Lady Katsum Almor de Borel | Dragon Rider | Knight of Ishgard | Queen of Dragons | Warrior of Light | "I am Katsum Almor. I am heralded as the Defender of Eorzea, Knightess of Ishgard, and Liberator of Doma and Ala Mhigo. I am the Warrior of Light...and I am the Queen of Draic...the Queen of Dragons."
Cupping Zayne’s face in your hands, you squinted in a way to observe—admire this good-looking boyfriend of yours.
"What's wrong?" the man asked, chuckling slightly at the warmth on his cheeks. Well, he didn't mind you being cute like this, the slight pout and focused eyes right in front of his face.
Your thumb caressed his jawline, fingers tapping against his cheeks. He was hot, that's for sure. You've heard the elders gush over him, you can only smile when he was looking towards you for help—when they started offering to introduce him to their daughters.
"Why are you so good-looking?" You frowned, pressing—no, squishing his cheeks on purpose.
"Thank you for acknowledging," he said casually, staring back at you with a small grin. The paperwork on the table was soon left aside as he was more interested in you on his lap, who was simply adoring him.
Your hands were still busy, feeling his face and poking it once or twice. Tracing his eyebrows, his sharp nose, his lips. Soon, it turned to different targets. Next was his hand.
He watched as your small hands took his right hand. It was cute seeing you had to grab it with both hands, then you measured it by comparing it to yours—a difference he’s grinning at. You intertwined them once and twice, nodding slightly.
"Of what kind of inspection are you here for today?" He decided to joke, seeing how serious you were being. You hummed, squeezing his hands once.
“Inspecting Doctor Zayne's great features…" You trailed off, finger tracing the muscle lines on his arm. Well, he does pull-ups, and the veins. His scars still sadden you, but you were more grateful that he started to wear short-sleeved shirts at home. You would kiss his scars any other night.
“Oh, and what is the result of the inspection, Doctor Y/N?” He held your hips, preventing you from slipping off.
“Doctor Zayne is 100% a heartthrob.” You grinned, hands coming back to hold his cheeks. You wondered how he looked back then, stuffed with cakes and cookies.
"Will I be able to inspect Y/N's great features too?"
"No."
"Why, that's not fair."
You laughed, soon averting your attention to his collarbone. His collarbone was something you liked seeing whenever you lay beside him in bed. He was wearing a thin shirt today. The moment you touched it, he sucked his breath, grabbing your wrist.
“Alright, your handsy time is done." He breathed out, knowing it would do no good. With all the touching, he was trying hard to resist.
"But..." You pouted, soon fading when you realized the look on his face. It looked bothered. The tips of his ears were red. Oh, was this on purpose? Maybe.
He was getting his payback by pushing you back to the sofa, hand shielding the back of your head. His first stop was your lips. His thumb caressing your lower lip, his eyes occasionally flicked from your lips to your eyes.
He could probably hear your heartbeat being this close.
"This is one of my favorites." He teased, his thumb starting to lead to the edge. Dipping in as he tilted your face upwards to kiss you.
Short yet sweet.
Next, was to kiss your forehead. He chuckled at your flushed look, continuing to pepper your face with kisses, earning a giggle. Nuzzling one last time, he pulled you to sit beside him before he turned to his work—leaving you all smiley.
summary: you and zayne make the most of your time in the northern territories.
cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, vaginal fingering, masturbation, oral sex, hand job, p in v, praise kink, loss of virginity, historical au, entwined kites continuation
wc: 9.7k
a/n: this is kinda late but zayne was so scrumptiously perfect in it that i had to! i hope you enjoy!! <3
also on ao3!
“Are you making it a habit to lounge on every roof we come across?”
You shift, head poking over the edge of the snow-laden roof to find Zayne peering up at you. He raises his brows, eyes twinkling with amusement when you simply sprawl over the roof a little more, perched on the rafters contentedly.
“They are quite comfortable,” you say, fingers gliding through the snow, pushing it towards the edge, watching as it falls, snow dusting over Zayne’s hair delicately.
He huffs out a soft laugh, brushing the snow from his hair, his hand reaching out for you soon after.
“Be that as it may be,” Zayne murmurs, “I should not wish for you to become ill, my beloved. It is too cold. Come down, won’t you?”
You hum, sitting up and letting your legs dangle over the edge. Zayne’s warm fingers slip through yours, holding tightly before he tugs gently, stepping closer when you slide off of the tiles of the roof, his arms wrapping around your waist to catch you.
“You’ve become more comfortable saying that,” you tease airily, flushing lightly when his hands smooth over your robes, brushing the snow from the thick, woven fabric. “Am I truly that precious?”
“You still doubt that?” he sighs, his hands reaching for yours once he’s satisfied with your robes. “We flew a kite together, did we not? The Lady of Anlan should know by now how she is worth to me.”
Pouting, you lean into him, eyes fluttering shut when he cups your hands with his, squeezing and rubbing to warm your chill-ridden hands. Zayne mutters something under his breath but you can’t catch it with the way the wind picks up around you, howling loudly.
It’d only been two days since you’d arrived in the Northern territories, winter having already set in whilst you had made your journey here from Anlan. You thought you’d be staying in some sort of lavish inn, but when the hours had passed and you’d travelled deeper into the North, Zayne had informed you that this territory was also his – a generous gift provided to him by the Imperial Court.
Zayne’s efforts during the war must have been second to none, given the fact that this mansion was almost the same size as the one in Anlan, erected atop a snow-covered clearing, deep into the mountains. You’d never seen anything so beautiful. Anlan’s spring was often windy, the air laden with the scent of blossoming flowers and ripe fruit. The air here though, was crisp and so startlingly fresh that every time you took a breath, you were sure you could taste the snow on your tongue.
“Stop moving.”
Zayne’s voice is low in your ear as he pulls you inside the warmed quarters, his brows knitted together as he pulls gloves onto your hands, the fine garment patterned with different colors of layered cashmere.
“I’m fine,” you insist, trying to pull your hands free only to receive a stern look from Zayne, his fingers lacing with yours. “I won’t fall ill, I am much stronger than you think me to be.”
“Any self-respecting husband would not allow his wife to catch her death,” he replies just as stubbornly, a smile pulling at his lips as you tug him through the hallways, towards your shared quarters.
The maids have a penchant for staring, you’ve realized. Unlike Anlan, the maids here seem more brazen, emboldened by the harshness of the cold. Still, they hadn’t bothered you and Zayne, hadn’t done anything in particular other than stare when they could, so you let them.
There’s a bath drawn for you behind the patterned screen the moment you step inside. Your gaze darts to Zayne’s, fingers tightening in his grasp, refusing to let him go when he moves towards the fire.
Your cheeks flush lightly as you pull at his robes, tugging him down to your height. “Would– would you like to join me?” you ask, feigning innocence as your fingers splay against his chest, eyes lighting up when you feel the stuttered beat of his heart through the fabric. You lean into him, voice lowering, “you were right, my lord. I am quite cold… perhaps you ought to keep me warm.”
Zayne’s brows shoot up in surprise, a noise rumbling low in his throat. His hand slips over yours, pulling it away slowly.
“Is that so?” he murmurs, his head lowering, nose brushing against yours. “I thought you were well? You said you would not fall ill.”
Your eyes narrow when you see the mirth in his eyes. “I– I might!” you sputter, glancing around to watch the last of the maids filter out of your quarters with a polite bow. “They say body heat is the best remedy for–”
He interrupts with you an amused huff, his hands moving to stroke your sides. You frown when he shakes his head, tugging the gloves off irritably before moving begrudgingly when he pushes at your back with an insistent touch.
“The bath water was drawn from the springs nearby,” Zayne says, standing behind you when you flop down onto a daybed. “It is said to be blessed by the gods.”
“The gods?” you echo, face twisting with discomfort when you feel a twinge of pain from pulling out the ornate hair pins buried firmly in your hair.
“Yes,” he replies, his ministrations gentle as he brushes away your hands, beginning to pull out the pins himself. “The gods are said to dwell in the mountains nearby. We are quite close to them, so naturally it has been thought that the springs that come from them are also blessed.”
