The Lyon and his Lioness (DigitalSiren x Vinaein)

[Bunny]

I mustn't allow them to know the real me. Christina felt like a doe walking willingly into a den of wolves. She had only been in England for a month, most of that time sequestered in her great aunt's home, her aunt not wanting anyone to see her before the new season began. During that month, her aunt had begrudgingly fashioned her with dresses for the season to come. Christina had not wished to put her great aunt out, but the woman, who was known to all the ton as a woman with a cold, bitter and ugly heart wouldn't hear of it. It was not out of the kindness of her heart that the old woman insisted on the dresses, no, her eyes lay elsewhere.

"Stop fidgeting girl!" The raspy, sharp voice of Lady Rosaline bit through the darkness of the carriage and Christina stopped her fidgeting at once, "Yes Ma'am," her sweet voice came from the dark. Christina hated carriages, the close walls, the thin planes of glass and most of all, the sickly sweet scent of her aunt's perfume. Though, Christina would never tell the old woman this. In fact, despite the somewhat cruel nature of her aunt and her barbed remarks, Christina never said a word against her, answering always in her sweet tone, bending to the woman's every demand.

The rocking of the carriage came to a stop and the door was pulled open by the footman. Fresh, cool air brushed her cheeks and Christina waited for her aunt to exit the carriage first before putting a small, silk gloved hand into that of the footman's. Christina wanted nothing more than to gulp the fresh air greedily, but that wouldn't become a lady of good breeding. Even here, outside the house before them, she could feel eyes on her. This would be her third party of the season and it seemed that people flocked to her. She was kind, polite and the very essence of beauty, at least that was what she'd either been told or overheard.

Already the news of her lineage had spread like wildfire across the ton. She was the daughter of a prince! That would make her a princess. No matter how often Christina tried to deny the title of princess, the more it seemed to spread and she found herself tired of trying to explain. Her father had indeed been Prince Lucas, but Christina had never known the man, beyond the letters her mother had left her. Besides, it was rude to correct people. Christina could hear the music before the door before them was gently pulled open, the laughter and hum of conversation only revealed after it's opening. Christina always felt butterflies in her stomach as she entered these parties and the feeling didn't fade till she was once safely back in her rooms.

Entering with Lady Rosaline, she and her guardian began to make the rounds. Rosaline kept a firm grip on her arm, as she steered her niece to those she deemed worthy of meeting her. This however would only last so long before her aunt foisted her off, claiming her bones hurt. Tonight Lord Rugby was the gentleman who led her around the room, making introductions. Lord Rugby was a kind man with warm eyes and a quick smile, Christina had liked him right away. She had grown fond of the way his rich baritone sounded, reminding her of someone from home. "May I say my dear, tonight you are ravishing" A soft chuckle left her and dove grey eyes rose to meet his own chestnut brown, "Thank you sir, you are far too kind." A smile played along her lips.

"Oh my goodness!" Genevieve Lyon gasped, tugging on Michael's arm in a very unladylike way. Her brassy golden locks bouncing with her excitement. "Lyon, the princess is here!" her 'hushed' whisper was anything but, as she pointed towards the woman in question. As if noticing her behavior, Genevieve squeaked and dropped her hand, still looking at the princess. She looked like an angel, everyone was right. Even from a distance, with only her profile in view she could tell of the beauty that had been whispered about for days. Her skin was pale, perhaps a shade brighter than her white dress. Her hair was raven and bound behind her head, with loose, romantic curls tumbling around her face, and over one shoulder.

Lord Rugby had seen Genevieve's reaction and had hid a smile. He had been a good friend of Lyon's father and had known both Michael and Genevieve since birth. He now did business with Michael, who he was shocked to find under the glittering roof of a member of the ton. Rather than question it, he drew Christina away from Lord and Lady Weatherby, Christina bidding them farewell. "I would like you to meet a friend of mine," Lord Rugby told her and she inclined her head, "I would love to." Patting her arm in a fatherly fashion, Lord Ruby led her before Genevieve and Michael Lyon. "May I introduce Princess Christina," Christina's head inclined, a curl slipping over her shoulder, brushing her collarbone. "This is Michael Lyon, Marquess of Lyonwood and his lovely sister, new to the ton this season as well, Genevieve" Her eyes moved to Genevieve first, a smile curling along her pale pink lips.

