[ The first thought to come to the Mors King's mind was to teach her a lesson. Scare some respect back into her. Seriously, getting used to him is one thing, but teasing him!? Have some revere for him, damn it!
But before he can act on it... he can immediately feel it. The consequence of letting her get so close, letting her press her body against his.
She absolutely cannot see the proof that she's getting to him. That despite everything, despite their commplete difference in species... he desires her.
And so... caught in the contradicting need to stay and frighten her and the need to get the hell away from her... he promptly shifts away from her and dives into the deeper section of the bath.
[ Oh. There he goes. She could tell that maybe she was getting a little too cheeky - a little too comfortable - but was that really enough of a step too far for him to flee like that?
She stares after him uncertainly, feeling a little seed of anxiety starting to bloom in her belly. She'd started to feel... not safe, exactly, around him but at least relatively certain of what his reactions would be on most situations. If nothing else, he was reassuringly consistent.
But this is new. She can't help but wonder if she's gotten herself in trouble. ]
[ By all means, she should be in trouble. Except it's hard to think of a punishment when your head is practically boiling. Did he seriously just... bail? Run from her? Shit, something really is wrong with him.
Then, there's a low rumble throughout the room as large bubbles start to form on the surface of the water where it dips down deeper...
And suddenly, a pitch-black dragon emerges from the water. The size is on the smaller side for a dragon, but even then he's the size of a small house. ]
...
[ Slitted eyes look down at her, water running down his scales. He'd like to say that the main reason for him taking this form is to scare her... but in reality, it's just that his expression is much harder to read like this. ]
[ It happens in an instant - her demeanor snaps so hard and so fast, it's almost audible. Her smile stretches thin and brittle, her irises are rimmed with far too much white and her spine is ramrod straight. She doesn't move or scrabble back as you might expect; instead, she freezes. The terror response of a prey animal, a rabbit caught in a wolf's stare.
Would you look at that. If his plan was to scare some respect back into her, it worked perfectly. ]
Ah- I'm-
[ She fumbles with her words for a few moments, her shoulders trembling - then all at once, she drops her head into the best approximation of a bow that she can manage like this. In an instant, Ai has vanished and the girl presenting the nape of her neck as if expecting a beheading is the Saintess once again. ]
... P... Please forgive me for my presumption. I didn't mean any disrespect. It was my mistake. I won't repeat it.
[ It did exactly as intended. He looks down at her from the height of his draconic form, and he sees the fear return to her eyes. It's exactly what he meant to do.
He should be pleased... he should take a sadistic pleasure in watching her squirm. It's no wonder it worked so well. To a human, especially one such as her, his true form must be terrifying beyond all comprehension.
And yet why is it that despite the warm temperature around him... it feels as though he's just been dumped into cold water?
Except he really shouldn't be surprised, should he? In a sense, the both of them are now completely bare... and yet while her form is alluring, his is... ]
...Do well not to forget what you're dealing with.
[ He sinks into the water, briefly vanishing underneath the surface before coming back up in his more recognizable form... only resurfacing further away from her this time. ]
Yes. [ Her response is immediate - her voice small and meek. ] I understand. I'm sorry.
[ It's her own fault. She'd been so comfortable, so careless with him only moments ago and now she's rightfully paying the price - she'd forgotten her place, after all. She's a bedwarmer, a maidservant, a toy to amuse him and nothing more. He could have broken her in two last night and the fact that he hadn't was already a kindness. She'd forgotten herself, forgotten that, and tried to push her luck.
She moves at last - but only to grab the clothes he'd brought her and climb to her feet. She keeps her eyes low, submissive. ]
I'll... I'll take my leave. Please enjoy the bath.
[ She doesn't even bother to change. She just clutches her clothes to her chest even though she's surely soaking them through and - there's no other word for it - flees. ]
[ This is good. This is what he wanted. This is what their relationship is supposed to be. What it was becoming… just a result of carelessness.
His eyes watch her as she hurries out of the bath… out of the room simply clutching her clothes to her wet body. It’s cold she had complained earlier. Surely it will only be worse if she leaves like that.
…why does he care? He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care.
