Taste For The Wicked | Vaip + Ether

Heat like he'd never felt before pervaded his every sense, invaded every pore of his body and burned him as he pressed his body against Morgana's. His body was aflame with a passion he didn't know was possible for him to muster as Morgana's sweet, sweet voice was made into nothing more than gasps and breaths for him. A man as experienced as him knew when a woman wanted him, by the way she looked at him, by the way her voice shrilled just that one tone higher, by the way she tried her best to play off her excitement. In his travels, he'd known feisty women, seduced assassins sent to him by cowardly nobles, but not once had he met a woman with the temperament like the princess'. If it had been any other woman, she would have been lying naked and helpless in his bed back at his castle, but that was why he had yet to grow bored of her. Beyond her body, he wanted to know every part of her, talk to her into the night, understand why the look in her eyes was so pitiful, even in the face of such willful aura.

At this moment, though, he wanted to know every inch of her body. He wanted to taste her. Wanted to know what made her squeal. What made her groan.

“Xeno.”

"Say my name again..." He breathed into her ear, feeling as a smooth, lean intruder pushed through the intimate proximity of the two. At the same time, he noticed the small protrusions that had found their way out of wherever Morgana hid them, begging against the woman's bashfulness that he continued, that he never stopped. He found her horns to be incredibly cute, despite how unnatural and ungodly they truly were. The implications meant nothing to Xeno as he allowed a hand to snake his way from her waist through the side of her abdomen and up her neck, gingerly touching the horn with the tip of his index at first, probing for a reaction. If, and when, she didn't resist, he stroked the proof her demonic descendance delicately, as if worried that a strong-handed treatment might cause more pain than pleasure to her. "Say it, Morgana. I want to hear you say my name..."

He sighed shallowly against her neck before pulling away just slightly to look down at the spade of her tail, the small, thin appendage worlds more honest about her feelings regarding the man. The smell of her honey had grown unbearably stronger as her tail covered itself in it, practically tempting the man into taking things to the next stage. To make her his. Yet... that was the demon side of hers talking. A side of hers that tortured her existence. Even to him, a man dulled to such weak emotions, it was apparent to him that she wasn't quite ready to accept that side of hers. Only a road where his death laid and her suffering remained lay ahead were he to take her by force now. A short life of carnal pleasure that would inevitably end with his death and with her closing her delicate, pained heart.

“You sound as though you want it to be…”

Xeno chuckled, his breath clipped and shallow, his heart beating onto her chest. Excitement, fear, desire. "Perhaps my calling you my wife isn't a sham... but a wish," Xeno's nose nuzzled into her hair, his lips kissing her earlobe before he pulled away to face her. He hissed, maybe in pain, maybe in pleasure, as her nails, turned now into claws, dug into his arms.

“You have a terrible habit of playing with fire, Beast. And I can’t promise you won’t get burned.”

"Burn me, Morgana. Kill me, destroy me..." He growled against her throat, canines nipping at her neck as the hand on her thigh slowly crawled its way inside her frame, ever so slowly teasing as it got closer and closer to her core, his nails digging into Morgana's hair and pulling her back. His lips kissed the tender flesh of her neck. "Burn this wretched existence in front of you to ashes. Kill me slowly, painfully, so that I may feel pain again. Make me hurt again, Morgana." A challenge? A plea? The words of a man who had lost his sanity, at the very least. Xeno could no longer tell if what he said was a joke, an attempt at seducing the woman, or just aimless rambling. Instead of concerning himself with such trivial manners, the man turned the woman around, pulling her hips out. A hand reached out behind him, finding some a handful of liquid soap and spreading it evenly in his palms.

He immediately began to explore her body, lathering her up with the soap. Her arms were first, running his rough, calloused palms across her own, pale forearms, her elbows, her shoulders and her collarbone. As he reached her chest, the soft mounds of her bosom that had tempted him all day long were finally within his reach. He grabbed either of the pillowy breasts in his palms, tender and wary in his touch, but eager. He squeezed the modest mounds in his palms, felt as her pink, pale nipples perked up in response to her arousal and moved on to run the soap across her stomach, the sides of her abdomen. Just as he moved his hands toward her core, he allowed them to retreat back up. "It feels pretty hot down there, doesn't it? I'm sure it's a heat unlike any you've felt before... but you can't do anything to get rid of it."

He leaned into her, placing his rod, hotter than a white-hot piece of metal, between the pillows that were her buttocks. "... I can make it go away. But only if you give your body up to me for now..."
 
He awakened something primordial in her. An ancient vice that narrowed down to the guttural sound of his voice, tinged with avidity and lust; down to the slivers of space where their bodies brushed but never connected. It washed away lingering thoughts of grief, urging her to wallow in what she’s done. There was no room for the part of her that was breaking, crumbling at the prospect of sharing intimacy with the enemy. Not with the way he consumed the sensations of her body like wildfire.

The darkness beneath her skin hissed and lashed out, unleashing shadow into a beautiful stain of night. A wildness pervaded her aura, writhing with joy under the attention of the Beast. This time, the fraction of her erected in starlight, did not shudder away from the darkness. Morgana reveled in the strange creation that she was, reduced to primal expressions of harmony between her and the beast. Their energy danced in a lovely way, more symphonic than she’d imagined. He smelled of musk and pheromones, his hot breath chafing against her ear.

"Say my name again…"

His fingers slid across her skin in delicious lines, gently exploring. Along her waist, skimming across the dimples indented at the small of her back. Stopping, just above her hip, dipping into the curve of her abdomen. They trailed over her ribs, upward to her neck and-

Pleasure raked through her, feeling the callus of his forefinger press against her horn- and slide until his nail drug against the nerves embedded there. Her chest heaved, her palms shivering, and loosening their grip on his biceps.

“Nny…aah!” She mewled, her eyes rolling back as she felt her insides throb.

"Say it, Morgana. I want to hear you say my name."

A hand retreated from his arm to cover her expression. She didn’t want him to see the way her freckles were illuminated by hues of Bordeaux wine; or how her eyebrows so expressively furrowed to frame her shameful eyes. The sound of her name on his tongue made her shudder and coil. Her thoughts dared to wonder if speaking his name would illicit the same type of reaction. She was nervous, afraid she couldn’t form the letters; self-conscious how her voice might sound aloud. Blood trickled down from her horns, pumping in her ears.

“Xeno.” It came out as whimper, her grip on his arm tightening in desperation. Terror combed through her, at the way it felt to say it. Her heart swelled and her core tensed with delight. It felt so good, she briefly considered making it a permanent habit.

"Perhaps my calling you my wife isn't a sham... but a wish."

His nose nestled into her hair, his lips kissing the soft cartilage of her ear. The thin onyx appendage loitering between her breasts wiggled with satisfaction, her hand dropping away from her face to reveal quivering bottom lip. Morgana was tempted to close her eyes and turn away from him. She wasn’t sure if she could live with herself, allowing him to see the look in her eyes now; swirling with jubilant evergreens and bright azure. He knew what she was- monster and all. And he still wanted her.

"Burn me, Morgana. Kill me, destroy me..."

Xeno dipped back into the crevice of her neck with a growl, his hand resuming its torturous ascent up her thigh. Those long, dexterous fingers stroked upward in playful motions, coercing a frustrated groan from her mouth. His unapologetic fangs gnawed at her pulse, his nails burrowing into the black tresses of her hair. Gathering her locks into a fistful of midnight, he tugged to expose the fruit of his work- faint marks of pink blooming across her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed as his lips graced her once more, kissing over her tender flesh in apology.

"Burn this wretched existence in front of you to ashes. Kill me slowly, painfully, so that I may feel pain again. Make me hurt again, Morgana."

Again, her name rolled off his tongue. Caught between barbed mountains of pain and anguish. Her heart broke a little, and burned with the desire to fulfill his request. The energy between them snapped and sputtered, flooding her with the same tormented understanding that spewed from his words. He was just a tortured, just as alone. She understood the remorse that haunted him, almost as much as she wanted to bear it with him.

“I would rather you only show this side to me, and no one else...”

“She's all mine.”

“I only tolerate one person giving me nicknames, and it's my wife.”

The wolf spun her opposite of him, turning her away from the divulgence he’d shared with her, and altered his focus. But his pleas weighed on her, instilling this rampant need inside of her. She still hadn’t answered him, drowning in the feeling of his hands as they lathered her with soap. They moved with conviction, slathering her with white, frothy suds. Up her arms, across her décolletage, until they reached her perky, swollen breasts. His hands were eager, but ever so careful. As he was every moment with her. He caressed her body with such tenderness and approval. His words were always seldom- guarded. She’d noticed his actions were far more demonstrative of his intent. He’d always been compassionate towards her, even if they were bickering. But now he was speaking to her.

He squeezed her breasts in his palms, evoking a fractured moan from the elf. She could feel her gelatinous flesh absorbing the force of his palms, spilling out of his grip a little. There was something horribly satisfying about the way her breast overflowed out of his palm ever so slightly. It reminded her of how large, and warm his hands could be. He was cruel not to play with her more, running his hands elsewhere. They traveled over the expanse of her stomach, the curvature of her hips, twisting their descent past her abdomen. She arched into him, hoping she could guide his hands where she wanted them. But, ultimately failed as they retreated back upwards.

"It feels pretty hot down there, doesn't it? I'm sure it's a heat unlike any you've felt before... but you can't do anything to get rid of it." He taunted.

There was a white-hot anomaly pressing into her back. The length of it was impressive, thick, and warm. It was him. Proof of his desire of her. She was fascinated by it, wishing she could lay eyes on him. For a moment, she thought to venture with her tail to inspect it- but deemed it a poor decision. As it would only end with her tail in his grasp.

"... I can make it go away. But only if you give your body up to me for now..." He spoke again, stirring the pot of her need.

The fire built up in her lungs once more, smog seeping into her veins and vibrating at the tips of her fingers. Energy thrummed at the foundation of her being, carnal and violent as it thrashed for its release.

"Burn me, Morgana. Kill me, destroy me..."

“-Then let me…” Morgana wrapped her elfin fingers around his wrist, turning in his arms to face him. She peeked up at him from beneath her lashes, shy, as she now stood with her whole body for him to behold. Yet she burned, still. Aching with such passion and fire that she was going to light up and burn like a candle. “Let me be the monarch of your pain... Let me be the harbinger of your destruction.” She breathed, her forefinger stretching up the base of his forearm. Her weight rocked forward onto the balls of her feet, her toes propelling her as high as she could reach, so that her free arm could lock around his neck. Reeling him closer to her, her lips ghosted over his. “Not the world,” magic shot out from her fingertips. Whorls of shadow hissing with flame that began to paint a brand onto his skin. “Not death,” the shadow wove around the cusp of his ring finger, constructing whirling patterns that singed into his flesh. “Not anyone else…” The dark tendrils spiraled in intricate weavings up his arm, patiently enveloping the full breadth of his skin- halting for a moment at the edge of his shoulder. “…Just me.”

And then, the brand rippled across his chest. There, it painted shadow and stars, feathering into a night sky of navy twilight that surrounded an emblem. Resting just over his heart, lied a stretch of mountains and stars. It was the earth and the universe, and everything in between.

“And in turn, I will give myself to you.” Morgana withdrew from Xeno, her arms falling away from him as she leaned back into the tile wall. It was clear she was pleased by the mark she had put on him, blood circulating in her face to create a reddish glow. “Break me, Xeno.” Her head tilted to the side, a few sable strands of hair falling into her eyes. “Mark me.” Her eyes twinkled, the slits of her pupils contracting in an animalistic manner. “Worship me.” Morgana purred, her tail swishing back and forth in a leisurely temperament.
 
“-Then let me…”

He felt her fingers, soft and slender, take hold of his wrist. He stopped his teasing of the woman, a part of him worried that he might've invoked offense in the woman with his advances. He wanted her, yet he wouldn't take her lest she wished it. Whether now or a hundred years later, he did not know, but he would savor this short encounter for as long as he could. The way her small, sylphlike frame twitched, twisted, in his grasp, helpless to his touches, was maddening, made him insane. As she turned over to face him, he laid eyes upon her body in all of its splendor; all of its unholiness. Her tail furled around restlessly, a proof of her excitement, yet the look on her eyes was girly, like a farmgirl first laying eyes on a knight, infatuated and curious. Though the sight he beheld was meant to be obscene, there was something pure and innocent in the way she handled herself. He wanted to hold her, comfort her - and at the same time, he wanted to corrupt her, make her into a slave, his slave.

“Let me be the monarch of your pain... Let me be the harbinger of your destruction.”

It was his turn to be helpless, practically melting at her words. "Yes..." He muttered mindlessly, passionate, unyielding ambers burning with sin as they stared, glued onto big, bright ceruleans that conveyed an emotion, a mix of emotions he couldn't tell apart. Whatever hatred she felt for him was gone in this very moment, replaced by lust, by love, by fear and everything inbetween. His eyes did not leave hers, even as he felt a subtle pain at his wrist. He hissed, not in pain but in pleasure, as a flame seemed to burn within him, pulled out by a dark temptation. And perhaps, too, literally pulled out by the demon in front of him. Drunken with lust, he did not care to reason which it was.

“Not the world,”

Xeno nipped at her lip, a guttural moan escaping him as he felt the pain spread, so painfully slow that he feared, in the back of his mind, that the woman had laid down a trap for him and he'd fallen helpless to her, useless to do anything but accept his demise at her hands. But even if she did kill him right here and now, he wouldn't have been too upset, happy to let his last sight be the beautiful, dark-haired elf princess that was Morgana.

“Not death,”

"Take me, Morgana..." He pleaded breathlessly, deliriously, as the pain spread further out, from his finger to his palm all the way up to his arm, his back arching into her, his head leaning onto the wall and lips pressing to her neck. Like a dog in immense pain, he sought to take the pain out on the closest thing he could find and that happened to be Morgana. Canines dug into her skin, reciprocating the pain the woman was inflicting on him by stabbing her with his fangs. As he felt himself be carved by an unbearable pain, his jaw tightened, locked onto the tenderness of her skin, tearing through her pale whiteness and staining it with the trickling drops of blood that escaped him as he lapped it, tasted it, savored it. It was unlike the steely, wicked blood of the men he slaughtered - it was sweet, like wine, but with a sinful aftertaste he couldn't quite describe. The smell of it might've as well worked as an aphrodisiac, because his cheeks became heated the more he was subjected to it.

“Not anyone else… … Just me.”

Xeno let out a painful roar as his entire body was set aflame, heat that couldn't possibly be of this world enveloping him. Every pore, every hair, every inch of his skin was on fire in that instant, threatening to take him down to the underworld. His eyes rolled back for just an instant... and then it was gone. The pain didn't subside but simply disappeared, as if it hadn't been there at all. Xeno blinked for a moment, confusion taking him over as he looked around to his surroundings... and noticed a strange pattern that ran from the tip of his ring finger, all the way to his chest, ending at his heart. A wicked pattern, no doubt the design of Morgana. "You've branded me," he sighed, finding his free hand reaching to cup the woman's cheek in it. "If you wanted me to be yours only, you could've just said so... not that I mind this, either." He chuckled, his other arm wrapping around her waist and pulling her lower body to him - his manhood pressing to her stomach.

“Break me, Xeno.” She was unlike any witch he'd encountered in the past. Unlike any assassin he'd seduced. She was... much more wicked, much crueler.

"I wasn't going to ask for your permission..." He snapped back, letting the hand that cupped her cheek wander down... and gripping her neck, his nails digging into her neck. "We've got some unfinished business from this morning..."

“Mark me.” She was a devil, and he was a beast. He'd been marked by her, and now it was his turn to do so.

He ran his finger through the four holes he'd made on her neck, licking the blood clean from his fingertip before slipping the finger into her own mouth... and pressing his lips to the opposite side of her neck. Loud smacks and suckling echoed in the room as he laid countless kisses on places she'd be unable to hide. He kissed the side of her neck, her throat, all the way down to her collarbone, tasting every bit of her body along the way. As his lips and tongue made their way down, they stopped at the valley between her breasts, looking up to the woman.

“Worship me.”

Even among the religiously-ambiguous animalkind, devil-worshipping was a taboo that could only be forgiven by death. Disgrace fell upon those that would liken themselves to the demons that had once made slaves of his people. Yet as she asked to be worshipped... "I shall worship you the only way I can..." He kissed her breast, cupping the other with his hand. There was a clear difference in his motions on her now, more confident as he squeezed her breast with a marked roughness. He licked her breast, marking every bit of it with his smell before moving on to tease her areola, licking around, and expertly avoiding, her nipple. As he did, he looked up to gauge the woman's reaction before trapping the small, perky button between his lips and suckling on the sensitive bundle of nerves, his hand doing some work as well, by pinching the other nipple and twisting on it. As if that wasn't enough, Xeno let go of Morgana's neck, but only to reach up to the top of her head and grasp a horn, stroking the tiny appendage with purpose - that purpose being to make the princess into a moaning, incoherent mess.

After what felt like an eternity (but really must've just been a few minutes), he pulled away from her breast, although he never stopped teasing her with his hands, and pulled up, facing her with an arrogant smirk on his face, knowing well that he had the upper hand here.

"Morgana... my princess. Show me with your hands where it is that you want me to touch you..."
 
“I might happily perish at the claws of that beast.”

Old words snapped back to haunt her, gloating in their truth as she became fragmented in his arms. She was being torn apart by him. Bared, without escape, subject to his whims. It hadn’t been what she’d expected. He was so passionate. So ravenous as he devoured her slowly. There was affection laced in the pain he delivered her. An audible prick resounded in her ears, her skin breaking and yielding as his teeth punctured her flesh. Her blood was warm as it pooled past his lips, dribbling down her clavicle, and over the side of her shoulder. Euphoria washed over her in a storm, raindrops leaking from the brims of her lashes and down her cheeks. Oh, she didn’t think she could feel this good. She’d run her mouth quite a bit about him being a beast. But she had no idea. Perhaps no man would do besides a beast.

"You've branded me," he sighed, his free hand moving to envelop her cheek. She burned under his touch, her dark brows furrowing as she absorbed his gentleness in the aftershock of his bite. "If you wanted me to be yours only, you could've just said so... not that I mind this, either." His laugh resonated all the way through to her heartbeat- spiking in response to the now branded arm wrapping around her waist. Morgana flushed, unable to respond as her fingers traced the ink curling around his arm. There was a myriad of fine lines, some thicker, twisting into beautiful designs. They were so fluid, up until his mid-bicep, where they broke into jagged and angular branches. It was there, that the colors shifted from black to navy, the branches collecting around his shoulder and sprouting into mist across his chest. Smoke, sky, shadow, stars, and earth. She would be lying if she didn’t enjoy the way it looked on him.

‘Yours only’

The Great Beast King, vile and horrific, offering himself to her. He opened up to her like she was either oxygen- or toxic air. Maybe it was both. Maybe she was both. She, too, craved the life and destruction he breathed into her.

"We've got some unfinished business from this morning..." His fingernails dug into her neck, effectively announcing who was truly in charge of the narrative. She watched with curious, vivacious eyes as he swept a finger through the blood of her wound- and brought it to his mouth. Her breath hitched, captivated by him. He was tasting her. Saliva seeped beneath her tongue, her fangs extending in arousal.

