Archive of Our Own

The new year has, surprisingly, been good to Yulia. 

Part of it surely could be that she’s accepted her lot in this life she’s built here. Maybe part of it is the cathartic comedown of finally opening the closet and letting her skeletons fall out instead of suffering alone. Now, her time was full with their hopeful little troupe, resulting in a full house and loud dinners, a chance to actually use her skill and knowledge from when her passions hadn’t died down to embers. Trying to help her classmates win a dance competition hadn’t been on her new year’s bingo card, if she’d be honest, but she found the change refreshing. 

And now, she actually looked forward to settling into her bed at night. Before, it had been filled with restless hours and bad dreams. Now, that pathway to sleep was soothed by all her friends and her new nightly ritual. Maybe the person on the other end of the phone had something to do with her better mood, lately. 

Lilia Vanrouge had been an accidental companion throughout the hell that was this school year, but his voice through her phone speaker on her pillow was a lifeline on more than one occasion. Every night, for about an hour each time, they’d call each other and just talk. There was a calm quality to their conversations, the quiet assurance of someone who’s experienced so much life has to offer, good and bad. His voice wrapped around Yulia’s anxieties and fears and loosened them with practiced fingers. And, if her own fingers self-soothed other aches when she replayed voice mails he left her? What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Cater’s birthday is smack dab in the middle of training camp, but thankfully it’s in the middle of rest days; Vil often heeded Yulia’s pleas or advice when it came to the dancers, but even she doubted he’d let her squirrel away from real practice. She may not be performing, but Vil had long since imposed his rulings on her as if she would be.

That doesn’t mean that a pretty smile and a couple coaxing words don’t net her an even better win; Ace, Deuce, and Kalim get passes to go out, as well. Vil swears harshly that if anyone is late to the curfew he set for them, they will be severely punished, but the high of the victory is sweeter than the noose. The two first years are probably the happiest they’ve been since this training camp began, and the grins on their faces matches Yulia’s own excitement as they all get ready. 

Well. While Yulia gets ready. The boys threw on casual clothes and called it good, but this would be an all day affair for her. Her aesthetic takes time, and while she’s proven in the past she cares little about how others see her presentation, she has fun with the crafting of her looks. And the whole band would be there; Cater would be the center of attention, and while she was still on edge around Kalim, she felt better about spending time with him away from Jamil. Like old times.

Lilia would be there, too. He’s seen and heard her at her worst, but that doesn’t stop Yulia from taking her time to really smooth out her edges or fish out some of her nicer silver jewelry. He’d always appreciated her alternative style, and the potential of praise was an alluring motivation. But the balancing act of ‘hang out with friends’ and ‘wanting to impress’ was a razor wire that she wasn’t used to maneuvering with her current wardrobe, hand-me-down and hand-altered. 

In an empty house, her deliberation would have gone unnoticed except for a direbeast underfoot and muttering ghosts. Now, it was a bit harder to be under the radar with anything, especially as she muttered and flitted between bedroom and bathroom, fresh faced and damp haired.

“How many times must I tell you that holding a face like that will just give you wrinkles?” 

Vil’s voice is clear and sharp, enough to make Yulia have to freeze to squash the instinct to flinch. Glancing over to the doorway where he’s leaned, seemingly watching her dig through her hope chest, the woman just sighs before she puts away whatever piece she had her hands on. “At this point, I hope I get them faster.” It’s a dry response with little bite, and she’s rewarded with a scoff from the housewarden.

“From how much you fawned and fluttered earlier, I thought you’d be more excited.” He steps deeper into the room, slow but not cautious; Vil Shoenheit moved like he belonged, no matter where he was. His feet stop right next to where she’s kneeled, and his eye roams critically over her clothes, ratty scraps of black fabric. “Nothing matching your vision?” The way he says it is quieter than expected.

Quiet enough that instead of side-stepping, Yulia sighs. “More like I don’t know the vision in the first place.” That’s a better way to explain it, she supposes. “The instinct to say ‘I have nothing to wear’ like some movie is overwhelming, if irrational.”

There’s another snort beside her, and she gives a weak glare, only to see Vil’s hand in front of his face and a little furrow in his brows; he’s laughing, and with her, it looks like. He’s pretty like that, without the artifice. “Some experiences are universal.” Then, he sinks down into a squat next to Yulia, reaching in to also sift through some of her pieces. Occasionally, he looks up to stare at her face, thinking. “Are you trying to impress anyone in particular, then?” 

It’s phrased like a completely natural question, lacking any of the pointed curiosity that she’d associate with nosiness or gossip, but it makes her hands still for a second. Yulia already knows she’s been caught by that tell alone, but Vil doesn’t seem to be watching for any at all. The man beside her is still just casually sifting through her collection of clothing, appraising each one before setting them back or to the side. 

It stops her in her tracks, and her sigh is audible in the quiet of the room, terrifyingly honest. “I just want to feel pretty.” Yulia isn’t ready to give a name, not when it could be used against her, but her feelings bubble up regardless; she desperately wants Lilia to think she’s pretty. “I don’t know. I know I really kill the ‘half-dead’ look, but it’d be nice to just show out for a night.”

By the time she’s done talking, she realizes that Vil is watching her. It sends an embarrassing little skitter in her stomach at being perceived, but she just admitted to wanting that, didn’t she? Those violet eyes look like they can cut her open like that; maybe they were, because Vil seems to have come to some sort of decision by the time he speaks up. “Well, I can do that, at least.” 

His hand finds one of the inner pockets of his blazer, pulling out a shimmering golden key. An elegant hand holds it up between them, letting Yulia focus on the detailing on the stem. “If…” He trails off, looking her in the eye for emphasis. “You let me do your makeup.” That part surprises her lips open, but he silences her with a glare before continuing. “Then you can put this on your keyring and go to Pomefiore. Rook can show you the room, and help you there, if you like; I trust he’ll understand my vision.”

Yulia feels like she can guess where this is going, but her instincts keep her careful and cautious; every deal and agreement she’s made at Night Raven weighs more than they seemed at first, and this is not the first time Vil has given her a gift. “... What’s in the room?”

Vil seems unsurprised by the question. “It’s the dressing rooms where we store pieces for plays, ballets, short films, fashion shows, or art referencing.” His face sours when her expression shifts to one of shock, and she has to smooth where her face has shifted before he continues, seemingly placated. “Rook knows the layout. You will take two pieces: F724 and D139.” Vil enunciates it clearly, as if speaking to a child, but Yulia’s gotten used to how he does that by now. “The dress will be short and sleeveless, wear stockings or a shawl if you wish to cover more skin. But, the open back will show off that tattoo I’ve seen during practice, so wear your hair up.” Yulia swallows, nodding. “The heels are high and slim, but they’re made for dancing; you should have no trouble.” 

Vil tilts the key so that it is horizontal between them, as if handing it to her. “Any questions?”

Unbidden, her hand comes up to touch the metal, not quite pulling it from the housewarden’s grasp. “What’s the catch?” Her voice is a whisper, but she can’t hide the slight tremble in it; it’s not fear, but hope. 

The snort from Vil is hardly elegant, but the smile shines on his face like sunlight on snow. “Oh, please, I’m not Azul; this is more a test than anything.” There’s a layer of affection, some of the tension in his shoulders loosening as he speaks. “Make sure everyone knows I’m the one who styled you tonight, and doubly make sure the items are returned with no damage; if you can do those things, and have fun? You can keep the key.”

The hope in her chest soars to her throat like a bird, she’s sure it’s laid bare in her eyes but she can’t bring herself to tamp it down. She thinks of the beautiful satin of her new pointe shoes, the shimmering bottles decorating her bathroom; Vil’s gifts always had an intentionality to them, never an off-hand offering. Her own smile blooms on her face, and Yulia takes the key, breathless in her joy. “Thank you.”

Vil’s smile softens, and his chiding has no bite. “Don’t thank me for this.” His eyes roam over her face for a moment, before they go a bit wistful. “... You should have been allowed to perform.” 

Some of the brightness is dampened at the way he says it. As if he was as upset about the situation as she was. Her own gaze skitters away at the feeling. Despite it being foolish, she feels like the emotion in his voice was real. “You had no control over what the Headmage decided.” 

As painful as it was, that was the truth. Yulia had won her place here in the audition, same as the rest of them. Less than a week after hearing the song snippet for the first time, not only had she understood the notes and choreography herself, she knew it enough to teach it to her friends. Helped walk them through it step by grueling step. She’d had years of experience with song and dance. Sure, she was more than a little rusty, but it hadn’t dulled her star quality.

None of that mattered. On paper, she was not a student, no matter how much Crowley liked to tout her as one. No matter how many classes she took, clubs she joined, extracurriculars she completed. She was just a magicless woman on the Headmage’s payroll, working for a roof over her head while she was stuck here. Of course she wasn’t allowed to participate in a competition for students, at an all-boys arcane academy. 

It didn’t sting any less. 

Yulia had forgotten how much she loved to dance.

“Don’t accept that so easily. You’d have been a center to rival even me.” Vil’s eyebrows come down, as if he wants to scold her, but Yulia’s expression stops him from going too harsh. Instead, he just sighs. “But, you’re right. We both know that deserving the role doesn’t always mean you get it.” There’s a bitterness in his voice, and neither of them try to offer any reassurances for their shared misery. It wouldn’t change anything. Both of them knew that intimately. “But even after all of that, you go out of your way to help us a great deal, Manager. At least let me show you my appreciation for that, if you’ll accept nothing else.”

The rest of the time is spent in near silence, Yulia’s eyes closed and Vil working his magic on her skin while she’s sitting on her bathroom counter. The flutter of brushes while he layered the makeup felt calming, but even more so when he would rub product in with his fingers. Pointed attention, where there was no expectation of her to do anything except for under specific instruction, made something staticky and low relax in her animal hindbrain as her breathing and heartbeat slowed. 

She realizes, belatedly, that she trusts Vil. It makes her feel warm as her lips fall open just a hair so he can dab something on them with the pad of a finger, petal soft. Even when he’s done with her face, she lets her head fall forward so he can card those hands through her hair to gather it up into whatever updo he’d envisioned her in; if she had the ability to purr, she would be, skin tingling everywhere he touched.

Yulia only opens her eyes after he presses a soft kiss to her hair, careful to not mess with any of the products on her face. “It’s done.” His voice is hushed, as if anything too loud might ruin the moment; she’s inclined to agree with that sentiment. “You should let me do that again sometime.” Vil’s smile is sweet, and she smiles back in return, before he pulls himself back together and helps her down. “I’ll update Rook, you dress in something simple; you’ll be taking it off when you get backstage, anyway.”

“Yes, sir.” Her hand lingers a bit once her feet are fully on the ground, squeezing it before she goes to open the door for him. 

He doesn’t follow through, squinting down at her. “You didn’t even check.” The sniff he gives is prissy, and Yulia knows she can’t smile at it or she’ll risk his wrath. “At least see if you like it.” 

She makes a play at considering it, but ultimately shakes her head. ”Mm. Don’t need to.” Mouth twitching, she meets Vil’s gaze instead of glancing at the mirror on the vanity. “You wouldn’t let me leave if it looked bad.”

Vil’s huff is sharp, but his eyes twinkle as he walks out of the bathroom. “Naturally.”

The door clicks behind them both.

By the time Rook comes to ‘pick her up,’ she’s ready, dressed in something easy to take off. If you can call it that; they currently are sharing the same house, so it’s truly as simple as he comes to her doorway to announce his presence with all the aplomb of a gentleman caller.

“Ah, bonsoir, mon Trickster! I am here to escort you to Pomefiore, with the hopes to make you the belle of the ball!” He is a flourish given form, taking off his hat as he enters smoothly into the library-turned-bedroom that she had claimed months ago. “Ah, but to insinuate that you must work for that effect is folly; you pull all the light from every room you enter, our very own dark star.” Once he finishes his approach, he holds out his hand to Yulia, sat on the bottom stair.

