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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

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As You Wish | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| You've had your eye on Neil for a while now and Neil's friends can tell but Neil isn't so sure until you come into Gumshoe Video with a boy on your arm with horrible taste in date-night cinema. When the date goes awry, Neil jumps to action.

Warning| Age gap, reader (19) and Neil (27), rudeness, flirting, touching, Neil being a little creepy, Neil's dubious consent, talk of virginity and inexperience, kissing, blowjob.

Mastermind- Taylor Swift (yeah, I said it) 🎵

Colorblind- Counting Crows 🎶

word count: 4933k

*sentences in italics are quotes from The Princess Bride (1987)

Please read warnings before continuing- thanks!

“That kid keeps coming around. If you’re not careful she’s gonna fall in love and you’ll be in deep shit,” Lucien fixed the thick frame of his glasses on his angular nose and returned the fake pipe to his mouth.

“Why don’t you shut up, Lucien. It’s not like that. Just keep your weird thoughts to yourself in my store.” Neil called over his shoulder as he stocked the shelves with returned VHS tape sleeves. He ran his elbow over his forehead, wiping away the thin layer of perspiration.

“Everyone’s thinking it…” Lucien raised his hands in defense and Neil rolled his eyes. Jonathan came in from Neil’s office holding a milkcrate full of new movies, still wrapped in plastic. Neil whistled at him.

“Jonathan, do you think that girl likes me?” Neil shot Lucien a look as Jonathan answered.

“Oh yeah, 100% dude.”

“What, no! Jonathan, you were supposed to say no.” Neil spoke with his hands, slapping his hand against his face. Lucien chuckled and Jonathan looked between them, confused.

“What? Neil, did you want me to lie or something?” Jonathan put down the milkcrate and leaned against the checkout counter.

“He’s blissfully unaware of how much that girl likes him.” Lucien sucked on the empty pipe and coughed, swallowing his spit the wrong way.

“How? Neil, she comes by like twice a week to talk to you and shows up at all of our softball games.”

“She’s only nineteen! For all I know, she just wants a job here one day.” Neil shrugged and went back to stocking the shelves, a blush creeping into his high cheekbones.

“Sure she wants a job here if it means that she gets to fucking talk to you everyday, all day about classic films and shit!” Jonathan laughed.

“She’s nice!” Neil exclaimed defeatedly and massaged his eye sockets.

“Yeah, so’s my aunt but she doesn’t come around here every week to tell me about the latest movie she’s watched.” Lucien mumbled.

“That wasn’t as effective as you think it was,” Jonathan sighed, then just to Lucien, “don’t use a family member next time, ok?”

“Ok, OK!” Neil interrupted them, shaking his hands. “It’s not like that and she doesn’t like me like that. I’m like eight years older than her…”

“That’s never stopped people before,” Lucien reminded Neil and he withheld a few choice expletives as the shop door opened and a customer came in. The bell twinkled and Neil called out the familiar greeting.

“Welcome to Gumshoe Video!”

“Hi, Neil.” Y/N smiled shyly. Lucien and Jonathan’s quiet snickers stopped as a second customer entered after the girl. “This is Woody. Woody, this is Neil.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Woody waved to Neil and his friends on the back couch. They waved back in shocked silence.

“What happened to you?” She asked, recoiling away from the employees who stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost. Neil blushed, still embarrassed.

“I was just not looking forward to telling you that we lost the copy of um, The Virgin Suicides that you wanted. It’ll take another few weeks and I assume that’s why you stopped by.” Neil scrambled for a reliable answer, and one that was partly true. She blushed slightly when she heard Neil use the word ‘virgin’ and laughed it off.

“It’s ok, I just wanted to show Woody my favorite place.”

“We’re going to get a movie,” Woody smiled and began to scan the shelves.

“Sooo what do you like? Classic horror, westerns, Spike Lee, Hitchcock, Coppola?” Neil listed off categories of films he viewed to be superior and Woody shook his head, oblivious to Neil’s edged tone.

“I like action movies mainly. I haven’t seen much else.”

Neil smiled at the girl’s embarrassed reaction. He knew well that she didn’t like action movies and refused to watch them even if Neil recommended one.

“So like war movies?”

“Sports movies.” Woody corrected and pretended to shoot a basketball. “Anything about football or basketball.”

Neil felt a sharp pain in his chest at the boy’s words. He was a walking abomination to the film community. Lucien made a sound similar to a whimper and Neil cleared his throat to mask it.

“Well uh i’m sure that we can find something for you though we don’t tend to carry sports movies because we have so little demand for it,” Neil explained blandly. “Have you ever seen anything by Tarentino? His movies tend to be more action-oriented. That and the old Bond movies.” Neil started to list movies he was almost completely sure Woody had not seen. Every shake of Woody’s head scratched a strange itch inside his head. What was this girl doing with someone like Woody?

“Ah maybe,” Woody shrugged. “Do you have Rudy, Bull Durham, Remember the Titans?”

“No, we don’t.” Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled stiffly. “We do have the Air Bud movies,” Neil mumbled as a joke but Woody looked interested.

“Where’s that?” He asked, looking around the store.

“The kid’s section. It’s about a dog that plays sports,” Neil deadpanned and Jonathan and Lucien stifled their giggles.

Woody was completely oblivious to Neil’s pointed comment and shrugged.

“Sounds good to me,” he looked at the girl with a smile. Her lips were parted in a look of displeasure and shock.

“You want to watch Air Bud?” She stressed the name of the movie like a bad word. Woody smiled, still not catching the tone of dislike in her speech.

“Um…” She started and trailed off, totally caught off guard. Neil smiled, almost enjoying the direction that this interaction had gone.

“I’ll get it for you,” Neil used his best customer service voice and turned around. He widened his eyes at Jonathan and Lucien, I told you so. Lucien narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, not wanting to admit defeat just yet.

“Sooo are you two dating,” Lucien tried to sound casual but his tone was suggestive and Y/N blushed deeply from embarrassment.

“No, we’re just friends,” she answered too quickly and Neil glowered at Lucien. Jonathan looked down at his hands, wanting to stay out of the conversation. Woody looked at her and frowned.

“Well on that note, I think I’ll just get going. Forget about the movie, dude. Thanks anyway,” Woody snipped and left the store abruptly. The bell beside the door clanged loudly as he walked down the sidewalk, fumming.

“Lucien!” Neil exclaimed and Jonathan swatted Lucien’s arm.

“Sorry…geez!” Lucien deflected Jonathan’s hands and scooted away. Neil, holding a copy of Air Bud on VHS, lowered it and slid it onto the checkout counter.

“Sooo no more Air Bud?” Neil tried to break the awkward silence. She gave him a look that quieted him immediately and left the store, going the opposite way that Woody had turned. She went around the side of the building where she knew there was a shabby basketball goal and a place to sit. She wanted to wait it out, to make sure that she wouldn’t run into Woody again that afternoon. It was safer to hide here than walk home.

“Nice going, Lucien.” Neil sighed and returned the tape to the shelf.

“You just fucking ruined young love,” Jonathan quipped and Lucien gasped defensively. Neil joined them on the long section couch and they sat in silence for a while. A loud bang made them all jump.

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan turned to look where the sound had come from. The three of them stood to investigate. The second time they heard it, the shelf of tapes on the wall was josuled. They each jumped again and Neil drew his face up into a tight line.

“Is someone throwing something against the wall?” Lucien surmised and spoke with his pipe in his palm.

“I’ll check it out,” Neil looked at the shelf warily and backed away. He left the store and went around the side of the building. Seeing Y/N made him jump again and he clutched his chest briefly. She had a basketball and was chucking it at the hoop without much care for whether or not it went in. The ball hit the wall again. Jonathan and Lucien collected the tapes that had fallen off of the shelf only to have more tapes fall on their heads.

“Maybe you should watch more sports movies, it might help you with your technique.” Neil crossed his arms casually across his chest and smiled. She dribbled the basketball slowly and caught it in her arms.

“It was more of an exercise of rage,” she spoke between heavy breaths.

“Sorry about Lucien,” Neil gestured to the store. “He’s not great with people.”

“I could tell… but I’m not really upset about it-”

“You fooled me,” Neil interjected with a laugh. She rolled her eyes with a small smile.

“He gave me an out but it wasn’t the right time. I shouldn’t have said it like that to Woody.” She dribbled the basketball again.

“So were you dating?” Neil opened his hands, signaling her to throw him the ball.

“Kind of,” she tossed him the ball and shrugged, “we’d gone out once or twice. We met at a party. Nothing was official yet.” Neil aimed and threw the ball, it fell through the hoop with a quiet whoosh before bouncing on the pavement below. She retrieved the ball and with one hand, she fixed the legs of her shorts, pulling them down over her thighs. He looked away quickly.

“Did you know his taste in movies before you started going out?” Neil asked and watched as she aligned herself to toss the ball. It bounced off of the backboard and spun into the hoop. Neil applauded and she smiled.