Christina truly was a beauty, despite her own misgivings on the subject. Her black hair was so dark it reflected the light odd it in blues and purples, like a raven's wing. It only made her pale skin seem paler, like alabaster had been breathed to life. Her pale lips were naturally a pale, rose petal pink, though even tonight they had been darkened a smidge. They tended to curl at the edges as if Christina knew a secret no one else knew. Her eyes were the palest of grey, soft and warm, shrouded by thick heavy lashes. Delicate bone structure and petite frame made her look like a doll an aristocrat might buy their child from a fancy shop. Her dress was a pale snow white, height of fashion as it rested off her shoulders, leaving them bare. It was unadorned until it reached halfway down her skirt, where gems had been sewn into it, small starburst like patterns in varying sizes danced around her skirt.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Genevieve," Perhaps Lyon would find it odd, how she didn't seem to have a placeable accent, her voice gentle and soft. Her eyes flickered to Lyon, taking in his dark features, flickering to his scar and then down to his mouth before meeting his eyes once more. Christina inclined her head to him, "It is a pleasure to meet you both." Lord, he is handsome. Christina couldn't help but admire his features and found him to be unreasonably attractive. His scar, only added to her attraction, her eyes flickering to it again. He was a warrior, this lion. No one should be so handsome..

 

[Vinaein]

Heat. Passion. Flames. Every synonym that could be uttered within the English language that could encompass them together. Michael had her, the lion claiming his lover. And there was no doubt betwixt this surge of bodies, this heat and flame mingling together, as to who belonged to whom. Christina stoked the fires within him and fanned those flames into a raging inferno of want and need. With practiced, precise skill that threatened to pitch headlong into unrestrained lust, Michael continued his movements. He knew the value of this for him and Christina, her virginity now a recent and distant memory all at once.

Underneath the refined sweetness, the delicate coat of lace, was a wild fury of lust, a storm of desire that threatened to draw him in so he might never know peace again if he could not have her as his own.. His hand fisted within the dark silks of her hair, his body bent upon hers as he claimed her mouth with his own. His hand had brushed her cheek, Michael's thrusts turning possessive. Consumed with the urge to claim her, he pushed into her. The kiss ended, his lips sliding from hers as she purred out. His grin grew.

He was delighted at the quiet taunts. The way she tried to tease him, to attempt to claim her heart and body as hers and hers alone even as he was driving his cock into her. Oh, it was a futile effort, thought the Lyon. He had branded his claiming upon her body, into her heart, her mind and her soul...he yearned to know more of this woman, longed to know everything about this mysterious princess. She, he thought, would be his, always. He knew that deep within as surely as he knew his own name.

With this knowledge, he drove his hips to hers, the harsh retort of flesh to flesh ringing out as he could think of nothing but Christina. Close, so close...and then Michael gave out. With a low groan, growling her name with all the ferocity of his namesake, Michael pushed to the hilt. His body trembled, quivering as he came hard into her. He held her all the way, murmuring her name into her ear. He leaned over her, remaining within her.

His, he thought. His and his alone, his eternal. Bathed in moonlight, he saw her pale flesh, ran his fingers upon the alluring pink of her nipples. he had softened so deep within her, murmuring his agreement at her suggestion. "The night is young indeed," he whispered. He could not admit weakness in that he needed a rest, could not show beakness before her. The scent hung heavy in the air and he allowed her to shift, moving to slump upon the bed with her. He found her cheek, cupping her face between his hands and leaning in.

He kissed those beautiful lips of his princess, of his lyoness. He kissed her long and slow, letting their bodies bask to one another, resting as he stroked at the sweat-damped curls of hair. "Shall I retrieve something to drink? Fetch a light evening meal?" His voice took on a teasing edge, the grin highlighting the scar upon his cheek. "You are a guest, I am at your beck and call." He made no move yet, his arms encircling her.

After the intensity, he longed to cradle her close, feeling the damp warmth of her flesh to his. He kissed her cheek, her head, her neck, offering that warmth and affection after the near fury of their coupling. He held her, feeling drawn to her above all, his fingers combing against her hair as he murmured into her ear. "Would the princess prefer to be served in bed then?"

It was not like him to act such after just one tryst. But Christina, he realized, was special.

 

[Bunny]

Both knew they were trapped. Both seemed to know there would be no other. Yet, Christina knew things her Lyon did not and no matter how her body might crave his or her heart yearn for him, should she lose it to him, she'd see the end of her task. She was in risk of that too, she knew it. Losing her heart to him. It was more than the way he touched her. Michael seemed to worship her as he claimed her. His intent was clear, yet there was a softness that lingered with how he touched her. It was the juxtaposition of the tenderness with the fierceness that was intoxicating and the way he challenged her. Both would be her undoing.

Her release had been followed by his own and Christina had bit back an amused sound at the growl that had left him... It had its place, but not before the pleasure the two shared. Cradled, like she was precious to him, they rode out their orgasms. Cuddled into him, she inhaled his scent, their scents, eyes closed tightly as he whispered her name into her ear. Slowly lashes lifted and she met his golden eyes. Laid in a pool of moonlight, she relaxed, a soft smile curled on her lips. It was the brush of his fingers that stirred her blood, against her nipple which, traitorous as it was, rose to meet him, eagerly.

