold you in place. The stubble on his chin rubbing on your cheek.
“I-I want more.” You broke the silence. His hand trailed to the underside of your thigh and positioned your leg up and outwards.
“More like this?” He slowed his thrusts and rocked his hips upward to get deeper. You gasped and placed your fingertips on his pelvis. “Mhm.” You moaned.
Titus buried himself to the hilt, groaning as the pleasure flowed through his body. “F-fuck you feel so fuckin’” his words turned to breathy grunts. His brain and body were on two different wavelengths. Sweet nothings left his mouth but never processed in his brain. Everything he said registered in yours. “I’m gonna love you so much.” His exhale tickled the vellus hairs in your ear. He placed a kiss on your neck and simultaneously rolled his hips, getting dangerously close to your cervix.
“Titus?” You curled your toes, coming close to your peak. Pathetic. You didn’t know how to call for him. How to tell him you were coming undone around him, but by the feel of staggering friction and jerk thrusts he was coming close to his peak as well. That familiar pit was forming in his stomach but Titus was a fighter. He wasn’t going to come until you did. Him being your ‘first’ meant he had to set a precedent of how sex with him was going to be, but by the way you were calling his name and whimpering uncertainly, he knew you were entangled in him.
“Shit!” He cursed three times before finishing in you. It took the warmth of his spurting in you to realize that neither one of you was wearing proper protection. Mid-orgasm he pulled out, leaving you fluttering and jerking around nothing. He removed himself from the bed and disappeared into the ensuite. Your body was sore when you moved to roll over, melting into the mattress and dwelling in ignorance.
𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