“I think I may be blessed,” you sigh dazedly, eyes drooping shut every now and then as Zayne runs his fingers through your hair, soothing away the tangles and knots. Your head lolls back when he strokes your hair, bleary eyes blinking up at him as you smile sleepily.
Your gaze flickers to his lips, breath hitching when his fingers smooth over your cheeks, tracing the curve of your jaw. You’d thought that Zayne would have kissed you by now, but he had become strangely artful in avoiding your advances. Perhaps he wasn’t ready yet for such a relationship… perhaps his assessment of you had changed… the very thought is brushed away as soon as it comes, your distracted mind now latching onto the soft, fleeting press of his lips against your forehead.
“Indeed,” Zayne whispers, voice deep and lilting, his lips skimming over your skin to kiss your cheek. “You must be if I have been led to you.” He smiles against your cheek. “The gods have been particularly generous.”
His words have you swallowing harshly – a weak attempt to dispel the rapidly swelling lump in your throat.
“You… you think I am a blessing from the gods?”
Zayne hums, his head tilting as he stares down at you. “Yes,” he says bluntly, his brows furrowing as though concerned by the breathlessness present in your voice. “You may very well be more auspicious than my jade seal.”
“Have you lost your mind?” you hiss, moving up onto your knees, leaning towards him. “If someone were to hear,” you lower your voice further, “not to mention relay such words to the Imperial Court of all things–”
“Then I would be glad,” he retorts, his hands cupping your cheeks once more, head dipping to let his nose brush against yours. “The Lady of Anlan holds a revered position within my heart, after all.”
A desperate, violent shudder racks through your body and you reach for his robes roughly. Zayne’s eyes widen in surprise, and you can hear the way his breath stutters, his lips parting. They look so terribly inviting – pink and unblemished – and you can’t resist the way your head tilts just enough to–
He pulls away.
“You always do that!” you protest, throwing your hands up as frustration sparks in your eyes. “You cannot just say such things and not expect to want something from you.” Your voice dips into something demanding, back straightening as you stand. “Kiss me, Zayne.”
“We… we mustn’t,” Zayne says, sounding hoarse. He distances himself, hands clasping behind his back, cheeks faintly dusted with a light shade of pink.
“And why is that?” you ask testily, stepping towards him. “You had me sit in your lap, Zayne. You said that I was near and dear to your heart. You–” it’s embarrassing the way your voice wavers, “you brought me here so we could watch the aurora.”
“I know,” he rasps, looking stricken. “I did all of those things because I wanted to. And now, I cannot help but think I may overwhelm you.”
“Overwhelm me?”
“There are many things I want from you,” he murmurs, reaching for you, his arms slipping around your waist. Your breath hitches when he nudges his nose into your cheek before he nuzzles closer, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. “Terrible, wicked things,” Zayne whispers, “I cannot stop my mind from wandering when it comes to you. Every thought is consumed by your presence.”
You stand, completely and utterly frozen. The depth of his words leave you reeling, your fingers twitching at your sides helplessly. You had had passing romances before, when you were younger and naive and easily enraptured by a handsome smile, but this– Zayne has your heart lurching and racing unsteadily, the blood in your veins blistering newly with an unfamiliar sense of longing.
He lifts his head a few moments later, warm, calloused hands sliding over your cheeks with a gentle caress. Zayne mutters your name – softly, slowly, ardently – every syllable rolling from his tongue like the sweet nectar from flowering jasmines.
“Zayne–” you choke out desperately, “I–”
A knock on the door of your chambers interrupts you, an attendant’s voice filtering through the crevices to request Zayne’s presence elsewhere. You begin to shake your head, an irritated noise leaving you when he begins to pull away once more.
“I shall accompany you,” you say, still slightly breathless and frazzled, “and perhaps then we might finish this conversation.”
“Later,” he promises, giving your hands one final squeeze. “You are still cold to the touch. Go and bathe, if you wait any longer the bath will have cooled.”
You huff out an irritated breath. “You aren’t being very agreeable.”
“No,” Zayne agrees, a small smile pulling at his lips, “I suppose not.”
When the attendant calls for him again, you sigh, pushing at his chest lightly. “Go then. But I will be waiting for you.”
Your eyes widen when he suddenly moves, hands settling against his chest when Zayne spins you around, crowding you in against the wall. Lips parting in confusion, you suck in a sharp, stuttered breath when his hand slides over the nape of your neck to cup the back of your head.
“You tempt me too much.”
And then he’s kissing you, lips pressing against yours feverishly. You stiffen, just for one startled moment, before you’re drawing him closer, fingers curling into his robes. Zayne groans, his body shifting to press flush against yours until the hardness of the wall digs into your back.
Zayne kisses you like he’s been starved, soft, pillowy lips slotting over yours again and again until your head spins. You can’t move with the way he’s cornered you, can’t breathe with the way he’s kissing you. It doesn’t matter, you think hazily, managing to wrap your arms around his neck, dazed eyes fluttering open when he draws away, panting heavily.
His forehead rests against yours, and the heat of his body does nothing but set you alight. Leaning in, you capture his lips once more. It’s slower this time as you tilt your head, guiding the kiss until he’s tipping your head back to deepen the kiss, tongue brushing against yours fleetingly. You sigh into his mouth, fingers slipping into his hair when Zayne breaks away to trail heated kisses down the length of your neck, his hands squeezing at your waist.
“I must go,” he rasps between kisses, his thumb digging into the underside of your jaw to feel your unrestrained, racing pulse. You jolt at the scrape of Zayne’s teeth over your skin, his tongue following soon after, soothing the bruised skin. “I… I really must go, my beloved.”
“Then go,” you murmur dazedly, any sense of urgency lost on you as your back arches, head tilting to offer up more of your neck. “I said– ah– I would wait.”
He hums, mirroring your languidness as his hands move deftly, pulling your robes apart until he’s able to see the curve of your body through the thin slip of your undergarments. His jaw works, a muscle in his temple fluttering as he stares.
“You are welcome to stay,” you whisper, biting your lip. “After all, I am in need and is it not a Lord’s duty to take care of his wife? To cherish her?” You move, letting your robes fall from your shoulders, the heavy fabric pooling at your feet.
Zayne swallows, his hand coming to cover the lower half of his face. You smile faintly, your hands brushing against your breasts, drawing his attention to your hardened nipples. The low hiss he lets out is barely audible and you whine softly, batting your lashes.
“You may very well drive me to madness,” he mutters, reaching towards you, letting his thumb brush the underside of one of your clothed breasts before his hand jerks back like he’s been scalded.
A soft laugh escapes you and you step closer until it's you that’s crowding him, breasts squishing against his robes. “Perhaps touching me more… thoroughly would alleviate such an ailment?”
“I know what you are doing,” Zayne scoffs amusedly, shaking his head, “have you employed such tactics before?”
You smile, eyes twinkling. “Only on handsome, royal lords who are exceedingly stubborn.”
“Is that so?” Zayne’s voice deepens, his nose brushing yours. “The thought does displease me.”
You raise your brows, eyes sparking with mirth. The hint of jealousy in his voice has nothing but hot arousal swirling in your stomach, your thighs clenching together involuntarily. Your smile grows wider when you spy the restless flex of his fingers by his side.
“That will not do,” you murmur, reaching for his hand. “I am your wife, after all.”
Blinking up at him innocently, you guide his hand under the hem of your undergarments, between your thighs until his palm presses against where you want him. Zayne’s breath hitches, his brows furrowing when he feels the heat of your bare pussy, his lashes fluttering uncertainly.
“You…” Zayne sounds choked, “you are this aroused?”
“Mhm,” you watch him carefully, a soft gasp leaving you when his fingers move suddenly, slipping through your damp, puffy folds.
You try to keep your eyes open but it’s difficult with the way he’s taken to exploring you, lithe fingers gliding and rubbing, pressing and caressing. His fingers circle your clit experimentally, his brows raising minutely with interest when your hips jerk towards him.