[ The rest of the day goes by somehow entirely too fast and at a crawl all at once. She's shivering from cold and anxiety when she returns to their his chambers and miserably climbs back into her clothes, pulling her damp hair into a messy bun and hurrying out to - she doesn't even know what. All she can think to do is dedicate herself to the chores and errands she's been assigned, to try and prove that she's learned her lesson, she won't overstep - she understands her place here.
She's a tribute, after all. Just another bauble for his collection. She'd just forgotten for a moment. And if it hurts at all, even the slightest bit, to be reminded of that fact, well. It's her own fault.
So for the rest of the day, she cleans. She reorganizes the library. Flinches away from the Mors whenever they cross her path and does everything in her power not to get under the Mors King's feet. The last thing she needs to do is remind him of her existence.
And at the end of the day, her knees are aching from kneeling for hours. Her shoulders are sore from dusting every last inch of every last shelf and her fingers are soft and worn from hours of work. The prospect of retiring to bed should be appealing, but once again, the steadily approaching sunset ignites a long-forgotten anxiety in her belly. The one that used to burn every evening, before she'd made the mistake of assuming she understood him. She'd gotten complacent, thought that perhaps they had come to some sort of understanding... and now she's back where she started.
Part of her wants to avoid him altogether. But she knows she can't avoid her duties. So at the end of the night, she changes into one of her spare shifts and sits herself on the end of his bed, waiting for the Mors King to arrive.
She'll serve her purpose and nothing more. She won't ask questions. She won't try to understand him.
And she certainly won't allow herself to want more than that. ]
[ Something is off. Something is wrong. The Mors King is stubbornly plagued with these thoughts as he’s assailed by feelings of unease and restlessness.
He takes care to avoid her today… and even the Mors seem to shy away from her as a result. He goes for a flight outside of the castle, he lounges on his throne, and finally… he finds himself sitting in front of her portrait.
”What do I do?” he asks. There’s no response, of course there isn’t, but he asks anyway…
For whatever reason, he imagines her scolding him. Giving him that dead-eyed look of exasperation that usually comes before being chided on how impolite he is.
He expected something else. He expected her to tell him that this is good… that this is for the best… that his heart should only ever belong to her.
He wonders why it is that his memories of her are so much more vivid lately… it feels ridiculous in hindsight. The damn fairy was always so easygoing, wasn’t she? Curses are unfit to be spat from her lips, even in his memories.
Eventually, the day ends, and he retreats to their his chambers, where she sits on the bed awaiting him.
The sight is familiar. She looks just as she did on her first night here.
[ When she hears the doors swing open, it takes more of her self control than she'd like not to flinch. She doesn't turn to look at him as she usually does - the Saintess keeps her gaze fixed low on her hands folded neatly in her lap, her spine straight, her posture perfect. It's a little eerie, just how perfectly composed she is - and how obvious her fear is.
When she speaks, her voice somehow does not shake. ]
... Good evening. I... wasn't sure if you still required my presence tonight. But I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned my duties, so... if you'd prefer, I can find somewhere else to sleep.
[ Her voice is quiet, respectful. She sounds every bit the humble, contrite servant she's striving so hard to be. And the worst part is, even though it's exactly what the Saintess should have been all along... a return to this old pattern still stings, somehow. ]
[ He says nothing. His eyes lock into hers, but he says nothing. Is this really what it was like at first? This pained feeling is new, that’s for sure.
Still, he silently climbs onto the bed. He moves towards Ai… or rather, towards the Saintess she’s become once more.
[ Of course she knows what to do. Even if things are different now, all the Saintess is good for is responding to the dirty desires everyone wants to place on her. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't even have to demand - she knows what she's here for. So, she turns to face him at last - she still won't look him in the eyes - and moves across the bed over to his side.
... It's different from last night. Not least of all because she's had to find a different shift. The material isn't quite as expensive as the one she'd arrived with, but it's cut to frame her chest and shoulders, extraneous frills at the chest and the hem that brushes her thighs. In just about every sense, she's been decorated for the Mors King to enjoy. That's all she's here to provide.