She has to chew on the inside of her cheek to keep her grin at bay. “Uh huh. Hello to you, too, Rook.” It’s dismissive, but he doesn’t expect much different from her; he seems pleased enough that she puts her hand in his so he can help her stand. “It’ll be nice to get out of the house for a bit. A nice walk.” 

If he could shine brighter, he would. That was how Rook was all the time, an intentionality to his demeanor that she always appreciated. He knew how he wanted people to see him, and she was the same way. “Then, shall we away?” Lips press to the back of her hand before he entwines their arms, a jauntiness in every movement. “Ah, it is true. We have had little time for leisure while we are consumed by our passions in pursuit of the crown.” The upperclassman hums, considering. “I do hope that it has not been overstrenuous for you. I can at least speak for me and our Roi du Poison that we have appreciated your efforts greatly.” 

The change in conversation makes the corner of her mouth rise, just a bit. “Vil said something similar, earlier.” They move through the creaky halls of Ramshackle to reach the door, him leading her out into the crisp winter air. It cuts through her meager layers, a simple maxi dress that would be easy to step out of, to not mess up the hairstyle Vil gave her. Yulia pulls in a bit closer to Rook’s body heat, suddenly grateful for the escort. “You both don’t have to worry so much about thanking me.” 

The noise he makes is confused, tilting his head to the side. His smile was not fully gone, but it was a ghost on his face; he was watching her, in that way that made the hairs raise on her neck. Like she was something to figure out, a particularly interesting beast. 

In a way, she was.

Instead of speaking immediately, he stops them both when he notices the quiet tremor of her hand on his. Carefully retrieving his arm, Yulia is surprised when he quickly shrugs off his uniform jacket. It’s only long enough to whip it around in a flourish, to drape it delicately over her shoulders.

It’s so warm, like him. And it smells of woods and florals, like him.

His smile is quiet but pleased as he resumes their earlier position, arm in arm as they pick their path, winding over towards the Hall of Mirrors. It’s pleasant, and he makes no expectation of her reaction. As if the action itself was what he found satisfaction from. She hugs the jacket tighter.

“I don’t think I agree.” Rook only really starts talking again when he’s fully collected his thoughts, so long Yulia had nearly forgotten that she’d said something worth responding to. “If what you have done was deserving of no praise, I would not have offered you my cut of our future winnings. Vil is not the type for empty charity, either, you should know.” 

“You know I’m in no position to turn down prize money.” There were less holes in Ramshackle under her care, but she’d love to have better heating, or even hotter water. The possibilities were endless when you had cold, hard Thaumarks and a satisfying couple of zeroes. “But that’s what I mean, Rook. I’m not doing anything particularly magnanimous.”

“Ah, but that’s where you are wrong, Trickster.” His eyes glitter against the setting sun, golden hair turning fiery in the dying light. “You could follow your role to the letter and simply shadow us about our days, letting us sleep in your home. But you often pull the best out of us with your guidance. You aren’t obligated to do that.” 

Rook wasn’t exactly wrong. Multiple times, she’d given Vil himself input on how he ran this training camp, and multiple times he’d actually listened. Hell, she’d even helped with the problem of Epel, changing his choreography to be more comfortable for him; the first year had settled in with Vil’s direction far easier with her around to blunt the knife. That part wasn’t for any reward, and any lie she could spin about it would feel hollow. 

Her voice is quiet when she speaks up, plain. “I do that because I like doing it. That’s all.”

Humming lightly, her merry companion gives a smile like he’s won. “Ah, but have you considered that we like you?”

Yulia’s deadpan stare could peel paint.

His free hand finds its way up, as if in surrender. “Miséricorde, bon ami. I do not mean to make light of my words. Do you not think that it is so?” He’s looking at her again, giving her the chance to ignore any stares as they pass through the main street, full of students and statues alike. She stood out, no matter what she did. An outsider in more ways than one. “You are a confidant to our first years, and you have even climbed high into the esteem of our dear Roi du Poison. I often find myself overwhelmed with inspiration when I wish to sing your praises.”

“I’ve gotten that impression, yes.” Now, she felt like she’d rather look away, break eye contact. Rook’s gaze could be intense, though she rarely found it to be unkind. Her sigh fogs the air before them. “It’s not that I don’t believe you; may I be painfully honest?” Her mouth twitches up at the corner. “I do believe you. And I find it very unnerving that you can stand to be so earnest. The both of you.” Yulia didn’t have to elaborate that she meant him and Vil, the housewarden and his second-in-command. “Do people often tell you that you give them the creeps?”

That, at least, makes Rook laugh. Head thrown back, he has to raise his hand to the tip of his hat so it doesn’t fall over at the motion. “Your candor is as refreshing as it is rare! The sharp sting of a razor tongue; I expect no less from you, Trickster. I have heard similar, once or twice. Surprisingly, I have learned that it is not always a hindrance.” She’s glad she takes it in stride, and it makes her smile go crooked. Rook leans in conspiratorially. “Ah, but that is the difficulty, isn’t it? Whether it is given freely or in appreciation, I doubted that it would be accepted easily.” 

She doesn’t have anything to say to that. If people saw Yulia’s avoidance, no one pointed it out but Rook. And worse still is that his observations were correct. She’d rather receive something in exchange for something of similar value, checking the fine print or terms and conditions, analyzing what people wanted and what people gained. Even something as simple as this felt like a chess game, one where every move she made was met instantly. In the end, even with all their dancing, Yulia didn’t quite know where it led. Sometimes it was fun; sometimes, the way her stomach flipped was fear, not butterflies.

Instead, she lets her silence speak for her, and Rook hums as if she has given her answer. 

The rest of the walk is quiet, but it is not empty; she knows the kind of hunter her escort is, and is sure that even a simple walk like this is enough for him to learn something entirely new about her. That’s how it has always been with him, hasn’t it? 

Pomefiore is a beautiful dorm, all immaculate white and regal purple and gold accents that tell you just how expensive everything was. There are students around at this time of evening, sure, but being on the vice-housewarden’s arm meant that none approach the two of them as they find the room they’re looking for. Rook doesn’t struggle at all, despite the door he leads her to being unlabeled and just like every other they’d passed tonight. She shouldn’t be surprised that he’s been here before; he’d mentioned to her once his keen interest in theatre.

Ushered in and released from his hold, Yulia waits for the darkened room to be illuminated by the overhead lights, and has to squint when its full glory is revealed to her. Rack after rack, in elegant rows, punctuated by shelves that are filled with any accessory or prop a student of the arts would need. There were even dozens of mannequins dressed in outfits that were too elaborate to hang or fold, instead displayed in their full glory, showcased in innumerable mirrors. 

It’s beautiful, plain and simple. No one can blame her for a little ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ moment, though she resists her urge to run her claws over the satins and sequins. She can feel Rook watching her, but she relaxes a bit into the sensation now that their earlier conversation was done. 

“Vil mentioned you would know what he was going for, with the pieces he picked.” She glances over her shoulder to meet those green eyes. 

Despite getting caught staring, his eyes just crinkle at the edges when he smiles, not looking away. “Oui. They are not often paired together, but I think their harmony will be particularly elegant.” Finally passing her, he shows her the direction to reach the numbers Vil had rattled off earlier. “Allons-y, I will show you.” 

They find the heels first, easy enough when they are kept visible on little display shelves. Boxes fill spaces below them for pairs that are common enough to need multiple sizes, but Yulia catches sight of many that look to be one of a kind. Rook’s hands pluck them up, all black straps and a high stiletto; Vil had not been joking in the description. She doesn’t have much time to consider them, her guide instead pivoting to take her to another section where he picks a dress off the rack with barely a glance, still black but far less fabric than she had expected.

“Come, Trickster, do not fall behind! Arriving late makes a powerful statement, but there is a limit, I hear.” Rook seems to be having a ball, and that’s the only reason why she keeps any bite to herself, picking up the pace to see where he’s dragging her this time.

Vil had called this ‘backstage’ and she can see why when they reach a section near the back, comfortable seating and a couple full length mirrors sandwiched between wardrobes and vanities. It’s cozy enough, with lots of space for changing and fussing over starlets; Yulia was familiar with these kinds of spaces, if from another time. 

She catches sight of her makeup. Her instinct earlier had been right, Vil had done an amazing job. More delicate eyeliner but more dimension in the eye makeup, and a dark but flattering lip, distinctly different from her usual look. When she tilted her head, she could see the faint shimmer of it. There wasn’t even a sign of the dark circles ringing her eyes, a permanent addition since September.

In the time she takes in her appearance, her guide has already delicately placed the items on a flat surface near the mirror she was looking into before stepping back to give her room. “We have everything to set the stage; undress, s'il vous plaît.” 

Yulia can only tell that he gestures with a hand because she can see him reflected in the mirror in front of her. That same vantage point is how she can meet his gaze; the same gaze that did not leave her, despite the request, not even as she peels his uniform jacket off her shoulders. Her eyebrow lifts an inch higher, waiting.

Smile growing slightly, Rook tips his head just so. He seemed in good humor, waiting for her directive. She knows she can cut this behavior at the root, if she wished. 

Her long nails pluck at the straps of her dress so they sink down her shoulders. If he was trying to get a rise out of her, he would be sorely disappointed. She was not a modest woman, had never been, and changing in front of people in a production was common.

The black fabric of her dress pools around her feet before she steps out of it, leaving the slides she’d worn to protect her feet. In front of the mirror, she’s left in just her simple panties under lacey stockings, and no bra; the small size of her breasts and the piercings through both nipples made it more trouble that it was worth to wear them, anyway. Her gaze looks at Rook, almost in challenge, but he doesn’t seem surprised at her decision.

“Pervert.” There’s no heat to it, and Rook’s laugh means he can tell there is no real insult made.

“Call me what you like, Trickster. But beauty is meant to be admired.” Seemingly satisfied with the exchange, he walks over to the dress, pooled fabric straightening out with a shake. Coming back towards her again, she realized that it wasn’t that much fabric at all. 

When he stands to the side of her, he sinks to one knee, gaze respectfully not staring at any particular part much longer than necessary. Between his hands, he holds the dress delicately so that she may step into the space, going to carefully shimmy it up her legs and hips. Once the fabric is over her torso, Yulia realizes something not quite right. The way it bunched around her chest, too much fabric and far too loose, coupled with the lack of straps or sleeves. 

“Rook, this isn’t going to fit on me.” She’s matter of fact, already going to press her hands over the upperclassman’s, feeling the warmth of his skin through his leather gloves. 

He doesn’t lower the dress. “Avoir confiance.” His voice is low, most likely to soothe and not to startle, but she’s suddenly aware of how close he is. “There is a spell woven into the fabric, you see! Place your hands on the neckline, like so.” Rook lets go of the hemline he was holding to instead gather her hands to press them right at the dip of the sweetheart neckline. After some adjusting, he seems pleased with the placement. “Now, keep pressure…” 

Yulia’s hands, guided by his own on top of them. He drags her hands along the hemline of the dress, starting by tracing the neckline over the gentle swell of her chest. As their hands move, the magic is made apparent; the edge of the fabric smoothed over the skin, as if taped or glued down. They have to trace down the sides hugging her ribs, and then around the back, to the deep taper that left her back fully exposed. When Rook is done, the dress looks like it was altered onto her body, a visual that looked like it defied gravity. 

The effect was potent, to say the least. It being the dress Vil chose, she can see why. The way the cut was simple but elegant, not catching too much attention; the makeup on her face complimented it, and she could see how the classic stiletto would enhance the look. What surprised her was the amount of skin shown, a bit more leg than she usually had visible, not to mention the bare arms and open back. Once again, she was thankful that she’d listened to the housewarden’s advice of stockings and a shawl to cover herself more.

She’d worn more revealing outfits to clubs or events back home, but it goes to show how little she flaunted her body now that she was at Night Raven. Arranging her legs a bit and twisting slightly, Yulia’s pretty satisfied that it isn’t too revealing to be around her friends, most of which were now teenaged boys. 