“Here, then,” he whispers, lowering his head to rest his forehead against yours. “Is this where you need me, my beloved? Or perhaps…” Zayne trails off, his fingers moving until they prod against your fluttering hole, “here?”
“Y– yes,” you whimper, shoving your face into his chest as your hips rock against his palm, clit catching along his calloused skin. “Yes, anywhere, just– just please touch me!”
“How desperate you’ve become,” he clicks his tongue, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Have I reduced my wife to begging?” He lets out a heavy sigh, lips pressing against your ear. “How unbecoming of the Lady of Anlan.”
A needy whine leaves you, your hazy eyes finding his as he circles your clit faster, the pads of his fingers brushing over the swollen bud. You try to speak but the words are stuck in your throat, a moan sounding through the chambers instead. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, you blink blearily when you see a smile playing on Zayne’s lips.
“I– nghh– suppose you are enjoying this, husband,” you grit out, panting against his mouth when he kisses you roughly.
“I am giving you what you want, am I not?” Zayne rasps, a finger pushing against your clenching pussy once more, gently easing it in. “I am abandoning my duties for you, my beloved.”
You paw at his robes, eyes widening when he slips another finger inside, beginning to thrust them in and out of your pussy lazily.
“Zayne–”
“Do you think they can hear us?” he asks, lips dragging over your neck once more. “The debauched noises that you are making? Perhaps that is why they have not called for me… because they know that I must stay to satisfy my insatiable little wife.”
You manage a poor attempt at a scoff. “I am not insatiable! I simply wanted you to–”
“Bed you?” Zayne interrupts, his arm winding around your waist when your knees buckle as his fingers curl and thrust into you harder.
“Ah– fuck–,” you mewl, stumbling backwards as he walks you towards the wall, pressing you against it once more. Your eyes roll back when he bites your neck, chest heaving uncontrollably as his lithe digits crook further inside of you.
“Tell me,” he murmurs against your throat, thumb finding your slippery clit. “Is that what you want, love? For me to bed you? To take you until you know nothing but me?” He groans when your hand slides down to grip his wrist, desperately trying to deepen the press of his fingers into your leaking cunt.
You nod jerkily, faintly embarrassed by how wet you are, thighs dripping with your slick and Zayne’s knuckles coated with it.
“P– please,” you gasp, rocking up onto the tips of your toes to kiss him sloppily. “You have teased– ngh– me enough have you not?”
“I had no such intentions,” Zayne whispers, tugging your head back to kiss you deeper, his lips capturing yours in a feverish kiss, one that leaves you gasping for air. “I… I was waiting,” he admits softly, brushing the strands of hair clinging to your sweaty skin, his fingers never slowing their pace. “I thought perhaps after seeing the aurora it would be more,” he trails off, flushing pink, “romantic.”
“Romantic,” you echo breathlessly, nodding dazedly as he fucks his fingers in and out of your aching pussy, his fingers finally brushing right where you need him, the ministration making your eyes roll back. “Right– fuck– of course.”
“Alas, you could not wait so now here we are,” he rumbles, thumb brushing over your lower lip as he watches you intently. “The Lord of Anlan with his fingers inside of his desperate, lovely wife’s cunt.”
You shoot him a scandalous look, unused to such words from a man who is usually so stern and composed and above using such language.
“I spent years at military camps,” Zayne explains when he sees your expression, his breath hot against your forehead. “Naturally, stories become abundant and imaginations begin to wander.”
“Did– ahhh– did you ever take a lover?” you ask, brows furrowing irritably at the thought.
“Never,” he sighs, his hand moving to cup one of your breasts through the thin undergarment, squeezing. “You are the first, my beloved.”
Zayne smiles when he sees the shock flickering across your face, continuing to squeeze your breast, his thumb brushing over your pebbled nipple with ease. He lowers his head without warning soon after, mouth latching onto your breast through the fabric. You moan loudly, fingers sliding through his hair as he sucks, tongue flicking against your nipple, his fingers slipping from the hold of your clinging cunt to press against your swollen clit.
“I–” you choke out, toes curling against the soft rug underneath you. “I– ah! am going to cum!”
“Then cum,” Zayne says softly, guiding his fingers back into your fluttering cunt with ease, curling them before he plunges them into you at an unforgiving pace. “I should like to watch my sweet wife come undone.” His mouth finds its way to your other breast, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue swirling and flicking and teeth scraping lightly, just enough to have you seeing stars behind your closed lids.
You pull at his hair roughly drawing a wince from Zayne, but he doesn’t seem to mind when you do it again, instead mouthing at your clothed breast, his fingers scissoring inside of you when he feels you clench around him uncontrollably.
“Show me,” he murmurs hoarsely, “show me how I make you feel. Fall apart for me, love. Let me see what I have reduced you to.”
You can’t think straight, not with the way he’s taken to whispering into your ear, filth and sweet nothings pouring from his mouth as he fucks your cunt with his fingers and plays with your swollen clit. You try to peel your eyes open to watch him but it’s too difficult with how close you are, with how good it feels to have his fingers inside of you, reaching places that you never could.
“Let me hear you,” Zayne coaxes, his voice low and soothing. “You feel so lovely around me, my beloved. My sweet wife.” He kisses your cheek delicately and then your mouth, huffing amusedly when a ragged moan tears its way out of your throat. “That’s it, love. Just like that. Cum for me.”
You don’t need further instruction, squeaking when he pinches your nipple, thighs trembling violently and legs shaking as you fall into him. The force of your orgasm isn’t like anything you’ve experienced – so violent, so consuming that you can barely feel the stroke of his hand on your hair.
“Good girl,” Zayne whispers, kissing your cheek as his fingers slow their movements, slipping out of your pussy carefully.
You whimper when he rubs your clit gently, drawing out the last few aftershocks that rack through your body. Breathily heavily, you use Zayne’s arms to steady yourself, shivering when he kisses your forehead. Just when you tilt your head, you catch the movement of his arm, jaw slackening with disbelief as you watch his fingers disappear into his mouth. Your throat feels uncomfortably dry when Zayne sucks his fingers slowly – the very same ones that you had made a mess on earlier – cleaning them thoroughly while he stares down at you.
“Oh,” you breathe out, staring blankly when he licks his lips.
A surprised yelp escapes you when he picks you up suddenly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he walks behind the partitioning screen, setting you back onto your feet. He helps you into the bath and by some miracle it’s still hot, steam curling from the surface as you undo your ruined undergarment and sink down into the heated bath.
“You won’t join me?” you ask poutily, nuzzling into his palm when his thumb strokes over the curve of your cheek.
“I’m afraid you have made me avoid my duties for long enough,” Zayne sighs, shaking his head. “We may not be at war but there are still certain things I must look after as the lord of this territory.”
“That was hardly my fault,” you protest, although you’re unable to stop the smile from spreading across your face before you lean over the edge of the bath and kiss him sweetly.
“No,” he muses, standing up to straighten his dark robes, “I suppose I cannot blame you for befitting your role as the Lady of Anlan.”
You watch him quietly, stifling a laugh when he shifts uncomfortably, catching his narrowed gaze. He drops a fleeting kiss to your forehead before he turns to leave, his hair swaying prettily.
“And when you come back,” you call out teasingly, sitting up in the bath, “will you do all those terrible, wicked things to me, Zayne?”
He pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you. You don’t miss the way his gaze drops – just for a moment – to take in the swell of your bare breasts before he turns, striding towards the doors.
“Yes.”
–
“Where is it?”
You grumble under your breath, rifling through your garments and robes that had been brought here, shoving your head into the cabinet to try and find the offending garment.
You were sure you had brought it, especially following the knowing glances your maids had shot you, their giggles soft as they had helped you pack. A few more frantic rummages later, you find what you’re looking for, the sheer, silk nightgown nearly slipping out of your hands.
Zayne had to be returning soon, you were sure of it. At least an hour had passed since you had bathed, the lanterns outside glittering prettily in the growing darkness of the night. Shedding your robes, you slip into the nightgown, adjusting the straps before smoothing your hands over the thin garment.