It had been her body's response that had prompted her to inquire about a drink, something to eat. Like any sport, Christina knew enough to stay hydrated and this, unlike any sport she'd been in before, was very similar in the taxation upon her form. His kiss was returned with the sweet eagerness her body had sown his touch, his fingers brushing her damp curls. He made her want to purr like she imagined his namesake would. Her smile grew at his teasing and she lifted a brow. "Beck and call?" The idea made her heart race, but she couldn't help but tease him back. "That doesn't seem like a position you find yourself in frequently. Bending to another's will."

He pulled her closer and her lips brushed his cheek, then the other before her lips pressed to each eye in turn. "Please, Michael." His name was a whisper, a clear request. She could feel their warmth pressing against one another, it should have been uncomfortable, but she found much like him, she didn't wish to be apart. His mouth trailed across her skin, tender and sweet. Lips curled and she gave a prim shake of her head. "We are alone, yes? Take me with you.." Where his name had been a request, this was not. A princess making her demand known.

She could have laid in his bed, while she waited for him to wait on her, playful as it was, hand and foot. Yet, she wanted to see him without the pretense of a party around them and without their lust clouding her vision. It seemed far more intimate than waiting alone in his bedroom. Christina knew should any of the servants or his sister come home early, what it could mean, yet she found she didn't care. She had never been one to allow fear to rule her and there was no shame, at least in her eyes, about her desire to stay close to him. Besides, there would be a deep satisfaction in watching him move around in the nude. Her arms curled around his neck. "Well?" She prompted playfully, her lips nuzzling against his neck.

 

[Vinaein]

Caught, imprisoned, bound in a web by threads that connected to his heart. Michael knew all this to be true in that moment as he looked into Christina's eyes. He set his teeth behind his lips, staring closely at her. How could he open up to her? They only knew one another so briefly, he could not be so drawn to her, could not be this strangely lost to her as he inevitably yet appeared to be. It made no sense, a ruthless man like him who dispatched his foes and let none tie him down, but yet the evidence was here before him. Christina might well be his undoing.

So he held her, because it was all he could do at this point. Hugging to her as he spent, taking in the scent of lovemaking and yet underneath it was Christina's rich aroma. When she met his eyes, he kissed her. Over her pale cheeks, her forehead, her lovely, coral-colored lips, his mouth sucking at the bottom one delicately before his hands roamed across her body. He could not get enough of her, already was his body craving her yet again.

"It is not," he whispered, "a position I find myself in often. Nor is it now." His grin rose to her, offering a playful expression as he kissed at her neck. "But I cannot have my guest growing famished nor parched, now can I? Particularly with such exertions...after all, you bend to my will. You are mine and I must take good care of you, mustn't I?" He punctuated it with a kiss to one of her breasts, teasing the nipple with his lips. Look at him, disguising such obvious feelings behind a thin veneer as she kissed at his face.

'Please Michael.' The way she said it, his warm body nestling to hers. 'Take me with you.' So many meanings to that, and yet her current one was obvious. He offered his hands to her. "Come then..." he whispered as he helped her from the bed, retrieving a robe and offering her the choice of one, or her own clothing. "I may not be able to resist you though...us together, in this house and the dark..." he added coyly, kissing her cheek and waiting, before he led her into darkened halls.

He knew the way by heart, walking through dimly lit midnight corridors to lead her through to the kitchens where waited drink and food. "When we were young, I would steal in here to retrieve freshly baking biscuits for my sister and I...what striks the princess's fancy?" he asked as he retrieved a goblet for her, pouring from a pitcher rich wine for himself, but leaving that or water open for Christina. "I fancy myself an able cook, should you desire something more," he added playfully. "You need merely speak your desires. That applies to all things, and I shall make it so. That is what comes with being mine, my dear princess..." he gestured to the kitchens about them.

 

[Bunny]

They would be one another's undoing, both seemingly feared it, yet both fell into one another unable to help the pull. Surety in their goals, plans, lives made topsy-turvy by another soul. Christina was sure it wasn't love, not yet. It was lust, intrigue and even challenge that pulled her in. However, it was as if each was a key to her heart and Michael had but to turn them and her heart would be his and she would be well and truly lost. No matter how she tried to hold against the tide, eventually, she would be swept under. No matter of if, but the eventuality of when. It scared her, to a point, Christina found. She'd never had a need for another and while the company of family and friends was welcome, she'd never been bound to them. Wild.. free.

Cradled close in his arms, she found herself doted on, each sweetness of a kiss, stroke of a hand making her blood sing for him. His mouth found hers and Michael took her lower lip prisoner as his hands roamed as they wilt. A sigh, pleased in nature, left Christina and she shifted in his arms. His answer made her smile. "No?" Her voice was warm as she teased him. There was both a comfort and a small flash of hurt from his words. Perhaps this was not as her head and heart conspired against her, he would, could be strong enough for both of them. The pair, though, ached at the thought that he wouldn't have fallen for her. The desire was almost... childish in it's foolishness. The feelings only linger a moment, chased away by the touch of lips against her neck. "Would seem to be a dereliction of your duties," Christina confirmed with a smile.