The motion reminds her that neither of them have moved yet, still in the same position as when Rook helped her complete the sticking charm. Both of her hands were behind her back, pressed against the curve or her spine. Rook’s gloved hands atop of them, keeping them there. There’s a lack of pressure, but Yulia’s heartbeat kicks up a notch at the realization. A sliver of fear and something far more pleasant mix together, but when her hands twitch beneath the man’s, he lets go without a fuss; the only hint that anything had happened at all was a knowing smile on Rook’s face.

“I can see what Roi du Poison wanted to showcase… Merveilleux.” A knuckle drags up her bare spine, along her tattoo; a broken sword, with the hilt at her nape and the tip of the blade right above her tailbone. Vil had mentioned it, but she supposes this is the first time Rook had fully seen it. She feels the finger trailing along it stop at a specific point and she knows that he noticed the surgical scar, right where the blade was shattered. “I suppose there is another story here, yes?”

Yulia rolls her shoulder a bit, only lightly dislodging that touch. “An old injury. The one that made me stop dancing, I mentioned it a little.” She distinctly knows that she didn’t go into any detail when she mentioned that, so she knows that Rook still knows next to nothing about it. Turning her head slightly, she gives a half-smile. “Maybe when I’m not running late, I’ll tell you more about it.” 

The smile on Rook’s face is radiant, and he goes back to work. Heels in capable hands, he kneels before her again to close the delicate buckles around her ankles. Used to being poked and prodded, she only needs to occasionally wobble in place to keep her balance. 

That doesn’t stop her from resting a hand on his shoulder, a touch that he seems to accept gladly.

Finally finished, Rook stands with a flourish to let her look at herself in the floor length mirror, the full effect now in place. “Voilà! What do you think, bon ami?” His voice was back to being grandiose, and she couldn’t help but grin in response.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Really nice.” She twisted lightly to get a full visual, before delicately doing a twirl in place. The soles of the heels glide effortlessly, sturdy but supple, and the skirt flared sweetly at the motion. This would be good for dancing. “Should we tell Vil? I worry it’ll just stroke his ego.” There’s no malice to the comment, the simple giddiness of feeling cute overtaking her.

His gasp is scandalized, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Treachery to our queen? I can’t abide this, Trickster, we will have to amend this at once.” Coming in close, he delicately drapes the shawl that she brought with her over her elbows, the cherry on top. His gloved hands trail up her biceps to find her shoulders, leaning in to look at the same vantage point that she is seeing herself from instead of looming over her. His breath tickles her neck, with her hair up like this. “But, it doesn’t look nice. You look nice.” Grip tightening on her shoulders, green eyes catch her dark ones in the mirror. “And don’t argue with me; le Chasseur d'Amour never lies.” 

Yulia huffs, but it’s an exasperation that warms her all the same. “Okay. You win.” It’s the most he’ll get out of her, but it makes him practically sparkling at the admission.

“Beauté! Now, allow me to escort you to the mirror once more; I’m sure you will be able to find your way to Heartslabyul after that with no difficulties, non?”

Yulia stumbles onto the balcony, laughing. Her hands find cool stone, and it helps soothe her flushed skin as the tally marks on the back of one glitter in the moonlight; one for each drink she’d been allowed. It’s been a long time since she’s had anything alcoholic, so even three glasses of wine is enough to make her feel it, enough to smooth out all her rough edges. She’s a bit floaty in her movement, but she steadies herself against the railing and looks up at the sky. 

Stars, bright and endless, break up the dark of the night. The moon hangs heavy and full, looking so big that she could reach out and touch it if she tried. A night breeze brings the smell of cut grass and fresh roses, and the party inside can still be heard from here, like she was included even in this stillness.

Time seemed to stand still until the sound of footsteps approached, small and careful. Her lips pulled up, calling out to him softly. “The moon’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” 

Truthfully, she’s not surprised at the interruption. Their relationship was born on the backs of moments like this; the alley behind a club, the corner in a crowded room, the walls at the edge of a ballroom. A bubble of quiet in the midst of celebration. These were the moments where they found each other, always. It felt poetic, in a way that made her fingers itch to write it down.

Those steps come closer to stand at the railing with her. “So it is.” Lilia’s voice is quiet as the night on her skin and just as rich, even with the curl of a smile she can hear. He looks at her for a beat longer before he turns his own eyes up the same way hers are. “Running away so soon? The party’s still in full swing.”

Yulia turns her head to grin down at him, the couple of inches difference exacerbated by Vil’s expensive heels. “Hey, keep your voice down. I’m trying to avoid the paparazzi for a bit.”

She’s rewarded by his giggle, so close she could bump shoulders if she shifted a bit. “What, you don’t like the attention? Cater seemed tickled pink to show you off to his followers!” His eyes, wine dark and affectionate, crinkle at the edges when he looks up at Yulia. “The price to pay when you outshine the birthday boy, I’d say. You probably owe him a couple more dance trends before the night is over to settle that debt.”

Her own laugh is louder, the echo smothered by the greenery below them. “No, please, I’m innocent! Vil Shoenheit set me up, I swear.”

A scoff is heard, and his warmth was a bit closer as he leaned in. “World class actor Vil Shoenheit? Housewarden of Pomefiore? Please, try to make your story more believable, at least.” The wicked gleam on Lilia’s fangs gave away just how much he enjoyed the bit, needling her to keep spinning her alibi. “Perjury of the court is a crime, beastie.”

“It’s true, it’s true! Him and his accomplice, Rook Hunt! They did this to me.” She adds a breathy note to her voice, but her acting falls through into giggles from the way her skull feels like it’s full of stuffing. “They picked out the dress and everything; it’s a borrow from backstage, apparently.” 

That raised his eyebrows, the admission seemingly surprising to him. “Really now?” There’s another layer when he mutters in the air between them. Something that feels like he’s thinking, but Yulia had long since learned that Lilia only gave away what he wanted to be seen. She can only really watch as he shifts his expression to a smile, a bit of a teasing air as he looks her over. “You’re closer to those two than I realized.” The insinuation is in his half-lidded eyes, his conspiratorial tone, so she doesn’t expect for him to spell it out next. “I hadn’t thought there was any space between them to fit anyone at all.”

He was fishing for specific information, but Yulia just snorted, the crass comment surprising. “Please, as if it were anything as exciting as you’re cooking up. I was a life-size dress up doll, and that’s it. Turns out, that’s right up Pomefiore’s alley.” 

“Oh, don’t feel like you have to defend yourself to me.” There’s something lighter in the way he chuckles, the playful lilt back. Yulia feels a satisfaction take root, even though she doesn’t know why. “You would be more Pomefiore’s type, blinded by their glittering charms instead of gloomy Diasomnia. Really, I understand completely. Ignore my broken heart. Ah, who will break the news to Malleus?”

“Dramatic.” Yulia hisses it out, but she can’t keep the grin off her face at his antics. “I didn’t expect you to be the jealous type, Lilia.” Normally, she wouldn’t be so bold, but a bit was a bit; she rarely backed down when he wanted to play. “If it keeps you from whining, then you do it next time. Dress me up however you like.” 

Her eyes droop half-lidded at the thought. It felt safe enough, didn’t it? It was just clothes and touching and maybe makeup, but there was a thrill inside her at the idea of Lilia doing it, making her look exactly how he wanted. He was so gentle when they touched, but his callouses were harsh and they lingered in her thoughts more than she’d like to admit. Yulia thoroughly enjoyed Vil’s and Rook’s ministrations, so thinking of the object of her desire doing it practically made her knees weak. 

His hands teasing her hair into a braid, or lacing a corset behind her back. His voice ghosting next to her ear, telling her to turn this way or that. His callouses catching on her stockings, tearing a run in them as they find their mark-

She’s so glad she has the railing to keep her steady. 

The half-beat of silence from Lilia tells her she missed something in his reaction, usually so quick on the comeback. His smile is still in place, but she gets lost in his eyes on her. They were dilating, the slits of his pupils flaring wider. Then, his smile got wider to match, a wicked grin that made his fangs glint in the dim lighting. It made her feel like a meal, reminded her that bats were predators, despite their size.

Oh, Yulia just walked into a trap, didn’t she?

Lilia’s eyelashes fluttered, every inch playing innocence, which obviously meant he had only nefarious intentions. “My, my… Young people are so bold these days. I’m scandalized, Yulia, I never took you for that type.” His voice is low, dripping with the same kind of playful air of a cat batting around a mouse, but Yulia’s mind is slowed by sweet wine so she can’t get ahead of what he means. He steps a bit closer, going for the kill shot. “To think, a man my age getting proposed to like this? School life has many miracles, indeed.”

Yulia doesn’t react as quickly as she normally would have, the words not making sense as her eyes widen. She practically chokes on her spit as her thoughts catch up; she hopes the flush on her face can be attributed to the indignant noise she makes. “What?”

Lilia beams, practically reflecting the moonlight, but he still has that sadistic look in his gaze. He’s scented blood and he knows it, chasing the chance to embarrass or tease. “That’s a courtship ritual from the Valley of Thorns, beastie. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?” He says it like he knows she wouldn’t have, and it causes that heat to climb higher. “It’s no different than animals grooming those they care for, I don’t know why it would be so surprising.” Before Yulia realizes, her hand is up on her face as she frantically tries to come up with her own comeback, but now she has it in her mind and she’s reeling. Fae can exaggerate or twist their words, but they cannot lie. “Since you were so eager, when’s the wedding? Don’t keep your blushing groom waiting, now.”

Her other hand comes up to her face, but losing her support is a small price to pay. “Shut up.” It’s a wheeze and a surrender all at once, and Lilia beside her gives in to guffaw at her expense. Normally something like this wouldn’t rattle her so much, but being drunk on wine and love made her stupid. Either way, the man beside her seemed to be enjoying himself too much. “Oh my god. You are so embarrassing.” 

“Mm, you don’t say?” Lilia can’t keep his satisfaction to himself, his shoulder firmly against hers as he leans in her space; Yulia knows she won’t hear the end of this one for weeks. “We’ve been courting this whole time and you didn’t even think to tell me? I would be embarrassed, too.”

“Shut-” She cuts herself off with a groan, one that’s louder than the giggling next to her. “Don’t tease me.” 

“And why would I stop? Last time I checked, beastie, you love when I tease you.” His hand goes to steady her a bit on her lower back, almost in instinct, but it means that rough palm presses against bare skin. Yulia sighs to hide the shiver, but Lilia’s already talking again. “It’s our favorite activity together. You should remember things about your beloved, you know.”

“Lilia.” It’s a warning, but she can’t summon much heat to it; no, all the heat in her body is currently preoccupied. He was so close. “I mean it, I’ll…” Yulia trails off when she moves her hands to look at him, nearly chest to chest as they are. She realizes the only thing keeping her standing is probably the places where he’s touching her.

There’s a pensive little look on Lilia’s face. Not quite apologetic, but most of the needling is gone. No, he’s watching her, she thinks. Gauging if this is still part of the game or a tap out. Something in her expression makes him open his mouth, and the movement makes her eyes glance down. His voice is slow and quiet. “You’ll what?” It has a helpful tilt to it, as if he’s urging her to continue, but Yulia can’t, not when her eyes are glued to his lips.

She doesn’t even register that she’s moving before she’s kissing him. 

It’s a messy clash of want, but her blood sings in her ears. Her palm presses flat to his chest, and he follows her lead when she walks him backwards, stumbling lightly with the clumsy way her mouth meets his. The hand on her back holds her steady, even as his own hits the side of the building. Lilia makes a little noise of surprise at the contact, and that’s enough to make Yulia dislodge, breath shaking; when did her hands ball up in his shirt? 

“S-sorry, I-” She blinks open her eyes as she tries to pull back, swallowing the lump in her throat, but Lilia’s free hand grabs the back of her neck and they’re kissing again. Whatever she was going to say melts into a whine, an opportunity for him to slip a clever tongue into her mouth. 

His thumb is gentle as it presses lightly in the hollow under her ear lobe, and that pressure on the joint of her jaw gives him leverage to tilt her head exactly where he wants her to be. It’s not exactly manhandling, but it’s enough for her to feel his control, and it makes her burn hotter at the idea. They’re all wet heat and chest to chest, and when Yulia’s knees turn to jelly it’s Lilia’s knee between her legs that makes her see stars. 