It left little to the imagination, similar to your undergarments, although the fit was far more flattering. You crawl onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully, trying to channel an air of grace as you wait for Zayne to return.
But when the hours pass and Zayne is nowhere in sight, you groan, slumping back against the pillows. There’s a dull ache in your shoulders from trying to stay upright in that awkward position, although it’s nothing compared to the ache between your thighs.
You squirm, still aroused even after the bath, pussy clenching longingly as you feel the phantom brush of his fingers against your skin. Glancing at the door, you will for him to come striding through the doors, eyes narrowing in concentration. The doors stay stubbornly shut, unbending against your will and you huff out a breath, unable to wait any longer, hand disappearing under the hem of your nightgown.
You’re already wet, slick beginning to drip through your folds as you slide your fingers between them, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. The press of your fingers against your clit is enough to take the edge off for now, hips bucking when a thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine.
It’s already warm inside your chambers, but when the image of Zayne’s face materializes behind your eyes, you feel hot. Arousal curls around your body – heady and unforgiving – drawing a soft whine from your lips as you rub at your clit desperately. It’s nothing compared to Zayne’s fingers though, his lithe digits knowing as they had explored you despite his inexperience.
Even so, the thought of Zayne being all yours has a moan escaping you, your pussy clenching as you slip two fingers inside, beginning to pump them in and out. They don’t reach as deep, don’t satisfy you the way Zayne’s had.
“Z– Zayne,” you whisper, cheeks flushing with slight mortification at being so wanton.
But when your clit pulses, throbbing for attention, you whimper and move your fingers, letting them slip back up to rub at the swollen bud feverishly.
“Zayne,” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut. “Zayne… ah– I need you.”
“I see you have begun without me, my beloved.”
You shriek, flailing as you sit up, pulling your hand free from between your thighs. He stands at the edge of the bed, somehow looking like a heavenly vision, his hair loose and flowing over his shoulders, the black robes a stark contrast against his pale skin.
“Zayne, you’re here,” you laugh breathlessly, brushing your hair out of your face, “I… I was waiting for you.”
“Wearing that?” he murmurs, gaze dark as it travels over your body hungrily. “You truly have no shame, love.”
“Shame?” you echo indignantly, crossing your arms over your chest. “You did not have any shame when you were sucking my breasts through my undergarments!”
Zayne hums, his head tilting as he watches the way your thighs squeeze together. Your arms drop, the mattress dipping under your weight as you crawl towards him, settling near the edge of the bed.
“You need not stop on my account,” Zayne says finally, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. “I want to watch you. May I?”
“You… you want to watch?”
“Yes.” Zayne’s voice is soft when he answers, a pretty flush of pink sitting high on his cheeks, the tips of his ears reddened.
His request has heat pooling low in your stomach, your fingers tightening into the blankets before you nod slowly, moving to sit back against the pillows, spreading your thighs for him.
Zayne inhales sharply when he sees you, nightgown pulled up to your hips, pussy spread open for him.
“Only if I can watch you,” you whisper, biting your lip as you let your fingers drift over your puffy folds.
You half-expect him to protest, but you receive a curt nod instead, your eyes widening as you watch him shed his robes and silks, breath catching when you finally see him bare.
A few scars litter his muscled chest and abdomen, similar to the ones streaking across his forearms. You swallow harshly as you follow the lines of his body, gaze dipping down to find his cock already hard. It’s longer than you’ve ever seen and thick too, pre-cum glistening at the tip as it bobs gently, struggling with its own weight.
“I do not think it kind of you to hide something like this from me,” you manage out, unable to look away from his fat cock, your fingers beginning to move against your own will, rubbing at your clit.
“My body?” Zayne murmurs, his hand wrapping around his cock as he begins to stroke his length, pace lazy and relaxed. “The opportunity never arose.”
You whimper softly, hips beginning to roll as your fingers move, circling your clit faster, hazy eyes watching as Zayne’s hand tightens around his cock, the muscles in his forearm and bicep flexing with every stroke.
“You look beautiful like this,” he whispers hoarsely, watching as you squeeze your breast through the nightgown. “Spread open and wanton for me to gaze upon.”
“Only for you,” you mewl, thrusting your fingers inside your aching cunt with a needy moan. “I need your fingers, Zayne,” you gasp, beginning to rub at your clit with your other hand, trying to spread your legs open wider, “mine– nghh– do not reach deep enough.”
“I am too weak to resist you,” Zayne groans, stepping forward, his fingers brushing yours aside as he sinks two digits inside of you without pretense.
Your toes curl, hands pawing at his thighs before you find his cock, fingers greedily curling around the fat length. “I like it,” you murmur, hips rocking into his hand as you stroke him uncoordinatedly, “your cock.” Your eyes light up when it twitches, gasping softly when a glob of pre-cum beads at the tip, rolling down the side of his cock.
You surge forward without thinking, tongue dragging up along the length of his cock to catch the glob, lashes fluttering at the heady taste that spreads over your tongue. Zayne’s moan startles you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stares down at you.
“I thought you were innocent,” he rasps, pushing your hand away when you reach for his heavy balls with interest. “I thought you were sweet, my beloved. But it seems as though…” Zayne trails off, leaning over you as he quickens his pace, fucking his fingers in and out of you, his eyes glinting when you cry out, thumb pressing hard onto your clit, “my wife is a temptress.”
“Then– ahh– fuck– you ought to be glad I am wed to you, Zayne.”
A low snarl tears its way out of his throat. “Eternally, love.”
You squeal when he drives his fingers into you roughly, the snap of his wrist audible before he’s kissing you eagerly. Your noises are muffled by his mouth, Zayne’s lips searing as he kisses you, his hand sliding up to settle around your throat loosely. He licks into your mouth the moment your lips part, stroking and taking until you’re left dazed and breathless.
“I wish to taste you,” he mutters gruffly, his nose brushing against yours as he kisses you again. “Will you let me, my sweet?”
“Yes,” you slur, nodding and whining at the loss of his fingers, “I need you, Zayne.”
As though he’s been waiting for this very moment, Zayne drops to his knees, guiding your legs over his shoulders. Your fingers slide into his hair when he kisses your thighs, cleaning the slick smeared over your skin messily with a broken groan.
“Are– are you sure?” you squeak out, thighs trembling when his hot breath fans over your fluttering cunt. “You need not– Zayne!”
His name leaves you in a wail, your elbows giving out underneath you when he buries his face into your pussy. Your back arches, toes curling as you try and cling onto something – his hair, the sheets, anything – eyes rolling back when his tongue glides through your warm folds.
“You taste divine,” he rasps, thumbing apart your folds, his lips pursing before he spits down onto your messy cunt. “Like the finest nectar.” A low groan escapes him as he presses his face into your pussy again, the bridge of his nose shoved against your clit, his tongue lapping at the velvety skin of your pussy before his lips move, suctioning around your clit.
Your hands slam against the bed, hips bucking uncontrollably as your inhibitions are pushed aside with every movement of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands around your thighs.
“You– oh– you said you did not take a lover,” you whisper dazedly, fingers fisting his hair to pull, one of your hands moving to press his face harder into your throbbing pussy, head tipping back when he moans. “How did you learn such things, Zayne? Your tongue– fuck!”
“The Imperial Library holds a great wealth of information,” Zayne murmurs, kissing your clit gently, drawing back to watch the pitiful clench of your pussy around nothing. “And a royal education covers… many things.” He glances up at you, the lower half of his face shining with your arousal, your cheeks flushing when he smiles up at you tenderly. “I only want the best for my wife.”
“The best,” you echo, mouth dropping open when he spits once more, spreading it all over your cunt as though it were something normal, “of course.”
“Are you not pleased with my efforts, my beloved?” he whispers, his voice lilting as he laps at your pussy, tongue prodding against the fluttering hole.
“Quite ahhh– the contrary, dear husband.”
It is wicked, you realize, the way he’s able to draw such debauched noises from you, to have your body moving so wantonly to his ministrations. The coil of pleasure in your lower stomach keeps winding tighter and tighter, your breathing growing more violently ragged, thighs squeezing around his head.
