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experimentalmadness · 6 months

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Let Them Look

I'm extremely pleased y'all like my Tav so much. I'm back at it again with the fic. If you want to see more fic about Eidel and Astarion go here

Summary: Easing into the life of a vampiric consort is easy...until an old enemy shows up unexpectedly and Astarion has to take control.

Possessiveness, but it make less toxic, baby. Have Astarion as a vampire lord protecting his consort.

***

Eidel was learning to like these parties. Well, not entirely, but close enough. She’d worked on refurbishing the ballroom into one fit for guests. There was so much about the Szarr palace she despised, and luckily Astarion was letting her rebuild it to her sensibilities. She didn’t want him to think of Cazador at all when he walked through any of these rooms.

She made the rounds, greeting as many of the guests as she could and trying to remember half of their names. She was draped in fine purple silks and a diamond necklace. Astarion liked to put her in nice things, and she enjoyed letting him. She’d never had such luxuries before. Still, it was taking some getting used to. Even over a year later. She supposed she had forever to adjust to her new life.

Astarion wrapped an arm about her waist as they made their way around the ballroom. Eidel rather enjoyed that. He’d become possessive of late, and while sometimes she found the act rather tedious, she appreciated it in large crowds such as these. It was as if he could sense when she was becoming overwhelmed. Maybe he could, Eidel thought, what with her being his spawn.

“Shall we take a moment for ourselves, my treasure?” he whispered in her ear, gesturing over to the throne-like seat up on the dais away from the crowds.

Those requests were what she waited for and he knew it. He’d pull her up onto his lap, have the servants bring out an inconspicuous bottle of wine full of blood and share it with her. Sometimes they’d talk, more often than not she’d just lay there with her head on his chest listening to his newly beating vampiric heart, both of them perfectly content.

She smiled and was about to nod her eager agreement when…

She blinked as a dark shadow crossed her vision from over Astarion’s shoulder.

Tremors took hold of her body. The man in the red suit she knew. He’d never been in such fancy clothes, but she knew him as she knew her own monstrous body. “I…” her throat was closing up. She no longer needed to breathe, but she was choking all the same. He was standing over her even now in a robe as black as the underground she was kept in. He smiled that same emotionless smile at her when he had her beaten when she was little. His hands that shook the other guests were the same that had come away raw and red when he had taken her wings, her tail, and her horns.

“I…I think I’ve forgotten something in my rooms. I…I’ll just be a moment,” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t be absurd,” Astarion rolled his eyes. “Come with me.”

The man was turning. He’d see her. There was no way he would miss her. Eidel pulled herself out of Astarion’s grasp. “I have to go!” She did her best to walk as gracefully as she could through the hall, but she stumbled on even her best days and now she wanted to scramble as fast as she could. She resisted the urge to rip the confining silk dress from her body and let her body shift into that of a wolf’s or a cat’s or a spider’s, anything to walk faster than her damnable monstrous, malformed legs could carry her.

Once she made her way out of the ballroom and was safely out of sight she shifted into a bounding wolf and ran towards her chambers.

The dress was in tatters when she shifted back, tears leaked out of her eyes in uncontrolled rivulets. The world was spinning. She was small again and the world was as big as the cage she had always been kept in as the men and women in dark robes flitted about her, never speaking to her.

She slammed against the chest of drawers, trying to get it to move so she could block the door. Her legs skittered on the floor trying to find purchase so she could leverage it. No success. The scars where her wings used to be hurt. Her mutilated tail hurt. Every scar and cut across her body where that man and his ilk had cut and examined all felt as if they were opening at once.

The door burst open and Eidel swallowed a scream.

“What did you think you were doing? Leaving without permission?” Astarion raged.

“Shut the door!” Eidel bolted over and kicked the door shut.

“What in the Hells has gotten into you?”

“Shh, shh, have to be quiet,” Eidel hid behind the chest, curling her arms around her knees. “I’m not going back. They won’t put me back in the dark again!”