“He said he liked action movies but I didn’t know that he meant… sports movies. He’s a business major and I doubt he’s ever taken a film class or seen anything that wasn’t about sports in some way.” She nearly shivered. “And you had to suggest Air Bud?” She asked him pointedly and he pursed his lips defensively.

“That was not an actual suggestion. I can’t believe he fell for it,” Neil dribbled the ball around his legs lazily and circled her before shooting. He missed and she giggled. “I think you dodged a bullet,” he told her honestly and when they held eye-contact, he felt his navel twitch.

“Could you imagine if I had to watch Air Bud on a date?” She looked down at the ball and missed the hoop by a few feet. She sighed and fanned herself. This is exactly what she had been hoping would happen. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that she was a mastermind but she’d been trying to get closer to Neil for weeks. She’d liked Woody enough but taking him to Gumshoe Video was more strategic than cute. She hoped to make Neil a little jealous, and show him that she could get other guys. Nothing had actually happened between her and Neil besides long chats and lots of laughter. Maybe she could change that.

Neil picked up the ball and bounded over to the hoop, jumping and shooting the ball. His fingers pushed the ball into the net as he landed back down on the ground. When he turned his eyes widened slightly.

“It’s really fucking hot today,” she mumbled as she pulled off her t-shirt, having just a camisole underneath. Her cutoff denim shorts and black camisole left little to the imagination but Neil still tried. She tossed the shirt to the side and dribbled the ball, her eyes focused on the goal. Neil looked down her camisole, staring at her chest as her breasts shifted beneath the fabric in her bra. Her pink bra straps slipped on her shoulders and after shooting the ball, she had to snap them back into place. He blushed more and looked away. She crossed the small makeshift court and sat on the shallow ledge beside the store, swinging her legs up and underneath her. Neil held the ball awkwardly in his hands and approached her slowly.

“What movie would you watch on a first date?” She asked him.

“Uh,” his mind blanked, “definitely Air Bud,” he nodded and she laughed. He sat beside her and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Neil! I’m being serious!” She pressed the toe of her foot against her chest.

“Ok, ok ummm,” he wrapped his fingers around her bare ankle with a smile and moved it back to the ledge in between them. She shifted her body so that she was facing him, both feet planted on the ledge in front of him. “Maybe The Wizard of Oz.”

“Why?” She asked with a soft smile. He rocked back and forth, using his hands to support himself. His large hands sat on either side of her feet, his chest directly over her knees.

“Well it was one of the first movies to use color,” he said first, “and it would give me a chance to brag about how much I know about film.” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. She laughed and shook her head.

“I thought you hated musicals!” She protested and he looked away sheepishly.

“I do but I can’t pass up an opportunity to impress someone, especially a girl.” He looked at her and then blushed, looking away again. “I mean,” he started and she nodded.

“No, I get it. Do you like romance movies?” She fluttered her lashes discreetly, making Neil second guess whether she had done it intentionally or not. “You don’t seem like one but we all have our secrets,” she dragged her hand up her leg, drawing his attention to the contours of muscle beneath her shin bone.

“You could argue that every movie is a romance,” Neil sputtered slightly, collecting himself.

“Even Air Bud?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and he scoffed, looking away.

“I don’t know about that.”

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She rested her forearms on her knees and leaned forward. He looked at her briefly, his eyes dipping to her cleavage before meeting her eyes again.

“Uh w-what?” He asked and she giggled.

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She asked again and he thought quickly.

“The Princess Bride,” his eyes flicked to her’s for approval and that surprised him.

“I love that movie,” her eyes widened as she recalled the plot.

“What about you?”

“Well The Princess Bride is the best answer but I like The Great Gatsby too,” she smiled shyly.

“The Great Gatsby is a tragedy at heart,” Neil argued and she shrugged.

“As you wish,” she quoted from The Princess Bride and his eyes flicked open wider for one second before he cleared his throat. The sun was starting to set and the sky bled with a sated orange color. She looked up at the sky, showing the vulnerable underside of her chin and swallowed. Neil watched, letting his eyes wander over the soft expanse of flesh.

“We should probably go inside,” Neil broke the silence, “or I-I should go back.” He jerked his thumb back to the store and she lowered her head again and let her head fall to one side.

“As you wish,” she said again and laughed. He watched her silently and licked his lips. He felt like he was going to say something but no words came to his mind as he sat there.

“Or do you want to come inside? Sorry, I’m not trying to get rid of you…”

“Ok, sure.” She nodded and followed him around the store, pulling on her big shirt again. Jonathan and Lucien were arguing inside but stopped when they walked inside.

“Basketball game?” Lucien asked over his pipe and Y/N nodded with a sigh.

“Sorta, I had to blow off some steam.”

“He’s sorry by the way,” Jonathan added and Lucien started to argue but she cut them off.

“It’s ok. You saved me a night watching Air Bud.” She winked and started to browse the aisles again. Jonathan shoved Lucien.

“What? What’s your problem?” Lucien protested and Jonathan gestured to the door, hinting that they should leave. “You have to be joking,” he muttered under his breath, irritated.

“Hey uh, Neil?” Jonathan cleared his throat. Neil broke his obvious concentration on the girl and looked at his friends on the couch.

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna head out. Lucien owes me a beer and I want to beat the bar rush,” Jonathan grabbed Lucien by the shoulders and shuffled out the front door.

“It’s not even seven yet-” Neil started but they were gone before he could finish. His heart started beating quickly and he glanced anxiously at the disappearing silhouettes of his friends. The girl walked through the aisles, biting her bottom lip slightly as she looked. He didn’t want to be alone like this with her, it felt weird. She was young enough to be his younger sister and it irked him… and yet, she looked so pretty beneath the yellowish fluorescent bulbs inside the store and her hair was sticky from the humidity.

“We should watch something,” she said quietly behind a rack of VHS and Neil cleared his throat.

“Together?”

“No, in separate rooms… yeah of course together.” She laughed lightly and showed him the movie she had found. He chuckled and shrugged.

“The Princess Bride? Ok, sure.” He approached the small box tv in front of the sectional couch and inserted the tape. Y/N slipped discreetly to the front doors and turned over the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and locked the door. Neil stood behind the couch and set up the box player, struggling with the buttons on the remote. She collapsed on the couch and rested her legs on the wide ottoman. Her hair spread over the back of the couch and covered Neil’s hand. He looked down at it and struggled to exhale normally. The movie started and she wiggled in excitement. Neil sat on a stool behind the couch, worried about sitting beside her. After the first ten minutes of them each reciting the lines back to the tv, she looked over her shoulder, flashing a toothy grin.

“Neil, come on, sit with me. It’s weird to have you looking over my shoulder like that.”

“Um I- uh yeah ok,” Neil stammered and joined her hesitantly on the couch, his hands between his knees. His longer hair brushed the tops of his shoulders and she resisted the urge to sweep a strand into her hand. Slowly he relaxed and they acted to each other as well as to the tv, adapting the characters they liked best. As the movie went on, she braved looking over at him more and holding his startling eye contact. They laughed hard at one scene and bent over with laughter, shifting their bodies closer in the process. Eventually they were nearly arm-to-arm on the worn brown sectional. Neil’s breath escaped in pained bursts as he looked at her thigh, relaxed on the couch beside his leg. Her shorts had creeped up to her crotch as they sat and she’d made no move to pull them back down. He caught himself staring at the crease at her crotch and wondering if the tightness was uncomfortable for her, how warm the material would be against her like that… he shook his head to clear his thoughts and clenched his jaw when he felt his cock twitch.

“Neil?” She turned slightly to him and his breath hitched as he turned his attention to her. She bit her lip lightly and slowly pressed herself up onto her knee. He watched her, his eyes flicking between the tv and her face, inches from his face.

Hear this now: I will always come for you.

She exhaled softly and her breath rippled across his face. Her hands inched closer to his stomach clothed beneath his light blue shirt. Her bright eyes intoxicated him as she brought her lips to his, offering herself. When she kissed him, her eyes squeezed closed and she sucked briefly on his bottom lip, lacking technique from her barely nonexistent experience. When she pulled away slowly Neil’s brow creased as his brows flew up.

“Y/N… we uh we shouldn’t.”

But how can you be sure?

Her eyes crinkled in embarrassment and her small cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered and sat back against the couch, pressing her sweaty palms against her thighs. Neil looked over at her and licked his lips, fighting an internal argument against himself.

This is true love- you think this happens everyday?

She flexed her thighs anxiously on the couch and the movement sent a shock up Neil’s body, making his crotch throb slightly, weary from the close proximity to her warm skin.

You mock my pain.