But there's no way she can do that without some direction. She knows what he wants, but that doesn't mean she knows how to give it. So, the Saintess lifts her eyes just slightly, but no further than the dip of his throat. Her lashes lower, her fingers curl into her shift and her voice is quiet. Hesitant. ]
[ He still doesn’t say anything… but not by choice. It feels as though his words are caught in his throat. Nothing he thinks to say feels right, none of his jeers or teases feel apt.
So he wordlessly slips behind her, just like usual. His arms slip under hers, wrapping around her waist. She’s beautiful. It’s as he usually touches her, how he starts out at least, and at first it seems like that’s exactly what he’s going to do.
But then… his hands drop down away from her chest, instead further wrapping around her waist and pulling her close, her back to his chest. He rests his chin atop her head, a privilege afforded to him by his height, and… ]
…sorry.
[ Spoken so softly she couldn’t be blamed for not hearing it properly. ]
[ She freezes. It's been a long, long time since she was ever stiff in his arms - even when she was still fearful, she was pliant as a doll, ready to be handled and manhandled as the Mors King desired. But now, she's stiff as a board, even if her body is as soft as ever. She's a perfect fit in his arms but she's tense and rigid, her breath coming a little too quickly. It's the behaviour of a well-disciplined pet doing everything it can not to tremble before its master.
His voice is so quiet. So soft. She doesn't have to strain to hear him and yet she can't make any sense of what he's saying. She shouldn't question him, shouldn't speak out of turn. His warmth and weight behind her are a comfort and a cage and the Saintess isn't sure which is worse.
She swallows hard. Her fingers tighten around her shift. ]
... wh.. why would you apologize to me? I... I was the one who forgot my place. I was disrespectful.
[ It takes her a little bit to respond. She's quiet and her breaths are still just a touch too shallow but that horrible stiffness and the bone-deep terror it implied seems to ease. She doesn't exactly relax in his arms but that tightly drawn thread of tension goes slack enough for her to lean back into him, back against his warm chest. Almost at once, his familiar warmth seeps through her, eases the tension from her muscles. One of her hands comes up and settles gently on his wrist.
And yet the way she leans into him and the way her fingers curl into his sleeve is still just the slightest bit hesitant, as though she's expecting him to yank himself away from her any second, like he did this morning. But the Mors King is warm and his arms are strong and steady. His scent is familiar and soothing and even if her heart is still racing, her breathing still too fast, the Saintess still manages to speak. ]
If... if I do something wrong, you can tell me. If I misbehave or I make a mistake, or... anything. You can tell me, and I'll apologize and do better next time. You don't have to threaten me or scare me, so... please don't. I...
[ "I don't want you to be afraid of me"... what an absurd notion. Him, the Mors King, wanting someone to not be afraid of him. The words catch in his throat, but he grips her a little tighter. ]
You... you should be, but...
[ If she misbehaves, if she makes a mistake... how absurd, more so than anything else. She hasn't misbehaved once while she's been here, has she? ]
I don't... mind... you not being afraid...
[ God is that really the best he can get out? He really is the worst. ]
[ Ah. She made the mistake of looking at him as she spoke and so she got a perfect view of the almost pained expression that'd passed over his face. It stuns her back into silence and for a few moments, all she can do is stare at him, imprinting that look of almost helpless frustration into her memory. She's seen him scowl and frown too many times to count, a whole gradient of irritation and annoyance but the almost tender undertone here is entirely new.
For a second, she really is scared all over again - for an entirely new reason. He's a monster, a beast, a creature that spent countless years and however many human lifetimes terrorising and ravaging the lands and people helpless to stop him. No matter how she looks at him, he's a villain. But...
If the Mors King doesn't want to terrorise her, doesn't want to hurt or break her- if he wants to be kind to her, if he wants her warm and satisfied then-
What is she supposed to do? Is she really so hopelessly impure that she been forgive all that? How can she pretend her heart won't be his for the taking all the same just so long as he's...?
The Saintess takes a breath. ]
...
[ Ai turns in his arms. Just enough to face him properly. But he's holding her so close that if she wants to look him in the eyes, she doesn't have any choice but to have her body flush against his. ]
... Then instead of making me afraid... will you show me what you really want?
[ She's so soft, so painfully delicate in his grip. So fragile that it feels as though she could shatter completely if he isn't careful. He's too much for her, she's too much for him. She deserves better, and he deserves nothing.