He was despicable, his depraved lips resuming a hunt down her neck. Just as a moan lurched behind her teeth, his finger pushed past her lips. The intrusion was instantly welcomed by her tongue. She wasn’t sure why- an urge consuming her to swirl tongue around the digit, and suck. So she did, exploring the salty pad of his finger with varying strokes, scraping along his nail with a greedy drive. She was disappointed when his finger withdrew from her, the distraction serving as the only activity to keep her sane from his incessant dose of pain and pleasure. The marks he left were certain to paint her in splotches of violet and blue; a sumptuous reminder of where he’d been. But they would eventually fade- possibly within the day. The imprint where his teeth had been, however, would take awhile.

“Is that so?” She rasped, challenging him as he dragged his tongue over the peak of her cleavage. The hand that had left her mouth was now pawing her other breast roughly, causing the heat between her thighs to ache.

“Mmf~.” She pressed her lips together to contain a moan, gazing down at him vexingly. He appeared to be enjoying himself, taking his time as he tested what tantalized her- what made her shiver, what made her whine. It felt like an eternity as his tongue swirled around her nipple, never quite touching it, but never straying far. It drove her insane. He seemed to note this, his dastardly amber eyes flickering in her direction; and, without missing a beat, suckling the bud between his lips. “Xeno-” She hissed, both out of pleasure and frustration. Her only solace was the wall, supporting her as he took her other nipple into the vice of his fingertips and fondled it cruelly. The hand immobilizing her neck relinquished its hold, venturing higher. At first, she thought to tangle in her hair. But as he drew closer to the bundle of nerves, she panicked. Her hands flew to his shoulders seeking to steady her wobbling knees. The snake of her tail coiled around his other wrist, holding on for dear life and quivering as she cried out.

“N-No! Don’t! Not…!” She begged, her eyes squeezing shut as she fought to cling to the wall. “Xeno, please! Not there, oh god, no-”

Her body went loose and taut all at once, her tail tensing around his wrist. Ecstasy wracked and destroyed her senses, her insides convulsing with release. “Fuck!” She cursed, collapsing into him- barely able to hold herself up. Her arms draped around his neck, her face burying into his throat.

"Morgana... my princess. Show me with your hands where it is that you want me to touch you..." She could feel the smirk in his tone.

“You’re terrible.” She whimpered into his skin. The elf was mortified, still recovering from his malicious treatment. She didn’t even want to contemplate the expression on her face as she- as he- whatever happened to her. Her tail tugged at his wrist, too embarrassed to do the same with her hands, as she guided his hand down to her dripping core. It was drenched in her own fluids, aching numbly, still. As if it craved to be satisfied. “Here.” Her voice broke, her nails digging into his back with a silent plea. “I want it here.” She begged.
 
“Xeno, please! Not there, oh god, no-”

She pleaded, yet she didn't actually try to stop him, probably because she was too weak to muster any strength to oppose. "Such a slutty body..." He teased, pressing his chest against hers in an attempt to keep her upright as her first climax left her ready to collapse. The Beast King was surprised, though his expression did not show it, at how fast the woman, his princess, reached orgasm, yet he was not displeased in the slightest. "I've never seen a woman cum so quickly, and from so little..." Xeno added after a moment, his eyes glued to her face as he memorized the pitiful, sensual look on her face as she found herself wracked with a sensation foreign to her. She was ruined by his sin of lust, and he was ecstatic to see her at her most disgraceful of states. He was filled with pride at knowing he was the first man, the only man, to evoke such a response from, to show her the wonders of her womanhood. To break the walls of ice that covered her heart, the only way he knew how. Gentler than a sword, yet sharper than it as well, sex was where Xeno truly excelled.

“Fuck!”

"Such a wicked tongue, this woman has..." He chuckled, letting go of her horn. The poor thing'd had enough for today. He couldn't imagine the princess would be too happy if he insisted on torturing the helpless bundle of nerves all night. It would be a shame if she didn't show them again, were he too abuse of her weak spots so thoroughly. As if to make it up to her, Xeno kissed the side of her head and licked along the cartilage of her pointy elven ear, knowing full well that the tips of an elf's ears were a commonly-known erogenous area. He was gentler with that spot, however, letting only his breath and the tip of his tongue stimulate it. "That's an orgasm you just had, Morgana. It happens... when I make you feel so good that your body can't handle it," Perhaps not the most accurate of explanations, but in Xeno's eyes, it was the only explanation he needed to give her. Her body was his to torture, to please, to do as he desired with, so it was only natural that she would respond to him like this. "Give me enough time... and you won't be able to live without my touch."

“You’re terrible.” He truly was. Even as the elf was made helpless, unable to fight back against his touches, he was unapologetic, unyielding to his advances on her. Any other woman, he would've forgone her pleasure, knowing that she would be satisfied beyond her dreams by the time he was done with her. But with Morgana, he wanted to know what her very limits were. What he could do with her body before she collapsed, before she broke. She was his toy to play with however he liked. His toy to break. "And yet you don't want me to stop, or you would have ended this tryst of ours the moment you realized the danger of giving me your body. Because I don't only desire your body... but the woman you hide behind that icy heart of yours..."

“Here.” The tail that had been so guarded, fearful of his grip, now held him tightly, pulling his hand down to the woman's most sensitive region. His fingers extended ever so slightly as she held his hand in place, touching with the tips of his fingers her wet, quivering folds. Her smell was overpowering to him, sending him in a lustful rage that he could barely hold back. “I want it here.” He'd heard virgin farmgirls be more obscene about their desires, practically asking to be ravaged, yet he'd never been so aroused like he was as she said those words, a shaky, rough sigh echoing through his throat, every hair on his body standing on end as he stared down into her eyes. "Here." He repeated after her, pulling against her tail to run his index across the length of her slit, gauging her reaction. When she didn't resist the touch, he began to massage her, slowly and cautiously, but with a steady rhythm that would slowly build up.

When he was sure he'd distracted her enough with his ministrations, he uncoiled her tail from his wrist, gripping the appendage firmly in his palm. All while still stroking her slit, he ran his fingers along the smooth, leathery surface of it, rubbing his thumb against the spade of it. He did this in rhythm with the movements of his other hand, giving thet girl no respite from the sensations he was unmistakably causing in her. "How about this? Do you like it when I touch you here as well? Does it feel like you're losing your mind? Like you could get addicted to this ecstasy? Tell me, Morgana. Tell me how it feels..."
 
“I know what an orgasm is.” Morgana remarked cuttingly, her complexion tainted by his new fascination with her ear; running along the point of it with his tongue. He was like a dog, licking over the wounds he’d inflicted with apologetic finesse. The gesture made her melt just a little. He was tending to her in his own, strange way. It was endearing, and boosted her ego a bit too high. To think that she might be the only girl he’d cared for in this way- had her brimming with contentment. “You know,” She began, interrupted by her own muted gasp. “Y-You can bite me there, too… If you’d like.” There were many places, she was realizing, she wanted him to bite. Numerous areas where she longed for his attention. And not necessarily of solely the pleasured variety. “And maybe my breasts… and my thighs.” She added sheepishly, as his hand hovered near to her core. Morgana did not feel so ashamed to admit these erotic thoughts. There was something in the way he cared for her- small kisses, and the occasional caress- that made her feel safe.

"Because I don't only desire your body... but the woman you hide behind that icy heart of yours..."

She hadn’t responded initially, too caught up in pleasure, and too worried she might say the wrong thing. There were moments where his beautiful, amber eyes would simmer past her walls and rip her open. Xeno beheld everything the world would not. The sinister, the divine, and all that which made her a woman.

Like a wolf, he’d hunt and pine until he rendered her utterly bare. Her weakness was a drug to him. Exclusive, and endless in his grasp. She heard the way her pleas made him sigh and groan, threatening the bars of his control. She admittedly felt a hint of guilt for making him suffer the rage of his lust. Animalkind were known to have one of the highest sexual appetites, after all.

Morgana had been so lost in thought, that she’d nearly forgotten the request she’d made. As his finger slid along the pink exposure of her core, she was reminded of the puddled mess she was a moment ago. Ever so slowly, but steadily, his fingers moved across the dampness that was her heat. Her mind blanked, fuzzy with whirling sensations of paralyzing pleasure. A frenzy seeped into her flesh, urging her hips to move against his exquisite touch. More, more, more. Her body beseeched her, narrowing every thought down to the ministrations of his hand. The blood was hurdling south, writhing in its pyres of flame.

“Xeno~” His name fell from her lips, parted as she grappled for air. Desire riddled her mind with desperation, wreaking havoc on her senses. The world could have ended in that moment, and she couldn’t have cared less. Until- she felt her tail uncoil from his wrist. Her eyes flashed open, rushing to the sight of her tail in his grasp. When had she closed her eyes? When had she become so reckless?

“Please, don’t. Not my tail-” The plea had barely left her mouth before she was overrun with a rapturous blow. Pleasure raked its claws through her delicate state, one of her trembling hands reaching out to stop him.

"How about this? Do you like it when I touch you here as well? Does it feel like you're losing your mind? Like you could get addicted to this ecstasy? Tell me, Morgana. Tell me how it feels..."

“No, I don’t…! I can’t!” She cried, shaking her head as she clasped her hand around his wrist. Pulling with all her might, using every last drop of energy in her body, she implored for him to stop. It was no use, his fingers clamping down onto her spade. A current of euphoria plunged through countless nerve endings, shattering and exploding into a stimulant of pure ecstasy. Inhibition melted away into piles of ash. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. “I’m gonna die…! I could die from this, oh-” Her words fell apart into breathy, high-pitched sobs. Black clouded her vision, her hips mindlessly grinding against his fingers. “More, Xeno- more. I can’t take this. I need more of you…! Goddess, please!” Morgana begged, tears brimming from her lashes, her teeth gnashing together to combat her need to howl. Another orgasm came crashing down on her, the girl biting back a scream.

It took everything she had not to collapse, locking her knees while the rest of her body twitched with release. Light flooded back into her vision as she began to recover from her lustful stupor. “Hah…” She breathed, lying her head back onto the soothing tile. After a long moment, her impish green eyes flocked to the creator of this mess. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive him for abusing her tail like that, especially after the horn incident. And she had felt rather bad about neglecting his needs.

A wicked smile splayed onto her lips. A dastardly plan unfurled in her rattled brain. The woman wound her arms around his neck once more, sporting a grin. “Xeno… my king.” She purred, mimicking his earlier sentiment. The tip of her tongue darted out, swiping up his jaw. He tasted of salt and citrus, mixed with the fresh running water above them.

“Does this mean-” Her voice softened into something more sultry, and innocent. Slender, nimble fingers drummed against the back of his neck; averting his attention while her tail slithered around his erection. It felt like cement in her grip, though the exterior was slippery and velvet-like. “-that you want me?”

Tightening its grip, her tail moved in long, smooth strokes. Part of her tail slid outward, the other swiping inward as the whole moved in unison. It took her a minute to perfect the rhythm, acclimating to the technique with increasing speed. Careful not to jostle their balance, she used the wall as her crutch, leaping up to lock her legs around his torso. It wasn’t terribly hard to keep herself there, what with all her experience in climbing trees. The Beast was so tall, it was hardly any different.

“You’re so hard.” She commented, her breath grazing his left ear. For a long time, she’d been incredibly curious about the wolf’s furry assets. They appeared so sensitive to anything. She could only imagine the type of reaction she could evoke from these. The compromising position was well worth it, her cleavage level with his face as she studied his ears. “You’re right, by the way.” She hummed, flicking the spade of her tail over the head of his hardened length. “I do have a wicked tongue.” With that, she clamped her teeth on the shell of his ear, sliding her wet tongue along the edge. She took her sweet time, toying with the pattern of her strokes. Once she was satisfied, she released the poor appendage- her tongue dragging along the inner seam, and flicking the tip in concurrence with her tail. The black snake was squelching with sticky moisture as it stroked his length more vigorously; likely a result from behind coated in her own fluids.

Unwilling to push her luck any further, she unlatched her legs and slid down the wall- her knees catching her as she reached the shower floor. Her tail gradually untangled from its victim, swaying pleasantly at her side. Morgana’s eyes fluctuated into their feline glare, the pucker of her lips stretching into a sweet smile. Agile, thin extremities wrapped around his cock, resuming the same motion her tail had been making. She was careful not to grip him too tightly, or too loose- flicking her wrist as she moved up and down; occasionally running her thumb over the tip.

Laying a gentle kiss to his hip, she brushed her fangs along his skin. The darkness had burgeoned into a swell of temptation, daring her to dig her canines into his flesh. She couldn’t resist, sinking her fangs deeply into his hip, burrowing a wound that would leak a gush of blood into her mouth. Crimson stained her lips, her tongue swimming in it as she took one languid gulp. The flavor overwhelmed her; an addicting concoction that spurred her with greed. Stop, she warned herself, moaning as she drew back from the incision. She was hungry, salivating thickly, as she licked her lips clean. The demoness required some other form of sating, her attention drifting to the monstrous appendage in her palm. The fluidity of her fingers halted, her tongue swiping against her teeth.

Mm, this will do nicely. She bit her lip, angling her face beneath, before licking a lewd trail from the base, up. As her tongue reached the tip, pivoting at a small v-shaped indent, she took the head into her mouth. She dared a peek up at the Beast, her eyes dancing with mischief as she swirled her tongue.
 
“Xeno~”

"Don't..." Don't tease me like this, he begged with his eyes, staving off the unbearable lust in his body by focusing his attention on the way her hips rocked in unison to his fingers. Her voice was low, soft, as he played her like an instrument, the schlick of her folds the melody to her sinful song. His palm was drenched in her thick, sticky honey, ready for the main meal. Quite so that he somehow suspected her to have been ready from the start, her body much more in tune with her needs than she realized.

When focusing on pleasuring her only proved to drive him even crazier, the beast did only what he could as he brought his hand to stroke her tail and nibbled on her ear, lapping on the salty sweet mixture of her sweat and natural taste. It was all he could do to stop himself from overloading her senses with more than she could handle. By the sound of her voice, she was still reeling from her earlier orgasm, made much more sensitive by the aftershocks of it while the man didn't relent. And while he might've felt guilty for ovewhelming the girl with all the attention, he was driven by curiosity. How far could he go before she couldn't even form a proper sentence?

“No, I don’t…! I can’t!” "It's no good to lie..." He answered back, a dismissive smirk painted on his lips as he affirmed his grip on the sensitive snake of her tail. He stopped only to look her in the eyes as she tried vainly to stop him. She was so earnest in trying to resist that he almost pitied her and thought of, for the first time in his life, exercising mercy. Almost. “I’m gonna die…! I could die from this, oh-” "Then die. Die and be reborn as my woman. As my slave. As my queen...!" His features turned devilish as the girl was torn asunder by a second orgasm, her body spasming as if lightning had struck her. Her legs went limp first, held up only by the hand between her legs. Then the hands that gripped his wrist uselessly, loosened, her slender fingers convulsing and shaking wildly before letting go. “More, Xeno- more. I can’t take this. I need more of you…! Goddess, please!” "A demon like you has no place invoking your so-called Goddess. Especially not as you cum a second time at the hands of this godless beast."

He let go of her tail then, coming to the decision that perhaps he had been a bit overzealous in his endeavor. A virgin elf like her could only take so much stimulation in such a short time - he might actually break her if he continued on this trend. But the notion seemed so deliciously tempting.

Xeno held her in place, letting her bask in the afterglow while panting with her, though for a completely different reason entirely. He was very much reaching his limit now, his manhood aching for its own sort of release. In his preoccupation for bringing her pleasure unlike she'd ever known, he had ignored his own need, something uncalled of the king. He did not please women. Women found pleasure in his own, whether they were taken by their own will or by force. Yet he did not treat Morgana with the same sort of cold, dismissive disregard, instead finding himself pleased just to make her beg like she did.

The tone shifted, however. When the elvish princess had recovered enough to be coherent once more, her expression changed. Ceruleans changed into an ominous jade. He was left without words as small hands held him captive, pulling him in to hear a purr like a demon's whisper. He pulled his head back, allowing her free rein over his neck as he felt her tongue, thin like a serpent, taste him.

“Does this mean-” He growled, revelling in her touch. In her voice. In her gaze. He'd never allowed a woman to toy with him the way she did. He would never allow any woman but her to know the weakness he displayed to her. No soul. “-that you want me?” "No," he sighed. "I need you."

A gasp escaped him. The same appendage that he had teased earlier now held him. It was his turn now to curse his carelessness as he laid completely helpless to the seductress. She was like a succubus, methodical in her touches, yet confident in them despite her apparent lack of experience. "Morgana--" He was caught off-guard for a moment as she leaped up, her legs locking around him and his face was caught in the valley of her cleavage. Immediately he enacted his revenge on her, allowing himself a mouthful of her breasts. He bit down on it a couple of times, pricking her with his fangs enough that he left an inconspicuous mark on either one, blood flowing out from the modest, perky mounds. He lapped up the blood as well as he could, but it would just keep flowing out. All the while, he rocked his hips in rhythm with her tail.

A shiver shot through his spine as a shock of electricity nipped at his ear. “You’re so hard.” "Ah..." His eyes shot open and he pulled back from her cleavage, either of his furry appendages pulling back in caution at the unexpected attention. It was one thing to be serviced by her tail, a certain thrill at the idea that this demoness, this princess, would lower herself to give his manhood such detailed attention, but there was no precedent to what she was doing now. Bewildered, he tried to pull free of her wicked embrace. "Stop... that--!" Another shock, greater than the one before, as his cock was treated to the strange sensation of the spade of her tail against its tip and the bite of her fangs on his ear. He was proud to say he could last hours on end without a single orgasm, but this sensation was unlike any he'd felt before. It took great concentration to stop himself from spilling against the wall just then. It was only when she loosened her grip on him that he finally let out a breath, having held it for the longest few seconds of his life.

By the time he managed to open his eyes back up, he found his forehead leaning against the wall, Morgana's body nowhere to be found. His gaze went southwards - where he could see the woman handling his shaft not with her tail, but with her hand. It was completely different, much more familiar, to have her hand (which was, by the way, exceptionally small around him) wrapped around him. He couldn't decide which feeling he loved more; so he decided he loved both equally. He didn't have much time to contemplate on it, though, her stroking leaving him to concentrate once more.

"Agh," his hands curled into fists as, on top of the stroking, he felt a sharp prick on his skin, small, invasive protrusions causing him a low, echoing pain. He rolled his eyes back for a moment, a hiss catching in his throat. Blood, he thought. She wants... my blood. Danger rang in his ears as this single thought flooded his senses. It reminded him all at once that she was a demon. A monster. And that he might as well be falling into his own deathtrap. Yet as she lapped up his blood, he felt not a wicked intention from her, but a need. He looked down curiously at the woman, noticing conflict in her eyes. She wanted more, yet she stopped herself. Under hazy eyes, he sighed.