She must have made some noise, because he pulls her back by that gentle hand on her jaw. “Easy.” It’s meant to be soothing, but the smokey quality of that voice is going straight to her core. “Someone might hear.” He’s only slightly out of breath compared to Yulia, but her lipstick shimmers on his mouth as he smiles. 

The visual makes her throat dry. She swallows and closes her eyes to focus on calming her breathing. “Sorry.” Yulia thanks anything listening that they were tucked out of view of the balcony doors, partially covered in delicate ivy.

“Oh, I didn’t dislike that, beastie. Make no mistake.” A careful tilt of his head bumps his nose against hers, the affection in the action almost worse than how their bodies were slotted against each other. Lilia’s still pressed against the wall, unbothered as he looks up at her. “But, I’d like to know what that meant.”

His voice had a gentle quality to it that was hard for Yulia to parse. It felt guarded but coaxing, and she didn’t know exactly what kind of answer he was looking for. She licks her lips, her laugh more breath than anything. “What do you think it meant?” Even as she says it, she knows Lilia won’t let her deflect like this.

“I asked first, didn’t I?” A flash of teeth in his smile, but he holds fast; the distance between them is fixed, leaving Yulia unable to lean in or pull away. “Use those pretty words you like so much. I want to make sure I’m understanding correctly.” 

Those words she liked so much were ink on paper, where she could always control the narrative and rewrite them as many times as she wanted. This was far different. Whether she was ready or not, a confession was being pulled out of her nonetheless. As she tries to piece together her thoughts in a way she could be satisfied with, Yulia worries that he will take it as hesitance or reluctance. But Lilia stays there, waiting; they are no strangers to affection, holds and hugs and sweet words whispered in the dead of night. He seems more than willing to bask in the closeness while she chooses her words.

‘I love you’ was too heavy, though it felt true; Lilia was experienced, she doubts he would entertain that kind of opener. ‘I like you’ felt juvenile, the kind of thing Ace or Deuce would say. ‘I want you’ was vague, unhelpful, it lacked the depth she felt. 

Honesty felt raw on Yulia’s skin, but she owed that vulnerability to Lilia; he couldn’t lie to her, not directly, so he deserved nothing less than the same in return.

“It means I wanted to kiss you.” She licks her lips again, finding solace in the way he watches her like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. “It means I want to keep kissing you.” Her hands release his shirt to smooth out the wrinkles, trailing up to feel the warm skin of his shoulders, his neck, his jaw. “It means I care about you, that I trust you.” Her fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, long nails scratching lightly at the undercut there. 

“It means I think about you all the time.” Her confessions start coming out shaky, and Lilia lets her cradle his face in her hands, nuzzling lightly into the hold. That makes her chest tighten. “All the time. When I’m in class, when I’m working…” When she sways in his hold, Yulia realizes that she can move closer, pressing her forehead against his. “When I’m in bed.” That last confession is a husky whisper against Lilia’s lips, one that he rewards with an encouraging hum. 

His knee, forgotten between her thighs, presses up again in a way that reminds her of just how wet she was, physical proof of how much she wants him. She wonders dizzily if he can feel it through his pants leg. “Tease.” Yulia’s breath hitches into a whine that she barely swallows; Lilia’s laugh is just a ghost of warmth against her mouth. 

“Mm? I don’t know what you mean.” The hand on her back gives away that he knows exactly what she means, calloused fingers trailing up her spine to leave goosebumps in their wake. “Do you want me to stop touching you?” Another innocent question, and she thinks she knows his game now; he's making her set the pace, letting her choose what happens. “Your heart's beating so fast.”

“You have that effect on me.” Yulia laughs. “I want- I want you to keep touching me.” There’s a moment where she weighs the pros and cons of continuing this show here and now, but she doesn’t want to risk finding how many rules it would break to fuck on the balcony of the Heartslabyul tearoom. Her mouth finds a pointed ear. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

The hope in her voice is reflected in the way he tilts his head into it. “Where do you want to go?”

“You’re the guy who can teleport.” Her reply is punctuated by a small nip, emboldened by how his hands still hold her tight to his body. “Get us alone and I’ll make it work.”

She feels more than hears the way Lilia’s breath hitches, and that feeling goes straight through her. “Anything for you.” There’s a curl to the voice that sounds like he’s smiling, but Yulia can’t pull back to check. The hand that he had on her neck travels up to the back of her head, dexterous fingers pulling out the pin keeping her hair up before she even realized what was happening. She makes a little confused noise, only to be shushed gently by Lilia’s fingers running roughly through her hair after it falls loose. 

Keeping her head tucked back in that tight hold, Lilia only takes a second of adjusting before they both disappear, the green sparkles leaving behind the only evidence that it wasn’t a trick of the light at all. 

Yulia’s center of gravity lurches violently; her hands cling to Lilia in her hold for the second of air they fall through before her back bounces on something plush. A mattress, she realizes belatedly, grateful for the way that Lilia’s hand protectively cradled the back of her head.

The swinging green light is the only giveaway of where they might be, but she recognizes it immediately. The star shaped orb hanging from the canopy of Lilia’s bed. He must have brought her to his room, the scent of him surrounding them both in the quiet.

It’s mere seconds of reorienting that Yulia gets before she hears her hairpin, the one Lilia took from her hair, clink against a wall across the room. Caging her in with arms, he surges forward to lick his way back into her mouth. Their little back and forth must have been enough. Heat explodes inside of Yulia, a whine in her throat as she finally gets to run her hands over the man on top of her. A solid weight, pressing her down into the mattress, her body getting to feel every tense and roll of the muscles he kept hidden. How long had she yearned for just this?

Time slows down. She loses her shawl first, somewhere in the messy pile of bedding below them. Pleasure steadily throbs between her legs, but Lilia seems unhurried in his exploration, and she has very little motivation to correct him now. Not when her world has contracted down to only hands and tongue and teeth. The tip of her tongue catches occasionally on a fang, each time sending a new shiver through her. Yulia registers something, two somethings, thumping to the ground next to the bed, but whatever questioning noise is shushed when Lilia pulls back from the kiss to mouth at her jawline. It makes her breath come out shaky, but not as much as when one calloused hand snakes down her thigh to hike her knee up over his hip. 

“Lilia-” It’s a warbled little moan, desperate but formless; it only makes the man above her hum questioningly against her skin, not even bothering to pull back. Yulia’s answer isn’t any better, dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheekbones as she tries to grind up against his hips, but there wasn’t enough leverage to get any satisfaction from the movement. “Fuck.” Lilia has the audacity to huff a laugh, smothered into her collarbone. Yulia’s fingers go to his shoulders, trying to dig those long nails into his skin through his shirt. Some sort of payback, but he only seems more pleased by the retaliation.

The hand on her knee is lower now, wrapped around a delicate ankle, before she realizes that he’s toying with the buckle of her heel with one hand. Clever fingers pluck and pull, not even needing sight to tug it free before carelessly tossing the shoe to the floor; the action doesn’t disrupt his mission to drag teeth along her throat in a bite that makes her clench in want. The move is intentional, Lilia using the chance to shift enough to get fully between her legs and repeat the endeavor on her other shoe. 

This time, when Yulia sees the chance to find sweet friction, she’s rewarded by a growling noise near her ear and feeling just how hard he was beneath those jeans. Her panties have to be soaked but she doesn’t care, chasing that high, trying to pull another noise like that one of Lilia. By the third roll of her body, his hand on her other ankle is notably rougher, his breathing in her ear going ragged. He tries to lick a stripe up the cartilage, a play at toying with her piercings, but another growl is ripped from his throat instead. 

“And you call me a tease.” A flick of his wrist yanks the heel off. Yulia doesn’t even hear it hit the ground before he’s on her again. In the same moment that he captures her mouth, his hips rolled down, hard. The moan ripped from her is primal but Lilia swallows it whole, both hands dragging up her body before ghosting over her breasts and back down. He repeats the motion, and all the soft parts of her body twitch and give under those hands as it repeats it yet again. 

She doesn’t question it until Lilia pulls back with a huff, this time of light frustration. “Beastie.” His voice is still quiet in the air between them, but there’s a furrow in his brow; Yulia can’t stop staring at how those wine dark eyes nearly glow in the dim light. “How do you get out of that dress?”

Her brain is slow and warm, but she finally pulls herself back from just staring up at him to really register what he was asking. A breath leaves her, then another, until she’s laughing. Lilia’s mouth pulls into a grin at the sight, even if he gives her a quick pinch to get her ass in line. “Answer quickly, or you won’t be returning it unscathed.”

It just made her giggles worse, truth be told. “Sorry, sorry, it’s- Rook said it had some kind of sticking spell, to keep it in place-” Yulia wiggles a bit, hands trailing forward to press lightly on his collarbone so she can have some room to find where she’d been shown to release the magic. “Let me just…”

Lilia leans back on his heels, but his head cocks to the side while he does it. Yulia takes a minute to catch it, too; the muffled sound of vibration, rhythmic, familiar, squished between her back and the mattress. 

“Oh. Sorry, that’s- probably my phone.” Had it fallen out when they teleported? Either way, now she reached under her to fish it out from tangled sheets and bedding. The vibration made it easy enough to locate, probably someone calling her. It was instinct to check the screen, even as she was about to drop it on the amp Lilia kept haphazardly close to his bed.

Cater’s name hung on the screen, one of his selfies that he took using her phone. Shining in the dark and reminding her of what event they both ditched to dry hump like teens after prom.

Yulia groans. 

Her eyes find Lilia, still above her, messy hair and stained mouth the only features giving away that they’d been tangled together for who knows how long. He’s still fully dressed, and the position made his dog tags dangle delicately in the space between them and those eyes. Eyes she could drown in. Another pang of want courses through her; he’s beautiful like this. 

The phone stops vibrating in her hand. It’s only a couple seconds reprieve before it starts up again, the screen illuminating the space between them. Cater’s picture winks in her periphery, but she’s still looking up at Lilia. There’s a curiosity in his gaze, and the longer she takes to do anything at all about this mess, the more amused he looks.

Yulia wishes she felt the same way. “I should answer it.” 

Something in the way she says it makes the fae laugh. “Probably.” He makes a move to extract himself from their position, but Yulia moves without thinking again. A hand shoots out, grabbing the chain around his neck. He freezes in surprise, but she doesn’t overthink it, only hoping to keep him close, keep him from pulling away.

She accepts the call.

The reaction on the other end is instant. “OMG, Yules!” Cater’s voice probably has an admonishment in there, but it’s feathered out by the sound of his laugh. It’s a little fake, but she can hear the relief on the other line, clear as day. “Party’s over, so just checking in to make sure all the besties got home safe! I couldn’t find you when I left, so I thought I’d call.” 

Yulia feels herself laugh, glad that it doesn’t come out as airy as she thought it would. “Yeah, sorry about that. Had a little too much fun and thought I’d tuck in early.” Her hand slowly releases Lilia’s necklace, instead trailing that palm along his chest, fingers tracing rib and muscle alike. She can’t look at his eyes or she won’t be able to act normal, so she settles with ogling his body in the meantime. “I’d meant to tell you on my way out, but it slipped my mind… Must’ve been the wine.” The half-lie is easy, smooth, practiced. 

“I know, it got a little crazy there for a minute! I’ll need to check what I posted before I head to bed; you’re good with me posting as long as I tag you, right?” Cater’s yapping is a comfortable background noise, only needing a hum of acknowledgement from Yulia before he continues on. “But, I had a lot of fun. It was a pretty good turnout, I think!” 

Her lips twitch into a grin; her friend’s enthusiasm was nice to hear, regardless of the interruption. “Yeah, it was really fun. We should do something like that again sometime.” She lets Cater gush a bit more, her mind occupied when her hand reaches the bottom hem of Lilia’s shirt. It lifts up a bit, revealing skin she hasn’t seen before; she subconsciously checks for a happy trail with her fingers, registering that he didn’t have one. The skin was smooth and soft, though it tensed under her touch as she explored his abdomen, ghosting over old scars. 