“Eidel.”

She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder. “Oh! Astarion!” He didn’t seem real compared to the cavernous darkness and iron bars invading her vision. She barely felt him as he wiped the silent flow of tears from her eyes and clucked his tongue at the sight of her ruined gown.

“Tell me what is going on. Now.” His hands were gentle but his voice was firm.

“There is a man outside…I know him.”

“Know him?” Confusion was replaced with a clarity that brought a cold rage flooding over Astarion’s face. “Who. Is. He?” Each word was pulled from him as if rising from the depths of the Hells itself.

“I don’t want to go back out there. What if he sees me?”

“Then I will kill him, darling,” Astarion said simply as he placed his arms around her. “We will step back out into the ballroom, you will point him out to me and I will have him killed in any way you desire.”

“No, I don't want to have him see me. If he does, what if he takes me?” Panic was chewing up her words, entangling her body.

“Take you? You are my consort. No one is taking you anywhere.”

Eidel tried to rotate such reassurances around in her mind. Normally such a thing always worked to banish her fear. Not tonight. Tonight she had actually seen the man. What was he doing in Baldur’s Gate to begin with? What if they were all in the city? What if they had been here the whole time? Watching her. Waiting for her to let her guard down. She’d rather be facing down the Netherbrain all over again.

“He made a foolish mistake coming to our home. He won’t leave here alive, dove, I promise you that.” He kissed her forehead and she tried to believe him. “Now let’s have you out of this ruined thing and into another, less tattered, dress, hm?” It wasn’t an option, he was already pulling the torn dress off of her.

He selected a new, dark burgundy gown from their closet and set about helping her into it. He kissed every scar he covered, a habit he’d formed since he’d first seen them. When his hands rubbed away the phantom pain in her tail and wings the fog of her panic began to recede. “Come along,” he said, looping his arm through hers.

The walk back to the ballroom felt a hundred years long. Eidel’s mouth had gone dry as she heard the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses and music.

“Ah, Lord Ancunin, you’re back,” someone said.

“Yes, I had decided that dress was rather drab for my consort, and she, indulging as ever, let me put her in something much finer. Isn’t she radiant? Now, if you’ll excuse us,” he deftly hustled her away and toward the dais. She had been so looking forward to this mere moments ago.

Astarion sat her down on his lap, looking for all the world like a hedonistic lordling, but only Eidel saw the cold calculation in his eyes as he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, keeping it slightly raised. “Point him out to me, my love.”

She crooked her fingers. “There, dressed in red.”

Astarion followed her gaze. “Consider him dead.”

Eidel’s eyes widened. “He’s looking right at me. I…”

“Let him,” Astarion pulled her head down so that it rested against his chest. “He can do nothing. These are his last few hours of life.”

The man stared through her. Impassively. Eyes the same emotionless gray that haunted her nightmares. He almost looked as if he wanted to step towards them, yet he didn’t. She knew Astarion must be staring back when his grip on her intensified. He was challenging him. Almost hoping he’d have an excuse to kill him publicly. She knew him so well sometimes it was as if she could almost read his mind.

And while she abhorred violence and killing, the fanatic dream of safety was too tantalizing to resist. “Astarion, when you kill him. I want to watch.”

He laughed and rewarded her with a sweet kiss. “Little love,” he smiled. “Anything for you.”

#Astarion #astarion x f!tav #Ascended Astarion #Eidel #I saw the Ascended route and I went bet I can make that secretly sweet

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zestials · 22 days

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a wolf is a wolf , even in a cage , even dressed in silk.

#* ── thrive in the flow of time. : character study.#made a lil smthn .#i don't have a proper aesthetic tag so its just going in there ok

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clestialserpent · 7 months

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A wolf is a wolf

Even in a cage

Even dressed in silk

My newest TTRPG character has so many fun themes, I finally make a funky illustration of him <3

His name is Elouan Volgirre, and for those that know- yes, that bloodline.