But... well, villains have always taken what they don't deserve, haven't they?
With her body flush against his, he lifts a claw to her chin, tilting her head up. He wonders if this is something unforgivable, but then again, he's already gone far past that line, hasn't he?
[ It shouldn't be a surprise. They've already kissed - they've already gone much, much further than kissing - but she still starts a little the moment she feels his touch. His hand on her face, his fingers on her chin - he's touching her so lightly and delicately that she's almost not sure it's real, until the moment he guides her chin up and his lips actually press into hers.
Her eyes flutter shut. Her lips part, and Ai shifts on her knees so she can press herself more readily into the kiss. Even then, it's so chaste. She'd almost thought the Mors King was incapable of anything but forcefulness and yet here he is, proving her wrong once again. She melts into it with a quiet sound of contentment and her fingers curl a little more into the sleeves of his shirt. Her heart races, but it's not from fear.
Their lips part but just for a moment - just so she can speak. ]
[ His eyes widen, and as she leans back in to kiss him... he leans forward, letting his weight push her down onto her back as he kisses her back. He can feel the beating of her heart against his chest. His hand moves around to hold the back of her head as he presses his lips against hers, and the other hand...
The other hand moves to pull at her shift. Gently this time, not ripping it to pieces like he had done the night prior. Pulling at it with the clear intent to take it off.
Neither of them can stop at just touching anymore... it'd be impossible to go back to that. ]
[ The Saintess isn't allowed to indulge in anything she wants - especially not something this filthy. It doesn't matter that she'd been dirty and sinful all along, so long as what showed on the outside was pure and neat. A kiss like this, the Mors King's hands all over her - it's anything but pure and neat. Maybe that's why it feels so good.
Ai doesn't resist. But rather than just accepting his attention, this time instead of just pliant, she's eager, receptive, responsive - her fingers comb through his hair as they kiss, her thighs spread for him to settle between them. Her tongue flickers against his and her breath is hot and shaky. All of her is, really, and she only breaks away from him to give him space to peel the shift away from her body.
She'd been completely uncovered in the bath already, but... this is different. She's bare, completely exposed under him and there's a flush in her cheeks steadily making its way down her neck and chest, too. ]
... You were looking at me in the bath, but this is still so...
[ Ah. He's doing it again - he says things that should ring like a threat but they sound so wonderfully like promises instead. Her heart flutters a little in time with her stomach she lets out a sharp, eager little breath at the drag of his claw across her skin. It doesn't leave a mark but she can still feel the lightest sting and she can't help but squirm a little, her lips parted and her breath coming faster. ]
Ahah... W-would that really be so bad?
[ Her eyes lift up to his. She's a little hazy-eyed but the way she looks at him is unmistakable for anything but desire. ]
Your hands and your mouth and all the rest of it... I like all of that just fine.
[ It's still so surprising to him... just how much desire is behind those eyes of hers. Not that he can talk, he's not much better himself. As such, he keeps that comment to himself, but... ]
Then...
[ His hand reaches between her legs, his claw trailing along her entrance... and as it does, he leans forward toward her neck, baring his teeth... ]
I won't bother holding back with them...
[ ...and biting into her neck. Not drawing blood, but still. Here she is, a former Saintess, stripped bare with a dragon's fangs on her neck. ]
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no subject
[ The first thought to come to the Mors King's mind was to teach her a lesson. Scare some respect back into her. Seriously, getting used to him is one thing, but teasing him!? Have some revere for him, damn it!
But before he can act on it... he can immediately feel it. The consequence of letting her get so close, letting her press her body against his.
She absolutely cannot see the proof that she's getting to him. That despite everything, despite their commplete difference in species... he desires her.
And so... caught in the contradicting need to stay and frighten her and the need to get the hell away from her... he promptly shifts away from her and dives into the deeper section of the bath.
And, well... he doesn't exactly come back up. ]
no subject
[ Oh. There he goes. She could tell that maybe she was getting a little too cheeky - a little too comfortable - but was that really enough of a step too far for him to flee like that?