He didn't expect her to go so far. Where he would've been more than happy with just her hand, she went even further and pressed her soft, tantalizing lips around the tip of him. "Yes, use your mouth like that, you bitch... Shit..." He was unable to hold himself back as the lewd sight of her popping him inside her mouth sent the beast inside him roaring. He grabbed a palmful of her hair, guiding her to take him deeper yet. "Eat up my cock, you hungry, slutty elf." He grabbed at his own hair, pulling it up as he closed his eyes once more and let the water flow onto his face, a rough, guttural growl growing in his throat as he slowly, ever so slowly, guided the woman to take him deeper, deeper. He didn't stop when the head of him hit the back of her throat and shoved himself inside her mouth until her lips were at his base. "How about it, you dirty elf? Do you like its taste? Does its shape feel good in your throat? Imagine if you were using a different set of lips instead." Xeno chuckled. "Oh, sorry. You mustn't be able to talk, considering you have the cock of the Beast King in your mouth. Let me fix that..."

More easily than he'd made her take him in, he pulled her back, all the way until she had only the tip between her lips, and just as he was about to let her pop him out, he pushed her back in, thrusting his hips in conjunction this time. It felt heavenly. So much so that he was unable to think of some clever quip as he grunted roughly. Digging his nails into her skull, he muttered. "Look up at me. Look into my eyes." He ordered, his brows furrowing as he began to violate her mouth, each thrust, each pull and push rougher than the one before. He hunched against the wall, the hand that was not guiding her head back and forth against his length pressed tightly on the wall. It felt like hours before he reached his limit, pulling out of her mouth just in time to stroke it with his own hand, staring down at her as he let out a loud, guttural roar, followed by his twitching manhood shooting his white, thick seed onto Morgana's lips and mouth, vast and plentiful. "Taste it. Savor it. This is the seed of your king, you filthy demon. Remember its texture, its smell... everything about it."

Xeno was nothing if not vigorous, and though he had gone through his first orgasm, his erection did not fade, even as he stroked the last ropes of his semen onto Morgana's chin. He stopped only to catch his breath momentarily, contemplating his work and allowing the elf to catch her own breath. He ran his hand through her hair, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Turn around," he said after a few moments, pulling her up and turning her over by his own account when she took too long to respond. He held her hips firmly, running the tip of his manhood along her slit, teasing her as he made as though he was about to penetrate her only to slip himself between her thighs. Soft, pillowy and plentiful flesh wrapped around him, almost as warm as the walls of her mouth. Her thighs were, however, unbelievably soft. "You're not ready to take me inside you yet, my slutty princess, but we can make due with this instead." He said, folding over to press his lips to her ear. A hand reached up to cup her breast in it, his hips pulling back and then thrusting forward as if to make clear of his intentions with this position.

Proud of having taken back control, he wasted no time in repeating what he'd done to her mouth, this time holding her thighs together as he slowly worked up a rhythm. He ran a hand along her slit so as to make things more fun for Morgana, a smirk on his face as his other hand wandered to her face, spreading the remnants of his semen on her lips with his fingers, poking at her to pop the limbs inside. "Is this how you hoped to spend your night? Being thigh-fucked by a beast? Is it, Morgana? Is this what the princess of Rafiya enjoys? What she fantasizes about?"
 
Torture is an art. Beginning at the perusal of the senses- spiraling forth into how one might break, bolster, or compel those senses into an endless cavern of despair. She had become rather proficient in the craft. She could produce deadly brews to impair the body. Work nimble strikes on the nerves. Or, even wield heinous tools if necessary. Although, the Elvish Princess had never thought to study sensual torture. A skill she might culminate through Xeno’s evident expertise. And while she could merely lie back and learn, like any well-behaved scholar would… patience was not her virtue. Not when her touch could bring her name to his lips, by will. She could not resist the guttural, rabid noises of pleasure rumbling in his chest. Nor the rapturous look on his face. All of which: were symptoms prescribed by her.

When the Elf had first laid eyes on the Beast, she’d known; he was the most breathtaking creature she’d ever seen. He was the most beautiful male in every sense of the word. And somehow, by some miracle- this male was writhing under her fingertips. Possessed with pleasure, standing before her, with her brand on his skin.

"Perhaps you have just not had a man to show you the wonders of said fickle things," He’d once said. And he was so frustratingly, annoyingly right. All this time, she hadn’t met him. When she had been drowning in a battle of sin, and light, he appeared. Reigning as an epitome of strength, over the darkness that lurked inside of him. Being with him made her feel like she was on top of the world- not the Queen of anything. Just a girl, to be adored, to be ravished by him, and to return that passion with all her might. Yes, what they were doing was lustful, and carnal. But, she loved every minute of it.

So for the fickle moments she could indulge him- reveling in the fact that she the only woman to torture him the way she did- she would. Morgana was determined to make him eat those words. Give me enough time, and you won’t be able to live without my touch-. Hell, no mortal woman could possibly sate him by the time she’d be done. The demoness would torment him with her tail, and her wicked tongue, until he couldn’t stand being without her. Or, so she had planned. It appeared as though her time had run out, as- patience was not Xeno’s virtue either. When her eyes connected with him, she could see nothing but the Beast- roaring to life. The powerful, overbearing aura of the Alpha had returned- the same Beast she’d challenged in the throne room. Something inside her cowered at the sight. Not because he was an Alpha. No, because it was him. Only to him, would she submit.

Her hair bunched up in his firm grip, his fist driving her to take in more of his length. She took a deep breath while she could, unsure if the massive thing would obstruct her breathing. The absurdity of its size made her wonder how he’d fit between a different, lower pair of lips. Almost instantly she banished the thought.

"Eat up my cock, you hungry, slutty elf."

Obscenities began to pour from his mouth in rough, domineering ways. She could feel the blood flooding into her face, a thrill trickling down her spine. She felt like she was being… punished. And, weirdly enough, it felt good. A whimper was muffled by his cock as he pushed further past her lips, until her reached the back of her tongue. A part of her wondered if she’d taken in all of him, her eyes leaving his face to glance at the intrusion. Only to find… she wasn’t even close. Before she could protest, he shoved himself down her throat in one fluid motion- causing her eyes to roll into the back of her head. She could feel her throat clenching around his shaft, forming to his shape, and trying to reject him all the same.

"How about it, you dirty elf? Do you like its taste? Does its shape feel good in your throat? Imagine if you were using a different set of lips instead." The Beast chuckled darkly, enjoying the act of choking her with his manhood. She’d be lying if she didn’t think it was erotic.

Her core pulsed in response to his words, daring her to fantasize about what it might be like to be speared with the same device that was choking her. Again, with one swift pull, he removed himself until he just rested at the edge of her lips. She quickly took the opportunity to gulp down air, regaining control of her senses before he assaulted her once more. She didn’t even have time to respond to him as he shoved his cock down her throat repeatedly. It was both heaven and hell, her arousal flaring with each thrust, and her lips aching from being spread by his girth.

"Look up at me. Look into my eyes." He commanded, urging her to meet his fearsome gaze. She could barely handle breathing, a blush coloring all the way from her cheeks to the bridge of her nose as she raised her eyes. They were no longer feline, more docile than anything, as she met with thunderous pools of amber. Tension resumed in the lower portion of her belly, wrought with knots and building into another insatiable fire. He fucked her mouth with immeasurable force, scraping against her fangs and plunging against her tongue. Her body stilled, her core ached, the fire growing and growing- but then it vanished. He’d retracted from her mouth, making her feel incomplete as he finished himself off against her lips. Sticky, viscous fluid poured onto her lips, overflowing onto her chin and spilling onto her breasts. Her eyes glowed, a genuine, innocent smile spreading across her mouth as she swiped her tongue to gather a sample. The smell was overpowering, reeking of sexual aroma and… him. The scent aroused her, but, the taste- It was bitter, and salty and addicting all at once. She wanted more. Morgana parted her lips to complain about his transgression, unhappy he hadn’t released that treat inside of her mouth. However, she was silenced by his sudden request.

"Turn around." He directed, after pulling her up. The words made her gut clench, to her surprise, feeling as though they had some other sinful deed attached to them. She was indeed correct, as his rough hands pivoted her hips forward- urging her to braced herself against the wall. The texture of his fluids were being spread along her folds, alerting her that he was still very much aroused, and that the head of his cock was just seconds away from ripping her apart. Morgana cursed her body for the way it leaned into his teasing actions, shivering each time the head skimmed over her entrance.

“What are you doing?” She inquired meekly, emitting small gasps of pleasure. He didn’t care to answer her, instead shoving his cock between the inner portion of her upper thighs. Her abandoned fire instantly erupted at the sensation now wracking her nerves.

"You're not ready to take me inside you yet, my slutty princess, but we can make due with this instead." The Beast said roguishly, folding over to press his lips to her ear. She instantly began to squirm, crying out as her groped one of her sensitive breasts and began to thrust between her thighs. She was falling apart, lost in the feeling of his cock shulping between her legs- drenched in a crude mixture of their fluids. The noise alone made her shudder, sputtering incomprehensible cries as her legs started to shake. The smooth head was impacting her flesh, the shaft massaging the tender, affronted area. It shot surges of pleasurable shock to her core, coercing her into another torturous build of anticipation. His fingers swiped up the excess semen from the corner of her mouth, pushing the coated digits past her lips. Oh Goddess- she moaned internally, near her undoing.

"Is this how you hoped to spend your night? Being thigh-fucked by a beast? Is it, Morgana? Is this what the princess of Rafiya enjoys? What she fantasizes about?"

His other hand toyed with her quivering folds, amply distracting her from the fingers in her mouth. She couldn’t keep a grip on anything. Not even her mind as it shattered beyond all reason, relapsing into wild, hysteric lust. “Yes.” She moaned breathlessly, her nails scratching against the tile. “I fantasize about being fucked by you.” Morgana hissed out, emphasizing her word choice. Not just any beast. Him.

The claws of pleasure were grappling her into darkness, mercilessly wrenching her down from her high. Her jaw was dropping, his fingers falling out of her mouth as she swore. “God, oh fuck!” She writhed, edging on the cusp of her sanity. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She squealed. “I can’t take this feeling of your cock between my legs-” Morgana pushed against his thrusts, her teeth clamping down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. “-this could drive me insane. Goddess, I can’t- Stop-” The girl rambled through her words deliriously. “Xeno, you’re going to make me…! I’m going to go insane. Stop! Stop…! No, I’m gonna…!” Her orgasm came over her like a tidal wave, leaving her trembling into a useless puddle on the floor. She was screaming, shaking until the climax wove through her completely. Morgana wobbled on her hands and knees, a few quiet sobs ripping through her. “Mmn~.” She whimpered, trying to make a word- but failing miserably. She was a mess. She didn’t know how she would clean herself off- let alone make it to bed.
 
Violent and wild. Icy and distant. Adoring and meek. The Rafiyan princess had a wide array of emotions that she could cycle through so easily that he couldn't quite comprehend her. The woman that had gone to tease his ears like they were toys was nowhere to be found now, hidden underneath the shuddering mess of moans that was nothing more than a fuck-toy to his cock now, unresisting, indulging of his desire. His pleasure, it seemed, returned to her tenfold, her moans much more frequent than his own groans and gasps. She wasn't even trying to hide how much she was enjoying being used by him anymore, her moans loud and resounding throughout the bath, so loud that he was sure others could hear her from the hall. Show them how slutty you can be, he thought to himself, raising the tempo in which he thrust as a devilish smile painted on his lips.

Her inner thighs were coated in her fluids, obvious to him what her body actually wanted, and made his moving between them much easier, a low, erotic slap each time he slammed his hips into her pillowy ass cheeks, louder each time. Just the same, his cock, shining and coated in the afterglow of his earlier orgasm, was as smooth and wet as her, precum drawing a line from her pelvis to her stomach as it was incessant in trickling out of him. The combination of her moans, his thrusts and their flesh slapping unceremoniously together made a melody of lustful, wanton wish for one another, her voice sweeter with each second that passed. She was approaching orgasm once again, and no matter how slow Xeno tried to go, her voice was only becoming shriller by the second, his desperation to prolong the pleasure palpable as he switched from short, quick strokes to more calculated, deep ones. When he came to the realization that the sensitive virgin was going to cum whether he wanted it or not, he dismissed his attempts and worked only to match her.

Her admission to his questioning, how she was so specific of saying that it was him she fantasized about, caught him off-guard in the moment, a second's pause as he reached to grab a fistful of her hair and pulled her back to rest against his chest. "I won't fuck you, Morgana. I'll ravage you. I'll eat you. I'll violate you." His lips ghosted over hers, his other hand reaching to grab her wrist as he pulled her to him, his hips rocking zealously as they fucked her thighs with such fervor, as if his life depended on it. His cock twitched eagerly in preparation, her heat unbearably against him as he felt the build-up to her climax rising, more and more.

Xeno could no longer reason as her voice overwhelmed him, incoherent and incessant as she tried to fight back the inevitable. Did she not want it to end? Was she still too ashamed to show him that delicious face of hers, as she became victim of the sexual release that she had once renounced? The princess... his Queen, was beautiful like no other woman as she fell from her grace, with the Beast unable to hold back from watching her intently as she cursed him, herself, the world, for giving her a body that could bring her such pleasure. Xeno himself had regressed to throaty growls, more animalistic than he'd like to admit as he pressed his lips to her neck, all he could do to stop himself from cumming just yet as her voice cried out senseless cries of shame, of arousal, of her third, and final, orgasm of the night. As she cried out, her every muscle convulsing, his mind went blank, pushing the woman's head against the wall as he shot out a plentiful bounty of semen onto the princess' stomach and bosom, painting the woman's body of a lewd white, countless pearls decorating her. Even a proper cleaning wouldn't rid her of his smell at this point.

When he was done riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm, he let her down, sitting her against the wall and letting the warm water flow on her, flaunting his still erect cock at her as the elf failed to focus on anything. "Good girl," he said simply, inserting the tip of his cock inside her lips. The king stroked himself for a few moments, groaning pleasantly as he brought himself to shoot himself into her mouth. "Here's your reward. Your king was thoroughly pleased tonight." He held her in place just long enough to shoot the last hot ropes of his seed into her throat, standing there to study her expression just for a second before he knelt down, running his hand through her bare body, spreading the beads of semen on her. After that, he reached over to the bottle of soap and started working toward cleaning her up, lathering her up and even massaging her along the way.

She was a shaky mess of nerves, unresponsive even to the quiet, raunchy quips he made to her as he focused himself on cleaning her up and himself as well. It must've taken a while, because the water grew cold after some time, their alloted time in the shower done lest they would risk a disease at the hands of cold desert water. Thankfully, he was done cleaning the woman and had closed the water before it could actually get too cold, lukewarm at best when he decided they were clean enough. It was after drying her off that Xeno contemplated what to do with the quivering girl. He couldn't just leave her there. "Foolish girl..." He lamented, the heaviness of their actions finally dropping onto his shoulders. They were not a couple. They didn't even love each other, yet they had done so much more than a married couple would do normally. He was lamentful, most of all, of the fact that this encounter had been driven by lust and not affection. Perhaps, and only perhaps... he could plant the seeds of something more.

He picked her up in his arms, kicking the door to her room open. It was opposite of his room, her bed to far end of the room, parallel to his own room's bed. They were as far as physically possible from each other, it seemed. There was a shiver in the air as he took a few steps inside. His hair was still fresh, his tail somewhat soaked still. As he laid Morgana down on the bed, throwing a blanket over her, he walked over to his room and retrieved his own blankets as well. He settled them on top of her and slid into the bed, tossing his arm lazily over her. "You best not come to regret this..." He muttered, unsure of who his words were addressed to as he drifted off into sleep.

---

As the sun rose, the Beast King awakened quietly, his eyelids fluttering as he opened them to look at Morgana, now sleeping peacefully in his arms. As regretful as he was, he decided to slip out of the bed before she awoke, hurrying over to his room and dressing himself up for the day. Before she had awoken, Xeno had gone downstairs, sitting around aimlessly as the inn owner began to prepare for the day.

He'd mull over last night's events as he waited for Morgana to come down, his mind wandering to their courses of action regarding the Necromancer.
 
The taste of him was still fresh on her tongue. Morning dew permeated the air, the soft caw of desert birds sweeping over the rooftops. Heavenly rays of the sun steeped through to small glass windowpane to the left corner of the room, gently skimming across the floorboards and glistening across her skin. Heavy. She felt like a ton of bricks, groaning as she stretched out against her stiff mattress. It took a few good moments to realize she was naked. That she had slept naked, in his arms. A scowl immediately tugged at her mouth. He was no longer in her room, probably having darted by break of dawn. She couldn’t blame him, after the last time she’d woken up in his arms. Her body ached for his warmth, ill-tempered at the deprivation of his presence. Memories of the previous night washed over in tender waves as she moved to the shower. She could tell he had marked her with his scent, the smell hitting her nostrils with every breath. It was more pleasant than she liked to admit, but it was best not to parade herself around in this state. Her shower was quick, taking care to scrub away any remnants of the Beast’s mark- replaced by the subtle scent of herbs. By the time she was dressed, she was still carrying the faintest note of Xeno’s scent, though it was small enough for only the two of them to notice. Satisfied, she fluffed her hair lightly, letting it fall over her shoulders and back- before making her way out. Morgana pulled the door shut behind her, locking it, and slipping the key away. After a few strides down the hall, she was able to lean over the second-floor balustrade, surveying the tavern below. The liveliness of the night was little but a dream. In the golden wake of the Sun, fewer patrons hobbled in for rest, drink, and grub.

Her effervescent, green eyes drifted over a pair of wolf-ears- a faint smile etched onto her lips. She wasn’t sure if it was the flutter of her heart, or her suddenly beaming, feather-light mood; as she kicked her legs over the railing and leapt down. Such actions would be near perilous for any mortal, but not for her. A playful giggle hummed between her lips as she impacted with the floor. Gracefully landing on her two feet, and pacing over to Xeno who’d been sitting at a table near the bar.

“Good morning.” The woman purred, sliding into the seat closest to him. Her tail and horns were nowhere to be found, but she was certain one would be swaying pleasantly if it had. Her foot gently brushed with his leg, her palms folding into her lap whilst her head angled ever so slightly. An unpleasant, rowdy force within her bubbled and writhed, demanding the closeness she craved since he’d left her. Morgana was cautious of her actions, slow in her pursuit as she moved to straddle his lap. Her arms draped lazily over his shoulders, her face nuzzling into his neck in an affectionate manner. “Hm…” She sighed, breathing in his scent. “I do regret it…” She began, grazing her lips along the curve of his jaw. “The ability I once had to stay away.” Morgana drew back, staring quietly into depthless fires of molten amber. “Your princess may not be able to live without your touch.” There was no lust in her words, just a raw sentiment of honesty.

"When a woman from another tribe is to be accepted into our tribe, they have to bathe with their mate like this. "

"Perhaps my calling you my wife isn't a sham... but a wish."

"If you wanted me to be yours only, you could've just said so."

"Because I don't only desire your body... but the woman you hide behind that icy heart of yours..."