#original character art #ttrpg character #VtM #original character #ttrpg art #ttrpg

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therobbstarkk · 1 month

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A wolf is a wolf. Even in a cage. Even dressed in silk.

#robb stark #game of thrones #winterfell #house stark #game of thrones aesthetic

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doskorogorpg · 9 months

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♦ NO MOURNERS, NO FUNERALS. AMONG THEM IT PASSED FOR GOOD LUCK.

name: Svetlana Belyakova.

age: Thirty-Three.

race: Grisha.

powers / skillset: Durast.

gender: Female.

DURAST & SPYMASTER. She is the fly without limits. She doesn’t stick to walls but glides through them. She doesn’t zip around but lingers, a featherlike touch of delicate skin on your shoulder as she smiles in earnest. She is the leach, sinking her teeth deep into you, draining you of every last drop of knowledge, and you don’t even know it. You only see that charming smile before she is slipping away from you.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of death & loss.

She was ethereal, almost ghostly. She was a wolf even when dressed in silk. She was never meant for such a divine cage. She was meant for divine violence. Svetlana, dear Lana, abhorred how her family threw away their affluent life in Starosva and went into hiding when she and her twin sister, Anastasiya, developed powers. Powers that were uniquely different. Astounding since Svetlana felt they shared the same everything. Even the same face. But the world decided they could be different in this. She a durast. Her sister a heartrender. And some might have wondered if Svetlana coveted her twin's abilities, seemingly more high-powered, but she didn’t. She never cared about the abilities unlike her sister who was so deeply fascinated. Svetlana just wanted her old life back. She didn’t want to hide in the silhouette of her former life and she didn’t understand how her sister could while still being so happy. Maybe that was where they really differed. Svetlana fought while Ana accepted it. And maybe if Svetlana hadn’t fought so much, her sister would still be alive. If she hadn’t kept escaping the cage for a foolish tryst with an even more foolish boy, she could still have her family. But it’s too late now. The choice was made and her sister was dead.

It happened because he thought he trapped her. The foolish boy thought he offered up the right one to the king's men. He didn’t know she had a sister. She never said. So he thought he had her. But he didn’t. Same face. Wrong girl. All because he wanted money for a better life and he thought he could get a pretty penny for her. All he got, though, was both himself and her sister killed. Stupid, stupid boy. And stupid, stupid Lana. She was so stupid to believe there were people out there she could trust. She would never make that mistake again. The cost of it was everything, and her parents never forgave her for it. They looked at her and only saw the pain of loss. A loss that they said was her fault. It wasn’t. She didn’t kill her sister. She wasn’t the reason behind the loss of half her soul. She wouldn’t take the blame. Couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault that her life was twisted into some cruel cage she was forced to live within. It wasn’t her fault the world hated her just for existing. It wasn’t her fault. She just couldn’t accept that. The only thing she could accept was the bitter promise of retaliation. Svetlana would play their game of tit for tat. She would fight as she always had and never accept things like Anastasiya had. She would not allow fear to control her any longer. Svetlana would make this world better, or she’d happily watch it burn.

MIKHAIL: He was something solid to lean against. He was her rock, her cornerstone. He was as fierce as he was unmoving, and her soul melded so beautifully with his. He filled the space in her heart where there was a deep vacancy left from her sister's absence and there isn’t a single person in this world she’d rather stand beside. She’s here for him just as much as he is here for her, and they make the perfect unit as they understand each other deeply. They understand the deep loss the other feels and how irrefutably damaged they are. But they never try to repair the other. Svetlana will only ever just be there for him, always, without question or doubt. NASTIA: It was like looking in a dark mirror. She saw her former self. She saw the impetuous young girl who got others hurt, or worse. She didn’t like it. She hates how Nastia sees everything as an act of rebellion. It was a destructive way to live and the Volki didn’t need reckless girls. It needed those more like herself now who thought before they acted and Svetlana made sure Nastia knew this. She spent half of their conversations teaching her the meaning of restraint so that one day they can both reap the benefits of this cause instead of burying more bodies. ANTON: She had a type. Stupid, stupid boys whose intentions led to very bad things. So she also had a rule. Don’t sleep with anyone apart of the crew. Don’t sleep with anyone period. There were only consequences to those kinds of actions and she wasn’t so foolish anymore to believe she wouldn’t be hurt if she allowed a little dalliance every now and again. But Anton is persistent. Persistently annoying her and squeezing his way through the cracks to be at her side. She wants to tell him to get lost, but she also doesn’t and she wishes she knew why because she does know anything between them wouldn’t end well.