She stares after him uncertainly, feeling a little seed of anxiety starting to bloom in her belly. She'd started to feel... not safe, exactly, around him but at least relatively certain of what his reactions would be on most situations. If nothing else, he was reassuringly consistent.
But this is new. She can't help but wonder if she's gotten herself in trouble. ]
no subject
Then, there's a low rumble throughout the room as large bubbles start to form on the surface of the water where it dips down deeper...
And suddenly, a pitch-black dragon emerges from the water. The size is on the smaller side for a dragon, but even then he's the size of a small house. ]
...
[ Slitted eyes look down at her, water running down his scales. He'd like to say that the main reason for him taking this form is to scare her... but in reality, it's just that his expression is much harder to read like this. ]
...You've gotten a bit cheeky, haven't you?
no subject
Would you look at that. If his plan was to scare some respect back into her, it worked perfectly. ]
Ah- I'm-
[ She fumbles with her words for a few moments, her shoulders trembling - then all at once, she drops her head into the best approximation of a bow that she can manage like this. In an instant, Ai has vanished and the girl presenting the nape of her neck as if expecting a beheading is the Saintess once again. ]
... P... Please forgive me for my presumption. I didn't mean any disrespect. It was my mistake. I won't repeat it.
no subject
[ It did exactly as intended. He looks down at her from the height of his draconic form, and he sees the fear return to her eyes. It's exactly what he meant to do.
He should be pleased... he should take a sadistic pleasure in watching her squirm. It's no wonder it worked so well. To a human, especially one such as her, his true form must be terrifying beyond all comprehension.
And yet why is it that despite the warm temperature around him... it feels as though he's just been dumped into cold water?
Except he really shouldn't be surprised, should he? In a sense, the both of them are now completely bare... and yet while her form is alluring, his is... ]
...Do well not to forget what you're dealing with.
[ He sinks into the water, briefly vanishing underneath the surface before coming back up in his more recognizable form... only resurfacing further away from her this time. ]
no subject
[ It's her own fault. She'd been so comfortable, so careless with him only moments ago and now she's rightfully paying the price - she'd forgotten her place, after all. She's a bedwarmer, a maidservant, a toy to amuse him and nothing more. He could have broken her in two last night and the fact that he hadn't was already a kindness. She'd forgotten herself, forgotten that, and tried to push her luck.
She moves at last - but only to grab the clothes he'd brought her and climb to her feet. She keeps her eyes low, submissive. ]
I'll... I'll take my leave. Please enjoy the bath.
[ She doesn't even bother to change. She just clutches her clothes to her chest even though she's surely soaking them through and - there's no other word for it - flees. ]
no subject
[ This is good. This is what he wanted. This is what their relationship is supposed to be. What it was becoming… just a result of carelessness.
His eyes watch her as she hurries out of the bath… out of the room simply clutching her clothes to her wet body. It’s cold she had complained earlier. Surely it will only be worse if she leaves like that.
…why does he care? He shouldn’t care. He doesn’t care.
…He doesn’t care. ]
no subject
theirhis chambers and miserably climbs back into her clothes, pulling her damp hair into a messy bun and hurrying out to - she doesn't even know what. All she can think to do is dedicate herself to the chores and errands she's been assigned, to try and prove that she's learned her lesson, she won't overstep - she understands her place here.She's a tribute, after all. Just another bauble for his collection. She'd just forgotten for a moment. And if it hurts at all, even the slightest bit, to be reminded of that fact, well. It's her own fault.
So for the rest of the day, she cleans. She reorganizes the library. Flinches away from the Mors whenever they cross her path and does everything in her power not to get under the Mors King's feet. The last thing she needs to do is remind him of her existence.
And at the end of the day, her knees are aching from kneeling for hours. Her shoulders are sore from dusting every last inch of every last shelf and her fingers are soft and worn from hours of work. The prospect of retiring to bed should be appealing, but once again, the steadily approaching sunset ignites a long-forgotten anxiety in her belly. The one that used to burn every evening, before she'd made the mistake of assuming she understood him. She'd gotten complacent, thought that perhaps they had come to some sort of understanding... and now she's back where she started.
Part of her wants to avoid him altogether. But she knows she can't avoid her duties. So at the end of the night, she changes into one of her spare shifts and sits herself on the end of his bed, waiting for the Mors King to arrive.