Your legs jerk when he presses his tongue into your pussy suddenly, eyes flying open in a panic to find him watching you, always watching, his tongue beginning to fuck in and out of your cunt.
“Oh my–” you whimper, sweat beading over your skin, your body shaking as he holds you down by your hips, rising up to shove his face between your thighs deeper as though trying to force his tongue in further. “Zayne– Zayne!”
“Are you close?” he asks, words slurred with how his tongue is still buried into your cunt. “Hm? Will you cum for me once more? Fall apart on my tongue, my sweet?”
You let out a strangled noise in response, trying to grab for his hand, guiding it to your clit. Zayne understands immediately, his fingers beginning to rub in quick, tight circles while his tongue works into you, his free hand sliding up over your chest, long fingers pressing into your mouth.
Your lashes flutter at the unexpected intrusion, but you suck before you can stop yourself, grasping his wrist as you let your tongue swirl over the digits, hips rolling to meet his mouth. Zayne grunts when your thighs tighten around his head involuntarily, feet slipping over his back until his mouth finds its way back to your clit.
The harsh suck he delivers to the throbbing bud of nerves sets you alight, a hoarse scream echoing through your chambers as your back arches off of the bed, your teeth sinking into his fingers as you writhe on the bed. You can vaguely hear Zayne’s wince and a slight tug has you releasing his fingers in a daze.
“If anyone is driving another to madness, it is you,” you mumble, refusing to look at him when he kisses your cheek, your body hot with embarrassment.
“There is no reason to be shy,” Zayne whispers, smiling against your sweat-slick skin, his hands rubbing over your sides and back when you curl up.
“No reason to be shy?” you retort, swatting his chest. “Everyone must have heard!”
“It is snowing,” he soothes, his fingers adjusting your nightgown, “the wind is deafening and no one is stationed outside our chambers, my beloved. You may be as loud as you wish.”
“That is not the issue!”
“You were not concerned with propriety earlier,” Zayne counters, his eyes shining when you sputter.
“Propriety is one of my greatest concerns,” you say indignantly. “I am extremely passionate about propriety, Zayne.”
He laughs, pulling you up into his lap, your eyes widening when you feel the brush of his cock against your thighs. “Is that why you infiltrated my home?” he asks, his arms wrapping around you to draw you closer to his chest. “Hm? Is that why you scale walls and–”
You surge forward, shutting him up with a kiss, mewling when he sighs into your mouth. His hands can’t seem to sit still, wandering over your body but never straying as he deepens the kiss, fingers tangling into your hair.
“Be quiet,” you whisper, your hand slipping between your bodies to grasp his cock, still hot and hard.
“As you wish, my love,” Zayne murmurs, his head tipping back when you begin to stroke his cock.
You follow the length of his neck, down his muscled chest and abdomen, biting your lip as his cock twitches in your hand. Leaning forward, you kiss his neck delicately, smiling when you hear his breath hitch.
When you squeeze his cock, drawing out a spurt of pre-cum, a whine slips free from Zayne, his eyes fluttered shut and cheeks darkening in color. You click your tongue, teeth scraping over his neck in chastisement when he whines again, glancing up to find his teeth buried into his lower lip in an attempt to muffle the sound.
“Are you have a hard time staying quiet?” you ask teasingly, your free hand reaching down to cup his throbbing balls, smiling when his abdomen tenses and his hips buck. “It is almost as though you are… desperate, Zayne.”
“Gods,” he groans, his hand cupping the back of your head when you kiss his neck again, your breasts pressed against his chest through the sheer, silk fabric. “How is one to stay quiet when his wife plays with his cock?”
“You do make such pretty noises,” you coo, smiling up at him when he glances down at you with half-lidded eyes.
Not looking away, you let your tongue loll out, spit dripping lewdly from the tip of it, coating the head of his cock. Zayne moans, his fingers tightening around your hips as he pants, his forehead pressing against yours heavily.
“That’s it,” you murmur when Zayne whimpers, his eyes squeezing shut when you pump his cock faster, taking in the unbidden pleasure flickering across his face. “You’re doing so well, my love.”
“You– hahhh– you are using my own words against me.”
“And you are enjoying it,” you muse, spitting down onto his cock again, your pussy clenching when his cock throbs and leaks with heavy globs of pre-cum.
It coats your hand, his cock slick with his own arousal and your spit, leaking over your knuckles and down to his balls, staining the sheets below you. His cock twitches and you can feel his thighs tremble beneath you, the press of his fingers into your flesh becoming almost painful.
“You’re making such a mess, Zayne,” you sigh, kissing him sweetly, mewling when he whines into your mouth. “How unbecoming of a royal lord.”
“You– ahh– are wicked,” he rumbles, inhaling sharply when you squeeze his fat cock hard. “Such a wicked wife.”
A contented hum leaves you, your face nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you lick and suck, your hips rolling with need as you continue to play with his cock, your thumb swiping over the head of it. Zayne groans loudly, lurching into you as your wrist twists, dragging your hand along the length of his thick, hot cock.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hand finding yours, trying to slow your movements. “You ought to stop.”
“Why?” you pout, teeth scraping along his jaw roughly, tongue laving over the fine stubble that lays across his skin. “Do you not wish to cum?”
“Not like this,” Zayne rasps, a ragged gasp leaving him when you massage his balls eagerly, letting them sit in your hand as you rub your thumb over the silken skin. “My beloved– hahh– I… I wish to be inside of you.”
You blink up at him, hands settling on his shoulders when he moves you, laying you down onto your back. Zayne’s fingers move deftly, rucking your nightgown up until it’s up over your head, his hands smoothing over your waist and hips.
You squirm on the bed, swallowing nervously when he settles between your thighs, his cock brushing against you briefly. He pauses when he sees your conflicted expression, his hands reaching for yours, fingers lacing together tightly.
“Do you wish to stop?” he murmurs gently.
“No,” you say, shaking your head, heart thudding in your chest. “I just… I… I like you a lot,” you mumble, biting your lip. “I did not think you would feel so affectionate towards someone like me.”
“You saved me,” Zayne says, his words sincere. “It was you that delivered the keepsake. Without you, everything would have been lost.”
Your lower lip trembles for a moment, your fingers slipping over his chest tentatively before your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down towards you. Zayne’s lips find yours, soft and sweet as he kisses you, his long hair brushing along your skin.
“The gods have blessed me with your presence,” he continues, lips drifting over your jaw to place a gentle kiss to your fluttering pulse. “Do not doubt my affection towards you, my beloved. I–” he clears his throat, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, muttering your name. “I love you.”
“Oh.”
The air is punched out of your lungs as you register his words, gaze flickering as Zayne presses himself closer, like he can’t bear the thought of being kept away from you. Your stomach flips when he kisses your neck, arms tightening around his neck whilst your heart beats so violently that you can hear it in your ears.
“I…” you stare up at him when he draws back, eyes fluttering shut when he strokes his hands over your hair and down the sides of your cheeks. “I love you too, Zayne.”
He lets out a heavy breath, a small, affectionate smile playing on his lips. You smile back, allowing yourself to let out a shaky laugh when he kisses your forehead.
“Then I shall be yours,” Zayne whispers, his hands finding your hips, squeezing gently, “for as long as you wish to have me.”
You watch hazily as he grasps his cock, sliding it through your folds before he presses the head against you, his hips moving forward minutely. You bite back a whine when the head of his cock slips inside, already having begun to stretch you. Zayne groans, his heady gaze watching as your pussy stretches around the thickness of his cock, his brows drawn together as he rocks his hips forward.
“It–” you gasp, hand reaching for his blindly, your fingers entwining together, “it is too big, Zayne.”
Zayne growls, spurred on by your words as he thrusts experimentally, burying more of his fat cock inside of you. “And yet you take me so well, my love. Look at how well we fit.”
You glance down, watching with dazed eyes as his cock disappears into your pussy, inch by inch, gasping when you clench around him and realize how utterly full you are.
“Sucking my cock in so greedily, hm?” he murmurs, shifting his hips until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, massaging your waist as your walls flutter around his fat length, trying to accommodate him. “What a pretty, greedy little cunt.”