She wants to see more, so she tugs impatiently on the hem. Lilia instantly understands, a hand grabbing the collar of his shirt to yank it over his head. It gets flung to some corner of the room, but Yulia doesn’t care, more interested in the eyeful in front of her. She doesn’t normally see him so exposed, but left in just his jeans and the dog tags around his neck, her eyes can better make out the muscle definition that he hides behind his cute appearance. Pale skin is washed in even paler scars, shimmering nearly silver in the green glow of the light above them. 

Lilia, for his part, is surprisingly patient. He’s still under her curiosity, keeping his hands to himself while she assuages the worries of their friend. The only tell that he wasn’t as unbothered as he seemed was when her hand pressed over his heart, feeling the flutter beneath her fingertips. And the way he looked down at her. It held a quiet hunger as he stared openly, something she wasn’t used to him doing. It made her breath come quicker the longer she met that gaze; her chance to get out of this phone call couldn’t come quick enough.

“Well, it’s getting late.” She slips it into the first real gap she notices. “Thanks for checking in, Cater, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’m tucked into bed, safe and sound.”

The voice in her phone receiver makes a little noise, like Cater was thinking. “Really?” It’s not the kind of response she’d expected, but her friend keeps going. “When I dropped off Adeuce and Kalim, Grimmy said you hadn’t come home yet.” 

Yulia has to catch herself from clicking her tongue. Of course that brat would give her away, he always overshares her business. The change in conversation makes Lilia hone in on her expression, but there’s little she can do when caught fully in the lie. Cater would sniff out any sidestep at this point.

A laugh bubbles up in her throat. “I am in a bed.” She clarifies carefully, knowing exactly what kind of insinuation she’s giving, exactly what Cater would read it as.

The pause is audible.

“Oh.” Her friend’s voice sounds surprised, but it quickly bleeds into a conspiratorial tone. “Oh! Well, I should let you rest!” Cater’s voice drips honey at that, humming as he hastily continues towards their goodbye. “Besides, I need to call Lils next, you two were the last on my list-”

Her brain isn’t what makes her speak up, but something far more treacherous. “Don’t bother.”

“Eh?” Cater makes a little noise of confusion, but Yulia’s looking at how Lilia snaps his eyes up to meet hers; she had figured he could hear the whole conversation, but this proved it. His pupils are dilating again, like she’s doing something he didn’t expect. Her lips quirk into a smile.

“He won’t pick up.” The gasp on the other end of the line is instant, she can practically imagine the wide eyed look Cater would be giving them, and Lilia coughs out a laugh in surprise at the same time. It makes Yulia’s smile turn into a grin, not giving her friend the chance to respond at all. “Goodnight, Cater.” 

Pleased with herself, she clicks the button to hang up before silencing the device and tossing it unceremoniously onto Lilia’s hot pink amp. 

Embarrassment over her behavior was for the morning, but the night was filled with laughter as the man above her swoops down to nuzzle roughly against her face. His teeth snag on her ear, a quick nip that makes her squeal. “You minx.” Lilia’s voice is filled with affection and heat, blending together until she can’t tell where one ends and one begins. “Keeping me waiting just to give it away at the last second. We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t start posting like some sort of prophet.”

“That’s fine, isn’t it?” Yulia’s giggles are breathless, turning her head to look at him in the face. His expression has mischief in it, but he doesn’t pull back, letting their noses touch again. “That it’s not a secret?”

“Hm? You want to show me off like some conquest?” The question sits for a second as Lilia hums in thought; his half-lidded eyes and the twitching smile still on his face makes her think he isn’t mad at the idea. His body settles in just a bit closer. “I find myself quite enjoying the idea.”

Her hand, still pressed on his chest, ghosts long nails down until she feels fabric again. She plucks lightly at his belt buckle to give the hint, but instinct makes her keep going. The noise ripped out of Lilia’s throat is raw and needy when she presses the heel of her palm against his cock through his jeans, still hard even during the long minutes of waiting. “I quite enjoy the idea of you being naked right now.” Her fingers flex again, trying to get a read on his size.

“Patience.” His voice is ruined, curled around a sharp smile as his own hand finds her wrist to yank it back up, pinning it next to her head. “Last I checked, it was a virtue, beastie.” It’s a scolding, alright, but it’s softened when he dips to kiss her mouth again. Her lips chase his when he pulls back too soon, and he bites at her lip piercing as a punishment. “Greedy thing.” He doesn’t fall for the bait. “Answer my questions true, and I’ll give you everything you want, anything you could ask for. Can you do that for me?” 

The way Lilia said that was too soft for the situation, and it makes her swallow around her dry throat. Her chin dips once in a nod, not trusting her voice.

“Good.” His breath is relieved, she thinks, but he continues easily. “Have you done this before?” 

The question leaves little room to misinterpret what he meant. “Yeah.” Yulia’s voice is rough with want, but she swallows it down. “It’s been a while.” A couple years, by her memory. “But I wouldn’t consider myself inexperienced.”

Lilia hums, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “I’d consider myself in a similar situation, then. Hopefully I haven’t gotten too rusty in the meantime.” Yulia wants to ask how long it’s been for him, but he uses that admission to keep going. “But, that’s next, isn’t it?” His voice goes gentler, quieter. “I am far older than you; I’ve been led to believe that humans have some compunction about that sort of thing.” Uncertainty hangs on that thought, as if there’s something else that he doesn’t put words to, lets it sit in the air between them. Red eyes search her own expression. “Are you alright with that?”

She huffs a laugh, wiggling slightly. “What, as if that isn’t part of your charm, old man?” The fondness in her tone makes some of the tension leave Lilia’s shoulders, but she reassures anyway. This moment felt like a continuation of her confession, blended at the edges with a haphazard negotiation. “You’ve never made me feel weird about it. If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me.” 

The fae lets himself smile at that. “You’re precious, you know that?” The admission startles her a bit, pulling a flush back to her face, and Lilia nuzzles her face again to soothe. “Well, my last question is more practical, then; what would you like to do about protection?”

“I can’t get pregnant.” That answer was instant, quick on her tongue. There’s a flicker of some surprise in Lilia’s eyebrows; Yulia doesn’t want to linger on the explanation, hoping it won’t sour this when it only just started. “If you’d rather use a condom, I can wait for one. But I don’t care either way.” Her tongue licks along the ridge of her teeth, considering if she should say what she wants to, but the impulse wins. “I’m into it if you want to cum inside.” Yulia can feel herself clench at the idea, hunger simmering even now. 

Greedy, he’d called her; maybe he was right.

A breath leaves him in a rush, shaky; she thinks he liked that. “... You aren’t lying.” He says it like he’s in awe, and it does something to Yulia’s insides.

“I told the truth.” Yulia admits easily, but she tilts her head to look at him a little closer. “But you can’t always tell when I’m lying, Lilia.”

“Maybe not. But I like to watch you when I think you are.” The hand pinning her wrist relaxes a bit, trailing those calloused fingers to find her pulse, pressing down. “Sometimes I can see when you’re trying to pick the correct answer.” That doesn’t surprise Yulia; she’s sure fae have had to adapt when interacting with more duplicitous creatures, and Lilia in particular was more perceptive than he let on. “But you didn’t do that this time.” His eyes meet hers, like he’s trying to pick her apart. Her chest feels carved open under that wine dark gaze. “You want this.”

“I want you.” Yulia’s correction is raw, honest. A pained whisper into the half dark between them. 

Lilia kisses her. 

This one is noticeably different from the others. He presses against her like he can’t get close enough, but gone is the frenzied devouring from earlier. It takes a minute for Yulia to adjust to the pace that he’s setting, slowed down to a mingling of tongue that leaves her breathless. By the time he pulls back to mutter something against her lips, she blinks away the haze but she can’t piece together the words. The questioning noise in her throat just earns her a laugh from Lilia, his voice hushed and warm. “I know, I know. You’ve more than earned your reward, I think.” One more press of lips to her jawline and he’s sitting up again. This time, Yulia keeps her eyes glued to every movement.

Once he’s leaned back on his heels again, his hands go to his belt buckle. Lilia’s quick with his fingers, deftly pulling at leather until it slides from the loops of his jeans. Her eyes watch the movement carefully, mouth watering at the idea of feeling the sting of it, but if Lilia notices her desire, he doesn’t do anything to give it away. Instead, he works his pants and underwear off in one smooth motion. If it were anyone else, the maneuver might be awkward when he added kicking off his socks into the mix, but Yulia was too busy taking in the sights; his toenails were painted, he had less scars on his legs than his arms, and his cock sat heavier than she had anticipated. 

Her mouth dries up, instinct shuffling her up onto her elbows to get a better vantage point. Lilia leans back, just a hair, his face faintly amused but he keeps his thoughts to himself for now. Yulia’s first thought is that he’s massive, though her second and third thoughts are that it only seems that way with his proportions. There’s hair, though it looks thin and fine, like dark peach fuzz. His own hand slides up his thigh to ghost over hip and take hold of his cock. The intake of breath from her is enough to make Lilia’s lips pull into a crooked grin as he toys with himself. 

Like he wanted to give her a chance to see it. Like he wanted her to watch.

“I’ve never known you to be so speechless, beastie; see something you like?” His voice is more playful than smug, and it makes Yulia’s breath turn into a scoff.

“You don’t need me to tell you that.” She wants to meet his eyes, but it’s harder to break her stare when she sees wetness gathering on his tip. Her body shivers of its own volition. “You know I do.”

“It’s nice to hear it all the same.” He tilts his head, gaze still on her body, the pumping of his hand unhurried. The white of his grin flashes in the green light. “You should take off that dress.” 

Right, she did get distracted from that, didn’t she? Well, the quicker she does that, the quicker she can touch him again. Her hands drag down her sides, careful of her nails on the fabric of the borrowed dress, searching for the little fold she knows will release the spell making it cling to her curves. The way Lilia’s eyes go half-lidded makes her blood run hot; she can’t blame herself for arching into the motion just to give him more of a show. Thumbs hooking along the seam and dragging, feeling the fabric give, she finally shimmies it down. It reveals her breasts easily enough, small but decorated with metal, silver barbells with delicate chains.

The way Lilia’s hand twitches tighter at the sight makes her glad she kept them in all this time. A dizzying thought makes her twitch, that she’d get more if he’d keep looking at her like that.

Yulia is far more hurried once she gets to her waist, lifting up her hips so she can get the dress fully off. It takes some shifting, but she manages to lower her soaked panties and ruined stockings down with it, Lilia maneuvering her legs to help towards the end. The feeling of being this exposed made something primal hiss in her brain, but she hoped that wouldn’t sit too long as she felt her clit throb, the damp and sticky feeling of her own slick chilling her. 

It’s more instinct than thought that brings her own hand down between her thighs, to start rubbing through the mess he’s made of her. The whine that leaves her is sweet, relief to cool the ache inside of her, dark eyes going half-lidded as she looks up at Lilia now.

“That’s it.” His voice is sinful, all praise and encouragement as he crowds on top of her again. “Beautiful.” One forearm hits the mattress near Yulia’s head, his other leaving his own pleasure to drag a thumb across her lips, seemingly mesmerized at the sight of her as she takes her own. Yulia tries to keep her pace slow, easy, just enough to take the edge off; but once Lilia’s mouth moves down to leave love bites on her throat, she can’t help but roll up against her own hand. “Easy, now.” His thumb catches on the soft meat of her ribs, a feeling that makes her arch into him. “I’m not done playing yet.”

She swallows, hard. “You’re not going to make me beg, are you?” It’s meant to tease, but the thought makes her head swim. If Lilia asked her to, she’d do nearly anything to feel full of him.

The man moves just a bit lower to hide his smile in the valley of her breasts. “As much as I’d love to hear that…” His words vibrate against her sternum, but his eyes glance up towards her face. “Are you not enjoying this?” 