His words haunted her, ghosting past her ears as she felt consumed by his gaze. “Somehow,” She parted her lips to speak, but halted mid-sentence. Her brows furrowed, her chest stirring. A lethal dosage of hope flourished through her bloodstream, blooming in petals of vivid fondness. She roamed the outline of his aura, watching the thinnest veil of darkness swell and fade. “Somehow… I find myself wondering.” She paused, trailing her fingertips over his face. “If you were not the king of anything- and I was just a girl, not the ruler of any nation… and you were just a boy-” Morgana bit her lip, smiling to herself. “Just a man. …Would you have regret it?”

Her question was nothing more than a whisper, a guise for the true inquiries that toiled in her heart. Morgana stared down at his chest. “Foolish questions, I suppose.” She scoffed at her own worthless rambling. Naivety was not a good look on her. A stupid quality he’d managed to extract from her icy heart the previous night. Her hands flew to her pale face, now glowing in a reddish hue. “Goddess, I need a drink.” She groaned, too mortified to pull herself off his lap. “You must be so pleased with yourself, Beast. Watching me blabber all this nonsense- I should’ve let the barmaid have you!” She was rushing through a gust of embarrassment. Why was she telling him this? “Ugh! You drive me mad. Saying all those things. Making me lie in bed and wonder stupidly if you meant them-!”

The elf fell silent, huffing. Her eyes dared a peak at him. Don’t do it, Morgana. Don’t ask. “…Did you… mean them?”

And, she asked. She blanched, blinking at herself. “Fucking Hell, what is wrong with me?” Her hands moved to massage her temples, her eyes squeezing shut. One minute, she was wrapped in a happy, blissful morning. The next she was a blabbering mess in front of him. What the hell was this? Some weird type of sex magic her cousins failed to mention? “Correction. I regret the lack of control over my idiotic mouth.” She frowned, running her fingers through her hair. “I think I’ve officially lost it.”
 
"Busy night?"

Xeno had been so deep in thought that he had failed to notice the red-headed barmaid going up to him, running her a rug across the table. She leaned in just enough that her cleavage was inches away from his face. Freckles, he thought to himself, his mind wandering back to Morgana and how she'd, at one point, had tried to suffocate him with her own breasts. "Mhn," the man managed to hum, a hand reaching to hold his temple. He couldn't clear his head of her, of her body, or of her face, wracked with carnal ecstasy. Even as the fair-faced woman in front of him gave him a sweet, warm smile, he could only imagine Morgana's own peaceful complexion as he left her behind in bed. "Busy night indeed..." He sighed after a second of deliberation. What could he say? He had only remembered Windry the moment he saw her working around the floor, taking orders and exchanging pleasantries with the various men who would try their hand at wooing her. He'd completely forgotten calling her up to his room last night.

"Sure sounded like it, darling. I'm kind of jealous, truth be told." She teased, slipping him a cup of water as she gazed up the stairs. Xeno followed her gaze to cross gazes with the elven girl. He smirked, only for a moment, before it would fade and he would look down at the cup in front of him. She was beautiful... but she was just as dangerous, too.

“Let me be the monarch of your pain... Let me be the harbinger of your destruction.”

She was a monster. A demon. She was the only one... the only one capable of killing him. Not just physically, but in all of his existence. His soul. His body. His image. She would be his fall. She was not shy of her intentions, of her hatred toward him. Of her desire to kill the man, not the Beast, that was him. But only if he allowed it. Only if he were to let her in, would she be able to do all of that, and more. If he were foolish enough to think that her intentions were anything but wicked, it would be his downfall, and she the orchestrator of it. That was why...

“Good morning.”

"Morning, beautiful." He would let her do it. His life was nothing but hell at this point. He was nothing but a bag of flesh, driven by sinful, wicked desires. He'd been an undesired child, cursed by the Mark of the Beast from his birth. He'd been born only to be rejected by the world. To be despised by his peers and feared by his superiors. And when he had reached the top of the hierarchy... there was nothing. He could not destroy those that had caused him suffering, because it was his duty to protect them, to guide them. The freedom to hate them had been stripped away... by his own greed. Kill me, he had said to her, yet he had censored himself. Rid me from this pain.

His eyes wandered to Windry for a moment, noticing that she was watching the pair intently. Then his eyes went back to Morgana, and she was climbing him, his hands naturally holding her by the waist, securing her spot on his lap. His manhood grew erect immediately, almost as if conditioned by years of sexual liberty, and pressed to the front of her pants. “I do regret it…” "Hm...?" Xeno pressed his own lips to the shallow bruise his teeth had left on her neck, lapping the wound apologetically much like a dog would to its owner. “The ability I once had to stay away.” Xeno smirked, the words swelling him up with pride, with arrogance. “Your princess may not be able to live without your touch.” "My princess..." He sighed, a breath soundless between their hearts, beating in unison. "I have so much more to give you, Morgana. I will carve my essence into your body, I swear it..."

The brand, her brand, seemed to burn as he said those words, like a king's decree. As if he was passing a law. That law would be... for Morgana to see no other man but him. It would be made law, to her body. “Somehow,” his mind refocused on the woman, his hand wandering up to run his fingers through her hair, searching distractedly for those horns of hers. Or at least to where they retreated into when they weren't out. It was a shame. She would look much better if she would just flaunt them around all the time. “Somehow… I find myself wondering.” He allowed himself to rest his head on her bosom, leaning his head to the touch of her fingers. Touch me more, his mind demanded, his eyes distant as he focused in on the tips of her fingers, on the subtle hint of his smell under the smell of herbs. “If you were not the king of anything- and I was just a girl, not the ruler of any nation… and you were just a boy- Just a man. …Would you have regret it?” "Your man. Whether I was the king of the world or of some godless mound of dirt, I would not regret a second of it. Your touch, your taste, your voice, your body... I would give up everything if I could have them once more." He boldly declared, pulling back to look her in the eyes with a fire burning so hot he might as well be trying to set her aflame.

It hurt just to think about not being with her like this. He wanted to embrace her, to show her the wonders of being a woman. Of being his woman. He wanted to show her a world that she had never seen before. If he could renounce his crown, he would take her away to the end of the world, to a small, hidden spot where they'd never be found. Where he could just lie down in bed with her with no worries. “Goddess, I need a drink.” He chuckled amusedly as Morgana, as the girl, began to speak nonsense to herself. "I would love to drink from your chest." He muttered, waving to Windry to bring them a bottle. The woman, more amused than anything at their little, intimate exchange, nodded happily and went immediately to retrieve it, placing it and a pair of wooden cups on the table before silently retreating. “You must be so pleased with yourself, Beast. Watching me blabber all this nonsense- I should’ve let the barmaid have you!” "I very much am," he answered, a wide grin on his face as he watched her intently, studying every twist on her lips, every burrowed frown, every blush. "But I would rather have you than her." “Ugh! You drive me mad. Saying all those things. Making me lie in bed and wonder stupidly if you meant them-!” "Perhaps I should have awakened you by returning the favor you did me with your lips? Perhaps you would have rather let me keep you in bed for days, with the things I would've done to you. I have never had a woman so sensitive, but I would have loved to break you thoroughly. I didn't for your sake, but perhaps next time I shan't be so considerate..."

He sighed, his erection raging just thinking about all the things he would've done, all the things he would've said. “…Did you… mean them?”

Xeno was silent. He stared into her eyes, studied her girly, innocent features. "I meant them and so much more."

Of course, she was much more concerned for her own sanity, trying her best to reason away the feelings blossoming in her. He himself was cool, thoughtless and fearless. He didn't even bother to think about the consequences of his words. In his yearning. “I think I’ve officially lost it.”

"Hey," He caught her hand in her hair, taking it in his own and pulling it down, filling the spaces between her fingers with his own. He smirked, his eyes dreamy and wicked. "Want to go back upstairs and really lose it? There's plenty of time before your match at the Colosseum. I'm sure we could have some fun together..."
 
Memories of the night steeped into her brain like a lucid dream. Her mind was running at a thousand paces per second; bombarded by images of their skin melding together in sweet, and carnal caresses. She was dissecting the events down to every impassioned touch. His lips against her throat, his breath against her ear, the way he looked at her. It was insanity. No one could ever look at her… the way he did.

The icy cliffs of Rafiya had been a wretched prison to the princess. The illustrious gilden world, fabricated by a paintbrush piled with ash, was but a beauty to benighted eyes. It was a profusion of lustrous attire, fine ale, and insipid small talk. The glittering capital, burrowed deep in the Valyrian forest, had laid witness to the birth of the first child of Thorn. She emerged with the hair of a raven, and skin like the dead. Pale, weak, and unwanted. The mark of the Devil had arrived on the King’s doorstep, filling him with insurmountable rage. The young girl was taught to hide her tail and horns, omens of another world. It had become clear she did not belong on this plane of existence, fallen into the daylight like a black sunrise. Chains and whips bound her to a dreaded fate upon a throne, that was sure to be her noose. Whether she was covered in jewels, or blood- the eyes of Rafiya beheld her with revulsion.

But he… he looked at her like she was his world. Never had she suspected to be so profoundly rendered bare. Those earth-stained eyes cast charming vines, gently weeding their roots into her depths. The man espied all within her arcane vessel, missing not a single ounce of her proscribed dreams. Brackish moisture threatened to wet her lashes, her eyes stinging as she strained to squelch the sudden onrush.

The two were lone constellations, Morgana- the brink of a falling star. But Xeno stitched the milky way between them, becoming the sun, moon, and her entire sky. This was a gift she struggled to accept. It was too much for a fallen, someone meant to be cast away from the heavens and damned. Yet when he looked at her, he said ‘You belong in the night sky. Your constellation shines brighter than Venus’. And with his ardor, he became her god.

His eyes bright as Hellfire, held her in unwavering intensity. Xeno looked as though he would make a pact with her right then and there that would last an eternity. She might’ve called him foolish for investing in a product he did not know much about. Consequently, his eyes spoke as if he knew all.

“Hey,” he breathed, catching her hand and tangling their fingers together, bringing her back down to earth. “Want to go back upstairs and really lose it? There's plenty of time before your match at the Colosseum. I'm sure we could have some fun together...”

Morgana scoffed at him, but didn’t retract her hand from his grasp. “Are you trying to get me killed?” She mused playfully, raising an eyebrow at him. She was stalling to speak about the truths that crackled beneath their light banter, clinging to their aimless small-talk as an escape. “I need to be able to fight, let alone stand. Thank you very much.” She added snarkily, twisting her lips to the side.

"I meant them and so much more."

A sigh befell her lips, her eyes straying elsewhere, before returning to his burning gaze. “Xeno.” She squeezed his hand, as if to say cut the crap. “You’re giving me a very dangerous look.” Her emerald eyes drifted down to his chest, rising and falling with each breath. Mortality was such a fragile thing. One wrong move, and they were dead.

“I have a feeling both you and I share the same distaste for formalities and useless dawdling. And since you so desperately insist to push-” She closed her eyes, pained by the strange pattern of her heartbeat.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” She shook her head, as if trying to banish a bad dream. “If you still think you’re the villain of this story- I can’t tell you how wrong you are.”

Morgana let loose a strangled breath. “You’re sinfully attractive, and wicked, and I cannot tell you how much I hate you for it.” Instinctively, her other hand moved to find comfort in her hair once more. “You tempt the criminal in me so much its maddening.” She laughed bitterly. Her eyes finally scrolled over the dark, inky brand on his arm. The color from her face drained, her features etched in a grim tone.

“Most of all, I hate you for making me feel this way.” Her throat grew dry, clenching painfully as she tried to swallow the emotions bubbling up in there. “Like you care for me.” Sparks of emerald darted to his gaze, whirling in depthless pools of despair. “Like I’m beautiful. Like I am anything more than a monster.” She choked on her words, wishing she could just disappear into a corner.

“So don’t look at me like that.” Morgana whispered, hiding her face against his chest. “I won’t be able to stop. Because this… can’t happen.” The inner war of her being, threatened to tear her apart. “I am to be Queen. Feelings are irrelevant to people like me. It is a privilege we do not share.” Her stomach churned, flip flopping and blurring the lines between frost and fire. Adrenaline tainted her wiles, taming her tongue to answer with discretion. Duty, backlash, and desire cast against each other in a cacophony of oxymorons. She felt sick. “Because if this happens, I won’t be able to return to Rafiya as the same girl I once was. As the girl who could not feel whatever pain I must suffer- as a part of my penance in this world.”

Pulling back from his chest, her raven hair fell as a curtain over her eyes, her throat bobbing. She could no longer bring herself to speak. The woman could only think of how she hated feeling…weak. Her thin fingers formed a fist in her hair, tugging against her scalp as if the pain could will her back to reality.
 
“Are you trying to get me killed?”

"No, that's you." He chuckled, letting his hand wander from her waist and a little further down to squeeze her ass cheek between his fingers. Xeno noticed that she didn't necessarily say 'no' to the suggestion because she didn't like the idea, but rather because of the prior arrangements they had to attend to later in the day. He hadn't the chance to ask her how she liked their night together, but her disposition suggested she'd liked it just fine. "So tonight, then. I have a few tricks up my sleeve still. You didn't give me the chance to really show you what I'm capable of..." He said, almost regretfully so, but a bit too pleased by her proximity to really feel anything but ecstatic. He was beaming with joy, despite his rugged and arrogant look; something that Morgana would easily see if she only took a look over his shoulder to see his wagging tail, restless and enthusiastic as it brushed against the floor.

“Xeno.”

"Mmm?" Her voice changed tone suddenly, causing the man to sober up naturally as well. The look on her face, as if she was troubled by something, tortured him as well. He didn't want her looking that way. He wanted to see the innocent, seductive smile that she wore when she first jumped down from the second floor. He wanted to rid her of this suffering she was subjected to. Or at the very least, he wanted to bear it with her.

“You’re giving me a very dangerous look.”

"I could make it more dangerous..."

He let her speak her mind, putting an extra effort to lay his tongue down as to avoid himself making any more snarky comments after that. She told him that he didn't know what he was getting into, yet that fact had never stopped him from anything in the past. When he'd first fought a superior in his clan, he was told that his life was forfeit to the monster in front of him. He was a child, and he didn't know his place. His mother had tried to talk him down, but the man had forced himself on her and he would not let his mother's honor be destroyed like that. Xeno had emerged victorious, the man lying lifeless at his feet. When it was time for his father to choose an heir from the multitude of children he'd fathered, all from different mothers, his own mother told him to run away, fearful of his life. He was the child of the tribe patriarch, yes, but there were countless other women stronger than her, children that were stronger than him. Yet he was the only one left standing in the end. For Morgana to tell him he didn't know what he was getting into was meaningless to him.

Next she spoke of him, unloaded compliments coated with a disdain. For him? For herself? He couldn't tell, but he could not gloat over the girl's attraction to him because he knew there was a 'but' somewhere hidden in all of her words. She was prideful. Strong-willed. She was anything but the kind of woman who would adore a man like him. That was the reason why he had chosen to pursue her, because she wasn't easy prey. And even now, as she sat on his lap, as she squeezed his hand and didn't let go, he was pained by the knowledge that there was something that kept her from returning his feelings completely. He bit the inside of his lip, frustation welling in his chest.

He listened to her speak about hating him, because he didn't simply desire her out of lust, but something else. Something that even he couldn't quite understand. She said that she felt like he cared for her. He did. That he made her feel beautiful. She was. Like she wasn't just a monster, as she had been led to believe by her people, by her father. Because she wasn't. She wasn't a princess. She wasn't a demon. She wasn't some monster to be reviled and hated and blamed for the evil in this world. She was just Morgana to him, a girl that had been deprived of the love she deserved. Just like he'd never had a father to guide him, to teach him honor and bravery and compassion, she hadn't had a father to pamper and spoil her, to help her realize she deserved much more than she was given. But unlike him, she hadn't a mother to nurture and hold her and shield her from the cruelty of this world. He let her speak of all those feelings that welled in her chest, because it was all he could do for her.

But it was when she spoke not of herself, but them that he could not keep quiet. “So don’t look at me like that.” Why? He asked, himself, her, the world. He couldn't understand. “I won’t be able to stop. Because this… can’t happen.” Why? It made no sense to him. He didn't want it to make sense. “I am to be Queen. Feelings are irrelevant to people like me. It is a privilege we do not share." Why? He wasn't going to accept such a skewed logic. It was silly, immature, the ramblings of a child. A child who thought she knew a thing about the world. “Because if this happens, I won’t be able to return to Rafiya as the same girl I once was. As the girl who could not feel whatever pain I must suffer- as a part of my penance in this world.” Why? She had called him a brute, yet she was the one spilling out nonsense, unable to see things logically. Unable to make a decision for herself. She was a puppet, to her father, to her people, to the world.

"Why?" He asked through clenched teeth. Inside, he was shaking with a festering rage, only his eyes, the windows to his emotions, burning with it. Outside, he was composed, his voice even and cool. "Why do you tell me all of these things? Do you think you can stop me from pursuing you after saying all of these idiotic, nonsensical things?" He was mad with rage, not at her but at the world that had caused her to close off her heart like this. Yet he would not unleash this rage onto said world. He would use it to thaw out her heart with the burning fire of his own. "You can say all you want, but you can't stop me from going after you. You can try and shut me out, but I'll tear through all the walls you put up if I have to. I'll rip out your heart and take it as mine if I have to. Your body, your mind, your heart, they'll all be mine, even if it kills me. Even if I die and you still live, I'll make sure that your heart grieves for me every day of your remaining, miserable life. I'll make sure that you think about me, about my words, while you sit on your throne and try to lead a country. That your body remembers the touch of my fingertips, that it burns, that it anguishes, that it misses my touch every single moment while you still draw breath."

Xeno reached to grab her chin, catching it between his index and his thumb, pulling her face to look up at him, his lips hovering over hers. "I'll have you regret not kissing me when you had the chance." He muttered, a breath left only on her lips as he pushed her off him and set her down on her own chair. He stood up from his chair and stretched his tail out, having tensed it up as soon as the mood between them had changed.

"Anyway," he grabbed a cup from the table and poured himself a big drink, gulping it down in one go and letting out a sigh. "We've wasted enough time. It's about time we made our way to the Colosseum."
 
Ire proliferated between their auras, saturating the air with spleen. The woman rose from the table abruptly, emitting a spiteful growl between her teeth. She was more of an animal than some dared to judge, baring her fangs when her pride was left injured. Why, he’d demanded obtusely- as if there were any other explanation to her decision. Their worlds were vastly different. The wolfman possessed freedom, no matter if it had been wrenched from sin and blood. She was drowning in it- death curdling in her veins and suffocating her lungs- but she was not free. She was still bound to the same throne her mother had been, barely two decades before. It was emptied by the time she was four; Thorn having put her on trial for claims of Treason. It was the perfect crime. The Elven Kingdoms were too vapid to care for acts of adultery, like other nations. Both Queens and Kings were entitled to their harems, basking in provisional vows of admiration. Treason, however, was merely a few ciphered letters away from a death sentence. She’d watched her mother, a woman more beautiful than she could’ve ever hoped to grow up, kneel at the chopping block before all of the Capital. A few days, only a few days before she had been the most respected woman amongst all Fae. But in that moment, every person in the main courtyard, threw stones along with their filthy slander. And when her head rolled into a basket, after one deft swing of an ax, her Father leaned down to her ear. This is what it’s like to be Queen, he said.