SVETLANA BELYAKOVA IS PORTRAYED BY ADRIANNE HO & IS CURRENTLY OPEN.

#lsrp #lsrpg #new roleplay #fantasy rp #grisha rp #a #g #svetlanabio #char: svetlana #death tw #o

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doskorogopromo · 9 months

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Since you're giving sneak peeks of characters, could I ask for one possibly of Svetlana and Octavia?

Absolutely you can! Octavia: Gentle as a breeze, but piercing as an arrow. She pierced her ways into hearts just as fast as she soared far away from them. She was a flicker of time in people's lives before she faded to a new homeland with new faces. Svetlana: She was ethereal, almost ghostly. She was a wolf even when dressed in silk. She was never meant for such a divine cage. She was meant for divine violence.

#lsrpg #lsrp #grisha rp #fantasy rp #original rp #char: octavia #char: svetlana

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fall3n1 · 1 year

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a wolf is wolf,

even in a cage,

even dressed in silk.

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strangelyfriends · 1 year

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a wolf is a wolf

even in a cage

even dressed in silk

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 2 years

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HEART'S PRICE - CHAPTER 67

*Warning: Adult Content*

"This 'naming ceremony' is that Wolf tradition?" Ambrose asks, adjusting the collar of his shirt before the full-length mirror in their bedroom.

Noah Hunter stands at his back, carefully gathering his Dragon/born Mate’s hair into a ponytail and smoothing a few wrinkles from the back of the black silk vest Ambrose wears over a white shirt.

"It is in our family," Noah answers, lifting one shoulder in a shrug and then turning away to pull on his own carefully ironed garments.

A week has passed since Julian Hart and Ambrose’s return and while their reunion was a sweet relief after months of lonely separation, it was not exactly the raging wildfire of passion Noah had been expecting.

On the one hand, Ambrose has found a balance between his human side and his dragon's soul.

Before, it was all or nothing, either his fire was contained or he was scaring Noah and turning things to ash, while now he has a far greater range of control.

Now he can warm a mug of coffee that's gone cold or incinerate things that piss him off.

On the other hand, Ambrose has barely touched Noah since he got back.

He had started to, the first night he had returned and a few other times but as soon as things began to 'heat up' he'd abruptly stopped.

Noah had asked why and Ambrose had asked him, in return, to give him some time to be sure that his hard-won self-mastery would withstand the test.

"Imagine a dangerous beast," he'd said, "held in restraints, caged and chained... that's how my dragon's soul was controlled before... by the ritual, the relics and the Gifts. Now, it's free, tamed but not entirely trusted, just yet. If you befriended a wild wolf, no matter how gentle it seemed, would you try it’s civility while it ate?"

Noah had to admit that he would not.

He had family members who would bite his hand off if I touched their food and that was when they were in human form.

And Noah can bear to wait, he’s not a raging hulk of hormones like Dane but even so, it's been a week and he’s beginning to worry that, rather than resisting dark temptations, Ambrose is no longer tempted by him at all.

Now, as he dresses, Ambrose’s arms slide around Noah’s waist, his warm breath ghosts against his skin and he kisses the side of his Wolf/lover’s neck as he pulls him close.

Noah shuts his eyes and leans back against him, signaling that he’s his for the taking, if he wants him, even if it means ruining his perfectly wrinkle-free shirt but Ambrose merely holds him like that a moment before letting go.