A rough thumb over one of her piercings makes her swear. “... Enjoying it a little too much.” Her admission is whispered to the star lamp above them, but it’s followed by a louder gasp when he tugs on the chain. “Lilia-”

“Then indulge me in just a few more of my selfish desires.” It’s half plea, half apology, but Yulia doesn’t have the chance to respond clearly after that. Her lover paws slowly at her chest, ghosting touches before pinching or rolling with hand and mouth, seemingly cataloguing every variation of sensation and her reactions. She swears at one point she can feel his teeth drag over a sensitive nipple, sore from the attention in a way that makes the pleasure all the sweeter. It isn’t long into Lilia’s ministrations that she has to yank her own hand away from her cunt, letting that hand claw at the pillow beneath her head to ground herself before she went too far too fast. “You’re more sensitive than I thought.” 

Lilia had the audacity to sound thoughtful, when the only response Yulia could give was a shaky huff; that was the end of talking for a while.

When the fae seemed to be satisfied with exploring her upper body, he shimmied down lower, trailing his nose along the smooth curve of her stomach. He pauses in his downward meandering just long enough to dip his tongue into her bellybutton, delighted at the way Yulia jolted beneath him. But they both knew where his road would take him. He finds his way to her dripping cunt, proof of her arousal making the dark curls between her thighs glisten in the green light. 

For a long moment, Lilia just seems to admire the sight. His hands are still moving, slowly arranging themselves to where he’d like them; one cradling the inner crease of her knee to keep that leg spread, and the other forearm draping solidly across her hips to keep them still. It’s a smart move, since the longer he stares without doing anything, the more Yulia instinctively wants to press her thighs together, to hide. 

The light staying on was probably for her human eyes, but knowing he could see every inch of her like this made her want to squirm.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” She doesn’t have enough bite to her, not when she was seconds away from moaning. 

Lilia’s pause is even more dangerous. Her eyes glance down to see him meeting her gaze, his grin wicked. “Maybe after.” It sounds like a concession, and Yulia doesn’t have time to think about the implications of the way her stomach flips at the idea, because he’s leaning forward to drag the flat of his tongue along from hole to clit. 

Her breath leaves her in a rush; she’s thankful she avoids any embarrassing noises, but she’s starting to worry she’ll shred the pillow she’s sunk her claws into. 

She has very little time to actually worry about it when Lilia starts to eat her out in earnest. Whether it’s how long it’s been since she’s been touched like this, or if it’s a byproduct of how long Lilia’s been winding her up, Yulia doesn’t care; all she cares about is every second of messy, wet heat right where she needed it. Her back lifts from the bed to roll into the feeling, a lost cause with his strength keeping her still for him to work. His pace is as painfully slow as everything he’s done, but through steady experimentation, he can hone in on exactly what makes her see stars. 

“Fuck-” One particularly hard suck on her clit makes her writhe, only to be soothed by the tip of his tongue. “Oh, God...” Yulia’s breath is all wet gasps, but she wants more, needs more of him. Looking down, her heart seizes at the sight. Lilia fully at ease, looking like he belonged there, with his legs crossed delicately at the ankle. Him between her legs, expression only pinched slightly, right between his brows in a way that was partially covered by his bangs.

The hand that isn’t strangling the pillow below her head reaches out, careful, so careful, even though it shook with the effort. She uses it to card through his hair, fine as silk, the heel of her palm helping keep those bangs from hiding his expression from her. Lilia moans lightly at the feeling, letting it vibrate against her cunt in a way that stole her breath. 

He was going to drive her to madness or ruin. Maybe both. 

She didn't want him to stop.

Still, she wanted more. ”Look up at me, baby.” Her voice comes out hoarse, pleading; greedy to the very end. 

When Lilia opened those eyes to meet hers, glazed with pleasure, something snapped. “Wait-” The wave was abrupt, a thunderclap sparking white across her vision. “Fuck, Lilia-!” Her cry echoes in the small room, Yulia having to use the hand that isn't fisted in his hair to muffle her voice as it breaks. Every twitch and drag of his tongue sent aftershocks all the way down to her fingers and toes, but she can't tell if it's Lilia easing her through the orgasm or if she's grinding against his mouth. In this timeless moment, she doesn't know where she ends and he begins. 

By the time Yulia's done, skittering hard and fast into overstimulation, she finally can loosen her hold on his hair. The rest of her tense muscles unfurl into boneless exhaustion, though she can still feel some twitch on their own. Catching her breath seems a harder task than she thought, a forearm thrown haphazardly over her eyes to block out the green light above them. 

Lilia is dutifully extracting himself from between her legs, carefully shifting her thighs closed so he can crawl up the line of her body. He doesn't say anything for a long moment, instead nuzzling into Yulia's cheek. It's full of so much affection and tenderness that she doesn't even mind the way that action smears her own cum across her face, the way so much of it covers Lilia's. Those callouses she loves so much are on her hip, rubbing soothing circles as she breathes. 

She's the first to speak up, barely a mumble. “That was so embarrassing.” 

Her lover tries not to laugh at her. “That's becoming a bit of a trend, it seems.” His voice is mild, if a little rough. “Is this what they call post-nut clarity?” 

Yulia's voice cracks on a huff. “No, you-” Lilia's laugh soothes some of her nerves, so she looks over at him, letting her nose bump his. “... I just thought…” That she wouldn't cum from foreplay and the sight of his eyes? A flush climbed high on her neck, her voice quieting back down. “Thought I'd last longer.” 

“Well, to tell the truth, I'm flattered.” It's a purr against her lips, even as he's leaning in to kiss her; she tastes herself on his tongue, making her shiver. “I'm just happy you enjoyed yourself. It would have broken my heart if I couldn’t give you a nice time.” When he pulls back, she can see the way she messed up his hair, how she left his face dripping from her. It's a juxtaposition to the fond look as he gazes at her. “Do you want any water? A bath?” 

Yulia feels her teeth dig into her swollen bottom lip. As heartwarming as the idea is, she wasn't going to let him spoil her with nothing for himself. 

Shaking her head, her hand reaches out to cup his cheek before dragging it along his chin. The slide of her slick makes it easy enough to wipe it clean, letting the natural lube coat her fingers. Once they feel wet enough, she keeps her eyes on Lilia's as that hand drops to fist around his throbbing cock.

The reaction is instant, those red eyes fluttering as his expression goes slack. When his hands stutter just a bit, that’s its own reward; but when Lilia’s head falls forward on Yulia’s shoulder to breathe through it? If she thought he was beautiful earlier, then it was only because she hadn’t seen him like this. Each ragged exhale was accompanied by the gentle roll of his hips, letting himself seek out more contact while she played with him. Part of her wants to give him the same treatment she was given, every torturous second of mapping what he likes. The idea makes her mouth water. 

“Lilia.” Yulia calls his name softly, just to feel it on her tongue, just to feel his cock twitch against her palm. Her free hand circles the back of his neck to trail her nails along his scalp, delighting in the way he shivers at the sensation. As much as she’s tempted, she knows what she wants; that hand cards through his hair enough to come back to his jaw, pulling him up so she can mutter against his parted lips. “What I want is for to fuck me.” 

He swears against her mouth, the growl turning into a breathy laugh, going staccato at the end. “Whatever the lady wants.” Part of it is teasing, but there’s a raw edge to it that sends a thrill through her. Dragging his tongue along the seam of her lips, he lets out another groan before he keeps talking, voice wrecked, eyes dark. “Show me the position you want me to fuck you in.”

Yulia’s breath hitches at the command, feeling herself clenching down on nothing, still sore from her recent orgasm. That doesn’t stop her from taking hands off of Lilia so she can do what he asks. He follows the movement easily, sharp gaze watching her as she gets settled. When she’s done, she’s flipped around on her knees, nakedness giving Lilia full view of her tattoo, the sword from nape to tailbone. Slowly, she leans forward to put all her weight on her forearms on the bed, right where her head was before, leaving her ass and cunt on full display. 

It’s barely a second of stillness before he’s on her, sliding two fingers into her leaking hole, right down to the knuckle. She chokes on the noise it pulls out of her, but Lilia seems unbothered as he leans over her back. “Good girl.” The praise sends a lance of heat through her, one that soothes the sudden stretch, crafting a cocktail that left her mind reeling. “Darling beastie.” She whines, but one calloused hand presses on her lower back. “My pretty little pet.” It trails up her spine, over the ink all the way to the hilt of it, right between her shoulder blades; as it goes higher, Lilia presses down lightly, coaxing her to arch that back so deep it stung. 

Yulia makes an embarrassing moan at how he talked to her and the pain, rocking back against the fingers twisting inside her, not to please but to prepare; the distinction made her shake. 

Her reactions only emboldened her lover further. “Oh, you liked that.” It’s not a question, tone knowing as Lilia kept her pinned down, his pause heavy with consideration. “So soft and warm beneath me. Obedient. Why shouldn’t I make you my pet?” When she lets out another whine, she can hear the smile in his voice, even as it goes husky. “I could put a collar around your throat, let everyone know you’re mine.” 

She’d said something earlier like that, hadn’t she? Wanting to claim him publicly? Now, the image of her marked and tagged like his possession made her clench around his fingers, the lack of motion in her current position the only reason she can’t buck against the feeling. Even if the sensation wasn’t nearly satisfying enough to get her closer to another orgasm, as if the only thing making her wrapped around his literal fingers wasn’t just how much he toyed with her.

Lilia hums, considering, as if he can’t feel exactly how much she liked the idea. “Another time.” He says it like he means it, and he curls his fingers against her insides as a treat, a lifeline. Yulia is almost ashamed at how quickly he finds her sweet spot, like she’s an instrument he’s tuning. The hand on her back presses down harder, and the soreness from earlier blooms a bit brighter. “How does this feel on your back?” All of his touches stop, freezing in their path to give her a chance to breathe, speak. A chance to assess if the pain was fun or dangerous. 

Her ragged breath is the only sound for a long moment. Her hands beneath her chest push up lightly against the weight on her back, letting her spine curl to test it. She could already tell that it might put too much strain the longer she’s like this, so she mumbles into the blankets. “A little sore.” 

The hand pressing down on her spine moves up a couple inches, fingers carding through hair as he readjusts to do the same to the back of her neck. “And here?”

Yulia sucks in a deep breath, thankful that the fingers inside of her are still as she bows her spine to stretch her back a bit. The range of movement is easier on her old injury while keeping the same thrill of restraint. “Better.” She means it, relief palpable as she wiggles into a more comfortable position, spreading her knees wider to accommodate it.

“Such a good pet for me.” Lilia rewards her by slipping in a third finger to better stretch her for him, his body leaning over hers to drag his sharp teeth against the curve of her shoulder. His heat above her is enough to drive her mad, so much that she has to really struggle to hear him over the sound of her own blood. “Yellow if you need a break.” She knows this song and dance, making a noise that she wishes sounded more like an affirmative, but Lilia seems unbothered. “Red, and everything stops.” His fingers splay inside of her cunt, stretching her so wide she sees stars; she was still so sensitive. “Repeat it back to me, Yulia.”

It takes her too long to catch her breath enough to comply. “Yellow if I need a break.” She grits her teeth, pausing before she continues, eyes fluttering closed. “Red, and everything stops.” 

“Thank you.” He presses another couple of kisses on her shoulder, sighing his pleasure before he pulls away to focus on what comes next. The way he drags his fingers out agonizingly slow, as if he could spend all night doing just this, leaves her feeling particularly empty when he’s fully out; Yulia’s pussy twitches around the feeling, and she has the thought that motion isn’t lost on Lilia with his vantage point behind her. Still, it’s a moment where she can breathe, try to still the way her head swims and breath comes out ragged. 

The breathing above her stutters outside of her vision, and her mind’s eye paints a picture of him using her own slick to lube up that fat cock, and all her hard work is lost immediately. “Lilia-”

Her squirming is kept in check by that hand in her hair still, and it tightens ever so slightly. “Easy.” Lilia’s voice comes out low and husky, nearly unrecognizable. She thinks it’s meant to be soothing, but it makes something coil just a bit tighter. By the time she feels the blunt head of his cock rub against her, she jolts a bit at the searing heat of him. Lilia had always run so cold; he must be more excited than he let on. “Make sure to keep breathing, pet.” 