Neil brushed a shaky finger down the side of her thigh and felt her inhale quickly. She looked at him slowly, her lips parted. His hand slid up her body to her head and cupped her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her, not harshly but not subtle either. Their lips popped wetly when he pulled away. He looked down at her, she was panting slightly, her heart fluttering in her chest.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Neil whispered and fell back into the couch beside her, clenching his fists. They sat in silence, their breath mingling in the space between them like a mixture of heat waves. Neil smelled faintly of mint mouthwash and musk, the sweat worked up during their “game” clung to his body.

Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something.

And quick as a flash of lightning, their bodies flew together, their mouths finding each other like opposite ends of a magnet or a cap over a pen. She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and held his head in her small hands. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bunching the fabric in his hands. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he greeted it with enthusiasm, his hands tightening around her waist. She licked his lips as she closed down around them, sucking everything out of him. He moaned softly against her kiss and his arms flexed, his cock hardening. She gasped when she felt him get hard against her crotch. He broke their kiss abruptly.

“Fuck, sorry.” He loosened his grip on her waist and went to shift out from under her. “I didn’t mean to get…” he trailed off and moved her off his lap easily. She watched him, her mind already caught in a lapse.

“This was a mistake. You’re in college. I shouldn’t have encouraged this,” he dragged his hands through his dark hair and pulled at the roots, mumbling incoherently as she looked up at him, her eyes wide like a doe. The front of his pants tented out and he started to walk to his office. She jumped and grabbed his hand, catching him before he disappeared into the backroom.

“Please, stay.” She whispered and bit her lip, dispelling some of her pent up energy into the action.

“You’re too young.”

“I’m nineteen.”

“I’m too old for you.”

“You’re 27.”

“You’re a virgin.”

She flushed redder and looked away, embarrassed. “Not really.” She looked back at him and shrugged. “We all have our secrets, right?” She cocked her head and tried to smile, her heart beating so fast that she felt dizzy.

“I don’t know…” Neil added half-heartedly, having run out of reasons. “The customers!” Neil remembered and glanced, panicked, at the front doors.

“You closed early.” She smiled embarrassedly and rubbed his wrist with her thumb. “Please,” she tried again and he looked down at her. His cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants. He allowed her to lead him back to the couch and watched as she lowered herself onto her knees. Her hands rested on his thighs as she opened his legs wide enough to sit between them. He watched dumbly as she unbuckled his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. She tugged down the crotch of his jeans, exposing the waistband of his checkered boxers.

“Wait,” Neil blurted and she looked up at him, “come here.” He asked softly and waited as she rose to her feet, her hands moving to his chest as she leaned closer. He pulled her back onto his lap, straddling her over his lap and kissed her, lapping at her mouth with his tongue. His small biceps flexed around her, his hands finding her hair and wrapping his fingers in it hungrily. She sat up on her knees and pressed her crotch against his chest, making him sit up taller to reach her mouth. She whimpered softly as he kissed her as if he was eating her, slowly getting deeper. His kisses felt so good on their own that she almost moaned into him, licking the tip of his nose. She licked the edge of his jaw and he let her, savoring the immature way she approached tasting him. His hands supported her back as she panted, bucking her hips against his chest as she kissed him feverishly. Racks of tapes shielded them from view but Neil hoped passerbys couldn’t hear them through the storefront’s display glass.

Slowly she slid down his chest and returned to her spot between his legs. She licked the warm mound at his crotch, leaving a wide wet spot. Neil sighed as he watched her, his cock twitched again. Her hands squeezed into his thighs and she licked his erection again through his boxers.

“Oh god,” Neil gasped and looked up at the ceiling. She hooked her hands around his waistband and pulled it down slowly, finally releasing his cock which glistened with precum. She stared at it for a moment before kissing the head. Neil’s mouth fell open in pleasure and shock. “Look at you, god… fuck.” She smiled, self-conscious and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, squeezing him slightly. He groaned and bucked his hips. She rubbed the head against her wet lips and slowly slipped him inside her mouth. Her mouth was already watering and he whined loudly as she took him in, hallowing her cheeks on accident but soon realizing that it made Neil feel good. She went as deep as she could and pulled away, allowing a thick line of spit to connect her lips with his cock. Neil’s eyes widened and his head dropped back against the couch. His hands flew up to his face and massaged his cheeks, unsure how to handle the things he was feeling and not wanting to force her head down on top of him.

She took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue around him, bobbing her head up and down. She rocked her head slightly and tried to create a rhythm that elicited the most pitiful sounds from Neil. His cock shook inside her mouth and she sucked hard against it like a lollipop. Neil’s hands tightened around his face and he moaned loudly, exhaling sharply.

“Oh god, honey. What the actual fuck.” He whined between even breaths. He looked down at her pretty little mouth sucking him off and he nearly finished then when she pulled off of him and started to jack him off, her tongue pressed flat against his head. Her fist clenched around his length and he sputtered, unable to form words. After a dozen hard and fast jerks, she took him in her mouth again and bobbed up and down quickly, drooling heavily around him as she tasted his salty precum.

“Oh fuck- fuck- fuck! Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He panted and moaned loudly, his hands finally finding her hair, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that it was almost painful. The friction and sensation heightened and his knuckles turned white around her long hair. He thrusted his hips gently into her mouth, not wanting to gag her. She welcomed it, opening her throat and humming to let him deeper. She breathed deeply through her nose and her exhales feathered across his crotch, adding even more to the sensations he was already feeling. With a yell Neil spilled into her mouth, bucking his hips and falling back on the couch. She proudly continued to suck him off, pulling everything out of him. He watched her, breathing heavily. She swallowed his warm cum with a smile.

I told you I would come for you…

Neil glanced up at the movie screen and chuckled. She licked him from the base up and plopped back onto the couch, breathing heavily too. Neil tucked himself back into his pants, leaving his belt unbuckled. She arranged herself proudly beside him on the couch, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That was fucking incredible,” Neil slapped his forehead and laughed breathlessly. “So so good…” he shook his head and looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. She snaked a hand onto his crotch again and rubbed him before wrapping her arm around his sweaty neck. He wrapped his arms around her and supported her body weight as she laid against him, their stomach crushed against each other. She shivered as she heard his heavy breath against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered and sighed. He rubbed her back and kissed her shoulder through her shirt. She turned over, sitting nearly on his lap. His hands clasped around her stomach and held her tightly. Her soft belly shivered beneath her slowing breaths. They both relaxed again into the movie.

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #fanfiction #cillian fluff #cillian fanfic #neil lewis x fem!reader #neil lewis x y/n #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #watching the detectives #princess bride

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coffeeghoulie · 5 months

Text

as you wish

no content warnings, just around 900 words of Aether, Aeon, and Dew being sweet

"Whatcha reading?" Aeon asks, tilting his head back to look up at Aether. He's sitting on the floor between Aether's shins, back pressed against the couch, switch in his lap, the Minecraft soundtrack playing gently from the speakers. He squints, trying to read the upside down title of the book in Aether's hands.

Aether shifts his reading glasses, smiling fondly down at the other quint. "Swiss lent me his copy of the Princess Bride," he says, running fingers through his two toned hair.

"How's it?" Aeon slurs, eyes drifting back into his skull as Aether plays with his hair, his gentle touch drawing chuffs and half-bitten off whines from his throat. He melts into the touch, tail wagging happily.

"It's one of my favorites, pup," Aether says, eyes crinkled and grinning as he looks at him over his glasses. "We should watch the movie next time we have a pack movie night."

Aeon stiffens, turning almost owlishly to look at him. "Do I have to read the book first?" He asks. "Sunny keeps saying books are always better than the movies, and I don't wanna watch it if I haven't read the book-" Aeon begins to ramble, and Aether cuts him off with a gentle hand through his hair.

"I'll tell you a secret, pup," Aether says, something bright and mischievous in his eyes. "This is one of the only books that I actually prefer the movie."

"Really?" He says, cocking his head like a curious dog.

"The book's still very good, but there's just something about the movie," Aether trails off, still running his fingers through Aeon's hair, almost absentmindedly. "Though, if you want, I'll read it to you while you play. I think you'll really like it."

Aeon chuffs, rubbing his cheek against Aether's thigh. "Would you, Aeth?"

"Of course," he laughs, chuffing back at him and slipping a bookmark into where he's left off, flipping back to the beginning. He pats his thigh, and Aeon chitters excitedly, scrambling up onto the couch to lay his head down in his lap. "Comfy, pup?"

The younger quintessence ghoul nods, turning down the volume on the switch as he curls up against Aether's thigh as he adjusts his glasses.

Aether smiles, beginning to read, watching Aeon's expression as he tries to split his focus between the story and his game.

Halfway into the first chapter, Aeon turns off his switch, reaching and setting it on the coffee table, fully engrossed in the story. His tail wags lazily, and Aether entwines his with it, playing with the spade.

By the end of the second chapter, Aeon's eyes flutter shut, drifting off into an impromptu nap. Aether chuckles softly, marking the spot and going back to where he left off before he started reading aloud. "Sleep well, pup," he whispers, readjusting his glasses.