You whimper, words failing you as he draws his hips back, his hazel-green eyes watching your every expression intently.
“Feels– nghhh– good, Zayne,” you hiccup, nails digging into his broad shoulders, eyes rolling back when he drops some of his weight down onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours.
“You’re so tight,” he groans, his hand sliding over your hair to hold you in place as he begins to snap his hips harder. “So warm– fuck– entirely and utterly perfect.”
“For you,” you cry out, feeling the bed sway with every thrust. “Only– only ever for you.”
That seems to encourage Zayne more than anything, his lips pressing against your ear as he snarls deep and rough, his thrusts beginning to grow quicker. You think you may very well be seeing the aurora, let alone stars as he grips your hips, drawing back before lowering his head, mouth latching onto your breasts.
You shake when he thumbs and pinches at one of your nipples, hands flying to his hair as his tongue swirls around an areola, flicking against your hardened nipple without abandon. The dark, coarse hair at the base of his cock scratches along your clit with every thrust, his balls slapping against your ass rapidly, the lewd noises erupting through your chambers.
“I want you– oh– forever,” you slur out, cock-drunk and warm under his affectionate motions, a dopey smile spreading across your lips as he kisses your cheek. “May I have you forever, Zayne?”
“May the gods have mercy,” Zayne mutters under his breath, nodding against your cheek, a disbelieving laugh slipping out of him. “Yes, my beloved,” he replies, thrusting hard, burying his cock inside of you, a groan leaving him when your pussy clenches desperately around his throbbing, fat cock, “you may have me forever.”
A satisfied coo leaves you at his answer, your legs tightening around his hips as he rocks his hips, finding an unforgiving rhythm that has you whining uncontrollably. He muffles your noises with a rough kiss, hissing when your nails rake down his back.
“That’s it,” he rasps in between kisses, fingers cupping your jaw to hold your head still, spit leaking from the corners of your mouths. “Mark me, my sweet. Make me yours, forever. Show me what I mean to you.”
In a sudden surge of boldness, you push at Zayne’s chest, shoving until he moves, falling onto his back. You’re crawling atop him before he can protest, relishing in his broken, hoarse moan as you sink down on his cock, rolling your hips without abandon.
“Gods– are you trying to kill me?” Zayne murmurs, his voice strained as you shift, shins coming to rest across his thighs as you place your hands on his chest, using him as support to let your hips rise and fall.
“I… I want you,” you slur, mewling when his hands move to squeeze your breasts, his nimble fingers toying with your nipples as you ride him. “Zayne– nghhh!! I want you, I want you, I want you!”
You jerk in his lap when his hand comes down on your ass, arms wrapping around his neck when he sits up, crushing his mouth to yours. It’s filthy and so terribly unbecoming for a royal lord and lady to be acting in such a way – so lewdly, so uninhibited.
“Then have me,” he says roughly, hands clamping onto your hips before he’s guiding your movements, dropping you down onto his cock before lifting you and repeating the motion. “Fuck– have me, my sweet. Take my cock, that’s it, good girl… take everything I give you.”
You pant against his mouth, clinging to him, hands lost in his long tresses, pulling at his soft hair as you lick into his mouth messily, letting him jerk you up and down on his impossibly thick cock.
It’s all so overwhelming, especially with the way his cock is hitting exactly where you need him, against that sensitive spot that has you moaning loudly.
“It’s too much,” you whine, face pressed into the crook of his neck, the pleasure in your stomach growing with every press of his cock inside of your dripping cunt. “Zayne, I– I’m close!”
“So am I,” Zayne whispers, an arm wrapping around your waist, his biceps flexing with every motion. “You’ve done so well for me, my beloved. Let go, hm? Cum on my cock like a good girl.”
You pull back to look into his eyes, stomach swirling in a shy, flustered daze when you see the warmth in his eyes and the soft smile that plays on his lips.
“I love you,” you mumble, hips rolling to meet every press of his cock inside of you, your brows furrowing as you watch his eyes flutter shut. “I love you, Zayne.”
“Forgive me.”
Your mouth opens to ask whatever for, but he’s moving you onto your back, hands finding yours, squeezing tightly as his hips pound into you. A sharp scream tears its way out of your throat, your knuckles whitening as you hold his hands, eyes rolling back when he buries himself to the hilt with a particularly harsh thrust.
“Cum,” Zayne snaps lowly, his lips pressing against your cheek. “Cum for me, my sweet wife. Cum on my cock and I shall make you mine in every possible way.”
You don’t need any more encouragement, body thrashing under his when his fingers rub against your clit in one brief circle, the coil of pleasure snapping as you cry out and moan. Zayne groans at the sight, his hips stuttering when your pussy clenches hard, stubbornly keeping him inside.
“My beloved, we mustn’t–” Zayne gasps, his head falling forward as a long-drawn groan leaves him, his cock twitching inside of you.
You mewl, squirming when he spills inside of you, hot, thick cum flooding your pussy as your walls continue to flutter around his fat cock, the grip on his hands loosening. Zayne pants, his head falling against your shoulder, hair sticking to his back and arms, his breathing ragged.
His softening cock slips out of you a few moments later and Zayne manages to draw himself off of you, both of you exchanging dumbstruck glances when you notice his thick cum leaking out of you slowly.
“I…” Zayne swallows, brushing his hands over your aching thighs gently, “was not intending on an heir so soon.”
You flush, thighs squeezing shut. “Perhaps it will not take?”
You poke your stomach with mild interest, squealing when Zayne drapes himself over you, arms wrapping around his neck as he peppers kisses all over your face.
“And if it does?” he murmurs, nuzzling into your cheek.
“If it does,” you sigh, cupping his cheeks, thumbs stroking over his skin tenderly, “I should expect my husband to take the utmost care of me.”
“Naturally,” Zayne smiles, his lips soft as he kisses you, a hand smoothing over your stomach.
You run your fingers through his hair when he shifts, biting your lip when he kisses your stomach. He glances up at you, and you smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You yawn as the heady, lustful atmosphere fades, replaced by something slow and syrupy in the aftermath of your intimacy, enough to have your eyes drooping shut sleepily.
But perhaps the wind was never as deafening as Zayne thought because something loud thumps against the doors to your quarters, a flurry of hushed whispers following before someone mutters something about keys.
Your eyes snap open, mortified, while Zayne pulls himself off of you, tripping over his discarded robes before he’s grabbing at them and draping the thick robes over you. You try and sit up, to make yourself look at least a measure more presentable, Zayne cursing under his breath as he finds a new set of robes, pulling them over his body.
“My Lord! My Lady! Do not fret! We have heard your distress–”
A group of maids and guards alike stumble into your chambers, their panicked expressions fading as they digest the scene before them – Zayne leaning against a wall awkwardly, you sprawled over the bed, sheets rumpled and an utter mess and you engulfed in Zayne’s robes no less.
“We are perfectly well,” Zayne manages out, pinching the bridge of his nose irately.
You smile wanly at them, your hands moving belatedly to smooth down your tousled hair.
“Perfectly well,” a maid echoes, staring between the two of you before she’s ushering everyone else out of the chambers, her head poking inside before she shuts the doors. “I shall have a bath drawn. Would you perhaps like some tea? Cake? Sweet tea? I seem to recall we had–”
You bury your face into the pillows.
Zayne sighs aggrievedly. “Please leave us.”
–
The new novel is delivered to you past midday.
You stare down at the title, rolling your eyes irritably. “The Cold Lord’s Boundless Affection: The Thrilling Sequel?” you scoff, beginning to flip through the pages agitatedly, skimming through the passages. “Why is a sequel needed? The first two were already bad enough.”
“Now, now,” Zayne murmurs, his lips brushing over your forehead as you squirm in his lap uncomfortably, “you mustn't be so easily vexed, my beloved.”
“You should be more concerned about this,” you hiss, waving the novel in his face. “This– this is a farce!” You scan a passage, finger pressing against the page roughly. “Upon noticing his wife’s distress,” you read aloud, “the cold lord swept her into his arms with such affection that she began to swoon.” You shake your head vehemently. “That is simply untrue!”