"Any idea what they've chosen?" he asks, meaning Dane and Julian and their babies names. Noah shakes his head, hiding his disappointment with a smile.

"No idea. Although I think after my great-aunt Orfilia proposed 'Ulva and Warg' they've put a moratorium on unsolicited suggestions."

"I liked 'Faelan and Lupita' myself," Ambrose says, his eyes sparkling with humor as he helps Noah fasten the top buttons of his shirt.

"I wonder why." Noah rolls his eyes.

Both names, one Gaelic and the other of Spanish and Latin origin, mean roughly the same thing.... 'little wolf.'

"Whatever they've chosen, I'm sure it will be a perfect fit," he goes on, brushing his thumb along his lover’s bottom lip. "Those wee bairns are a precious pair."

He's not lying.

The twins, a girl and a boy, are adorable.

Their little heads are covered in a fuzz of the softest downy black curls, their skin is the lightest milky brown, a mix of Dane's dark almond shade and Julian's ivory and they each have one amethyst and one amber eye.

Both are absolutely perfect.

Even Noah, with zero interest in procreation, can't help but find them irresistible and when Dane had asked Ambrose and Noah to be their Godfathers...

Julian had asked Chloe and Grace to share the opposite role.

Noah had felt a legitimate sting to his eyes.

"Makes me think it wouldn't be so bad, having a little brood of fire-breathers running about the place," Ambrose goes on. "What about you, my love? Do you think you'd want children, someday?"

Noah goes still and his mind locks as he struggles for an appropriate response.

He doesn't want to disappoint Ambrose but he also doesn't want to lie.

"I don't think so, Ambrose," Noah says, looking up at him as an unhappy smile twists his mouth against his will. "I guess that's something we should have talked about before we irreversibly entangled our very natures, huh?"

"No, little wolf," Ambrose says, returning Noah’s sad attempt at a smile with a much softer and more self-assured version of his own as he brushes his hands over the sides of his lover’s face. "No. I've enough experience with 'family' to know that having one is no guarantee of happiness. If we ever decide to... er... expand... though, I do think you'd make a lovely father."

Noah swallows the bitter tang at the back of his throat.

"You would, too," Noah allows.

Whatever else he might think or feel on the matter, that, at least, is true.

"Well," Ambrose says, his eyes lighting with the mellow warmth of a banked fire as he leans to press a light kiss to Noah’s lips, "That is a thought to revisit some distant day, perhaps. For now, we've got a naming ceremony to attend."

~ ☾ ~

Welcoming new members to a Pack is a significant event and some of the Hunter family have made the long journey to witness it.

Alpha Joseph and Astrid Hunter already have half a dozen grandchildren between a few of Noah’s siblings but they seem especially enthralled with the little twins.

Of his brothers and sisters, only Sasha and Monty came along, the others being unable to attend on short notice.

Sasha Hunter, the youngest of them, is more interested in playing with Dougal than the babies.

Montreal Hunter, though, can't tear himself away.

When Ambrose and Noah arrive at Dane and Julian’s cottage that evening, they find Monty sitting on the couch, one sleeping twin in the crook of each arm, looking like there's nowhere else he'd rather be.

He's six-foot-eight and three hundred pounds of muscle but a glance is enough to see there are few places the twins would be safer than in his hands.

Julian seems especially relieved to have him here but getting the babies back from him is the hardest part of asking him to look after the pair.

Moreover, Julian had taken an immediate and suspicious dislike to Darius L'Amour, who, for some reason is still hanging around.

Noah can't blame Julian, really.

He doubts he'd want a voodoo vampire getting close to his kids, either.

Fortunately for Julian, Monty's already asked their parents for permission to leave their Pack and join Alpha Dane's, so he can be closer to his new nephew and niece.

They hadn't objected, unless one of his yet-unattached siblings Mates with an Alpha, Dane will inherit their parent's Pack, anyway.