She'll serve her purpose and nothing more. She won't ask questions. She won't try to understand him.
And she certainly won't allow herself to want more than that. ]
no subject
He takes care to avoid her today… and even the Mors seem to shy away from her as a result. He goes for a flight outside of the castle, he lounges on his throne, and finally… he finds himself sitting in front of her portrait.
”What do I do?” he asks. There’s no response, of course there isn’t, but he asks anyway…
For whatever reason, he imagines her scolding him. Giving him that dead-eyed look of exasperation that usually comes before being chided on how impolite he is.
He expected something else. He expected her to tell him that this is good… that this is for the best… that his heart should only ever belong to her.
He wonders why it is that his memories of her are so much more vivid lately… it feels ridiculous in hindsight. The damn fairy was always so easygoing, wasn’t she? Curses are unfit to be spat from her lips, even in his memories.
Eventually, the day ends, and he retreats to
theirhis chambers, where she sits on the bed awaiting him.The sight is familiar. She looks just as she did on her first night here.
He wonders why it is that annoys him so much. ]
no subject
When she speaks, her voice somehow does not shake. ]
... Good evening. I... wasn't sure if you still required my presence tonight. But I didn't want you to think I'd abandoned my duties, so... if you'd prefer, I can find somewhere else to sleep.
[ Her voice is quiet, respectful. She sounds every bit the humble, contrite servant she's striving so hard to be. And the worst part is, even though it's exactly what the Saintess should have been all along... a return to this old pattern still stings, somehow. ]
no subject
[ He says nothing. His eyes lock into hers, but he says nothing. Is this really what it was like at first? This pained feeling is new, that’s for sure.
Still, he silently climbs onto the bed. He moves towards Ai… or rather, towards the Saintess she’s become once more.
She knows what to do. ]
no subject
... It's different from last night. Not least of all because she's had to find a different shift. The material isn't quite as expensive as the one she'd arrived with, but it's cut to frame her chest and shoulders, extraneous frills at the chest and the hem that brushes her thighs. In just about every sense, she's been decorated for the Mors King to enjoy. That's all she's here to provide.
But there's no way she can do that without some direction. She knows what he wants, but that doesn't mean she knows how to give it. So, the Saintess lifts her eyes just slightly, but no further than the dip of his throat. Her lashes lower, her fingers curl into her shift and her voice is quiet. Hesitant. ]
...What... should I do to satisfy you this time?
no subject
So he wordlessly slips behind her, just like usual. His arms slip under hers, wrapping around her waist.
She’s beautiful.It’s as he usually touches her, how he starts out at least, and at first it seems like that’s exactly what he’s going to do.But then… his hands drop down away from her chest, instead further wrapping around her waist and pulling her close, her back to his chest. He rests his chin atop her head, a privilege afforded to him by his height, and… ]
…sorry.
[ Spoken so softly she couldn’t be blamed for not hearing it properly. ]
no subject
His voice is so quiet. So soft. She doesn't have to strain to hear him and yet she can't make any sense of what he's saying. She shouldn't question him, shouldn't speak out of turn. His warmth and weight behind her are a comfort and a cage and the Saintess isn't sure which is worse.
She swallows hard. Her fingers tighten around her shift. ]
... wh.. why would you apologize to me? I... I was the one who forgot my place. I was disrespectful.
no subject
[ He's glad he has his head on top of hers. He doesn't want her seeing just how miserable his expression is. ]
Agh... I don't know, I just...
[ He pauses, unsure of how to describe it. What reason he has behind it. Really, there's no great reason behind any of it...
He just felt bad. He felt bad, and he regretted it. And reverting back to this... feels awful. ]
...I had to. That's all.
no subject
And yet the way she leans into him and the way her fingers curl into his sleeve is still just the slightest bit hesitant, as though she's expecting him to yank himself away from her any second, like he did this morning. But the Mors King is warm and his arms are strong and steady. His scent is familiar and soothing and even if her heart is still racing, her breathing still too fast, the Saintess still manages to speak. ]
If... if I do something wrong, you can tell me. If I misbehave or I make a mistake, or... anything. You can tell me, and I'll apologize and do better next time. You don't have to threaten me or scare me, so... please don't. I...