The word though, lingered. "You are mine and I must take good care of you, mustn't I?" The words were confusing and welcome all at once. Christina had never considered herself one for fanciful thoughts, not really. Not wont to leave her head in the clouds, she felt firmly rooted, like that of a great oak. The thoughts were not allowed to take purchase though, as his clever mouth found a breast and then a nipple. Moaning softly, her hands pushed his hair back from his face, fingers threading through his hair, fisting there till his face tilted towards her. "Food, Michael" Christina chided him.

Hands were offered to her and she released his thick locks, hands sliding down his shoulders, arms until her fingers laced with his own. Pulled gently to her feet, Christina's hands slipped from his own as he moved to fetch a robe as well as her dress. Pale eyes of smoke flickered between her options. The dress was so unappealing that Christina resisted a shudder that wanted to play down her spine and reached for his robe. It felt wonderful against her skin. It was big on her, naturally and it gaped around her chest, showing the swell of her breasts, despite the fact Christina tied it in place. The sleeves fell past her fingertips and the hem of the robe fell to her calves. A playful snort left her, the sound coming from her nose. "Is that so? What about the house and the dark will cause you to lose control?" Her amusement was clear in her voice.

A smile had curled along her lips as Michael had led her through the dark towards the kitchen and she tilted her head. "That sounds sweet," Christina offered as he set a goblet before her. While Michael favored the wine, Christina poured herself water and took a long, cooling sip. "Perhaps a sandwich?" Her desire to see him cook had been a great draw, Christina had forgotten to take into account what cooking entailed. Heat. Already warm enough, she would happily settle for watching him waltz through his kitchen as he made her a sandwich. Shifting, she pulled herself up onto the counter, legs crossed, the line of them slipping through the opening of his robe around her thighs. Smiling at him, she was almost the same height now. Almost.

 

[Vinaein]

Michael privately wondered just what it was he and Christina were feeling for one another. The answer came to him in a single word: passion. That was it, he thought. With this doorway opened, from the mystery of their first meeting, the whirlwind of emotion and the utter storm of their lust, 'passion' encompassed all they felt for one another and yet seemed woefully insufficient to describe all of it. There could be more, certainly there might. But now, they were lost in one another with him knowing she was. It would take only a few easy steps for them to acknowledge it and seal themselves to one another.

But he held himself back from the very notion. They would collapse into a honey sweet tra from where they might never escape. No, he held back instinctively now, afraid for what the future might hold even as he anticipated it with all he possessed.

Christina's sweetness, however, was a thing that made him swell internally. How could even the merest gestures and smiles from her have such an impact upon him. He let himself melt into it, let himself hold and kissed her as she teased at him. "You shan't find me neglectful of what I accept as my lot," he murmured. "And I care for what-and who- is my own." His voice had a roughness to it, a smoky quality as he stared at her.

Damn him for this. He was no mawkish schoolboy to be lost at the first notion of a woman's lips. He was ruthless, he was the proud lion of Lyonswood, a lord who ruthlessly dispatched his threats to the crown. Nothing stood between him and his quarry...nothing stayed his hand, nothing. Certainly not any woman. Not even Christina, who had so bewitched high society with her airs and charms.

But the fact remained: she was his. Regardless of what they accepted, regardless of what they said. She was his, belonged to him inwardly. Their souls were linked, even as little as they knew of one another. "Food, Michael," the words from her brought him screeching back to reality as he chuckled at the prospect. "But of course," he said as he led her through the home of, now clad in robes with the servants absent. "It is not the house, nor the dark that would take my control from my, my princess," he confessed, "for I have known both before.

"The only thing in this house, in this city that could steal my control from me would be you, Christina." Perhaps the most honest words he had ever spoken, delivered to her so simply in that moment, while he admired the scent of her, the curves of the robes highlighting her body. The low growls that rumbled forth from his throat were those of approval.

He watched the way she drank; no dainty princess was Christina there, intriguing him all the more as he looked close at her, seats while he removed two slices of bread, taking slices of fine cheese, tomatoes and slices of beef and goose, to create a makeshift sandwich. "Shall this satisfy her ladyship's appetites? Or is there more we must do later for that?" His voice turned coy and playful. More like a schoolboy indeed, he thought with an internal sigh.

He took several slices of meat and cheese for himself, fixing his own sandwich. "Hardly a chance to demonstate my vast culinary talent," he quipped with a chuckle and a wry look. "But I hope you can manage to enjoy...I confess that I simply cannot stop thinking of you, Christina and I want to know more...where you come from. What you mean to do in London...what can you share with me now?"