The rest of the party is made up of Freya Hunter, Bear/Shifter, Ian Foley and his Demon/Human hybrid mate Sam Asato, Ian’s cousin Deer/Shifter, Chloe Foley and her Librarian/Human mate, Grace.

Once the sun sets and the thinnest sliver of a new moon is just visible, cradling the bright spark of the evening star in the velvet purple sky to the west, they gather outside and greet their final guest, Julian's great-grandmother, Fae Eirnín and the only representative from Julian’s side to attend.

Julian’s mother, he had told Noah, had cut ties with him after he'd tried to explain what had really happened to his father.

Apparently, she hadn't even responded when he'd informed her that, despite his best laid plans, she was now a grandmother.

Happily, Dane's side of the family has more than enough love to make for the lack on his.

Alpha Astrid Hunter has brought along the large, shallow silver basin long used for this ceremony and it's now set on a birdbath-like pedestal in a flat area of the meadow nearby.

A few inches of water, brought by Fae Eirnín from Faerie itself, fills the bottom and reflects the last pink and orange light of the evening sky.

They gather around and Monty carries the twins, now awake and alert and presents them one at a time to Julian and Dane.

Julian holds each and carefully dips their tiny feet in the water while Dane touches a few drops to their foreheads and bestows their names with blessings of good fortune, long life, abundant love and happiness.

And thus, they all welcome Luna and Luca Hunter to the Hunter Pack.

"Luna and Luca," Ambrose muses later that night, once they've returned home after several hours filled with good food, good company and a few too many celebratory drinks. "That's 'moon' and 'light,' isn't it? Rather sweet, I suppose."

"Mm," Noah agrees, flopping back to lie on the bed.

Noah is tired, a little drunk.

Even with his fast metabolism, at his size there's no way he can keep up with his brother’s Monty or Dane.

And for once in Noah’s life, he is a lot horny and he'd like nothing more than for Ambrose to shut up and come fuck him.

Unfortunately, his 'dragon' seems quite tame, tonight.

"They might be cute now," Noah allows, "But give it a few years. They'll grow into creepy-ass twins with mismatched eyes. Just wait."

"You're a triplet yourself," Ambrose points out, glancing over his shoulder at Noah as he undresses. "Do multiple births run in the family?"

"Fraternal triplet," Noah corrects. "That's the non-identical, non-creepy sort. And yeah, Wolves have twins at a higher than usual frequency."

Ambrose hears something in Noah’s tone and turns to look at him, one brow raised and his lips curved in a slight frown.

"What's wrong, my love?" he asks, giving Noah his full attention and coming to sit beside him on the bed. "Are you not feeling well?"

"I'm fine," Noah replies, a bit sharply and then sighs. "I'm the same as I ever was."

Ambrose watches him for a moment and then comes to lie gently at his young lover’s side.

"No, you're not the same," he says, reaching to brush his hand up and down Noah’s arm. "When I met you, all those months ago, you were an injured, bedraggled, lost little thing. Now you're healed and strong and whole. You're fierce, little wolf and all alight with your very own fire."

Noah rolls onto his side to looks at Ambrose, sniffing back champagne-induced tears.

"Did you like me better that way?" he asks. "When I was so hurt, I hardly cared what even happened to me?"

Ambrose’s brows crease with confusion and concern.

"Of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because I waited almost six months for you, Ambrose." Noah says. "I waited, expecting that you'd come back all fire and flame and instead..."

Noah trails off as he sees Ambrose’s eyes go dark, banked coals losing their heat and cooling into ash.

"Is that all you want from me?" he asks quietly, sounding unexpectedly vulnerable and unsure. "Is my Dragon's nature all you love?"

Noah’s breath catches and his eyes go wide as he sees, in that instant, what a mistake he has made.

He’s been focusing so much on Ambrose’s nature when, really, Noah couldn't care less what he is.

He sees, also, that he’s not the only one in need of reassurance.