[ Her voice wobbles just a bit. ]
I don't want to be afraid of you.
no subject
[ "I don't want you to be afraid of me"... what an absurd notion. Him, the Mors King, wanting someone to not be afraid of him. The words catch in his throat, but he grips her a little tighter. ]
You... you should be, but...
[ If she misbehaves, if she makes a mistake... how absurd, more so than anything else. She hasn't misbehaved once while she's been here, has she? ]
I don't... mind... you not being afraid...
[ God is that really the best he can get out? He really is the worst. ]
no subject
For a second, she really is scared all over again - for an entirely new reason. He's a monster, a beast, a creature that spent countless years and however many human lifetimes terrorising and ravaging the lands and people helpless to stop him. No matter how she looks at him, he's a villain. But...
If the Mors King doesn't want to terrorise her, doesn't want to hurt or break her- if he wants to be kind to her, if he wants her warm and satisfied then-
What is she supposed to do? Is she really so hopelessly impure that she been forgive all that? How can she pretend her heart won't be his for the taking all the same just so long as he's...?
The Saintess takes a breath. ]
...
[ Ai turns in his arms. Just enough to face him properly. But he's holding her so close that if she wants to look him in the eyes, she doesn't have any choice but to have her body flush against his. ]
... Then instead of making me afraid... will you show me what you really want?
no subject
[ She's so soft, so painfully delicate in his grip. So fragile that it feels as though she could shatter completely if he isn't careful. He's too much for her, she's too much for him. She deserves better, and he deserves nothing.
But... well, villains have always taken what they don't deserve, haven't they?
With her body flush against his, he lifts a claw to her chin, tilting her head up. He wonders if this is something unforgivable, but then again, he's already gone far past that line, hasn't he?
He leans down... and presses his lips to hers. ]
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Her eyes flutter shut. Her lips part, and Ai shifts on her knees so she can press herself more readily into the kiss. Even then, it's so chaste. She'd almost thought the Mors King was incapable of anything but forcefulness and yet here he is, proving her wrong once again. She melts into it with a quiet sound of contentment and her fingers curl a little more into the sleeves of his shirt. Her heart races, but it's not from fear.
Their lips part but just for a moment - just so she can speak. ]
I... I think I want that as well.
[ And she goes right back to kissing him. ]
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The other hand moves to pull at her shift. Gently this time, not ripping it to pieces like he had done the night prior. Pulling at it with the clear intent to take it off.
Neither of them can stop at just touching anymore... it'd be impossible to go back to that. ]
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Ai doesn't resist. But rather than just accepting his attention, this time instead of just pliant, she's eager, receptive, responsive - her fingers comb through his hair as they kiss, her thighs spread for him to settle between them. Her tongue flickers against his and her breath is hot and shaky. All of her is, really, and she only breaks away from him to give him space to peel the shift away from her body.
She'd been completely uncovered in the bath already, but... this is different. She's bare, completely exposed under him and there's a flush in her cheeks steadily making its way down her neck and chest, too. ]
... You were looking at me in the bath, but this is still so...
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[ God. Look at her. She’s beautiful. It doesn’t matter how many times he sees it, her exposed form is just too much for him to resist. ]
…I would advise against bathing with me from now on.
[ His hand starts to move downward, trailing his claw along her navel before moving between her legs. ]
If I catch you like this from now on… I won’t be keeping my hands to myself.
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Ahah... W-would that really be so bad?
[ Her eyes lift up to his. She's a little hazy-eyed but the way she looks at him is unmistakable for anything but desire. ]
Your hands and your mouth and all the rest of it... I like all of that just fine.
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[ It's still so surprising to him... just how much desire is behind those eyes of hers. Not that he can talk, he's not much better himself. As such, he keeps that comment to himself, but... ]
Then...
[ His hand reaches between her legs, his claw trailing along her entrance... and as it does, he leans forward toward her neck, baring his teeth... ]
I won't bother holding back with them...
[ ...and biting into her neck. Not drawing blood, but still. Here she is, a former Saintess, stripped bare with a dragon's fangs on her neck. ]
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