Yulia’s mouth opens to say something back, but it gets caught behind her teeth the minute his hips snap forward. It’s a small motion, but it slides in deep from the way she’s dripping from all his earlier attention, the groan pulled from Lilia one of surprise. There’s no resistance, only wet heat, and his hips buck again at the feeling. Yulia’s own head is dizzy, her breath nothing more than choked whines, claws scrabbling for any kind of purchase to ground herself; if she hadn’t already ripped a hole in some of his pillows, she definitely would soon, sharp nails digging in. 

“I know, I know.” Lilia shushes her gently, but she can hear the way he’s out of breath himself. “Tight.” It bleeds into a curse under his breath, staying still once he bottoms out to give them both a second. When he rolls his hips to test it, it’s slow. All the way out before pushing right back down to the hilt. Then again. “Oh, I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” His next exhale is shaky, something like a laugh. “You won’t be the only one who doesn’t last.” 

He fucks her in earnest, then, pace already erratic. Lilia holding her down is the only thing keeping Yulia from losing her mind, the points of contact and the scrape of those callouses and the way she could feel him all the way in her gut. He overtook all her senses, like there was no world outside of this bed. 

And all the while, he was singing her praises, some barely able to be picked apart by Yulia’s blissed out mind. “You feel so good. Like you were made for me, made to take my cock.” She clenches down harder, earning her another groan in her ear as he leans over her back. “Is this what you wanted? Everything you dreamed about?” It was raw, his normally smooth voice ruined with want. “Did you touch yourself, wishing I was the one making you cum?” There’s a half-beat, a ragged inhale. His grip tightens. “Answer me.”

Yulia can only obey. Her mouth opens around a ‘yes’ that turns into multiple, all tumbling out of her mouth in a jumble that she hopes is satisfactory to him. She feels wetness gather along her lashes, one of her hands reaching back blindly, wanting to touch him. The only purchase she can find is her claws in the meat of one of his thighs. “Lilia-” Her voice cuts off, unable to complete even one thought.

“Again.” The hand on her hip tightens before he releases it; instead, that hand reaches down to pry Yulia’s hand off his leg. He keeps it in his, pressing it down to the mattress so they can lace their fingers together, another point of contact that makes her heart feel full. “Say it again.”

“L-Lilia…?” The change in position makes her own voice come out even shakier, cracking in the middle.

“Again.” His command is desperate. “Tell me who you’re crying for.”

“You.” Her response is instant, heavy tongue trying to string together a litany of his name for him. “Lilia, only you.”

His thrust stutters, but after a second he resumes the pace he’s been keeping, hard and deep and rolling his hips just right. Yulia loses track of the waves of sensation, soreness starting to slice through the haze of numbing pleasure; it made her head feel like it was full of cotton, her legs shaking beneath her. It blended together into a heady blur, too much sensation and somehow not enough, until she feels her torso yanked up from the bed.

Yulia’s noise of surprise is half a moan, the shift in position meaning his cock rubbed right against that sweet spot he’d found earlier. Her body nearly falters to drop her back down and her free hand goes to steady herself against the headboard of his bed; but she feels his forearm wrap around her waist, the hand that was still holding hers pressing against her stomach. Shivering, she feels herself get wetter still at the idea that he can manhandle her so easily, his thrusts barely hiccupping with the change in position.

Mouth against the back of her neck, Lilia’s voice is a low whisper. “Sweetheart.” The hand that isn’t holding her up drags itself down to her clit, twitching and tender. “I want you to cum again before I do. Can you do that for me?” It’s nearly begging, the kind of voice that felt dangerous. “Please. Tell me what you need. Let me take care of you.” His kiss against her nape is too sweet for the moment, and the emotion of it makes her shake.

“I don’t-” She tried to pick through the sensations in the mess of her thoughts. “Lilia-” Everything felt so good, too good, but the second orgasm was always harder for her to chase than the first. The change in position meant that every one of his thrusts pushed her against his hand, and her eyes slipped shut to sink into that rhythm. She really was greedy, wanting more even when everything felt perfect. When she swallows, it’s dry and rough. “I want your teeth.”

That seems to surprise Lilia, a little hum against her shoulder. “What, want me to bite you?” There’s a hint of amusement, even in the midst of everything else. “Pet, that’ll hurt you more than you think.”

She clenches at the thought, making both of the lovers whine at the sensation, Yulia’s voice raw. “God, I hope so.” The idea of sharp teeth in her neck, sharp and clear in the middle of her haze. She wanted it, she wanted it so bad she couldn’t help but moan. “Please-”

Lilia’s lips curl into a smile. She thinks she can even feel the hard chill of his teeth. “Mm? Is that how it is, then?” He said it like he could see right through her, cutting right to the core of what she wanted, the dark craving in her chest. “You could have told me sooner, I’ve been so sweet to you.” Yulia doesn’t have time to feel any shame, not when he moved so quickly. The hand playing with her clit moved up to grab her face, palm pressing down on her mouth in a makeshift gag; it's still sticky, Yulia can taste the tang on her lips, and her moan is muffled into his hand. “But if you want me to be cruel-” He doesn’t finish, instead opening his mouth wide and in one smooth motion, his fangs puncture the soft flesh of her neck. 

Her back arches sharply at the sting, feeling the cord within her tighten, but it’s nothing compared to when he shifts his mouth to create suction. Pain blooms behind her eyes as that cord snaps, suddenly grateful that Lilia covered her mouth when she screams, cumming so hard she nearly forgets how to breathe. Everything is static, hearing Lilia’s growl as if it’s from another room, Yulia herself unsure of the edges of her own body as she shakes through everything with his arms still holding her up.

When she’s finally coming back, they’re both still on their knees. Her lover’s hips are rolling slightly, milking a bit more pleasure out of the both of them before Yulia feels him pull out. The sudden sensation of emptiness is stark, but she gives a little shiver when she feels Lilia’s cum drip down her thigh. Something possessive in the back of her brain feels satisfied that he’d listened to her, resisting the urge to run her hand through the mess when her limbs still feel like jelly. She goes easily when Lilia shuffles them both to be more horizontal, careful to arrange her body in a way that seems relatively comfortable while they face each other. 

His hands cupping her cheeks are what makes her realize they’re wet. The tears are carefully wiped away, and large red eyes watch her, flat in that way where he doesn’t want to give away what he’s thinking. “How are you feeling?” It’s careful, the way he says it. “Are these because that was, intense?” A leading question, if hopeful, and Yulia registers some of the tension in his shoulders when he sighs. “I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly...”

Sniffling, Yulia shakes her head and leans forward so their noses could bump. “I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me. Well…” She trails off a bit, coughing on a watery laugh. “Not in any way I didn’t ask for.” Her sigh is sweet as she brushes her lips against his, the heavy satisfaction of the afterglow making her seek out his affection. “S’good. Really good.”

Her response is what makes him relax more into the mood, his lips pulling up. “Good.” When she tries to kiss him, however, he pulls back; it’s enough to make her look at him with furrowed brows, the hurt not quite as hidden as she’d like. The thumbs on her cheeks try to rub her worries away. “Careful, beastie, I still have blood in my mouth.” He says it like that explains everything, that it should be a deterrent. “I’ll wash it out first, alright?”

Yulia puts her own hand on his jaw and pulls him in so she can kiss him fully. There’s a ripple of surprise, but when she licks her way into his mouth, Lilia can only sigh and pull her closer. 

The coppery tang of her own blood makes her clit throb painfully, but she’s too tired to follow through in any meaningful way. Just enough to enjoy the feeling of kissing him. It isn’t long before they pull away to curl around each other, tangled limbs and tired warmth, neither feeling like they need to say anything at all. Just the simple joys of listening to Lilia’s heartbeat and his hand threading through Yulia’s hair to pull strands from sweat sticky skin. 

“We should clean up.” Lilia speaks up first, and it’s enough to make her huff.

“... Probably.” She doesn’t hide how unappealing the idea of moving sounds, shuffling a bit closer. “Can’t you just clean everything up with a spell or something?” Yulia mumbles it against the skin of his chest, hoping to appeal to some craving of rest, of creature comforts.

He has the audacity to laugh at her, booping her nose lightly with his pointer finger. “It’s a part of the experience!” His voice is low, playfulness bleeding through the sorry excuse. “Besides, you really tuckered me out; I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.” 

That laugh that leaves her is masked in a cough, but she can’t keep the grin off her face, even as Lilia extracts himself from the bed. “Some all-powerful fae you are.” Even as he puts his feet to the cold floor, his fingers are quick as a whip, reaching out to pinch her once on the ass. Yulia twitches with a small squeak before giving him the flattest look she can while holding in any giggling. 

His grin shows his lack of remorse. “The cheek of you! I should curse you to sleep in your own filth forevermore.” Once he stands to his full height, he places hands on his hips for a second before he stretches. A satisfied groan leaves his throat as his back arches with a sickening series of pops and cracks, the kind that makes her wrinkle her nose at him. 

While Yulia would love to say that she could clown on him for the action, the phrase ‘old man’ on the very tip of her tongue, it was a good reminder for her. Fully unfurling her body for the first time after they stopped, she gives a couple careful movements. Her muscles were sore, and there was a sting exactly where she thought there’d be, but otherwise she didn’t hurt too badly. Curving her spine slowly, with a practiced carefulness that was necessary, she proceeded to relieve some of the tension in her own joints. The pops weren’t as satisfying as Lilia’s, though, so she opened her eyes to see what he was doing. She saw his eyes on her, seemingly finished with his own clean up.

Lilia smiles once he notices her looking over at him. He seems to have little compunction to walking around his room naked, not shying away from her gaze at all as he goes back to gathering things; some clean cloths, Yulia realizes belatedly, which he brings back over to the bed to sit down on the edge. His hand comes to ghost reverently over a knee, nudging it lightly so that her legs fall open under his gaze. 

“May I?” 

The whole situation makes Yulia’s face flush. “I can do it myself, you know.”

“Am I not allowed to spoil you a bit?” He just tilts his head slightly, but the affection in his eyes makes her soften. “I didn’t say you couldn’t do it yourself. Would you prefer to?” 

She gestures to let him go ahead, gaze looking away as he sets to work. The fabric is a bit rough, and he is efficient in wiping down the messier parts of her. He makes quick work of her thighs before trying to be more delicate with her more sensitive hole, laying a kiss on the knee he held once he was done. His expression is thoughtful as he works, and when he exchanges for a new cloth, he keeps his voice casual. 

“You mentioned you can’t get pregnant?” It’s a perfectly neutral tone, and Yulia is too tired to get paranoid about what the curiosity could mean. 

They had sex, it’s a natural thing to be curious about. It would be good to get it out of the way.

“Yeah. Medically impossible, I don’t have the-” Dark eyes blink, before looking down. “Actually, now that I’m naked, you can see it…” Her body uncurls a bit, hands coming down to her stomach to lead Lilia’s eyes to two separate scars. One right below her sternum, and the other a cut on the underside of her bellybutton, both faded with time. “They took it out when my back was healing. My womb, I guess, in old man's speech.” She huffs, good humored about the situation. “Just made me sicker to keep it. I don’t really think about it much anymore. It doesn’t bother me.” Her voice stops for a second, trailing off as she watches Lilia above her, the new cloth coming to dab at the remnants of blood on her neck. When she speaks up, it’s quiet, also carefully neutral. “It doesn't bother you, does it?”

Red eyes flick over to her expression in the middle of his clean up, seemingly unperturbed by the question. “Should it bother me?” Carefully, he focuses on finishing his task.

She swallows a bit. “I’m not sure. Guys sometimes have a problem with it. Especially if they want anything, long term.” Yulia ends carefully, eyes scanning the expression on Lilia’s face while she waits; she hadn’t intended to start this conversation yet, and there was a tightness settling in her stomach. 

She’d rather die than show that card, though. 