“You’re an ass.” She snapped, her palms fighting not to singe the wood on the table. He didn’t know what it was like to be a prisoner. Death was a constant ax over her head, waiting patiently for her demise. She’d starved, and she’d bled, and she’d survived just to break a chance at running free. Although no matter how many times she’d tried, she never made it far outside her cell. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t escape. Because she was still the heir to the Altair bloodline, so long as she was alive. This was her life. Become Queen. Marry a King. Produce heirs. And sit upon the throne while all the world vied for her crown, and her death along with it.

“This is the world we live in, Beast. Not that a usurper would understand.” The woman spat, shoving her chair in- if not only to avoid breaking it. “They can hate me. I can suffer the rest of my miserable life on a throne. But I am still Queen, and others will still plot against my life- throne or not. Even if the world wants me dead, I will still return to them. Because they are my people. There are those who suffer poverty, and famine, and starvation. And I am probably the only one in that godforsaken den of politics, that knows what it feels like.” Flame threatened to spew from her fists, balled at her sides in anguish. “I don’t have the luxury to choose whatever it is you picture between us. There are things that are more important than us.” Morgana’s eyes flashed with a sense of hurt, wishing she could say differently. “People will die, if I run away. If not for abandoning my god-given duty- then for protecting me from the consequences. I will not let anyone give up their life, just so I can live out some fantasy.”

“That is exactly why this cannot happen. Because if I want to be able to survive in that place, I must be able to endure my fate. I cannot afford to spare my time on feelings.” She turned on her heel and left out the Tavern’s exit.

---

The trek to the Colosseum was lined with busy streets and emphatic crowds, littering the city with noise. She hated how he posed the question, as if there were any other option. Why would there be? It was her fate. …Wasn’t it? Morgana pushed through the mobs of people, reaching the Southern Gate after a few good minutes of shoving. The red-bearded man was nowhere to be found, with just a guard loitering by the gate’s edge. She noticed him to be slacking against a dark corridor, likely leading to the inner chamber of the Arena. His arms crossed, his eyes squinting to block out the sunlight under the slim cover of shade, he gave a lazy warning.

“Wrong way.” Was all he said, stepping a bit closer to overlap the entrance in case she tried to make a break for it. Morgana rolled her eyes. Was this city filled with morons, or did she have a third eye?

“I have a fight scheduled.” She informed him, but he did not inch away from his spot.

“Oh yeah?” He grumbled, attempting mockery.

Morgana hissed. “Look, I’m not in the mood for this-” She unsheathed her only dagger from the strap at her thigh, denting it into the wooden panel beside his head. “So move.”

The guard blinked in surprise, edging sideways to clear her path. “He said you were a snappy bitch. Didn’t think he was serious.”

She ignored his comment and stomped down the empty corridor; poorly lit by fading torches. There was a dip in the path that grew into a larger space, where a rustled rack of weapons were hung- next to another gate. Light pooled from the center of the arena, illuminating the corner just enough for her to inspect her options. She scowled at the clunky metal objects, all seemingly dull and worn from battle. There was a mace, a short staff, and club. All blunt, short-ranged weapons. They certainly didn’t intend to make this easy, did they? Her hand clasped the handle of the mace, studying the only jagged edge that could possibly deal sustaining damage. She spent her time attempting to acclimate to its weight, only to realize its balance was throne off by a missing spike on the rear. Was there some rule against impaling people? Was she supposed to beat her opponent to death?

A horn sounded into the Arena, piercing, and placating the crowds into clouds of muffled whispers. She jumped in surprise, belatedly shielding her sensitive ears from the terribly racket that bounced off the Colosseum’s acoustics. The announcer began to shout from the Western edge of the inner circle, while the gate before her unclicked and gradually rose. “For our Fifth match of the day, we have ourselves a girl. A black-haired elf that goes by the name Morgana. She is one of only twelve women who have entered the ring in the Colosseum’s history. And with such a fortuitous entry, we felt it was only right to hit the ground running.” Morgana stepped out, holding her crappy, sabotaged mace in her right hand as she paced slowly towards the centre. She could hardly believe the amount of people that’d shown up; calling for blood as they sat as leisurely spectators. Three rows higher from the announcer, sat the Magistrate- the red-bearded bastard that'd given her such a hard time in entering. He seemed to be beholding her rather smugly, his arms crossed in satisfaction as if to say ‘you’ll get what’s coming to ya’.

“Our opponent has claimed many victories in this ring. You know him very well from last season’s semi-finals! I present, Vatu.” The crowd erupted into jeers and shouts, the excitement percolating down into her pores. Va-tu, Va-tu, the people cheered, demanding for his debut into the Arena. So, they were putting her against a semi-finalist? That’s strange. That would imply that the later matches allowed for some contestants to live. Which certainly wasn’t her first impression. Va-tu, Va-tu! His name echoed over her thrumming adrenaline, the Northern Gate peeling open. A roar ripped into the sky, shaking the air and jostling every breath in the space. Morgana stepped back, eager to gain leeway at the far end of the ring, the roar vibrating in her ears. She knew this sound. A territorial creature, far worse than any bear or lion. It was a predator of the animal kingdom that exert overwhelming dominance, through the power of it’s toppling size and brute strength.

It was no wonder they’d provided blunt, close-range weapons. They wanted her to lose. This animal was going to hunt her, and tear her limb from limb. Some could barely manage with a proper weapon, but… this was madness. She shot a look of disgust at the Magistrate, who was watching her with a haughty grin. Morgana bared her fangs at him, snapping back to the battle at hand. Vatu emerged from his gate, massive, heavy paws prowling forth into the dust. He stood at over five feet, covered in a mane of glistening white fur. Her breath caught. Striking blue eyes locked on her, its whiskered lips pulling back over a set of powerful, sharp teeth. The creature snarled, surveying his prey with cold eyes. Morgana couldn’t bear to imagine how many lives he’d torn to shreds with just his jaws alone, waiting for his next meal behind iron bars. There was a greying stripe, unlike the black markings of his fur, they ran down the middle of his eyelid. A gnarly scar, no doubt sustained from one of his many battles. But he was beautiful. Reigning in the sunshine in all his glory, savoring the savage wealth to his name.

Morgana raised the mace in her hand, angling the single jagged edge, and grit her teeth. She grunted, smacking the metal into her fragile palm, and tearing through her flesh. The wound was deeper than she’d intended, the cut crooked at best. But it served its purpose, blood leaking between her clenched fingers to be swallowed up by the sand beneath her feet. She could hear a hum of confusion overcome the stadium, fluttering into gasps of shock and horror as her weapon clattered to the dirt. None could hope to understand the wild actions of the black-haired girl in the pit. No being standing upon legions of man-made stone, could understand just how wild she could be. The elf was not raised by the elegant ways of the Rafiyan Capital. It was outside, in the Valyrian forest, where she’d race with panther cubs in the eastern jungle- and lounge by the Chrovik River beside the Bear’s watering hole. Her boots kicked off somewhere to the side, she reveled in the warm sand feathering between her toes. Morgana traipsed toward Vatu in a diagonal prowl, not quite threatening the edges of his domain. It was only when she halted a mere ten feet away, that she careened forward, pouncing onto the massive tiger in one measured leap. The tiger gnashed its teeth, rolling onto its back to catch her attack, his paws swiping to deter her from his belly. The woman responded with a low growl, making a swing for his hind leg with her foot, only to go tumbling underneath him. She swiped and hissed, slipping out from underneath as if she were to run from his grasp. Though, no fool would attempt to run from a Siberian tiger. His body could propel forth faster than she could reach three feet of space between them. So she scrambled to stand, inches from his jaws, seconds away from his teeth ripping through her stomach. Her back to his face, she leapt backwards, shooting him a feral grin as her head hovered over his face- her legs kicking over the heavens and willing her momentum onto his back. Her legs locks around his sides, her palms meshing together to form a leash at the base of his neck, before she pulled with all her strength.

Vatu spluttered with rage, retaliating against her hold on his hind legs. Morgana yanked him off his balance, abandoning ship as his back collided with the ground. She’d messed up her footing in the landing as she tumbled sideways into the dirt. The breath had been knocked from her lungs, wasting precious seconds of revival as she pushed to lift herself from the ground. Her body did not obey, heavy as it clung to the blistering sands. Vatu had already recovered from the hit, roaring as he pinned her face-down in the dirt. His razored claws dug into her left shoulder, eliciting a penetrating scream from the girl beneath. Stay down, he was saying, rumbling in early victory. Morgana ground her teeth against the raw pain, roaring as she pushed out from under his claws. He let her back away from him, blood gushing down her back. But she didn’t stray too far, clutching her shoulder and laughing softly. “You bastard,” She mumbled, smiling, as she dove for him again. This time, Vatu spurred onto his back willingly, Morgana’s arms moving around his neck in a strangling position. Once again, the two rolled and swiped at each other, as if exchanging some form of savage conversation. They were not battling. They were playing. Their constant, wild dance had cleaved the two into opposite directions- forcing them to recollect from the wipeout and stand once more. But this time, neither pounced at one another. Morgana held out her palm, the tiger treading with slow, heavy steps toward her. Her emerald gaze was unflinching, while he sniffed at her palm. His lips curled, a muted grumble sibilating in his chest, before nuzzling into her hand. Her own lips had pulled into an infectious smile, so wide that she was beaming.

“Vatu.” She called for him under the uproar of the crowd above. The tiger purred in response, sealing their contract as he brushed past her side, moving to swipe his large tongue over the wound on her back. She brushed her fingers against the striped fur of his back, offering her mutual approval. Morgana exited the arena, the announcer railing behind her about the match in great spirit. Collecting her boots along the way to the gate, Vatu trailed closely at her side- making low growls of commentary every so often. As the two slipped into the dark corridor of the Southern entrance, Vatu began to hiss with predatory caution. He had stopped moving, shifting his weight onto his hind legs. She followed his glare, to find the Magistrate leaning at the corner.

“Gotta say girl, I’m impressed.” He began, trying to be inconspicuous as he took a step back from her new companion. “They like you.”

Morgana’s lips curled over her fangs, a similar expression to Vatu, as she retorted. “Who does?” She had no care for his praise, especially after he attempted to end her life in front of the entire city.

“The crowd! Didn’cha here em, back there?” The red-bearded man bellowed. Vatu took this as provocation, the hairs on his coat rising as a high-pitched meow melded with his rumbling annoyance. The Magistrate cleared his throat warily. “You can take the tiger as a token of congrats, since the beast seems tuh’…” He trailed off, feeling the vicious eyes of her familiar on his throat. “Payment, lass.” He grumbled hurriedly, dropping a leather pouch of coins onto the nearby bench. The coins thumped loudly against the wood, suggesting a hefty sum. Morgana snatched up the pouch, tapping her foot impatiently.

“Is that all?” She bit back sarcastically, her eyes flitting to Vatu every so often to survey his emotional status. To say the least, he wanted to make an afternoon snack out of the Scotsman.

“No,” the ginger replied sourly. “Don’t come back wearing that getup.”

“What?” She sizzled, folding her arms beneath her chest.

“You want to compete? Wear something that’ll entertain the crowd. Something that’s easy for them to recognize… and enjoy.” There was a slight perversion to his tone. “Maybe then, I won’t schedule your match so… unfairly.” He submit, before exiting out the opposite hallway.

Vatu moved to chase him, but Morgana shot him a look as if to say down, boy. Vatu snorted, following after her as they rejoined the sunlight. The two of them settled by the Eastern Gate, where Xeno would be emerging from his match. She was still too pissed to bother watching him, knowing well that he would emerge victorious. He wasn’t called the Beast King for nothing.

Vatu and her lounged against the wall, Morgana allowing the cat to nibble at her fingers or lick her injured palm, cleaning the wound. They were passing the time in silence, nestled against each other- until Vatu made a rough noise. This man, we are waiting for- have you mated with him?

Morgana balked, knowing it was a harmless question coming from a male tiger, but felt the blood rush to her face. “No.” She said, careful not to withdraw her palm from his mouth. It would come off as an insult. Vatu purred at this, and went back to nibbling on her fingers.

You smell like him, princess. Why have you not mated with this male? Vatu dropped her palm, studying her change in behavior.

“We’ve talked about this, Vatu. Don’t push it.” She warned. They had bantered about quite a lot of things, back in the Arena. Dominance, respect, livelihood. It wasn’t uncommon for tigers to be interested in the dominion of a female. This was his way of scoping out her territory. Deeming what he should protect, what portion belonged to him, what portion belonged to her. It was a function of territory and loyalty, more than anything else.

You and I are the same, princess. We kill, and we mate as we please. This is our way of life. He growled, but dropped the subject, nestling his head into her lap. Morgana contemplated Vatu’s sentiment, running her fingers through his mane. He was sensing the cowardice in her, left out to dry, while she was not occupied by the adrenaline of sparring back in the ring. I do not befriend cowards, he had said to her back then. She sighed bitterly, angling her head up to face the sky.

It had been easier to interact with humanity by enduring their customs, subjected to their prejudice. Perhaps she had not possessed a choice, back when she lived in Rafiya. Their world. Their rules. Their game. Any other form of retaliation would have landed her dead. But, she was no longer bound to the identity of a helpless monster, as she was in Rafiya. Xeno had freed her of that prison.

This is the world we live in, Beast. She’d said to him, earlier. He allowed her to picture a world where, somehow, the two of them fit. Where her life existed as a priority- whether she was Queen or not. She had her own desires, her own dreams- and she was sick of the world crushing them under its weight. Vatu became her familiar, not because she was capable of survival. He recognized her capability to rule. Over her life, over her desires, over her kingdom.

“I suppose I have to change the world we live in, then.” She whispered to herself, watching Vatu’s ears twitch.

Morgana jumped when Xeno emerged from the gate, causing Vatu’s head to shoot up. “You took long enough.” She quipped wistfully, brushing off the dirt from her pants as she moved to her feet. Vatu sniffed at the wolfman, making a small noise before nudging at Morgana.

“I don’t know about you, but I need a shower. And apparently I have errands to run. That ginger-bearded scum was hounding me about my appearance. Said I had to find something more suitable to wear during my matches, making me recognizable or whatever.” She scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. It was clear that she was uneasy around the Beast, wishing to make amends for their morning squabble.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes averting to the road. “I can’t exactly bring Vatu with me, since he’d scare off all the merchants.” She painted a quick excuse, stealing a glance at Xeno from beneath her lashes. “So I thought you might join me. I’m not good with making decisions on this kind of thing, and I could use a second opinion…”

Vatu interrupted her, dipping to rub against her hip. Stop flirting with the male, and let’s go. He demanded, drawing her attention back towards him. “I have to stop by the inn, anyway. Vatu is hungry, as am I.” She sufficed, nudging her head towards the road.
 
"A tiger, really?"

Xeno hadn't bothered to wait for Morgana when they left, a sour taste in his mouth as their discussion had quickly gone for the worst. He hated leaving things this way, with both of them left without saying a thousand more things, but it was all he could do to keep himself sane. He didn't even bother wishing her good luck, or letting her know he was gunning for her, looking elsewhere as the princess entered the stage and people cheered for her, then cheered even more loudly when they announced her opponent. His ears wiggled curiously at the sound of its name. 'Vatu' sounded like the name the children from the tribe would give to a mean-looking panther, saying things like 'that's one of Vatu's cubs' or 'we put this rock here because that's where Vatu's territory starts'. They were like the tribe's pet, at least until the hunters decided it was a special ocassion and, well, predator species were especially delicious during a hot summer night.

They were nothing to be impressed about, though. The small-minded people of the Badlands were probably in awe of the beast, and though Xeno would admit they'd probably fed it properly, it was nothing compared to the giant bears that inhabited the jungle around his old village. He watched with little interest as the woman fooled around with the animal. Just kill it, he thought to himself, a groan of frustration escaping him as the two seemed to play with each other. "He's playing with her," one of the other men watching in the waiting room said, digging his knife into a nearby bench and carving it. Probably the kind that liked bloodshed. "Well, it's just a big cat after all. They like to play with their food, right?" Another man commented, hands crossed over his chest. "Shame that a pretty face like hers is goin' to get torn off, but that's just the reality of the Colosseum." He added after a moment, turning away as if he was too pained to see the result. Xeno scoffed, letting his gaze wander off somewhere else. "This is why they don't let women sign up. Doesn't she have a husband? What was he thinking, letting her sign up like this." Yet another man chimed in as he finally decided what weapon to use from the pile he'd made.

"I don't decide what she does. And even if I did, she's got plenty of skill to shut you all up. He's not playing with her, they're both playing. See." He beckoned them to look out again, to see as Morgana managed to tame the beast, the entire audience clamoring for her. The men stood there, slack-jawed. They would say it was rigged, that the Colosseum was a place for fighting and not a pet show, but they all grew silent the moment none of their excuses were dignified. He was next, and he had no time to indulge in foolish men's attempts to salvage their fragile prides.

As he approached the gate, he was stopped by a man guarding it. "Your weapon?" He asked.

Xeno cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, a bored look on his face as he grabbed the man and pushed him to the side. "You call those weapons? Half of them are falling apart and the other half is so dull I might as well have brought my own spoon from the inn. My fists will do just fine." As if to drive the point home, the king cracked his knuckles and stretched his arms out as he walked out to the stage. He was greeted by a myriad of hollers, booed till he couldn't hear a thing, trash thrown at him. "Ah... Just like old times." He smirked, having forgotten what it was to be the heel of the fight, the underdog that no one believed in. Back in Karindo, everyone knew who he was, knew that he would win. But here... he could be as brutal as he wanted. And he was really craving the feel of broken bones in his hands right at this moment.

"Yet another newcomer to the Colosseum, this time we have a member of the infamous animalkind, a man that goes by the name of Noxe," Infamous, was it? No wonder he everyone was so vocal about disliking him, and also the reason why he hardly saw any other beastmen in the streets. Only in the poorer districts did they dare to show their faces. It was probably because of him, too. He'd given his race a bad rap with his warmongering ways. The Badlands were a country of outlaws, but they were still people's homes... and they probably didn't like that he was currently waging war at their frontier. "On the other side, we have one of our veterans! He's lost an eye, he's lost a finger, but he's never lost his fighting spirit! Vian!" At that, they cheered, a man with an eyepatch and, true to the word, missing a few fingers walked out from the gate opposite of his.

"I'll show you a bit of our city's hospitality, doggie. What's more important to you? Your tail or one of your ears?" The man brandished a dull knife and licked it, making Xeno flinch in disgust. Not only would that make it really painful and slow to cut off either of those, but it was probably infected with tons of illnesses from the oxidation and all the blood. And he licked it. He was going to lose a tongue eventually if he always did that.

"I'd rather keep both." Xeno said, a chuckle from the man as he lunged at the Beast King. Oh, so he was that kind of fighter. Good to know.

"I think I'll cut off your tongue to teach you some respect-- Hey, unhand me-- Ack...!"