Aether's just finished reading the swordfight when someone clears their throat. He looks up, startled, posture only relaxing when he sees Dew leaning against the doorframe.

"Darling," Aether greets him, grinning at his mate.

Dew doesn't respond, stalking over to the back of the couch, rummaging through the pile of throw blankets, most of them ones Cumulus had knitted on the tour bus. Dew hums, pulling out a purple and teal blanket, the softest one on the pile. Aether watches as Dew wordlessly covers Aeon in the blanket, who stirs but doesn't wake.

He plops down on Aether's other side, resting his temple on Aether's shoulder, purring almost aggressively.

"You're really warming up to him, darling," Aether says, unable to keep himself from snorting at his own joke. Dew rolls his eyes, smacking Aether's thigh, the one not being used as a pillow, with the spade of his tail. But he curls in closer anyways.

"He's a good ghoul," Dew says, not looking up at him. There's silence for a long moment, and he turns to look Aether in the eye. "I still love you, though. You're still my mate. Not replacing you."

Aether smiles, chuffing as he rubs his horn against the crown of Dew's head. "I know, darling. But I'm glad you're nice to him all the same."

Dew splutters, but his lips turn up in a small smile. "Just didn't want the voidling to get cold, is all. And it's better to nap warm."

"Just didn't want him to get cold my ass, darling," Aether laughs quietly. "You looked through the entire pile of blankets to give him your favorite."

"So what?" Dew says, but there's no heat behind it.

Aether shakes his head, bookmarking the Princess Bride and setting it down next to Aeon's switch. "Nothing, darling. Nothing at all. C'mere."

Dew presses closer as Aether wraps his arm around him, chuffing into his mate's hair. "I'm gonna assume we're watching that next movie night?"

"Not unless you have any complains, my Buttercup," Aether says, playing with the ends of his golden hair, curling the strands around his fingers.

"Shut up," Dew hisses, but he purrs nonetheless. He grabs another blanket, black and white granny squares, and wraps it around his and Aether's shoulder.

"As you wish," Aether smirks, and he laughs at Dew's resulting groan, holding his mate close and running fingers through Aeon's hair, content to enjoy a lazy afternoon with his boys.

#or dot inflicts aether with their opinions on the princess bride #if i didn't have to deep clean my apartment i'd probably curl up and watch princess bride tonight #dot's writing #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #aeon ghoul #dewther #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction

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rain-in-the-clouds · 2 months

Text

To Your Desire.

Paul Atradies x Feyd Rautha Harkonnen

Princess Bride AU

Word count: 11,218

M/M pairing

Warnings: NSFW, graphic depictions of sexual acts.

Part One

Paul stared out past the balcony where he sat in the lavish castle where he currently resides. Though for him it was a gilded cage. The rolling forests that wash into meadows and sprawling grasslands. It was beautiful, bright lush greens and colors the young Atradies only seen in holo-logs. But the beauty that laid before him was a melencholes sight; something he’d grown to hate, a reminder of his unchanging fate.

He missed his homeworld of Calidan. The never ending ocean that graced every horizon, and the cold air that blew over every bit of land. But mostly he missed his old life, the one that died with his love years ago.

(flashback)

Paul grew up on Calidan, a world blessed with seas. He came from a grand house, his family line long and proud. At one time he cared about his familial history, took pride in his social standing. But in truth it was mostly a front, he loved his family, the caring and loving parents he was so grateful for; but he felt isolated then too. Only finding solace in books, fictions told by guardsmen, and the teasing torment of a servant.

The servant wasn’t from Calidan, discarded or sold, Paul never knew which, by the Harkonnens when Paul was just a child. The servant, at the time, was also a child. Not two years older than Paul. His name was Feyd, but Paul refused to call him by name.

Always finding him in the middle of his work. In the beginning he would stand back and away from him, spying on him from a distance. Feyd intrigued Paul from the start, he was stoic and serious and wholly different from everyone else around them. He had near black eyes, eyes that bore into your very soul. His skin a perfect alabaster that glowed in the light. He had no hair, and never grew any, but it never worked against him in his looks. Paul would find himself staring at Feyd whenever he was around, even if he didn't understand why.

The longer Feyd was there, and more evident that he wasn’t going anywhere; Paul became more brave. They were about 16 when Paul finally walked right up to Feyd.

At first nothing was said, Paul put on a mask of disinterest, as if he was simply inspecting the servant; despite the fact Feyd had been with them for years at that point.

Feyd paid no mind to the aristocratic boy before him. Though acutely aware of his presence and proximity. But Feyd also knew it was all for show. Though Paul thought he was sneaky about watching Feyd, he really wasn’t. But he also assumed Paul wouldn’t get the courage to actually face him. Despite keeping focus on his task, he was enjoying the moment nonetheless.

“Is there something you require, my young lord?” Feyd asked, formal as he was taught, but he didn’t meet Paul’s gaze; keeping his low, all the while continuing his work.

It threw Paul off, not planing for words to be exchanged, the mask began to crack. His cheeks began to flush a light pink, but he breathed through it while taking a step back. Shaking his head, “N-…” Paul began but stopped abruptly. Catching sight of the small, barely there smirk on Feyd’s lips. Quickly he caught on. Paul frowned, realizing too late his expression, Feyd eyeing him from the side; the smirk he wore got a little bigger. Paul made his face as natural as possible, doing his best to fane composure. “I’d like my horse prepped for an afternoon ride, servant.” Paul spoke smugly, trying to egg on Feyd. But something else happened instead.

Feyd stopped his work, stood straight up before Paul, towering over the Atradies some. It took Paul by surprise. What shocked him more was Feyd’s eyes meeting his own, a black well pulling him in; an endless abyss Paul wanted to fall in for an eternity. “To your desire.” Feyd bowed his head, but never braking eye contact, not until he had to leave to fulfill Paul’s request.

Paul was left speechless, standing in the garden alone, watching Feyd disappear around the house towards the stables. He knew his face was flushed, however he didn’t care, he wanted Feyd to look at him like that again. But with his life and what was expected of him, Paul found it hard to stay moments with Feyd. All of which were him ordering Feyd to do some task, at first something expected of him to request, but as it went on the tasks became small and meaningless. All Paul wanted was to be under Feyd’s gaze, to hear his voice speak only to him.

Paul’s 20th birthday was creeping closer, he had already met with several possible suters, and he dreaded the affair every time. After each forced meeting, he’d find the right moment to slip away from his entourage, off to find Feyd, wherever he may be in the moment. The first few times Paul met him simply to be near him, an unspoken arrangement, seeking odd comfort from the others' presence. It helped Paul at first, but when the meetings grew in number, he began conversing, openly, with Feyd.

One day, after a long an argous meeting with a lady from an outer world, he didn’t care to remember. Dashing away from his auntourage and his father’s top advisor. Near running through the manor, uncaring of the trouble he’d be in if caught, but luckily he was alone everywhere he went. He didn’t actually start looking for Feyd until he’d long last his breath, about falling into a corridor lined with giant windows.

The windows looked out at the flourishing garden, deep dark greens, thick trees and bushes; just beyond was the deep blue ocean, seemingly stretching out forever. Paul leaned against the thick glass, practically sliding down the cool surface. It didn’t take him long to regain his breath, his many activities and training keeping him fit. He’d gotten quite far from where the meeting parlor was, reaching the far end of the manor in a matter of minutes. When he calmed he began to look for Feyd.

First he checked the garden, mid afternoon on a stormy day, he’d usually find the alabaster man outdoors. However, with everything happening at the manor, the romers of a move, the plannings to marry off Paul; it was chaotic. So Paul moved through the garden to the back of the manor until he was in front of an old, slightly rotted wooden door that led to the under workings of the manor.

There was no real floor down there, a mix of rounded pebbles and mud. However the servants over the years had refined the area, turning the once useless access and room into a bustling underbelly. Specifically to the kitchen. There was a large hearth, it was used to bake and cook in grouse amounts. The other half of the room would become like a second kitchen. Due to the hectic goings on, he’d hoped to find Feyd there. But he only found Milla, a sweet and caring lady, who’d worked and live with his family for as long as he could remember. She was standing in front of the hearth, switching out bred pots. Her daughter, Briar, an equally sweet, and flirtatious girl, was at a large table quickly rolling and pounding dough.

“Hello Paul.” Milla called, happy as ever. Paul smiled, despite his disappointment. “What are you doing?” She asked, her voice thin and full of maternal concern.

Paul shook his head. “Nothing really. Just had to get away from everything.” It was a half truth, knowing she probably wouldn't ask further. And he was right, she nodded simply and went back to work. However Briar waved him over. Paul glanced at Milla before moving towards her daughter. Paul stood on the opposite side of the table from Briar.