Lilia finishes up her neck before he gives a hum, pressing something against the skin firmly; an adhesive bandage, she realizes, for her love bite. Finally turning his full expression down at her, he gives Yulia a gentle smile. “It doesn’t bother me.” It’s simple, effective, normal. He made it feel normal, an experience she didn’t often get in previous relationships. When she doesn’t say anything, his smile gets a little wider, ruffling her hair playfully. “Besides, it makes things easier! I’ve already experienced raising children, and let me tell you; the last thing either of us need is a little surprise running around.” There’s no disdain in his tone, and Yulia feels selfishly happy that she doesn’t have a lover that can lie their way out of these sorts of conversations. 

Her mouth opens to ask a question about his experience, but her eyes catch on the cloth in his hand, the one stained red with her blood. It comes back to her that he drew blood, she licked it out of his mouth. Yulia can’t stop her next question, it comes out in a rush. “So, you actually drink blood?”

Dark eyebrows shoot up, partially hidden by his bangs, despite the unruly state of it. “Yes.” He answers carefully, head tilting as he examines her; it's moments like this where she’s very aware that he’s not human. “Well, partially. Bat fae are partial sanguinovores, but I haven’t often had the chance to… Partake.” Lilia gives a pause there, intentional, as if waiting for her to say something, or react, but he keeps going without a fuss. “It is a particularly violent act, in my experience, and other fae don’t look too kindly on it. Humans, even less so.” 

“Well…” Yulia takes a second to pick her words, shifting a bit where she lounged on his bed. “If you ever wanted to do it more…” Her voice trails off, leaving what she wants to say in the air between them, but Lilia’s laugh interrupts her before she can keep going.

“Since you seem to enjoy it so much! I’m sure something could be arranged.” Voice curling in that playful way when he wants to tease, he leans over her a bit with a wink. “But please, don’t worry yourself on my account. I’ll always get more nutrition from solid food, this is just more… In emergencies! Times of scarcity. That sort of thing.” He explains easily, leaning back; whatever answer he found in Yulia’s reaction seemed to be enough. “Just because I can digest it, doesn’t mean much. In the grand scheme of things.” 

“Right.” Yulia snorts a bit, rolling her eyes, but it makes sense. Still, it doesn’t stop her from ribbing him a bit. “Spurn my benevolence, then. That’s fine, not everyone wants a juice box.”

She’s rewarded with Lilia’s laugh, bright and warm. “Don’t worry, I appreciate how quickly you wanted to come to my aid. It’s very darling.” His eyes crinkle a bit before he smooths them out, running a hand over the bandage on her neck. “We’ll just need to talk about it more. I don’t mind exploring more macabre tastes, but…” He turns a bit somber, considering. “I would rather it have a bit more set up, some more care put into it. Not some fit of passion. I’m very aware of just how fragile you humans can be.” 

There’s little room for misinterpretation. She’s seen the pictures in the textbook, heard how Sebek and Silver spoke of him. “Yeah, you were part of the military, weren’t you?” Her eyes drop to the dog tags, still hanging around his neck. Some things were universal, it seems.

Lilia hums in agreement, but doesn’t elaborate any further. Instead, he hard pivots, signaling a change in topic. “So, was it the blood drinking that was arousing to you?”

She has to choke a bit on her embarrassment, going to scratch a bit at her face and feeling the makeup she’d let run; the movement makes Lilia lean up to reach on his desk, grabbing some wipes. “Mm, not exactly. Your fangs are a charm point, sure, but I… like pain.” That was the simplest explanation, wasn’t it? Any awkwardness from the conversation is melted away when he presses the makeup wipe to each eye, dutiful in his care. “It’s not true masochism, but still. S’nice.”

The fae in front of her accepts that, nodding sagely. “Pain makes the pleasure sweeter, then. I’m familiar with the concept; I hadn’t thought to incorporate much of that into our first time. I wasn’t sure exactly what you would like, so I decided to ‘wing it,’ in the end.”

Her smile is genuine when she interjects. “Don’t worry, it was good. I had fun.” Honestly, she felt more relaxed than she had in months. She watches the fae quickly trash what he’d been using for cleanup somewhere out of view. “Besides, we can talk about it more. For next time.” 

Yulia replays in her head every time Lilia had insinuated a ‘later’ or ‘next time.’ 

She really hopes there will be one, but she leaves the ball in the older man’s court. 

Wine dark eyes look back towards her in the beat of silence between them. Smile growing across his face until he could flash a bit of fang at her, Lilia could light up the room. “Yes. Next time.” 

For a long moment, both of them just let the silence linger. That is, until Lilia unceremoniously pitches to one side to flop right next to Yulia, making the mattress bounce lightly at the impact. She manages to only grumble a little bit at the jostling. 

“So, beastie. What’s the play now, I wonder?” Lilia hums, seriousness all talked out of him for now, it seems; she didn’t see him go long stretches without mischievousness often. He had far too much energy for a man as old as he claims. “The night is young!”

Yulia rolls her eyes. “Sleeping soon, probably; I have a curfew now, you know. I can’t be up until the crack of dawn like you love to do.” She sasses him, but it’s all in good fun. A hand reaches out to pluck her silenced phone from the top of Lilia’s amp, going to unlock it now that she was more available.

“Oh, don’t be like that! We both know that you stay up just as late as I do. If you want to deny it, we can check our call history.” He squints like he’s offended, but something in Yulia’s face makes him stall. His eyes glance at Yulia’s phone screen.

Both sets of eyes stare at the clock, and innumerable notifications and missed calls.

A little after midnight. Way past curfew.

“... Perhaps you can just sleep here?” His tone is innocent, as if it’s helping, as if Yulia isn’t mentally preparing to be absolutely dressed down once she gets back to the dorm. The rest of the dance troupe have probably not heard the end of it from Vil.

Her groan earns her a gentle pat from the older man. “No… No, I should head back. I need to be there tomorrow.” Rubbing at her temple a bit, she goes to sit up with another noise of exertion. Lilia’s hand moves to her back to help her orient herself, and she gives a noise of appreciation at the touch. 

“Would you like me to walk you home?” It’s a soft offer in the dim light, and Yulia feels her heart squeeze a little. She wants to say yes, to take him home with her and spend the rest of the night together.

But even as she smiles at the thought, her head shakes a bit. “Mm, it’s okay. I’ll need to swing by Pomefiore to drop off the stuff, anyway. Wouldn’t want anyone to see both of us sneaking into a different dorm; better if it’s just me, being a weirdo.” She huffs, and the sound is repeated by Lilia as he goes to get up as well.

“We would be a suspicious pair, wouldn’t we?” The affection is dripping from his tone, but he stretches again before meticulously combing the messy floor to collect her discarded clothing. Yulia doesn’t complain, head tilting to the side at a particularly good view of Lilia bending over. “I won’t push, if you’re sure; but at least let me walk you to the mirror.” 

Once he’s finished and deposited the pieces in her hands, she looks down at them. The thought of wandering around Pomefiore, and campus in general, in this outfit feels… Not ideal.

It must have shown on her face, because Lilia snorts at her predicament. “Mm? You had such fun showing off at the party, what has you troubled?” It seems like a genuine question, but as she’s thinking about her answer, Lilia freezes. After a second, his eyes go half-lidded, smile going crooked. “Ah, never you mind. I know how to soothe what ails you.” With that, he turns back around to busy himself with something crammed into his wardrobe.

Yulia is immediately suspicious.

Which, she was right to be; when Lilia comes back with some slightly crumpled pieces of fabric, his grin can only play at innocence. When he’s having too much fun, it usually spells out trouble.

She takes the clothing. Black and acid green, Diasomnia colors. Yulia unfolds one to realize it’s a matching set, a soft hoodie and basketball shorts. 

Dark eyes trail back up to look at Lilia’s expectant face, the man swaying back and forth as he waits for a reaction, for her mind to make the connection he’s wanting her to.

“Well? Are they to your liking?” He’s having too much fun with this. 

“... Should they be to my liking?” It’s a careful question, one that doesn’t bother her lover in the slightest.

His grin just gets bigger. “You said earlier that you wanted me to dress you up. Didn’t you?” The realization grows like a heatwave, but he keeps talking. “You can wear this to drop off the borrowed clothing, and then you’ll still have something to walk back to Ramshackle in!” 

Multiple thoughts clatter through her mind in a rush. Diasomnia colors. It probably smelled like him, students in his dorm would know they belonged to him, at the very least Silver and Sebek and Malleus would. But even other dorms would know that these colors belong to Diasomnia. The fact that she had said he could do something like this earlier tonight, right before Lilia told her it was a fae courting ritual. 

Courting. Were they courting now?

Her face burned. 

Lilia, to his credit, kept speaking. “Of course, I won’t force you to. It was just a good natured offer.” His tone is cordial, even though his face looks like he’s gotten enough enjoyment out of the situation already. She does believe that he would accept a no.

Her hands curl around the fabric. Then, as if it’s not a big deal, as if it’s not a step that makes her stomach flip, she unfolds the hoodie to slide it over her head. She’s a little bigger than Lilia, but it fits just fine; she’d probably chalk it up to his taste in oversized clothes. The shorts fit snug on her hips, but she ties the waistband anyway, for security. Yulia puts her hands in the central pocket of the hoodie before looking back to Lilia.

His eyes glittered at the sight, pupils dilating just so as he looked at her. His smile was more tame, though, and he gave a hum of consideration. “Not bad. I hope they’re comfortable?”

“They are.” Her answer is just as simple; she didn’t need to feed into it. 

Accepting that readily, he just nods, and goes about dressing himself for the walk. A similar outfit to the one she wore, ironically enough. A too big hoodie and some shorts. Walking side by side, you would be hard pressed to not assume they matched on purpose. 

She can’t be too embarrassed when his excitement about the idea was so endearing to her. 

Once Lilia picks out some slippers for the two of them, they set off. Diasomnia dorm is largely nocturnal fae, so it’s not nearly as empty as she would have expected. Eyes land on her more than once, but she ignores it, letting Lilia dominate the chatter as they meander through high halls and large staircases. When their hands bump from the close proximity, Yulia curls her fingers to lace them with Lilia’s as they walk. 

He squeezes her hand back in return, keeping it there the rest of the way.

The night air is crisp when they reach the large bridge, moonlight glinting delicately off of the thorns and briars surrounding the castle. It’s a beautiful sight, and when they stop right before the mirror, it’s pleasant. A breeze rustles through their hair, and neither of them say anything at first.

When they do decide to talk, they nearly speak over each other in their rush. After a moment of surprise, their laughs fill the silence that seemed so hard to break. 

“This was nice.” Yulia starts, and it doesn’t speak to the depth of how she feels, but it’s true nonetheless. Her hand squeezes Lilia’s. “We should hang out again soon.” Truthfully, she didn’t know the next time she had real free time, but a girl can dream. 

“So it was.” His agreement is wistful, the smile on his face soft in the silver light of the moon; there’s a breathtaking thought that this is how he was meant to be seen, a creature of the night. “Text me when you get to Ramshackle?” The little tilt at the end turned it into a hopeful request. “I doubt you’ll have the time to call, but I’m willing to accept twice the time tomorrow night to make up for it.” 

“Alright, wise guy, don’t get ahead of yourself.” Yulia’s grin fuels his laughter, the sound being carried away on the night breeze.

After that, neither of them let go of the other’s hand, nor do they try to disengage from the moment. They’re both waiting for something, postponing the goodbye for reasons that seemed hard to maneuver. 

She was scared to seem too presumptuous, but he’d already mentioned earlier, hadn’t he? Yulia was greedy, and she wanted what she wanted, even if she couldn’t always have it. A shot in the dark is all she had, but she took it anyway.

“I’m waiting.” 

It’s simple, the quiet demand, just enough space to let Lilia interpret that however he likes. Left him space to reject, same as he did earlier. 

Thankfully, all it did was make him chuckle under his breath. “You’re something else, you know that?” He says it like he’s full of wonder, but his free hand comes up to her cheek and he kisses her goodnight. 

After that, they share only a scant few more whispers in the dark, before Yulia pulls herself away. It’s time to get back to her bed, the ephemeral feeling this night held had to end. 

But, she had high hopes that this was just a beginning.