Within seconds, the man was lifted up into the air by Xeno, who held him over his head. The man struggled for his life, moving much like a wriggling earthworm that had just been pulled out of its burrow. Xeno didn't listen, of course, holding him straight up before slamming the man on his knee, an audible crack as the man's back broke into countless pieces. The dark-haired man let the man down on the ground. "I deliberately avoided breaking your spine. I'm used to being insulted by people, but if I ever hear you insulting me because of my race, I'll find you and drive my sword through your spine, you hear?" The man nodded, rolling over to his stomach. There was a dumbfounded silence for a moment, immediately followed by calls for the man's death from every side. Xeno and Vian both stopped, exchanging a look. Fame was everything in this city. Being known would make it easier for him to get information, to get places he normally wouldn't be able to.

... But he wouldn't kill unless it was necessary. Even as trash and rotten fruits were thrown at him, he didn't flinch, going back into the walls.

“You took long enough.”

Xeno rolled his eyes, displeased at the fact that he was ambushed. "I literally broke the man's back in five seconds flat. Was I supposed to incinerate him the moment he walked out with some hocus pocus magic like you would?" He hissed, turning his attention to the beast that dared to get close to him, sniffing him as if to get acquainted to him. "Tell it to stay away from me or we'll have a problem."

His tail swirled restlessly, hardly shy about his annoyance. The Beast couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes, a distant look in his own amber orbs as she spoke. "If you need a shower, then go ahead. We have separate keys, right? I'm sure you can find your way back to the inn by yourself. It's hardly my concern what that fat bastard tells you to do, is it?"

It was his turn to scoff at her comment on the tiger. Vatu, or whatever the animal was called, would scare off just about anyone. He didn't see a way they would let it into the inn, at any rate, and the desert wasn't exactly the place one would expect to find tigers. They ate a lot and the desert wasn't exactly ripe with prey. “So I thought you might join me. I’m not good with making decisions on this kind of thing, and I could use a second opinion…”

"From an usurper?" He bit out bitterly. "Come now. Do you really think I'm so small-minded that I would say yes to that after all that you said? Do you really have the time to go out shopping with me? Is that not part of 'living out some fantasy'?"

He shook his head, looking down to the overgrown cat nudging her. "Take your cat and feed it. I have half a brain to mind my own business."
 
He was still angry with her. Not that she could very well blame him. Guilt colored her features as she recalled the nasty fight that’d transpired that morning. She’d divulged oceans worth of her own darkness onto the table, festering into thorns that were bound to hurt them both. Remorse slithered into her chest, clenching around her heart. She wasn’t sure when it had happened. Whether it was back in that throne room, or in the Arena today. There was a shift, from the world she once knew.

There were countless ages spent in vacant isolation, waiting to rule a dynasty that would never belong to her. While an arid sun wore down on elder, withering cement- she dreamed of raindrops permeating the soil far below. She painted the world in her black and white ashes, across every wall, dresser, and window. For miles upon stretch one could see water and meadows, and woods untouched. During great parties behind locked doors, she could drown in the hum of Dwarvish pipes and Elvish fiddles- imagining a fallacy forbidden.

She never imagined herself dallying with demons and destiny. Hopeless wishes and shackled duties were the contents of her heart. Frozen, by hellish winters of Southern Rafiya and perished to hollow bone. Every muscle in her body learned to ache in the stead of the mangled fractures pumping crimson vigor beneath her flesh.

The composure Morgana held had been an impenetrable edifice of thickly coated defense. Until suddenly, a door appeared. With no notice, it became her haunting throughout the morning, singing mockery with a key hung about her neck. She’d studied the arch of her newly built doorway, stroking her fingers against the inner chambers of her heartspace. Terrifyingly, she wanted to be utterly vulnerable to him. Inhaling a deep breath, her restraints felt lighter. She’d not bail on her first intentions. No matter how much fear struck her core. Hesitantly, she plucked the key from the string once tied around her neck- shoving it into the lock with eyes closed. The knob groaned at its abrupt freedom, clicking the fortress door wide open. The brick and mortar remained resolute, but the doorway respired movement into the interior. Suddenly, there was a ray of light, beaming over its jaded borders.

“Vatu, go hunt.” She ordered without looking to the predator. Give me some time. You know where to find me. And behave. These commands were laced with her words, Vatu emitting a short growl before stalking off. He was heading towards an oasis at the far edge of the city, inhabiting a small unique jungle of forestry. Once the feline was out of sight, she took a cautious step towards the canine before her.

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes burned, her throat tight with the same mess of emotion she’d bared in the Tavern. “I was a coward.” The edges of her voice broke, as her teeth sank into her lower lip. “It was easier to run. Easier to pretend that I didn’t have a heart. Easier to lie in the bed that was made for me since birth. That I was a vile creature, deserving of their hatred. That weakness, that love wasn’t an option for me.” The word was estranged to her tongue, not having spoken it aloud in quite some time. “But I’m tired of pretending that I don’t have my own wants and desires. As if I don’t feel. As if I don’t belong to myself, but to a world I despise more than anything on this planet.” Her fingers wove into her hair, urging her to push past the fear that threatened to paralyze her. “I’d known. Since the first moment I laid eyes on you- that you were not the monster this godforsaken world painted you to be. But I pushed that part of myself down, because it was easier to hate you.” She cringed, her eyes sealing shut in agony at her own shame. “The truth was, the second I stepped outside of Rafiya, it had all been my choice. My life had been nothing but hell, and for once, I just wanted to make it easier.” Her arm moved over her mouth to stop her lip from quivering. “I’m sorry. For what I said this morning- for all of it.”

Blood was beginning to bead under the attention of her left fang, pricking into the gentle tremors of her lip. Her arm moved to run through her hair again. “God, I can’t stand myself.” She murmured, kicking the dirt with her boot. The dark etchings of her brows knit together, orbs of sage and sea whirling with tumultuous expression. “I fancy you.” Morgana’s heel dug into the sand. She was holding back again. “That’s not true. It’s more complicated than that.” She shook her head at herself, draping an arm over her stomach as if she could reel in her embarrassment. “I am still the same nightmare of a being. And I still think you’re insane, and that you don’t have a clue what you’re getting yourself into.” She laughed a little, broken, bitter laugh. “But, I am sorry that I was never honest with you. And if I’m still being honest, I care for you.” The raven-haired girl clutched her chest. “I care for you so much that my heart…hurts.” She stared down at her chest with tortured perplexity, unfamiliar with the sensation.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I really want to hocus pocus away these wounds, and the stench of blood.” There was no hint of iciness in her tone, as she announced her intention to shower. Her voice was a mixture of passive, forlorn humor and yearning. “You’re welcome to join me, if you wish.”
 
Though Xeno was not a man of patience, it was nearly impossible to anger him; in battle, the first to let rage control them, and not control their rage, was destined to fall. Many men wrongly thought their anger to be the source of their strength, but the Beast King knew better than that. He knew that those daring to insult him simply wished to see him at his weakest, when he was not in control of his emotions. Yet they would never manage to inflict the anger that Morgana caused in him. He was fuming, unable to think clearly, as he was forced to share space with the woman. He didn't want anything to do with her. When he had bore himself to her, he had trusted her. He'd been wrong.

She sent her cat away, but he did not care for her reasons. Xeno found himself distancing from her, a wall being created between them, brick-by-brick, as every second, every instant passed. The night before seemed to have been nothing but a dream that they had shared, nothing more than a lie. He felt used and thrown away. Xeno growled in annoyance as the woman took a step toward him.

He looked down to her, if only to grant her the respect she hadn't deemed him worthy of as she spewed those venomous words of hers, no doubt orchestrated to strike at his every chord, to make him feel powerless. To make the Beast suffer. His brand burned, with grief, with rage, as she opened her mouth and apologized. His eyes widened only for an instant, surprised that the princess even knew what those words meant. Still he laid frozen, his heart stilled by his own will. He wouldn't be shaken by her words again. As she called herself a coward, as she tried to reason her irrationality through the pain she had been made to suffer as a girl, and that even now haunted her. For her, not for the princess of Rafiya or the monster that she had been convinced she was, but for the girl Morgana, it must've been the most difficult thing to recognize her own weakness and allow him to see it. He was unable to look her in the eyes, his gaze wandering as she spoke, as she tried to make things better. He couldn't hear it. He didn't want to hear it. She was lying. Xeno dared to turn to her when there was a pause in her speech. "I wonder," he breathed, a thought made sound, as if he had said nothing at all. "I wish I could trust in your words, but how do I know this isn't one of your many lies? My heart is not your toy."

He groaned, bringing his own hand to his hair and pulling at the roots of mane. He couldn't allow his rotten heart to play these games with her. He couldn't let himself be manipulated by the woman's sweet words, tailored for him. He felt sick to the stomach as she declared that she didn't simply fancy him, but cared for him. For him? A stranger she had known for two days at the most? She was being honest to him? Xeno gritted his teeth, a great deal of strength mustered simply to let her talk without interruptions, to not show her why she was wrong in caring for him.

“You’re welcome to join me, if you wish.”

"You're unbelievable, still saying all of those things." The wolfman reached from behind her, his hands cupping either of her breasts in them, his lips to her ear. He squeezed her mounds over the leather, licked the salty liquid that poured out of her pores. He molded her softness in all the ways that he desired, pinning her against the wall and kicking her legs open, pressing his thigh between them. He rubbed her folds over her leather shorts with it. "Are you suggesting a repeat of last night by asking me to accompany you? I won't be as gentle, you know. I've got a lot of anger to work through and you're unlucky enough to be the closest to me in this moment. I was thinking of taking it out on your cat, but since you were so generous to get him out of the picture, I suppose you'll do."

With that, he let her go, almost as suddenly as he had grabbed her. "Let's go," he commanded, allowing her to lead the way, his hand swinging and slapping one of her ass cheeks, almost as if she was a cargo horse that needed to be spurred on. He would continue this treatment whenever the girl slowed to a pace that the king was not happy with, the loud snap of his hand on her cheek echoing through the populated streets of the city. More than once, attention was brought to them, the man's grin sadistic as they made their way through the streets and until they finally made it back to the inn. Once they were inside, he looked around, meeting gazes with Windry and giving her a nod of acknowledgement before guiding Morgana upstairs.

"First off..." Halfway through the hallway, Xeno stopped them, motioning the girl to lean against the wall. As he did, he pulled her lower body to him, his raging erection bulging in the front of his pants and poking between her legs. The sensation did not stay for long, however, as he knelt down and dug his face between her legs. "We need to find you some skirts. The audiences love a good show and the way you move will really make it easy for you to give them a good show. Bonus points if you don't wear anything underneath. Especially for me. It'll make future inspections more fun." He said matter-of-factly, running his fingers along her center, unmaking her belt as he slid back up to his feet and wrapped the leather accesory around Morgana's neck. "A choker should do fine, too. Oh, and something that shows more cleavage. Ditch your brassiere, too. In fact, stop wearing underwear altogether..."
 
As her heart stilled into a flurry, a myriad of sensation had settled into her bones. A single night transgressed beyond the pastures of what the woman could touch. Mired in dirt and former envy, sat a glistening, solid piece of a lost heirloom. Love had become tangible. It shined as brightly as their entwined souls, bobbing in the abyss, and floating among a cavern. It ignored even Gravity, the god-deemed reigning King. And then, with his words, it sank back down into the blackened swamp of her chest.

His touch no longer brought her solace or the understanding she so craved. It was rough, and spiteful- searching for the hole in her chest if only just to rip out its newly-revived vessel.

I've got a lot of anger to work through and you're unlucky enough to be the closest to me in this moment. I was thinking of taking it out on your cat, but since you were so generous to get him out of the picture, I suppose you'll do.

“Vatu is my familiar, and you will not lay a hand on him.” She growled, her teeth chattering between his unsolicited touches of pure anguish.

Between their bond, there was nothing left untranslated. There were moments where she could feel his suffering, and he could sense her darkness. But the threads were now tangled into a wretched mess. Foraging through the serpentine morass bridged between gaunt souls, fraught fingertips abraded melting mortar, blindly taking flight to their ends. She had opened up to him, the way he’d wished. The way he so painfully demanded her to submit to him. With her lips, she’d entreated him to shatter the labyrinth of their dawning hearts. With his lips, wrought into a hellish curl, betrayal shuddered down the bond. The rash actions of her dastardly, charming villain had her a contradictory storm of yearning and regret. Morgana had managed to caulk the gaping wound in her chest, as he ushered her down the streets and into the inn.

With every part of her that once was- the girl who’d survived the heinous torture behind castle walls- she swallowed the humiliation cultivating on her skin. She buried her head under shallow waters, until the moment arrived where they were alone. Against a wall, pinned under him. Her own belt fastened around her neck felt too much like the iron shackles of Rafiya’s lower dungeons. It was only in the privacy of her fragile heart, and Xeno’s rage, that the tears became free flowing down her cheeks. Her hands scrambled to undo the buckle around her neck, shaking with humility at her broken state. The belt clattered to the ground, her hands moving against him to push him away.

“Don’t touch me.” She whispered between fractured breaths to quell her silent sobs. “I am not your whore.” Her voice was like gravel, teetering between white-hot rage, and harrowing sadness. This time, she managed to shove him off, garnering the strength to look at him. Even if she was raw, and open, and dying- what use was it to hide?

“You wanted the truth. You wanted to thaw me out and understand my tortured soul, and screw, and screw, until you were done with me.” She kicked the belt, her palm pushing her off the wall and singing the wood in the process. “And now you finally did it.” She seethed, raindrops pouring from her lashes like the solemn heavens. “I was ready to go against the world.” Her voice softened. “To- abandon everything that I knew, and mend my fucked up heart. I was ready to live again.” She resumed her vice of a habit, chewing on her troubled bottom lip. “And I wanted to give that part of myself to you.” The onyx horns in her skull made an appearance, her body unable to hide her true form in the midst of such a storm. “Because I don't only desire your body... but the woman you hide behind that icy heart of yours.” She scoffed, quoting what he had once uttered to her in the wake of their passions. “Who is the liar, now?”

Morgana turned down the hall, opening the door to her room. “You can join me in the shower, for all I care. Goddess knows we both are a filthy mess. Just don’t touch me.” She probably meant it in more way than one, unlocking the door and shutting it behind her. Although she didn’t lock it. No matter how much it pained her, she still cared for him. She still yearned for that small sliver of hope that maybe he would understand. Who was she kidding? She was foolish to think her heart would reach him. It was too broken, too weak, too heavy for his hands.

Shimmying out of her clothes, she tapped over to their connected washroom, turning on the hot water. On onrush of similar moisture threatened to stain her cheeks once more, reminded of the moments she’d spent- flesh to flesh, heart to heart- not a thing out of place.

“God, why do I have to be so weak?” She roared at herself, burrowing her face into her hands.
 
“Don’t touch me.”



Without a word, he unhanded her. He might've been a monster, a despot, a tyrant, but he would not take her if she didn't allow it. Instead, he simply stared at her in seething rage. His whore? No, she wasn't his whore. She wasn't anything of his. Just the same, he allowed her to break free of his grasp, giving no chase, following her not as she made distance between them. She was weak, though, and her pushing him did nothing to break them apart; he only stepped back at her insistence.



He glared at her, letting her speak in all of her anger, her hatred, her regret. He was unshaken by her trembling form. At some point, he might have thought of holding her, of comforting her, but that was not now. Instead, he was wrought with a sick satisfaction at knowing her suffering, knowing that he had the power to offend her like this. And part of him wanted to do more. He wanted to destroy her. She had once asked him to 'break her' and though he knew the meaning of those words were not this, he was too far gone to concern himself with that. “And I wanted to give that part of myself to you.” "You must be relieved that you don't have to choose now, don't you? You don't have to choose between your country and a damned monster like me. You're welcome!" He hissed at her, his hands balling into fists, wrath gathering in them like an energy he'd never felt before. “Who is the liar, now?” "I wasn't lying, but somehow I'm the villain when you're the one that was ready to discard us for your country. And now you say you were ready to leave that behind for me?"



He followed after her, not quite ready to leave things as they were. She had said her piece and now she wanted to walk away, but he had so much more to say. More than he could put into words in one lifetime. "Well, I'm sorry I don't believe you! In my court, the nobles lick my boots when they need something from me and criticize me when my decisions don't suit them. Everyone I've ever known has only ever wanted me for my power, and somehow I'm supposed to believe you're any different? You wanted to kill me, then you say you want me, then you say we can't be together and then you say you're sorry?" The door closed in front of him and he slammed at the wall next to it, slamming his head against the door hard enough that it drew blood. A single gash on his forehead poured the blood from it and down his nose, his lips, his chin. "I'm NOT your goddamn toy to play around with. Fuck you, Morgana. The moment we're done here, it's over between us. I don't want to see your face again. Go back to your damned elf country and be the martyr you so want to be. Keep on living with the illusion that you're doing anyone a favor by sacrificing your own happiness. I won't have a part in it."



He knew that she hadn't locked it - his ears were sharp enough to tell - but he didn't want anything to do with her anymore. At her offer to share the shower with him, he scoffed and walked over to his room, unlocking the door and locking it back up as soon as he walked in. He fell into his bed without a sound, hearing the sound of running water not long after. Arms crossed under his head, he stared up at the ceiling, a sigh leaving him as he slowly but surely drifted off into sleep. He was beyond exhausted and all he could think of was to drift off into sleep.



He was visited by images of hell. Images of his sickly mother holding him in his arms, smiling brightly down at him... and then death. She had died in her sleep one night, her coughing incessant. She had always been weak, so he thought nothing of her coughing fits. She would eventually go back to sleep, and that she did. But she didn't wake up. She didn't wake up, no matter how hard he shook her. Nobody came to mourn her during her wake. Nobody cried. Not even he did. His mother had always told him crying was the sign of weakness, beating him to a pulp in one of her hysteric episodes. And as tears ran down his face, she hit him harder. She hit him till her hands bled, and only then did he stop crying. Not because he didn't want to cry anymore, but because he was so bloody, so broken that he could not muster the strength to. That had been the last time he cried.



His life flashed before his eyes, memories of countless battles, of so much blood that he could have drowned the desert in it. His blood, the blood of his foes, the blood of his allies, the blood of his friends. All of it tasted the same. Smelled the same. Looked the same. As he dreamt of them, he couldn't tell the difference between friend or foe. As he held an old man too senile and tired to tell what was happening in his arms, bleeding out and growing colder each second, he wondered if there had ever been a meaning to all the bloodshed. And when he tried to die by shedding his own blood upon the River of Cuucula back in Karindo, the darkness took him and when he woke up, he was in a palace foreign to him, called King by a group of maids. He was king of a country he hated, of people that wanted him dead.



There was a reason why he couldn't believe it when Morgana said she cared for him; because it was impossible. He'd been born with the Mark of the Beast, a mark that gave him a cursed existence. She may have been born with the features of a demon, yes, but he was a symbol to his people, a symbol that would remind them of their slavery, of their suffering at the hands of her kind. And not just demonkind, but elvenkind as well. Animalkind was a relatively young race compared to the elves and the dragons and much more so than the demons. They had always been prey to the older races and had only broken free a millenium past. The proof was in the back of his neck, obscured by long hair. She had called him an usurper, but she did not know half of it- because his race could not let it be known that an accursed creature was their king.



Xeno stirred restlessly as he was made to remember these unpleasant memories, his tail furling around himself as if to hold himself.



There was no way Morgana could ever care for a man like him. That much, to him, was clear.
 