In a quiet voice she spoke, “Feyd’s down at the docks. Charged with watching the guests’ ships with the night guards.” Briar explained, her whispered voice filled with a wild tone of gossip. Paul smiled, not verbally responding, but nodding his head. With that he headed to the docks, just outside their estate.

~~~

As Briar said, Feyd was stationed at a ship, large and intimidating, something that didn’t need guarding. But it gave Feyd a moment of calm and relaxation. He enjoyed days like this, cold, gloomy, and wet. The ocean was a roaring monster beyond, dark and powerful. The crashing sounds of the waves were music to his ears. He was in the midst of doing routine checks on a crate of goods when Paul found him.

At first Fayed did as he always done and paid no mind to the young Atradies as he strode up. But he did notice the disheveled look about him. His once neatly done dark curly hair now out of order, the evidence of his hands being dragged through the locks. He was wearing one of his more regal attires. An Egyptian blue coat, lined with a silver threading, embroidered with a pattern like blades laid side by side. His pants were simple and black, matching his shoes, but all of it together made him shine. In Feyd’s eyes, he was brighter than his home world's black sun.

Paul saw what Feyd was doing before he was near him, he decided to pace about a bit around Feyd. Nervous energy needing to escape. Feyd wanted to ask, but he was never the one to speak first between them. Paul finally stopped a few minutes later, finding perch on an already checked crate. He was slumped and weary.

“Are we all something to be pawned or sold off?” Paul’s voice was quiet, but full of venom. Feyd didn’t respond immediately, uncertain if Paul was wanting to talk, or be heard. When Paul didn’t go on, Feyd assumed the former.

“From my perspective? Yes. Doesn’t matter the status.” Feyd spoke grimly, but matter-of-factly. His voice was a low gravel, almost like a rasp. He didn’t look at Paul as he spoke, some part of him worried about being caught, despite nothing happening. Paul was thankful to have Feyd to talk to, to confide in.

“Will it ever change?” He asked, whatever hope he had fading fast. The whole ritual of it all slowly began to crush his spirit, knowing at some point, he won't have a choice. “I don’t want any of this. I want to stay here.” His words were crushing, and the way he spoke tore Feyd apart. The young Atradies expression was more than sad, it was heartbreaking to behold.

Feyd wasn’t sure what to say, believing he didn’t have the wisdom to comfort the young nobel. But he knew what he would have wanted to hear. “Then don’t go. Stay.” Feyd kept his voice low, trying to be soothing and comforting, it worked in some way. But it was how he look at Paul, his black eyes made darker by the looming clouds, somehow high lifting his begging expression. His brow that is usually always furrowed and pulled down, was soft and lifted. His otherworldly alabaster skin appearing as a gray color during the stormy weather. He was beautiful in every way to Paul. His pleading gaze made Paul’s heart beat strong and heavy in his chest.

It took Paul’s breath away, not expecting such a thoughtful and emotion filled response from Feyd. Believing the Harkanon was only humoring his pestering company, only hoping he’d see the young noble as a companion. “Maybe one day I can change things.” Paul spoke, with the smallest amount of hope in his voice. His eyes half lidded, almost distracted by the sight of Feyd. If not hope, then some kind of longing.

That was their first real conversation, however short, Paul smiling softly at Feyd before quickly leaving, knowing he would be expected soon. But both knew neither wanted to parted, a silent promise formed to meet again sooner than later.

~~~

The next few weeks went on like that, after each meeting with potential brides he’d rush off to find Feyd. The conversations were mostly one sided if they happened at all. Both still unsure of how to move about their budding relationship; but when they did speak it always sparked something within Paul, a deeper want for a freedom he didn’t know he lacked. Feyd would lull any worry Paul presented him, but always in few words. It was then that Paul realized more about himself and his feelings the longer and more they talked. As well, he missed the words Feyd would only say to him, unaware what they meant and why it was so important to him.

Paul held onto these thoughts and feelings awhile longer, wanting to understand them better, but also out of a fear it would push Feyd away. After some weeks had past, and the seasons coming to the end, Paul was able to find respite away from the socialites in the cold winter in the manor. Ignoring the fast approach of his 18th birthday and all the hell that will bring.

It was the first of many frozen nights that bled into day. The beach frozen and snow covered, all of the land blanketed in pearly snow. Paul spent most of the morning in his room, lounging in front of a large window, simply enjoying the days beginning. It wouldn’t be till just before noon when Paul finally left his quarters to explore the manor he’d memorized when he was still a chilled, knowing all too well that his Father would be off all day with other dignitaries and his Mother would be off with the other Bene Geserit. A group of religious zealots he’d grown to hate, especially when he discovered it was their order that plotted his future. Whenever they had a meeting in the manor, or even to cart his mother away for some unknown rite; whatever the reason for their presence, he’d find every way to not be around. Once it was a losing choice, and in the end he decided pretending to court a possible bride was better and less nerve wracking.

But he didn’t have to worry about any of that today, he was free to do what he wanted. And he knew exactly what he wanted, or more who he wanted; but finding the elusive Harkonnen was a trial in itself.

At the same time, Paul wasn’t in any rush. Winters promised short days and long nights, something most everyone hated, he found refuge in. Everyone busing themselves ignoring the change in season, Paul was able to do as he pleased around the manor and on the grounds. He was becoming lost in thought, joyously planing the days to come, when he realized he’d made it to the main hall of the manor.

It’s a grand hall, ment for grand balls and large, usually royal, meetings. It was beautiful, dark blue stone, silver accents, bronze peaking through, making everything stand out even more. The magnitude of the hall and of his home, always had him curious how the servants cleaned it all. He believed it just couldn’t be done. And in some capacity he was right, like any ordinary home, it appeared to be perfectly clean, but truly wasn’t. Paul had these thoughts and more like it as he made his way through his home, quickly coming to the main kitchen, which, unlike the rest of the house, was alive, bright and warm.

Milla and the other kitchen staff were busy at work, Paul thought it best to not interrupt them; so he sneakalie grabbed a small rag, some cuts of bread, cheese and grapes; tying all in the rag before rushing out of the kitchen.

From there Paul went to the basement kitchen, Feyd was not there either. Through the cellar-like hall, out to the back garden.

It was a bright wash of snow, so bright Paul had to wait and allow his eyes to adjust. Holding his hand over his eyes, while they were practically squeezed shut. He stopped moving, only after almost falling on his face. Stumbling some, digging his boots into the thick snow and soaking them through. He didn’t mind though, the chill that was running up his body was easily ignored when he was being blinded.

When he finally thought his eyes had adjusted, he opened them slowly, his hand still shading him from the light; and for a moment he really couldn’t see anything. The stables were some distance away, and blurred by the bright white, but the more Paul focused, the more he could make out. However he, without thought, began to move forward, not expecting someone to rapidly come into view.

Paul walked smack dab into someone. At first he didn’t see who he’d run into, still partially blinded by the brightness, nearly falling backwards in the snow. But he was grabbed before he was even close to the ground. It shocked him, a thin breathy gasp escaping him. A sound he didn’t think he could make. What was a bigger shock was who he’d run into and who caught him.

Feyd was standing above him, an arm slinged around Paul’s waist, while his other hand was holding him by the arm. It was a sweet moment, but not a pretty one. If there was an onlooker, it would be a sight of one young man half doubled over the other, like they were frozen in the middle of the fall. But for Paul, it sent a feeling through him he’d never felt before, but something he would completely expect from the Harkonnen.

“Young Lord.” Feyd greeted, a smug smirk painted on his lips. He swiftly lifted Paul back into a standing position, letting him go and stepping away, all in one smooth motion. Paul barely had a second to process everything. But when his eyes finally took in Feyd, his breath was taken away.

In the blinding light of the snow, Feyd glowed. His eyes were more striking than ever, dark pools sucking him in again. If it wasn’t for his dark clothes, simple work pants, thick shirt and coat, he would be totally hidden in this weather. However the thought had Paul picturing Feyd without clothes, another thing he wasn’t expecting to happen that day. It made a furious blush spread over his face, but he played it off as the cold making his skin red. Whether Feyd believed it or not remains to be seen. When Paul continued to not speak, Feyd furrowed his brow at him in confusion.

“Is everything alright?” Feyd asked, genuine concern, but also very confused. He’d seen Paul flustered before, half the time he being the one to cause it, but this was something new to him as well. They’d never been that close before, Feyd had never touched Paul before, never even gotten close to it. But it just happened, and had left him in his own state of shock. But Paul, for whatever reason, always seemed to ground him in some unexplainable way.

Paul shook his head. “No-“ He shook his head again, “I-I mean yes. I’m fine.” Paul stuttered out, caught up in his flurry of emotions. Paul took a steadying breath, running a shivering hand through his hair, he held out the rag that was slowly getting soaked. “I was going to have lunch….” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say or how to explain that he was looking for Feyd. Feyd cocked a brow, narrowing his eyes at Paul.

Feyd made a show of looking around, “Out here?” He questioned, knowing by now that Paul enjoyed the banter, welcomed it. “Seems…Odd.” Feyd didn’t hide his sarcasm or enjoyment of this situation.