Zayne smiles up at you, his hand rubbing against your stomach. “Is it?” he asks, feigning confusion as his brows furrow, “I do seem to recall some swooning on your part.”
“I did not swoon, dear husband,” you grouse, tossing the book aside as you shift in his lap once more, trying to ease the dull ache permeating through your lower back. “If anything I was in charge of the situation and you were the one overcome with emotion.”
He laughs at that, his body shaking beneath yours and you huff out a breath, feeling warm with your own feelings of affection as he kisses your cheek.
“In any case,” Zayne says, helping you stand as you sway unsteadily on your aching feet, “my affection towards you is boundless, is it not?”
“Is that why you have given me another child?” you mumble, staring down at your swollen stomach, rubbing your hand over it gently. “I cannot do with another set of twins, Zayne.”
“You did this all on your own, my lovely wife,” Zayne muses, his hand pressing over yours, eyes shining when he feels the baby kick gently. You smile faintly, leaning back into his chest, head tipping back as he dips his head, kissing you. “Was it not you who stormed into my chambers and demanded another?”
You huff out a breath, chasing after his lips when he tries to pull back, tugging him down to kiss him deeper.
“I hardly demanded,” you whisper against his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he cups your cheeks, calloused fingers stroking over your skin soothingly. “I very cordially requested that you take care of me, Zayne. You took it upon yourself to bend me over your desk.”
He hums, lowering his head to whisper into your ear. “You were wearing my favorite nightgown, my beloved. One might have been inclined to think that his wife may have been tempting him.”
You bite back a whine, pressing your face into his chest to breathe him in. “I cannot fit in it anymore,” you mumble sullenly, playing with his robes.
“And yet you look as radiant as ever,” Zayne whispers, his fingers sliding under your chin to tip your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze. He smiles when he sees you pout, kissing you gently.
You sigh when he rubs your stomach again through your robes, the tension in your shoulders beginning to bleed out slowly. It’s short-lived however, the sound of a maid’s alarmed shriek making you jolt as a blur of color rushes past you.
“Young Master! Young Miss!”
Blinking owlishly, you watch as your twins – only four – laugh and run away from their maids and tutors, darting through the middle of the courtyard and behind pillars and trees.
“Again?” you sigh exasperatedly, unable to stop the fond expression spreading across your face as your children wave at you both, their little heads poking out from behind a statue, chubby cheeks rosy and eyes glittering with mischief.
Zayne smiles, his arms wrapping around you carefully, holding you tighter against him.
“They seem to take after their mother, no?”
You swat his arm, rolling your eyes. “You encourage them too much.”
A soft wince escapes you when the pain in your lower back worsens, your hand flying to your swollen stomach when you feel a strangely familiar wave of pressure beginning to press downwards.
“Zayne, I think…” you trail off, sucking in a sharp breath of air as you stagger, clinging to his arm tightly.
Concern flickers across his face, his hands moving to keep you upright as you gasp, feeling something wet rushing between your thighs until you glance down to find a small puddle of water at your feet.
You blink up at Zayne, watching as his composure wavers when he sees your dampened robes. The slight tinge of pallor to his skin and look of panic flaring through his eyes would make you laugh if not for the rapid waves of pain currently racking through your body.
You smile bemusedly, feeling the baby kick with renewed vigor.
or in other words, when life finally catches up to you, and you can’t hide away anymore.
AN: this is a version for zayne, I might do the other LI’s later :p
His hands are warm.
So, very warm despite his evol.
They are soft around your skin, despite all the scars littering the once perfect flesh. (It’s still perfect to you.)
They cradle your head, they press firm circles into your spine and hold you close. Unwilling to let go, as if the world would shatter into smithereens if he did pull away.
The room is dark, the light switch not even acknowledged when you entered into the apartment. The lack of light seeps into your pores, and gives a thin cover from the exposure of being seen.
You didn’t the expect Zayne to be in here.
You thought he’d be at the hospital, like he has been for the past few weeks.
You don’t hold a grudge against it though. No never. He had a job and a life to attend to outside of you, and you had a duty to protect the citizens of Linkon.
You’re not sad. You’re not angry either.
It was just a deep fog you can’t get yourself out of for awhile.
Somedays it would only arrive for a few hours. Mostly with mundane tasks such as folding laundry or cleaning dishes.
Repetitive motions.
Perhaps something got to you.
Perhaps a wanderer with some weird, psychic powers dug its metaphorical claws deep into the fleshy, squishy parts of your brain. (Wait. Isn’t that everywhere on your brain?)
You don’t know.
All you do know is that it’s been harder to stop spacing out.
it’s been harder to stop wandering. Harder to stop lingering around the hospital and harder to drag yourself out of bed.
Harder.
So hard.
The static curtain of noise settled over your head long ago, drowning you in an abyss of something. A thing, an emotion you can’t quite name.
Not numbness, but not feeling.
You don’t notice the tears the stream down your face until a warm, gentle thumb brushes over your cheekbones and lips press to your eyes.
Was he saying something?
You almost forgot he was there.
Zayne is not a man of many words. As proven all those months ago when you met at the cafe. Looking back at it, there was so many times where he could’ve spoken, but didn’t.
Back then, you found it misleading, but inevitably endearing.
now you wish he’d say something.
Maybe he was doing this out of obligation. Maybe because grandma had asked him to. Maybe he feels pity because of the incident with Caleb.
Maybe he finds you pathetic.
There’s a lot of maybes.
You can’t think straight.
And so you lay there, on the floor in his arms.
You don’t know what he’s thinking, and the same can be said for him.
So you both sit there. The wooden floor suddenly not so cold and you cling into the illusion of warmth.
Will it be awkward after this?
Will he avoid you?
Your grip unconsciously tightens on him, tear streaks staining your cheeks as you press your face into his shoulder. The days and pressure seem to collide. A force to bargain with as it sinks deeper into you ur soul. A weight that lingers.
Then he speaks. A voice so warm, yet broken. As if pained at the sight of your own body breaking, pained at the sight of your tears.
“Shhh…. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
You don’t respond. Your throat will fail you, you think.
So you just burrow deeper into his arms, curled up in his lap on the floor like a wet soggy cat left out in the rain.
He doesn’t ask for any words. Just the slow, rhythmic rub of his palm on your back, and the press of lips against your temple.
Time seems to blur after that. Memories hazy and foggy.
When your eyes finally clear, you nearly startle.
He’s staring at you.
Hazel eyes filled with warmth and worry.
Your legs are tangled together, his arm around your waist as he cushions your head on the bicep of his arm.
This close, you can make out where the green mixed with yellow within his irises. The warmth of his breath fanning over your skin.
He doesn’t say anything.
what would there be to say?
Your mouth opens, but the words are caught, as if iron bars trapped the functioning part of your brain behind solid walls of impenetrable steel.
Zayne doesn’t press. Just closes your mouth with firm mouth of his fingers underneath your jaw and makes a light remark.
“You’ll attract flies.”
That cracks a smile.
“You sound like one of those strict senior citizens.”
the words have no bite to them, but it’s clear that your chest is lighter.
He smiles, and the conversation lulls into a quiet silence. Layered with tension but trust.
“Are you willing to tell me what happened?” He murmurs, his fingertips ghosting over your face.
You pause.
And your words are stuck again. Drowned beneath a fog of panic and unease.
The grip on his shirt you didn’t know you had tightens, and his gaze softens. Understanding. Gentle.
“That’s okay. I can wait.”
You look up, apprehensive.
It seems that your heart was worn on your sleeve, for he cradles you closer and presses a tender kiss to your forehead.
“or you can never tell me at all, darling.”
“No matter what, I’ll be here if you ever need me.”
And so you close your eyes. Wrapped in warmth and love.
Zayne x mc | early relationship | one of Zayne’s voicelines in Destiny Café hurt my feelings so I wrote fluff about it
It’s the silence that makes Zayne glance at you, just a quick glimpse, since he’s still wading through the mud of revisions to an article he was supposed to have finished two days ago.