Water pitter-pattered around her feet, the stream running red from the remnants of earlier wounds. The water never ran hot enough, to embrace her frigid, quivering skin. Her insides were hardened by frost, spreading like a quick poison through her veins. The cold tore into the impenetrable fortress built upon glaciers, restless as it pushed elder pains up through her stomach and scratching against her throat. Silent screams from the bowels of her past, raged to break free. She’d forgotten how to make such a noise, long ago. It was a grim night, under the autumn squall. The blood was wet, and thick against her flesh- coating her in the stench of death. Buckets of it, drying into her hair and oozing beneath her clothes. There was a sickening ‘thud’ as she’d severed the twine that hung them like gruesome décor over the throne room. Bled out, limp, the bodies of some unfortunate lesser fae lying across the crimson floors. Not even from the center of the castle, could anyone hear her tattered screams. She was told it would keep their villages safe. So she’d tarnished her soul in a contract, to drain every last drop of their innocent lives, if it meant that her Father wouldn’t burn down Nochtis. He’d known she’d taken refuge last week in a villager’s home. It was punishment, it was vengeance, and it was all her stupid fault. But in the end, it was all a façade. The villager’s blood was for her. To keep the village safe from her. Because this is what it meant to be a monster. It was then, when she realized not a soul would hear her cries or witness her tears- that she’d silenced them into a distant memory.

Under the pouring shower, swimming in her mistakes and long lost tears- small, broken noises fell from her lips. She didn’t have the will to make a sound, wishing the water would swallow her up whole. She’d made penance for her sins. She’d done terrible, awful things. But she was no longer that helpless girl, soaked in a morose version of the world. An hour went by as she collected the shattered pieces of her heart, shoving them back together in a crude, bloody shape. Numbly, she’d cut the running water and shoved on her clothes. Vatu was waiting her return outside the inn, the sky thinning into a sunset. He did not say a word to her, and merely lowered himself to the ground- offering his back. She took it gratefully, climbing to mount him, and burying her hands into his mane. He was a silent comfort to the void, pulsing reckless swarms of darkness within her chest. The tiger took off to the jungled oasis on the outskirts of town, more lively than ever under the cast of moonlight. He reminded her of Naga, her first familiar. She had been like a mother to her, a female panther that had taken her in after the princess ran away into the Valyrian forest. Naga had taught her how to hunt, and had fed her when she didn’t have the will to do it herself. But Morgana had become the reason for her end. Thorn had eventually learned of the creature who’d kept her off castle grounds.

Morgana clutched herself to Vatu, squeezing her eyes shut to blink away the tears. She wouldn’t become the reason for more suffering. Not to herself, not to her familiar, not to her people. Hunting was the only outlet to her trapped, brambly feelings. Indulging in her savage ways, her hours were spent digging her teeth into freshly carved meat. She didn’t return to the inn until three in the morning- her skin slathered in a crude mixture of blood and muck. Vatu rested around the backside of the inn, while she subjected her body to another shower. She was soaked, her clothes dripping when she’d finished cleaning her stained leathers. Her linen undergarments clung to her skin, dripping in a way that matched her solemn tone. Strands of her dark hair stuck to her face, some of the ends tickling her shoulders, chest, and lower back. She stared at her freshly clean dagger for a long while, studying the way it glimmered under candlelight.

She’d spent enough time wallowing, swallowing the lump in her throat as she left her leathers to dry, and faced the connecting door to Xeno’s room. She flipped the lock with magic, creaking the door open to find him passed out on the bed. Her heart thumped painfully, aching at the sight of him. Morgana took in a breath, opening the door, and slamming it closed again as if she’d just entered the room- jolting him awake.

“We need to talk.” She said more firmly than she thought possible, taking a seat at the edge of his bed. “You can hate me, but I’m not going anywhere.” The woman toyed with the dagger in her hand for empty distraction. “Whether there is an us, or not- that Necromancer is still out there. I am not letting the world fall apart because of some petty fight.” She sighed, looking to him. “And I am not going to fucking apologize anymore for the way I feel, or the reasons why. I’ve spent too long without a heart. And while it may be shattered to bloody bits, I’m trying to pick up the pieces. Throne or not. Monster or not. I am a girl with feelings and desires and hopes. And they are just as valid as yours.”

The vessel in her chest was pumping erratically, her hands steady but her blood trembling as she straddled his hips. It was clear by the ashy embers in her emerald gaze, that her intent was not anything of sensual nature. It was dark, and vengeful, and pained. “Do you know… what that mark means, Xeno?” She inquired rhetorically, grazing her fingertips over his branded shoulder. “We can pretend, and fight, and go over the useless details of who cast the deeper wound.” She bared her fangs, snarling at him. “But I’m not going to fuel that anymore. I’m sick of the lies, and the bullshit. I’m not going to let these feelings destroy me. I’m not going to sit around like a sad little girl, waiting for you to decide to answer me. No, I’m going to rip into your chest and carve out your heart if I have to. Since you enjoyed doing the same to me, so much.” She hissed, pressing the blade to his throat. It wasn’t meant to be a threat, but a precaution to keep him lying down beneath her.

Her chest was heaving, her eyes wildly tormented by the truth about to spill from her lips. “That brand,” she whispered, her gaze locking with his. “Means that you are my mate.”

Every nerve in her body burned as she spoke the word aloud, concrete and bare. “At first it was easy for me to deny. All logic said it wasn’t possible. My mate could not be some mortal. It didn’t make sense, because you weren’t of my kind.” A wicked smile crossed her mouth, cruel as it perked upward. “But I saw… that darkness wading outside your aura. Because you aren’t mortal. Not with that mark on your soul. It’s of demonkind. My kind.” The glow in her eyes flared in vicious swirling green, her pupils contracting into dark slivers. “A usurper only in name- a King by blood. But you are still animalkind.” Her free hand pulled away from the brand. “I’m sure your kind are familiar with the term mate, aren’t you Beast?”

Morgana’s face fizzled away from her sinister display, her features falling back into a melancholy expression. She leaned back, putting some space between them. She was done playing, her eyes dry from pushing back unwanted moisture. “Because having a mate means that there is a bond. For a Fae, for an Elf like me- it changes us. Suddenly, this person becomes the gravity pulling us down to earth. They’re the air we breathe, the essence of our every waking moment. They consume our every thought and desire, until the need is bone-crushing.” She released the pressure of her blade, eliminating the proximity between them until her nose brushed with his.

The point of her dagger pressed against his shoulder. “This brand, is a symbol of that eternal bond between us.” She angled the blade, the edge digging into shadowy ink. “If you don’t want it, I can carve it out. I can hocus pocus it away, so that you don’t have to think of me when you look at it.” Salty waves pooled over her glassy eyes. “When we’re done with this war, when the Necromancer is gone, you’ll never have to see me again. And the bond will just wither away as if nothing ever happened.” The look on her face gave away more than she’d intended- contorted into an expression of harrowing sadness. Her dagger drew a small bead of blood. “So tell me not to do it.” She whimpered.

“Please.” Morgana whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek.
 
"He has the mark."

"He's a cursed child."

Inky shadows enveloped in mist gathered around him. He was cold. He was scared. He could feel them staring down on him, with fear, with disdain, with hatred. They were the tribe elders, chosen by his father to oversee his birth. Every one of his children got the same treatment, so that they would at least have a safe birth. If nature were to take them afterwards, it would not be his responsibility. He was smaller than the average child, cried more loudly than most children. And not only that, but he had a mark, not like the ones given at birth to each Vülkein child, but a mark spoken only in tales of destruction, of chaos. He cried out for his mother, from whom he'd been stolen.

"We must kill him, lest we allow chaos to engulf us once more. Quick, bring me the knife. We will say his heart stopped shortly after being born."

"No."

"Chieftain Xerxes? What... What do we have to thank for your presence?"

"I had heard the child was born with the Mark of the Beast. Is this true?"

"Yes, Your Greatness. We were just about to kill him. We must not allow--"

"Then he has a claim to the throne."

"Your Greatness?"

"Old scrolls that tell of our first King. He was the first to rise up to the tyranny of demons, despite being one of their chosen children. He was mortal, but had immortal blood. In his dying breath, he proclaimed that he would never die, as long as animalkind still remained. His blood, his spirit, would linger and he would be reincarnated a thousand times over to rule Karindo, and the world. This would be his first and last true decree as a king and it was stored within the scrolls of the palace, where no one could touch them or destroy them."

"What are you getting at, Your Greatness?"

"Let him live. He shall one day be of use to me."

--

There was a slam in the door, his eyes cracking open instantly. His hand went under his pillow, grabbing the blade underneath. An assassin? No... He knew the sound of these footsteps. "Morgana." To his chagrin, he was right.

“We need to talk.”

"We don't. You do. And you do, and you do, and you do. Seriously, is there ever a moment in which you do not speak?" He let go of the machete, knowing full well that she was no threat to him. Not because she couldn't kill him, but because doing so would leave her without the partner that she direly needed to get rid of the Necromancer... and because she was weak like that. Instead, he relaxed into his pillow, sighing something between annoyance and wistfulness. She would speak... and he would listen, as their relationship to this point seemed to point out. He was a man of few words and she was a woman who seemed to have only recently learned she had a voice and was determined to destroy it through sheer overuse. "I am a girl with feelings and desires and hopes. And they are just as valid as yours.” "I never said they weren't. That was... never the point of contention." He answered dryly, a brow raising in honest confusion. "What I said was that I wasn't going to be jerked around by your constant mood swings."

His hands reached around to the back of his head, holding it up as the princess straddled him, much like she had straddled him before in that tent. Back then, she wrapped her fingers around his neck, threatening him to not speak of her demon physiology. He had no interest in holding that over her head and so he agreed, daring her to really dig into his neck with her nails, her claws. “Do you know… what that mark means, Xeno?” "No... but I'm going to guess you're about to tell me." He refuted snarkily, a bored look on his face. This same scene, he'd seen it a hundred times. Seductive assassins promising him a fun night before his death. But she was not like them. Her eyes were filled with an ardent hatred. Just like his mother as she tried to suffocate him with her bare hands. "Why do you continue to haunt me?" He bit back tears, his voice muffled through gritted teeth, his eyes miles away, in a different place, in a different time.

“That brand... means that you are my mate.”

No snarky comeback, no nothing. He didn't know how to reply to her revelation. How was he supposed to answer that? He hadn't agreed to such a thing. He was all but ignorant! Her damn, dark magic...

But there was part of him that was elated. Happy. If that was the case, then it wouldn't be so easy for her to get rid of him. Even if she did manage to tear herself away from him, she would mourn, she would suffer for him. She would want to come back to him. She was his prey and he, her predator. They couldn't be without each other any longer. His throat was dry, his head leaning into the dagger's edge. “But I saw… that darkness wading outside your aura. Because you aren’t mortal. Not with that mark on your soul. It’s of demonkind. My kind.” "I'm not... a demon. Not in the way you are, at least. It's... complicated." She was really perceptive, he'd give her that, though her knowledge of his mark was limited at best. She could feel it, sure, but her words suggested she only felt the First King's dark influence on his soul. She didn't recognize that his soul was... tainted in a different way than hers. It made sense, though, to think they were made for each other in that way. "I am, though I believe our concept of 'mating' is quite different."

As she explained to him what it meant for him to be her mate for her, his brand burned, just like her eyes must've burnt as they fought back tears. Tears. She was crying. She was weak. She was in pain. Just like... he had been when his mother tried to kill him. He turned away, unable to face her. She was opening herself up to him, yet again, ready to discard her heart if it came to that. But he didn't want that. He didn't want her heart to be frozen, turned to stone, just like his.

"Morgana." He looked up at her, his eyes unshaking. "First off, get that knife off me." He demanded, slapping the weapon away with ease. The only reason she could even hope to detain him was because he willed it so. Back when she threatened him in his throne room, or when she choked him with her hands, it had all been because he thought it to be a fun situation to put himself in, knowing that he could just use his strength if he no longer found it fun. Now, though, he wasn't having fun. He didn't find it amusing. He had to be, for once in his life, serious about something. "Second... I never, EVER want you to take this brand away. Remember last night? I told you that all you had to do for me to be yours... was ask." He grabbed her wrist and yanked her down, reversing their positions in the blink of an eye. He held her cheek in his hand, so small he could easily cover her entire face with his palm. "And third... I forbid you from climbing on top of me like that ever again. You straddling my hips is a bad omen, like a red moon for wolfmen."

He smiled wistfully, wiping off the single tear that she had let herself shed... and licked it off his thumb. "I hereby promise you, that I won't betray your heart again. If you wish to be made the enemy of the world at my side, then let us..." He leaned down, speaking onto her lips, slowly getting closer, closer, till there was no space between them. "... properly seal this deal with the devil. My soul... for yours."

And he kissed her, his lips soft against hers. It was a brief, fleeting kiss, so short he wondered if he had even kissed her at all, but so tender and gentle that even he was surprised by it. His eyes fluttered open after a second, an inaudible sigh leaving him as he smiled down at her, his eyes delving into her soul through her own, deep seas. "Now... I reckon you should go back into your room. It's quite late, and I have a match tomorrow. Unless there was something else you wanted to discuss...?"
 
Her name fluttered off his lips as if he were summoning her, back from the icy pits of Hell. The knife slipped from her fingers and thudded to the wooden floor beside the bed.

I never, EVER want you to take this brand away. Remember last night? I told you that all you had to do for me to be yours... was ask.

The desolate storm wading in evergreen, threw her gaze wide with shock. It had not been the decision she’d expected. Her heart cusped on the verge of being petrified, by the frost of her yearning. The woman entered the room, prepared for the worst. Knowing, that even when she carved out the brand- even when they were separated by hundreds, thousands of miles- his memory of her would fade into a distant nightmare. And she, would be forced to live an eternity; haunted by the bond she was now shackled to. It was a miserable existence, to be deprived of something so divinely rare.

Instead, he yanked her down under him- trading their positions in one swift movement. His palm enveloped her cheek, the fruit of his warmth seeping into her skin like static. He was uttering his own decrees, stealing away a lone tear that seemed to have slipped past her defenses. “B-But you said it was over. You said you never wanted to see my face again- and…” She swallowed the urge to cry, droplets of seawater gathering onto the dark surface of her lashes. “I thought you couldn’t mean those things you said last night. Not after what I did, and I…” Her somber voice bumbled into silence. Her chest stung; not with the bite of chilling air. The nerves bundled inside were becoming riotous with overwrought edge. The wicked wolf smiled down at his prey, severing the space between them with each breath.

I hereby promise you, that I won't betray your heart again.

Tethers of the bond snapped and mended, the threads of their being untangling into sweet harmony. Whispers of a heart-rendering vow brushed against her pale lips, flooding with life. He vowed his undying loyalty, and his immortal soul, sealing their contract with the union of their lips. The Beast kissed her with a tenderness she’d never known, vowing his very existence to meld with hers. It was as if she hadn’t breathed for an eternity, a sense of weightlessness filling her lungs. Color splattered across her cheeks as he withdrew, a cocky grin plastered across his sinful lips. The same pair of lips that had just kissed her. He kissed her.

“You prick.” The insult was strangely filled with ardor, as she spoke the jibe affectionately. Blood warmed beneath her freckled nose and cheeks, her mouth exerting a great effort not to crack a smile.

"Now... I reckon you should go back into your room. It's quite late, and I have a match tomorrow. Unless there was something else you wanted to discuss...?"

“I have a few decrees of my own.” She replied coquettishly, her eyes sparking with zestful mischief.

“Firstly, I am a princess. It is about time you started treating me like one.” She sighed, her tail grazing against his thigh in a lazy manner. “I won’t bore you with the details of the bond, but- this bond can only exist between equals. I am your equal in every way. And I’d appreciated if you weren’t shouting down the bond about my weaknesses.” Morgana quirked a brow at him.

“I didn’t kill you- not because I was weak. Or that I couldn’t. I decided not to kill you. Because I didn’t want to be that person, anymore. I didn’t want to destroy… the part of me that wanted to care for you.”

It felt as if the sun would never wake the next morning. It would shrivel up in the soil of the sky, buried underneath watchful stars. The stars would gloat in their view, weaving together the worn fabrics of fate to pass the time. Draco would never devour the western sky, as they would stay forever embedded in eternal frost. Snowdrops would remain moribund below the thick cloud-cover, suffocating the grass of their dreamscape. She was falling. Deeper, lost to the deep end. In over her head, inhumed, and verging on her last breath.

“Second, Let me be the monarch of your pain. Let me be the harbinger of your destruction. I meant it before, and I mean it now.” She reached up to run a hand over his cheek, engulfed by his amber gaze. “Last night, you had this look in your eyes-” She cut herself off, biting her lip as hints of sorrow tainted her memory. “As if you didn’t want to exist.” She shook her head, the thought too painful to bear. “A part of me was breaking, in that moment. I couldn’t stand the sight of you, suffering as if you deserved to die. That is why I, am the only one allowed to cause you pain. Not yourself, not the world, just me. That burden is not yours, it is mine.” Nudge by nudge they could topple each other’s towers. Somehow, she sensed his was built from as much ruin as her own, sunken in its wake. He could light her fire, and it frightened her. Like staring into an unknown abyss.

“Third, live for me. It is too easy, to say that you would die for someone. So… live for me. I am still broken, but I am healing. And every piece of my shattered heart belongs to you.” The proximity between them was becoming an unbearable rift. She ached to be closer to him. Though her soaked linens were growing icy thorns in the midst of the cold, desert night.

“Ouch.” She hissed to herself, pinching at the strap of her top. The longer the drenched garments froze to her skin, the closer she was to sustaining a painful burn on her flesh. It was imperative that she detached herself, only for the opportunity to remove her clothing. No matter how embarrassing that would be. “Excuse me for one moment, before I die of hypothermia.” She mumbled sarcastically, with a hint of dry humor. Sliding out from under him, she wriggled out of her underwear- shivering, as she pulled the cropped linen slip over her head. Tossing the two damp garments over the footboard of the bedframe, she slid into the sheets to offer her some form of modesty, pulling herself close to his chest.

“As I was saying,” she continued. “Your princess has one last decree.” Her head tilted against the sheets, mischief dancing on her lips. “I won’t forgive you, until you kiss me a thousand more times.” Her arms slithered around his neck, comforted by his warmth. “You wolves are quite good at apologizing. If I remember correctly, you were kissing the wound on my neck this morning.” A soft giggle parted her lips, her eyes shining. “So I want you to apologize the best way you know how.” She shrugged her shoulders, her breasts bouncing lightly under the sheets at the movement.

“You’ve broken me… you’ve marked me… but, I don’t think you’ve worshipped me. Not quite yet.” She spoke in a hushed tone, her eyes wandering to the side in thought. “This morning, when you looked at me… like I was your entire world. I think that’s what it means to worship someone.” Averting her gaze back to him, her tail swayed faintly in delight at the memory. “Don’t just look at me like that. Show me.”
 
“You prick.”

"Not the sweetest thing to say after a kiss..." Xeno raised a brow, his lips hovering just above hers. He nuzzled her cheek, letting the moment pass without a sound.