Paul smiled softly, mostly to himself fully ignoring his blush, as well as the burn he began to feel on his skin. “Sort of.” Paul sheepishly explained. “Why are you out here?” He asked then, realizing Feyd was the only servant outside.

Feyd gestured towards the stables, “Tending to the animals. I was about to head in myself.” Feyd then gestured towards the manor, leaving an unspoken question in the cold air. Paul nodded simply.

“Mind if I join?” He then asked, his smile growing, though still somewhat flustered, his blush was fading and confidence growing. Feyd smiled softly in return, gesturing for Paul to lead, he stayed a step behind him as they made their way into the cellar.

Both were well aware of the layout of the manor, and knew their way around, easily able to weave through the long halls. Paul didn’t directly ask, but gestured for Feyd to follow him after they entered through the kitchen, having been ignored by the other staff. They were on the second floor, almost to his room when they stopped. Standing in a large hall, staring out large windows. The cold outside seemed so far from where they stood, it made Paul reach out to touch the freezing glass. He pulled his hands back quickly, hissing at the hot burn of the cold.

Feyd leaned forward some, inspecting Paul’s hand, but he was alright, yet it made Feyd worry. His expression was soft, but his eyes were hard and piercing. When Paul caught sight of Feyd’s eyes, he let out the smallest of gasps. Having to blink fast and breath slow to get his composure back. It worked but now the two had been standing there silently for so long, he began to feel self conscious about what he wanted.

Yet Feyd didn’t seem unperturbed, if anything he was content and peaceful, a stark difference from Paul’s rigid feelings and jumbled thoughts. But whatever Paul wanted ,he would have to strike soon.

Feyd turned to the young man, a very small smile on his lips. “If that is everything, I should leave.” Feyd bowed slightly before Paul, before standing straight again, and turning on his heel.

To Paul it happened all so fast, Feyd had his back to Paul and was moving to descend the stairs, but Paul stopped him suddenly. It happened in a blur, but Paul had lurched forward, near violently, throwing himself towards Feyd. With a free hand he grabbed onto Feyd’s arm, pulling him back slightly.

“Wait.” Paul was breathing deeply, his grip on Feyd’s arm waxing and waning in pressure. Feyd met the young Atradies eyes, his own expression a mix of shocked confusion. But Paul’s eyes were soft and pleading; it sent an emotional stab into Feyd. A second after their eyes met Paul dropped his hand from Feyd and all too quickly took a step back from the Harkonnen. The look Paul wore made Feyd’s chest burn; his eyes were still soft, but there were quickly becoming glassy, his brows pulled together in a worrying scowl. Paul’s lips were parted, as if he was going to speak, but the words getting caught in his throat at the last second.

Feyd knitted his brows together at the young noble. “What’s wrong?” Feyd was serious, his voice low and gravely, the tone of concerne clear for any to hear. Feyd wanted to step forward and enclose Paul in a comforting embrace, but like always he stopped himself, the only evidence of his thoughts were the slight twitch in his hands and fingers. The need too great that even the smallest movement would expel the want. But in this moment it was the hardest it had ever been.

Paul shook his head earnestly, his hands balling around the knot of the rag, nearly white knuckling the small cloth. Feyd tilted his head, still not understanding what Paul wanted. Paul screwed his eyes shut, not able to look at Feyd, the fear of rejection so strong, it was all he could do to hold onto the little confidence he’d gained. “Eat with me.” His voice was small, almost inaudible, but their closeness allowed Feyd to hear him fairly clearly. Though it wasn’t a question, it was an invitation, however poorly executed. When Feyd didn’t immediately answer, Paul added, “In my room.” Some part of him hoped the promise of privacy would entice Feyd to join.

Feyd didn’t hide his pleasant surprise, his eyes going wide and mouth slightly agape. He blinked a few times to get the information to process in his mind. His usual quick wit was silenced by this. Feyd nodded first in the affirmative, his small smile having grown wide and full of what’s normally unseen happiness. Before leaving just the smallest amount closer to Paul, his eyes trained on Paul’s own, something passionate buried in the blackness. “To your desire.”

Paul tried and failed to hide the smile those words brought to his lips, but that and the pink blush still speared across his face. Paul nodded once, gesturing with his hand for Feyd to follow again. The Harkonnen followed, but instead of being a step behind, Feyd strode right next to Paul as the two made their way to the young Atradies’ room.

In Paul’s room, he’d set up the night before, a small floor table and sitting mats in front of the fireplace. He’d set it up as part of a sort of ritual he did for the first real night of winter; but now it would seem to match his current intentions. He’d had his main windows curtains drawn, allowing the afternoon light in, setting his room in a soft white glow.

When they entered, Feyd moved towards the center of the room while Paul closed his door, making sure no one would interrupt. Paul half ushered Feyd to the fireplace; starting to set wood in the fireplace, when Feyd stopped him.

“Let me do that.” Feyd’s hand ghosted over Paul’s back, but never truly touching him; it still sent shivers down Paul’s spine.

Paul handed the lot and prod to Feyd, making sure his fingers brushed across Feyd’s hand. Nodding, showing acceptance in the assistance the Harkonnen offered.

Feyd made quick work of getting a fire going, fairly large, enough to heat Paul’s room. Paul had sat at the floor table, long discarding his boots, in place for more comfortable house shoes. Paul realized while Feyd was starting the fire, that he’d done something similar and was now barefoot. It had a melancholy feeling building in Paul. Before Feyd was done, Paul had opened the balled up rag, and speared the small assortment of food out. The small display had a smile creeping back on Feyd’s lips.

Feyd sat across from Paul, the silence between them growing and becoming more tense. Feyd wasn’t sitting facing Paul, but the fire, passively watching it crack and burn. However he was very aware of Paul.

Hating the feeling that was trying to settle between them, Paul produced a dark, decently sized bottle of mead and two glasses. Pouring Feyd and himself a glass, while also placing food in front of both of them. Feyd faced Paul at the sight that was unfolding before him.

“Where did you get that?” Feyd asked, truly stunned, never expecting something so adolescent from Paul.

Paul smiled half smugly, holding the bottle out for Feyd to take. “I swiped it from the kitchen a few weeks ago after one of the meetings with a suter. Haven’t really drank much of it though.” Paul explained, a little sheepish. Feyd smiled back, big and charming.

“Surprised you didn’t do it sooner, with how much you don’t like the betrothal thing.” Feyd admitted, letting his own negative feelings slip into his words. The situation grated on both of them; each dealing with it in their own way together. Though they had yet to actually speak about the situation and their feelings, it was a shared silent agreement in some way.

“Didn’t have the chance, really.” Paul drank some from his glass, enjoying the cool sweet taste. Feyd let out a chuckle at that. The thought of Paul sneaking around the kitchen was very amusing.

The afternoon changed to night, the two happily enjoying their time together, but the feeling, or more knowledge, that the end was coming soon. The food was long gone, and the mead was about spent, it not being a full bottle to begin with. But neither were intoxicated, if anything just a pleasant warmth engulfing them. As time passed the twos conversations had come to a pleasant close, the silence they now sit in comfortable and calming.

It grew close to dinner time, Paul knowing he’d hear the bell ring at any moment, Feyd knew too, but different. He had to make his way down to the kitchen before Paul was at the dining room.

Feyd stood then, quietly and smoothly. “I should go before the bell.” He said, a bit solem. Paul nodded once, his expression matching the feeling of disappointment. Feyd made his way to the door, stopping to grab his shoes, when Paul stopped him again.

“I want you to come back after.” If not for the fact Paul had been wanting to ask all day, he wouldn’t recognize his own voice.

Feyd was again stunned, the sweet, small smile responding before he could. He wanted to do as Paul asked, but it seemed an impossible request. He didn’t have to say anything though, Paul understood and already had a solution.

With a light grip, Paul pulled on Feyd’s arm, gesturing towards an overly large painting, the only thing that did not match the youth Atradies room. It was of a grand castle overlooking a roaring ocean, all in bright colors. Feyd was puzzled but didn’t say anything.

“Later, when everyone’s asleep, you can come in this way.” Paul explained, a hand gliding over the textured canvas while the other ran along the ornately carved frame, feeling for something unseen. When Paul found what he was feeling for, he made a small sound of success, followed by the sound of a click and thunk. With a small push the painting swung outward, leading to a dark tall passageway.

Feyd was left speechless. His eyes darting around the painting to the concealed hallway, before landing finally on Paul standing next to him.

“I’ll explain later.” Paul said simply. He stepped through the threshold, pulling out a small orb-like device that floated above them, giving them light, but very dim. “Step in, and put your shoes on.” Paul waved a hand, almost frantically gesturing for the Harkonnen to follow.

Feyd quickly stepped through, sliding his shoes on in the process. Paul didn’t wait for Feyd to be ready, pushing the door closed until he heard a deep thunk of the latch catching. Paul stepped back in front, leading Feyd through the tight dark hidden hallway.