“Did you bother your schoolmates like this too?”
His question hangs still between you, but he catches your smile, the gentle ‘sorry, doctor Zayne’ you leave at the table before you make your way to the counter. And he should’ve known right there that something was wrong, normally you would’ve tapped his shoulder again, explained with a giggle how you were the designated distractor, keeping your friends from burning out. You would’ve made your way back to him, steaming coffee in hand and sat on the armrest of his chair to peek at whatever has him so absorbed.
But he doesn’t realize. Not until he finally saves his last reference and looks up to see that it’s been 45 minutes since you first walked in, and you’re nowhere to be found.
Zayne scans the cafe, attempting to look inconspicuous, attempting because the older woman on the nearest table speaks up between sips of her tea.
“She left. I would too if the guy I liked called me a bother.”
The first instinct is to clarify that he did no such thing, but your absence is as loud a confirmation as he could get. He thinks of your smile, in hindsight, a little too polite. Not the brilliance he’s used to, not one of the million different ways joy lights up your eyes.
“Did you leave?” He sends you a text one handed as he packs himself up, cringing internally at the way his stomach flip flops.
‘The guy I like,’ a simple barb that he can’t let go of. Full to bursting with possibilities he might’ve just killed before they can truly bloom; the chill of a nightmare threatening to settle in his bones.
“I didn’t want to bother you, so I took my coffee to go ☕️”
The phone buzzes in his palm. An emoji. Zayne stares at the tiny coffee cup, it’s not a wink or a smile, but it’s something that signals that maybe you don’t —rightfully— hate him. He rushes, but stops for a box of macarons to go before he steps out into the late fall air.
…
By the time he reaches your door, he’s cycled over seventeen different apologies. From the obvious ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you’ to the bare, simple truth; he really wanted to know. He aches —constantly, irrevocably— for a glimpse of those years away from him. Something that might let him imagine you then, imagine himself by your side.
Still, when you finally answer in a soft sweater and lounge pants, all he can manage is showing you the box of sweets in his hand.
“I brought macarons, to share.”
“You didn’t have to, doctor Zayne, I know you’re busy—“
You stand there at the threshold, hair mused as if you were just lying down, and your smile is a crooked, shy, brilliant thing.
“I don’t want you to think that being with you is a chore to me.” Zayne doesn’t move, he knows he’s stubborn, but only when it’s worth it to be. When what’s on the line is important.
“Zayne—“
Oh, he’s just Zayne again, his breath finds its way back to his body. And you finally let him inside, helpfully pointing at the table in the kitchen so he doesn’t have to stand in the middle of your apartment with his guilt.
He feels you there, hovering close as he carefully unpacks the box. He tries once more, to word the he regret crowded on his tongue, behind his teeth.
“I’m sorry—“
“I’m sorry—“
Your voice overlaps his, makes him stop and turn to take in the shadows under your eyes and the fresh bandages on almost every single one of your fingers.
“I shouldn’t have left like that,” it’s quiet, small, and your hands settle over the edge of the table like you’re bracing yourself, “I just— I had a rough day and was looking forward to seeing you to make me feel better, but that’s not your job, especially when you’re busy—“
“What if I want it to be?”
Zayne doesn’t mean to interrupt. Being honest, this question, much like the one that started it all, comes out of him with very little input from his brain. His fingers find yours instinctively, too; and he almost sags with relief when you slot your palm against his, let him step close enough to feel your breath ghosting against his skin. A little too fast, so it betrays the tears that gather in your lash line.
“I want to make you happy,” he’s certain he sounds as earnest as he feels, thankfully. For a second of hyperbole these feel like the most important words he could say. “I will not get it right every time, but I’d like to try. And I want you to tell me when I don’t, so I can give it another go.”
“I want to make you happy too, I don’t want to bother you or distract you, doctor Zayne.”
Then you shift forward, magnet pulled until your head settles over his shoulder and his whole posture melts into you, pliant in your arms. He’s full, overflowing with love for you, laughing softly into the silence of your apartment.
“You’re a welcome distraction, don’t ever let me make you believe you aren’t.”
You chuckle too, a little wet, but your palm wraps warm around his waist. The world finally finding its axis again.
Zayne always kissed you like he was a starved man. His serious facade would crumble and he’d hold you like you were delicate porcelain, his lips on yours, tasting faintly of sweets.
And today is no different.
Your back is pressed against the front door, Zayne caging you against the wood with one hand circled around your waist and the other cupping your cheek as he kissed you.
You had been gone for a couple weeks, just on some work trip, and had decided to surprise Zayne at the hospital since you had gotten home two days early.
“I missed you.” He mumbled against your lips, his hand snaking up your back to press you flush against him. He moves from your lips to your jaw, then on your chin and moving up to the tip of your nose and then softly against your forehead.
You giggle, his lips tickling your face. “I’m here now. And I have the week off!” A faint smile tugs at the corner of Zayne’s mouth and he leans in, pressing you a little firmer against the door, his voice a low murmur against your lips.
“I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.” You melt into him at his words, fingers finding his jacket collar and bringing his lips to yours again. Your unpacked suitcase was left discarded, but it didn’t matter.
All that mattered was him. Home.
And Zayne, smiling against your lips, whispered again, “Welcome home.”
~
By the time Zayne finally peeled himself off of you, both of you were breathless, faces slightly flushed and still clinging onto each other like you had been separated for months instead of a couple weeks.
“I had planned a whole airport reunion, y’know.” You tease, nudging his chest as he guides you towards the living room. “Tears and everything.”
“You just showed up in my hospital hallway.” He replies, his hand finding the small of your back again like he physically couldn’t be not touching you. “I nearly forgot about my last patient.”
You laugh. “It was so worth it though.”
“Absolutely.”
Your apartment was just how you left it, neat and quiet with only the side-table lamps on. One of the living room windows are cracked open, letting in a refreshing breeze and the soft noise of Linkon City. A few unread messages flash on your computer monitor, and your shared blanket is still draped over the back of the couch like Zayne had never moved it.
He didn’t, you bet.
You barely made it halfway to the bedroom before Zayne stopped you again. This time in the hallway, it wasn’t a kiss, but his arms circled around your waist in a tight hug, his face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath slowed as he hugged you, and you could feel some of the tension leave his shoulders.
“You okay?”
He nods, but doesn’t let go. “I couldn’t sleep well while you were gone.”
Your heart ached at his words. “Zayne…”
“I kept reaching out for you every night.” He continues, his voice soft. “I even caught myself sleep talking with your pillow.” His voice falls off at the end of his sentence, and his ears flush red in embarrassment.
You laugh. “Wow, should I be jealous of my pillow?”
“Mmm. I missed your sarcasm too.”
~
Eventually, you change into some comfier clothes while Zayne makes you both tea, the special blend he always pulled out when either of you were tired, overworked, or just needed some comfort. The scent of honey and lavender filled the kitchen, making you feel warm inside as you walk in.
He turns around, two mugs in hand and his hair a little messy from your fingers. His gaze softens when he sees you, like he still couldn’t quite believe that you were back.
“You look sleepy,” you comment as he hands you your mug.
“I am,” he admits, taking a sip of his tea before putting it down, taking a step forward and resting his chin atop of your head. “But I’m afraid if I close my eyes you’ll disappear.”
You lean against him, a soft smile settling on your lips. “Then I guess I’ll have to stay right here.”
~
You end up curled up together on the couch, blanket draped over you both, one of Zayne’s arms around your waist and the other draped over your legs. Your mugs sit half-full on the coffee table, the TV playing something in the background that neither of you are paying attention to. His thumb traces idle circles on your wrist, his chest rising and falling steadily under your cheek.
“Two days early…” Zayne murmured. “You really couldn’t wait to come home?”
“Not for a second.” You say with a smile, looking up at him. “Could you?”
His lips curl into a half smile, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Not even for a heartbeat.”
Mermay! So here comes Loki version Btw. So far it's third time I do Loki for Mermay The lighting is so damn hard, it may be wrong but I lost patience with it