She wore a delicate expression on her, her eyes slowly shifting into mischief. Something about that inspired concern to fill in his chest, a grunt echoing in the back of his brain as she expressed her intent on setting conditions to their relationship. He hated being controlled.

"Well, we're not the same. I've always considered you my equal, otherwise I never would have told you to accompany me here. My last concern was babysitting some princess who couldn't take care of herself. But still..." He slid his hand along the length of her leg, feeling her well-toned yet soft thighs on the tips of his fingers. She was small, smaller even than the average animalkind woman, but she was also nimble and capable of quickly jumping around. She was probably a master at finding blindspots, could kill him and any other mortal man without them even knowing what had happened. In a straight-up fight, however, he was stronger. So long as he knew she was after him, he would never lower his guard. "I do... want to protect you. You're always so... high-strung. Always looking over your shoulder. What kind of man am I if I can't at least take some of the burden?"

What kind of king couldn't protect his own subjects? Always he had fought only for himself, only for the thrill of battle, when the pain of his wounds dulled the pain of his soul as it was torn apart, by himself, by the world, by the Mark of the Beast. Never had he concerned himself with others, essentially discarding the human part of himself in favor of his own, twisted desires. He had, for far too long, ignored his duties as a king. Now that he had his Demon Queen, he realized it; he wanted to be more than what the world had painted him to be. He wanted to love.

Xeno snickered. "Heh, you're so selfish." He leaned into her cheek, biting on the corner of her palm, pricking the soft flesh with his fangs. A single bead of blood escaped from her skin and he lapped it, looking down at her curiously, his ambers heated yet calm as they studied her. Then he closed them, savoring her for just a moment before looking down at her with a smug smirk. "You don't just want my soul, my loyalty, my body... but you also want my suffering...? My, I should do something about that selfishness of yours. Someone ought to teach you some humility..." He uttered playfully. He wasn't against it, though; to allow himself to be vulnerable to someone, to have a single weakness and not have to worry about always being strong... It would really put a weight off his shoulders. He wasn't so sure about the pain part, though...

“Third, live for me."

"Ah... but what else would I do? You have brought me the joy of living, Morgana. I am in no rush to die. If I die, it shall be at your hands... or as we watch the world crumble together." He took her hand, nuzzling it up and down, before resting it back on his cheek. His tail flitted around restlessly, caressing her side, trying to warm up her frigid body with its fur. He pillowed her back, for what it was worth, with it.

It seemed like it wasn't need, however, as she quickly removed herself from under him, leaving him to stare at her back as she went ahead and removed her undergarments that tightly hugged her body. "You know, I still stand by my opinion that you'd look much better if you ditched the underclothes." He chuckled, watching her slim silhouette as the tight-fitting thread fell to the ground and left him with the figure that he'd been so lucky to enjoy not too long ago. It seemed the gods were generous, because he was allowed a second chance to feast his eyes upon her wondrous hourglass figure. As she went ahead and laid back down, covering herself in the sheets of the bed, Xeno contemplated for a moment, a ponderous expression on his face. "You know," he spoke up after a moment of deliberation. "I would love to be the one to rid you of your clothes."

His words were only a passing thought, however, letting himself focus back on Morgana's soft lips as she spoke up again. Her voice was muted, barely a whisper, but he could hear her so loudly that he wondered if the world was making any sounds at all. “I won’t forgive you, until you kiss me a thousand more times.” "Are you sure you don't want more? I could kiss you a million times, just tonight. And that's not a very heavy punishment..." As if to show how easily he could fulfill her request, he sneaked a kiss on her lips as she pulled him in by the neck, then on the corner of her lips, her cheek, counting each one under his breath as she continued to speak. "It's not the wolves that are good at apologizing. It's me." He corrected in a faux-offended tone, though his smile couldn't be wider as he went ahead and kissed her some more, practically marking every inch of her body with his lips. They were gentle, quick, ticklish pecks, teasing the girl with a hint of what he could really do. If only she had asked for more...

He slid under the sheets after removing his own clothes. He knelt up, straddling her as he unmade his belt in front of her and tossed it aside. His pants fell easily from his hips and he was swiftly removed of his boxers, his manhood hanging down arrogantly for her to see. After placing another kiss on her lips, he slid under the sheets, moving to kiss more of her. "Fifty-one... fifty-two..." “Don’t just look at me like that. Show me.” She didn't need to ask. Xeno was thrown into a trance as he pressed his lips to her collarbone, to her shoulder, as he kissed each of her fingertips. As he kissed her breasts, the valley between them, her stomach. The further he went down, the more lost he became in her body, a long, hungry sigh leaving his lips. And then, he reached her lower body. "Let me show you, Morgana, my princess, how very sorry I am..."

Xeno wasted no time in kissing her other set of lips, much more sensitive, much easier to tease. He kissed along her slit, then ran his tongue through its length. In the darkness, it was hard to find, but he was experienced enough to find her clit, pulling back its hood with his thumb before placing a light, swift kiss on it, followed by the flick of his tongue. As if knowing she would resist, the man reached up and caught her hands with his own, entangling her fingers with his own. "Mmm... I've tasted your blood, but I think I like this taste better..." He said, licking the fluids of her arousal off his lips as he pulled away for just a moment. "It's so... sweet." That didn't quite express her taste, but he was far too preoccupied with working his tongue on her to really think about putting his thoughts into words.

It was a few minutes before he pulled away for more than just taking a short breath, finding himself entranced in the motions he was making on her, switching between putting attention on the small bud that was her clit and her nether lips as her fluids lubricated her. His hands had let go of hers to wrap around her legs, spreading her to give himself better access. As he pulled away to give the girl room to breathe, he contemplated his work. He followed the trail of her fluids as they stained the bedsheet underneath and found himself eyeing another hole. "Oh, I seem to have completely forgotten this one..." He muttered, running his finger along the edges of her anus.

"What say you, my princess? I've heard this place is quite enjoyable for women as well. I wouldn't mind apologizing to it..."
 
The ties that which bound her were unraveling at the seams, clipped away by newfound freedom. It was liberating, lying contentedly in her nakedness under the gentle claws of a Beast. The calloused pads of his fingertips appraised her body with slow, leisurely movements. The flames of his warmth lingered in delicate caresses- strange to be administered by a creature of his strength. He was an animal at heart, and perhaps sometimes a brute, but his touch was undeniably that of a man. Lovely, filled with a promise to sate her every wish. It was exhilarating to feel such affection at the hands of a man that could destroy her. Xeno could break every bone in her body. Yet he chose to hold her in his ardor.

“I do... want to protect you. You're always so... high-strung. Always looking over your shoulder. What kind of man am I if I can't at least take some of the burden?” He spoke with a softness she hadn’t quite heard from him before. It hit a note in her tune, her pulse flittering out of tempo.

“You want to protect me.” She parroted his statement, a look of befuddlement upon her dainty features. It took her a moment to fully absorb the weight of his words, her lips parting and shutting in an attempt to respond. You’d be a smart man, her former self would have chided- pushing him far away from the dangers of her survival. The concept of her protection had become foreign to her psyche, bombarded by the cruel whims of the Rafiyan court. As heir to the throne, she was merely to be preserved. There was no guarantee she would lay claim to her throne in one piece, especially under the reign of Rafiya’s current King. Years of purgatory trained the mind to a fine point, her senses sharp to avoid further torment. It had been ages since she’d last slept with both eyes closed. Until she’d met Xeno. She felt safe in his arms, as if nothing existed but the two of them. He made her feel safe. “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before.” Sounding slightly brittle, her attention drifted idly towards the ceiling. “I feel… safe, with you. And I like that feeling.” She admitted quietly.

A large portion of her life had been barraged with dolor, spurning her vies for a blissful reality. Suddenly, her grievous existence came to a halt. In the presence of the man before her, she became the moments between time- a princess forgone of her woes and basking in a Valyrian meadow. He had become the wilderness that swarmed her with adoration and mischief. The Beast fueled her emotions; sometimes an ever-growing reflection of her own wicked tendencies. In this way, they moved like clockwork. Completely separate from the mating bond that racked them together, having no need to consult the universe about them. It was somewhere between his world and her own, that their gears meshed and urged forward. They were egging each other on, with their sly little games. When he inflicted agile, tiny nips with his teeth; or quick, doting kisses with his lips- he reeled her in deeper into their forbidden tryst.

Sweet nothings dripped from his supple mouth, busied by the assessment of her décolletage. Numbers were thrown into the mix, as he subtly counted each sumptuous apology. She stole a fleeting glance at his ears, perked up in resplendent joy at her mild submission to him, wondering- if they were perhaps a fox’s ears. He could be very sly. But upon second examination, he was indeed the wolf she’d known him to be. Her beloved, frustratingly gorgeous, annoyingly smug, Beast. She’d never truly taken the time to appreciate how magnificent he was. The way sculpted, powerful mass rolled beneath his skin. The broadness of his shoulders. Veins branching out over his muscled forearms. She especially noted the rugged handsomeness of his face. His jaw looked as if it was carved from perfect, marble stone- making fluid movements to pepper kisses across her skin. He possessed a strong, refined nose- his lips malleable and full as she often found them curled into a dastardly grin. His lashes were thick, and dark, framing a set of molten amber. His gaze alone could set her ablaze. Part of her thought it too good to be true. He was possibly the most attractive male she’d ever seen. Even though Rafiya boasted some of the most beautiful creatures in the world, Fae-kind well-known for their aesthetic triumph. But he was… heart-breaking. Not that he didn’t already know that. It was very clear the Beast King was aware of his sensuality. He was a shameless flirt. And she couldn’t imagine how many occupants of his castle would be disheartened upon their return, to find that she’d stolen him away. She supposed that made her a shameless thief, then.

The man rose, withdrawing from her momentarily. She became anxious at his absence, missing the warmth of his embrace against her bare skin. Peeling away the remainder of his clothes, he joined her under the sheets, eliminating the only barrier between them. Morgana was quick to protest, rising on her elbows to retaliate- but fell silent at her own embarrassment. He had stripped as if he were giving her a show, entirely unabashed at his nakedness. There was a small glint in his eye, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Before she could utter a word of admonishment, he captured her lips once more; causing any complaint to fizzle out under the distraction of his mouth. He continued his deliberate, measured exploration of her body. She smiled faintly as he moved to kiss each of her fingertips, the gesture surprisingly chaste. The girl sighed beneath him, melting into his expedition as he traveled down her sternum. His lips trailed over her shoulders, her breasts, the flat plane of her stomach, releasing a contemptuous sound- something of the masculine variety. She glimpsed down curiously at him, wondering if he would move down to her hips, or her thighs. She suddenly felt very comfortable under him. Thrilled by the prospect that he was enthralled by her petite body. A smirk tugged at her lips, fancying the idea of the King being wrapped around her little finger.

“Let me show you, Morgana, my princess, how very sorry I am...” He acquiesced, dipping down between her legs. There was nothing more satisfying than being addressed as his. Though the glamour of the statement was curbed by her dubiety at his current location. At first, she hadn’t totally minded if he’d seen. The insufferable maid, Teref, had been responsible for the exfoliation and waxing of her skin. It was a constant prep for dallying that she never looked forward to. And, never found any use in, considering she didn’t plan on dallying with anyone. But for once, she found herself grateful for the tedious grooming.

She wasn’t terribly self-conscious, either. As far as she’s known, her lady parts were as average as any other elf. Well, except, she was a bit petite by comparison. Although it occurred to her that Xeno had probably never seen an elf woman. Not carnally, at least. He’d made it quite clear with his intent to see her naked, back at the palace. Her hands inched toward his hair, contemplating on asking him to stop.

“Xeno…-” Her breath hitched, her hips arching in reply to the kiss centered at the mound between her hips. His tongue was searing, wet as it drug along her inner folds. Noises were spilling from her mouth, the only coherent words she could recognize being ‘no’ and ‘don’t’. Her nerves were rattling, assaulted by the sensations he wrought with his mouth. His mouth, was on her…- “That’s dirty! Don’t do that!” She said incredulously, though her body betrayed her. Her face contorted into the same, tortured expression of pleasure. Sable brows drawn in discord, a lustful flush on her cheeks, and her eyes begging for the sin her mouth sought to reject. As her hands flew to stop the madness he ensued between her legs, he moved to stop her. The large, warm hands she’d become so familiar with- were now threading together with hers. He was painted in her darkness, his arm threaded with their bond. His branded palm held her through ecstasy, the ink on his ring finger tangling with her untainted limbs. The tattoo suited him in ways she never would have dreamed; the girl nearly convulsing at the sight. Gods, he was hellish.

Sweet, he called her, inciting a pang in her gut. He lapped at her core as if she were dripping honey. She’d lost all reason to refuse him. Losing herself as she writhed beneath his ministrations. Eventually her needy hands were left her to her own devices. Her nails bit into the sheets, desperately trying to contain the lecherous noises building in her throat. She didn’t want to give him that satisfaction- of knowing how easily he tore her apart. The wolf pulled her shaking thighs apart, granting her a small reprieve as he retreated from his playground. Shuddering, her gaze wandered to the ceiling whilst she settled down from her high. The pleasure plagued her like a fever. Burning, swimming in her core until completely sated.

“Oh, I seem to have completely forgotten this one.” She heard him mutter, feeling the brush of his finger against her other hole. She jolted at the contact, her eyes snapping back to the wicked look on his face.

“What say you, my princess? I've heard this place is quite enjoyable for women as well. I wouldn't mind apologizing to it...”

Her mouth fell open, gaping at him. She couldn’t believe what he was insinuating.
It was enough of an enigma for him to bury his face down there, but… her ass?

“Careful, Beast.” She narrowed her eyes at him in a lethal glare, propped up by her elbows. “I’m sure you’ve done more than hear about it.” She shot back accusingly. Her tail slid to protect her offended hole, the spade covering the space from further toying. They had spent too much time developing trust, for her to back out now. Morgana pulled one of her legs back, her calf running along his jaw in warning. “…Enjoyable, huh?” The princess cocked her head impishly. Specks of curiosity glimmered from her emerald orbs, her tongue darting out to lick her lips. “Alright.” She submit, her tail moving away in compliance. “Enlighten me, then.” A devilish smile gleaned across her lips.
 
"Dirty? The only dirty thing here is my cute, lewd little princess here..." Her fluids wetted his lips, giving them a glistening look as he licked them clean, savoring her as fully as he could. She had asked to be worshipped and Xeno, being the godless beast that he was, could only think of one way to do it; he needed to make her delirious, make her go insane till the only thing that could come out of her mouth was his name. He lapped at her center, her sensitive flower, a couple of times before pulling away, staring up at her as she panted her for a few moments, letting her get a grip before subjecting her to more of his 'worshipping'. Xeno gazed up at her, smitten by her beauty, by her innocence and by her wickedness.

She was a demon, capable of murdering men in cold blood for the simple crime of mistaking her small, petite form for helplessness. Her expression, though, was already wrought with a suffering unlike her status. Her sadism was only surpassed by her gentleness, which he'd witnessed in her treatment of the beasts she would liken herself to. Her horse, Chara, was nothing more than a simple steed he'd given her to move around in, a servant at most, but she had christened him and treated him as an equal. The tiger, Vatu, who was probably lying outside, standing guard for her, was a beast made only for slaughtering, but she had managed to find the kindness to take him in as her pet. She was unlike the demons of old, who would slaughter thousands of his people for the fun of it. Just the same, she was a princess, and the heir to her country's throne. In the end, the two had responsibilities that should, naturally, make them drift apart, yet their souls were bound together by her brand and by their devotion to each other. Despite her royal background, she was wild, a being that couldn't be tied down. That he didn't want to tie down. He wanted to admire her as she learnt to flap her wings, hold her when she fell.

But more than anything, he wanted to look at the innocent girl behind those fluttering lashes, those flushing cheeks of hers. He wanted to love the girl that had been held captive in her heart for so long. He wanted to teach her what it was to love, even if he didn't quite know himself.

“I’m sure you’ve done more than hear about it.”

"Perhaps..." He admitted, quickly deciding that there was no point in feigning ignorance. It was no secret to anyone that the man lived a life of debauchery, particularly defined by the man's habit of bedding women left and right. Quite so, that a great majority of his maid staff was made up of women he'd fancied at one point, taking them as his. But he was ready to leave that man behind for the sake of his Princess, the woman he would pledge his heart, his pain, his torment to. "I do have some firsthand experience in it, but..." Xeno looked down from her face to see her tail, protecting the hole he'd apparently offended. Cute, but she was simply giving him yet another thing to apologize to. And he really felt bad about toying with the poor thing last night. But, she wouldn't be happy if he tried it. "I'd like to think it was all practice in preparation for you, my innocent elven princess." He nuzzled her thigh for a moment before sliding up to face her directly, his manhood pressed precariously to her wet, readied slit.

"Should I apologize, too, for having been unfaithful to you? I wouldn't mind kissing you a thousand times over if you wanted. No, make it ten thousand. A hundred thousand... A million." As he spewed out numbers, staring deeply into her deep jades, he caressed her thigh absentmindedly, allowing his fingers to barely brush against her folds from time to time, all while he made a line of kisses from her cheek to her ear. "You know, I'm really sorry..." He muttered arrogantly yet genuinely as he took the plush of her chin between his fingers and pulled her face to his. His tail wrapped around her leg and his ears fluttered for a moment, his smirk betraying his words. If he was indeed repentant, his expression did not show it, if only because he knew Morgana could simply not refuse him. "I'll stop, if you really want me to..."

But, as the girl changed demeanor and allowed him passage, Xeno grinned, truly ecstatic that he was allowed to give her more. Never had he been so elated to give his partner pleasure, even when he himself derived none from it. “Enlighten me, then.” "Of course..." He agreed, slipping down back to his spot between her legs, drawing a line of saliva from her belly button all the way down to her asshole, paying a bit of extra attention to her slit as he did. The only regret he had was that he could only pleasure one of her holes at a time with his tongue.

Once he was in position, he grabbed her ass cheeks roughly with his hands, spreading them apart to give him full access to the hole. Her honey dripped down from her slit and onto her ass, making it glistened just as beautifully as her core. "I swear, woman, the more I see of you, the more it makes me want you..." He growled before pushing her up, angling her in a way that he could lick the edges of her ass with ease. He spread her fluids thoroughly around it, making circular motions around it for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes closed shut as he allowed himself to take in the taste of her. She tasted quite differently from her slit, but definitely not in an unpleasant way. "You say it's dirty, but you taste quite clean to me..." He teased, pulling away to look up at her, smirking, before going back in, this time licking with a fervor. Between making circular motions, Xeno's tongue would explore further in, stabbing the small hole with it, almost as if trying to give the woman a taste of what he had in store for her in the future.

"Mmm... and if I do this while licking you..." He removed his hand from her cheek and wrapped around her leg, his fingertips searching for the small nub that was her clitoris. When he found it, he treated her to yet more of his experienced touch by mimicking his tongue's movements with his index finger, drawing circles with her sensitive, protruding button. "... Does it feel good? Does it make you go crazy when I assault every bit of your body like this?"

He rested his head on her thigh for a moment, looking up at her dreamily. "I really like when you moan, you know. Lets me know I'm doing something right..."
 
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