“Ambrose... I love you," Noah begins, reaching to take his lover’s hands in his as they lie facing each other on their sides. "I love you because you care about stupid dogs who get hit by cars and stupid little wolves who offer to take care of stupid dogs that they don't even own."

"You're drunk," Ambrose whispers, laughing under his breath and pressing two fingers to his lips and Noah smiles.

"Drunk on love. Otherwise, just a little tipsy. I know what I'm saying."

"I should hope so, you're a linguist, after all." Ambrose replies, smirking.

Noah suppresses a possibly inebriated laugh.

Ambrose Thorne is not wrong.

Shanti and her father are well-connected in the world of Knowledge Acquisition and a word from her would guarantee Noah a position at any of a dozen top universities and colleges around the world.

Instead, Noah Hunter has chosen to stay independent.

Noah has had his credentials, his restored reputation and as Shanti is keeping her shop in Spring Lakes for now, access to quite a unique library, indeed.

He can write and study and help Shanti organize and acquire materials for her shop and eventually, maybe build a reputation as a keeper and guardian of knowledge in his own right.

Meanwhile, he is relying on his Mate to take care of him in more ways than one and for once, he’s okay with that.

"Ambrose, I love you," Noah repeats. "I love you because you see me for who I am. I love you because you're brilliant and compassionate and beautiful. And dragon or not," he finishes as tears slip from his eyes,."I just want you to love me back."

Ambrose shakes his head.

"I do, Noah. You know I do. I'm just afraid...."

"I love that, too," Noah interrupts. "I love your fire and your passion and your barely contained flames. I... I like it when you want me like that."

Ambrose stares at Noah as his face grows hot.

"Really?" he asks and Noah nods.

"You'll tell me if you don't, right?"

Noah nods again.

"Very well, little wolf," Ambrose grins. "But just remember, this time you asked for it."

First, Ambrose ensures that Noah is able to give his full consent.

Then, he binds his young lover’s wrists to the bed with his tie.

Ambrose’s eyes are lit with dark flame, his teeth are sharp and his tongue is hot and sensitive as it tangles with Noah’s.

They're both naked and Ambrose’s body is strong and pressed against Noah’s in all the right places as he kisses him, one hand cupping the back of his young lover’s neck as he supports himself with the other.

Once they're both breathless, Ambrose lets Noah go and sits back, looking down at him.

Noah is completely at Ambrose’s mercy, exposed to his gaze and it's clear he likes what he sees.

Noah’s breath catches as Ambrose smooths his hands over his chest and then lowers himself between his legs.

"Just feel," he says, and then, with his fingers and his lips and his tongue, he shows Noah everything that feeling means.

When Noah is gasping, open and soft for him, laid bare and almost painfully sensitized, Ambrose sits back, stoking himself with one hand.

"Do you want me, like this, little wolf?" he asks.

Noah looks up at him, his cheeks lit with embarrassment even as his body burns for him.

"Yes. I want you, Ambrose," he breaths, and adjust himself to better receive him.

Ambrose’ eyes go dark with a hidden flame as he presses himself to Noah’s most intimate skin and then he's inside him, filling him with heat and the young man can't help the sounds that escape his parted lips.

They move like that, together, Ambrose’s hand on Noah’s member and him deep inside his young wolf/lover, both warmed with inhuman fire, until at last Noah loses his mind in it.

Noah feels Ambrose pulse hot within him and then he comes undone with ferocious pleasure of his own, his vision going white and then dark as he falls to the edge of a breathless sleep.

Ambrose, too, collapses at Noah’s side, taking him in a far gentler embrace, his face tucked in the crook of his mate’s neck as he surrenders to their mutual enervation.

"Alright, little wolf?" Ambrose asks, freeing him gently from his makeshift bonds.

"You tell me," Noah answers, half conscious but filled with a rising happiness that could outshine the sun.

His lips curl in a smile and he kisses the end of Noah’s nose.

"You and I, my little wolf," Ambrose Thorne says, pulling Noah Hunter against him with a satisfied sigh. "We are alright."

~ THE END ~

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