A bit always from Paul’s room, Paul pressed a finger to his lips, silently shushing both of them. He pointed to the wall to their left and mouthed, “Parent’s room.”

Feyd’s eyes went wide again, the sheer foolishness the two were partaking in was testing his mischievous nature. His eyes scanned the wall as if he could see through it, as if he could see the Duke and his wife readying for dinner. But what the two young men could see was light that seeped through the old wood, orange and dim, the only way Paul knew they were in there and to be as quiet as possible. Feyd nodded, though unnecessary, before they continued onward.

Paul led Feyd through the winding secret passage, down two sets of thin steep stairs, until they reached the ground floor. Feyd took note of the time it took to get from Paul’s room to the ground, it was far less time then the main way; somehow the construction allowed for it. It had him curious how many and how interconnected the secret passages were. But what surprised him the most was how trusting Paul was of him. In a way he wasn’t expecting, Feyd felt honored to have Paul’s trust.

At the ground floor they were met with three doors; one that was directly in front of them, one just next to it, but it sat diagonally from everything else and was smaller than the others. The third door was to their left, the two ‘odd’ doors looked as if they hadn’t been opened in years.

Paul grabbed the orb that floated just above them, turned it off and passed it to Feyd, “You’ll need that.” His voice just above a whisper, impossible for anyone but Feyd to hear. Feyd pocketed the orb, not questioning Paul’s advice, however, Feyd had a sharp memory, and the best vision out of anyone in the estate. But Paul cared, and that was more important than his own pride in his skills.

The door that Paul had obviously been using for a long time, was seemingly not fully latched shut, for Paul was able to gently pull it open, just enough to peek out. But not seconds after Paul hastfully shut the door and latched it closed, all to Feyd’s surprise.

Paul took a large step back, almost bumping into Feyd, but he’d shadowed Paul’s movements. Feyd looked down to Paul, silently asking what was wrong.

Paul paused for a moment, as if waiting for something to happen, but when nothing did, he turned to Feyd and again whispered, “Can’t go that way.” Despite the anxiety that was cereal on Paul’s expression, even in the dark, there was humor in Paul’s voice. The ever surprising young noble moved for the diagonal door, fumbling a moment, looking for the latch in the dark. Feyd smirked to himself as he pulled the orb out again and shorn the dim light down on them again. Paul stood straight, looking to Feyd, who still wore a sly smirk, giving his own smile in return to the Harkonnen; a silent thank you.

Quickly, Paul opened the odd door, it led to a short narrow staircase into another hallway. When through the threshold, Feyd moved a bit closer to Paul and whispered,

“Where did that lead?” His gravelly voice and hushed words had the hairs on the back of Paul’s neck stand on end. The young Atradies breath quickened slightly as Feyd’s words fanned over the back of his neck.

Paul swelled thickly, “One of the linen closets. Someone was in there.” He explained, his mouth feeling dry and hands damp. “This’ll take us to the library.” Paul explained as they continued on.

It wasn’t long before they were at what was a door, but looked like a dead end. There was no lock, knob or latch; Paul had to push, hard, on the heavy door till it began to swing open. As one would picture, the door was hidden by a bookcase, large and heavy, swinging outwards. But both Paul and Feyd slowed the door to a stop before any sound could be made. Paul showed Feyd how the door closed, not able to avoid the thunk of the door sealing again. But the library was empty, thankfully.

Paul about ran to the main doors, unsure they wouldn’t open until they were ready. “Tonight, go to the third linen closet on the ground floor, at the very back the wall slides open. That’ll take you back to my room.” Paul explained, a bit rushed and still in a hushed voice. He was grabbing the non locking door handles as if his life depended on it. Feyd looked at him with compassion, but concern, causing Paul to quirk a brow.

“Are you sure about this?” Feyd asked, his voice full of concern. But his eyes held something deep and loving. Paul felt like he was both floating, and being crushed while under the Harkonnen’s gaze.

Paul’s eyes softened, his lips pulling into a smile, a look of longing clear. “Yes. Yes I am.” He said finally and firmly. Not wavering from what he’s asked. Feyd went to speak but Paul stopped him. “Come here.” Paul then said, his voice hushed, sensuality dripping from the breathy way he spoke.

Feyd cocked a brow, glancing between them, they were already standing about a foot apart. It’s when his eyes met Paul’s that he understood. Feyd took the single step closer to Paul, now nearly standing chest to chest. Feyd did nothing else, just stood close.

Paul took a calming breath, his hands falling to his sides, and for a long moment he only stared at Feyd’s chest. When he raised his gaze, a hand followed, resting on the Harkonnen’s chest. Paul stared deeply into Feyd’s eyes, getting lost in his black pools. Slowly, Paul slid his head up Feyd’s chest, stopping at the crook of his shoulder, his fingers ghosting over the back of Feyd’s neck.

Feyd met him halfway, hesitantly wrapping an arm around Paul’s waist; when Paul showed no sign of pulling away, Feyd closed the gap. His hand coming to Paul’s cheek, tilting his head slightly, to finally connect their lips in a long awaited passionate kiss.

Paul’s eyes fluttered shut the instant their lips touched, he’d snaked his arms around Feyd’s neck, standing on the balls of his feet, everything to deepen the kiss.

Feyd pulled him as close as he could, their bodies flush, his hand ran up Paul’s back until his fingers were tangled in Paul’s dark curly hair. Their lips melded together perfectly, the kiss was slow but deep, each fully feeling the other; memorizing the moment as if it were their last.

They only broke the kiss to take deep heaving breaths. They kept their faces close together, their foreheads touching. A tender moment both waited so long for, and were displeased it had to end so soon. They stayed like that a moment longer, stretching time for as long as possible. Feyd placed several kisses around Paul’s face, his lips, cheeks, forehead. Trailing light kisses along his jaw. Paul relished in it, mesmerized by the simple shows of affection.

When finally they pulled away from each other, however they were still locked in an embrace. Paul looked into Feyd’s black eyes, now certain what he sees in them is the same emotions he feels.

“You’ll come tonight?” Paul asked, somewhat sheepish, despite the passionate kiss, Paul was still unsure of Feyd’s decision.

Feyd smiled at Paul, sweet and mischievous, his eyes soft and trained on Paul. He leaned forward and whispered against Paul’s lips, “To your desire.” He spoke in a deep voice, sending more sparks though Paul before planting one final kiss to the young noble’s lips.

“The painting will be unlocked. I’ll be waiting.” Paul proclaimed just before Feyd disappeared behind the library doors. The two having agreed to leave separately, Feyd first.

Not long after, the dinner bell began to ring. Paul intentionally took his time making his way to the dinning hall, though after the fact it seemed wholly unnecessary.

Dinner went by quickly, the conversation between Paul and his parents was enjoyable, but as normal as ever. Paul was holding in an overflowing well of anxious excitement. He felt like he was on the verge of imploding at any moment. But no such moment came. He stayed composed the rest of the evening. Though he also spent a long time in the library after dinner, fanning the want to read and study; when in reality he wanted to be sure the door was closed, and no one knew he’d moved through the secret passages. To the best of Paul’s knowledge, no one had used the passages in decades; he being the only one to use them, and only at night. When it was an appropriate time too, Paul made his way to his room. He stopped to bid his parents good night, a display he put on; ensuring the rest of the night would go on without interruption.

Paul felt restless as he waited up for Feyd. The second he got into his room, he locked the door, unlocked the hidden door and sat in a reading chair he kept by a window. But that didn’t last long.

Paul frantically, however needlessly, cleaned his room, all but forgetting that Feyd had already seen it earlier. In the process of cleaning he also remade his bed. Stripping the bed of all his sheets and blankets, anything he’d already slept in, and tossed it down the laundry shute. He replaced those with, what he thought, were his nicest bedding set. Dark red silks, and a thick silken black comforter, with matching pillowcases. Happy with his work, Paul tried again to simply sit and wait, but the longer he sat, the more disheveled he felt.

Attempting to be quick, Paul stripped his clothes off and jumped into the shower. He enjoyed the hot water that soothed his muscles, but he didn’t waste any time. Paul quickly dried his hair, not carrying that it was still damp. He threw on his undergarments and a simple shirt, but nothing else.

With no ideas left to help him pass the time, Paul started another fire. This time he set up the floor mats to be next to each other and the floor table in front. Paul’d replaced the bottle of mead with a new one, and snuck in a small arrangement of fruits. Similar to before, he speared the food out and poured two glasses. By then it was starting to get late into the night.

Paul wasn’t sure when, but at some point he’d fallen asleep in front of the fire. When he awoke, the flames were still burning and lighting the room; and Paul wasn’t alone. Paul woke up in Feyd’s arms, his back pressed against Feyd’s chest, a strong arm draped over Paul’s waist.

When Paul began to stir, Feyd propped himself up on his elbow, and slid his other arm back until his hand was resting on Paul’s hip. He waited before moving again, his eyes locked on Paul’s dreamy expression.

Paul blinked a few times, forcing the sleep away. After taking in everything, he rolled over until he and Feyd were chest to chest. The Harkonnen smiling down at the Atradies.

Paul had a thousand things he wanted to say, but instead he pulled Feyd into another kiss, showing all his emotions in one action. Wrapping his arms around the toned young man, nearly causing Feyd to fall onto him. But Feyd gladly returned the kiss, engulfing Paul in his embrace.

Feyd pulled back first, smiling down at Paul. “That’s one way to wake up.” He spoke with humor, a light laugh leaving him. It didn’t take much for Paul to join in.

“I’ve been so excited to see you again.” Paul couldn’t help but comment, “It felt like an eternity.” The young noble sighed while snuggling against Feyd.

“I know. I worked to keep my mind busy.” Feyd let out a deep laugh, a thought coming to mind. “When I found you asleep, I figured you’d worked yourself into a frenzy.” Paul couldn’t fight the blush that bloomed across his cheeks. Paul opened his mouth to speak, but Feyd stopped him by planting his lips against Paul’s. Taking the opportunity to explore Paul’s mouth with his tongue.

Paul was surprised, but quickly melted into the kiss. However he did not expect a deep moan, that Feyd gladly muffled with his passionate kiss. Feyd pawed at Paul, dragging his hand up and down Paul’s side, gripping his hip and squeezing his ass. Every little touch sent a burning fire through Paul, Feyd’s ministrations had Paul letting out small moans, all of which Feyd devoured.

Paul pulled away next, practically gasping for breath. His face was flushed, lips red and swollen, his chest heaved with each breath. “Bed.” He spoke between pants, lazily gesturing towards his bed.

Feyd gave Paul that mischievous smirk, “To your desire.” Feyd’s voice dripped with subduction, he spoke low, the gravel of his voice sent a chill down Paul’s spine. Feyd wasted no time, sitting up, one knee on the other ground, in a half lunge position. In one smooth motion, Feyd stopped Paul up bridal style and began towards the bed.

Paul couldn’t help the airy laugh that left him as Feyd carried him the short distance from the fireplace to his large bed. Large enough to easily fit the two of them. Feyd gingerly laid Paul down on his still freshly made bed, openly noting the red and black satin bedding.

“Are you trying to court me, Paul Atradies?” Feyd asked teasingly. Climbing into the large bed, half beside Paul and half hovering over him. That devious smile never leaving his lips.

Paul blushed furiously, his whole body going hot in an instant. Paul tried to put on his best sultry expression, his eyes half lidded and lips pouty. “Maybe.” He said first, fluttering his lashes at the young man above him. “Maybe I want Feyd Rauthra Harkonnen to bed me.” Paul made his voice low, trying to match Feyd’s sensuality. Despite Paul’s lack of confidence, it worked and more on Feyd.

The Harkonnen nearly pounced at Paul. Climbing on top of Paul, settling between Paul’s legs. In the process, Feyd had stripped his shirt off. Paul watched in aroused awe, his eyes dragging over Feyd’s toned body, taking in and committing every detail to memory. Absentmindedly reaching out and tracing the outline of his muscles. Lingering only for a moment before gliding to a different area. Feyd did not move, allowing Paul to do as he wished with him.

When Paul’s eyes found Feyd once more, he nearly shuttered. The look Feyd was giving him was that of a caged animal. Just as Paul was gawking at Feyd, so was the Harkonnen. A hunger in his black eyes Paul never knew was possible. Feyd slowly lowered himself until their foreheads were touching.

In a low voice and affectionate tone Feyd asked, “Are you sure about this?” His eyes were ablaze with passion, his words oozed concern, and his touch hot and full of long awaited contact. Paul openly shuttered, his skin becoming decorated with goosebumps, a thin gasp escaping him in the same instant.

Paul dragged his hands up Feyd’s chest, resting at his shoulders. In a breathy voice he spoke, “Feyd, I’ve waited and I’ve wanted. Yes. Please. I want this.” With each word breathed, Paul held Feyd a little tighter, ensuring he won’t go, that Paul won't lose him.

Not another word was spoken. Feyd connected their lips again, slow and sweet. The fire within him held back, wanting to take his time and prolong the night for as long as possible. Paul did not protest. If anything he dissolved into Feyd’s touch, in a fumbled, sloppy motion, Paul stripped his own shirt off, allowing full access of his body to the Harkonnen. Feyd swiped his tongue across Paul’s lip, asking for entrance.

Paul obliged, parting his lips, using the small moment of separation to gasp for breath before Feyd plunged into Paul’s mouth again. A grone, deep, like a growl, came from Feyd then. Paul moaned in response, his body responding on its own. It was becoming difficult for the two to ignore their growing arousal.

Paul had been hard from the moment they got to the bed, now it was almost painful. Feyd was becoming farl, he slipped his tongue from Paul’s mouth to nip and bite at the young noble’s lip. Paul reacted in kind, moaning, loudly, bucking his hips up into Feyd’s. The friction had both groaning and moaning; rutting against each other.

Paul broke the kiss, squeezing at Feyd’s shoulders. “Feyd.” Paul’s voice was quiet and horse, pleading with the Harkonnen.

The sound of his name coming from Paul’s lips sent him spinning. Feyd nipped and sucked at the skin of Paul’s jaw and neck; littering his flawless skin with love marks, all different shades of purple. Paul was gripping onto Feyd like he was the only thing keeping him from floating away as Feyd began to kiss and nip down Paul’s chest; while all Paul could do was buck up into Feyd, a litany of moans coming from the young Atradies.

Feyd was enjoying every reaction he was enlisting from Paul. The sight of Paul under him, writhing under his touch, it was all so intoxicating for the Harkonnen. Paul was starting to dig his nails into Feyd’s skin, unknowingly urging Feyd on. Feyd let out a deep guttural growl, grabbing Paul’s wrist and pinning them above the young noble’s head.

“You’re going to be the end of me Paul.” Feyd spoke between heaving breaths, his words coming out like a low growl against Paul’s skin. In his wake, Feyd left a trail of small bite marks down Paul’s chest, stopping at his hips, just above his underwear. Feyd met Paul’s eyes, staring deeply into them, wordlessly asking for permission.

Paul’s lips quivered, his eyes peering back at Feyd. In a move Feyd wasn’t expecting; Paul slipped his wrists from Feyd’s grasp, hooked his hands under Feyd’s arms and in the blink of an eye the young Atradies had flipped them over. Now Paul was, more or less, straddling Feyd.

Feyd looked up at Paul in awe, his hands sliding up and down Paul’s thighs, finding their perch on Paul’s hips; holding him in place. Feyd ran his gaze over Paul’s body, following the rise and fall of his chest, seeing his muscles twitch and clench, every little reaction, Feyd saw them.

Paul sheepishly smiled down to Feyd, his eyes were still half lidded, his parted lips turned up in a coy smile. Paul leaned down and placed his lips to Feyd’s. A gentle and soft kiss, starkly different from all before. It was a declaration, a promise. Paul pulled back just enough to smile at Feyd, before he began kissing down the Harkonnen’s neck. Leaving small marks in his wake, Feyd’s neck and jaw were quickly peppered in purple love bites. When Paul found the small spot at the crook of Feyd’s neck that had the Harkonnen a growling, bucking mess. Paul couldn’t help but smile, proud of his work.

Paul sat up just enough, trying to inch his way lower, however, Feyd had a different idea. Similar to Paul, Feyd moved fast, his hands gripping Paul’s hips, Paul reacted without thought, his legs squeezing around Feyd’s hips. In a quick motion, Feyd rolled the two of them over so he was back on top. Paul loosened his hold around Feyd just enough, but never actually dropping his legs.

“Feyd.” Paul breathed his name out in a breathy gasp. He’d begun grinding his ass against Feyd, begging for any kind of release. Feyd’s grip on Paul’s hips tightened, enough that he will have bruises there for the next coming days.

Feyd met Paul’s eyes, the hunger in their gazes was all consuming. The Harkonnen nodded once, his hands slipped from Paul’s hips, down his legs, unhooking them from Feyd’s own hips. Paul pouted at the lack of contact, his expression had Feyd smirking down at him, the young Atradies turned his gaze away, a flush of embarrassment washing over him then. Feyd leaned close to Paul’s ear,

”I’ll go slow.” Feyd’s lips ghosted over Paul’s already sensitive skin. The shutter that came from Paul had their bodies pressing together; Feyd rejoiced with every reaction he was illiceting.

Paul had snaked his arms under Feyd’s, wrapping embracing Feyd. He pressed his face into the crook of Feyd’s neck, inhaling deeply. He nodded curtly, rubbing his face against Feyd.

Feyd brought his hand up to Paul’s head, combing his fingers through Paul’s curls, a gentle and affectionate gesture. Paul leaned into his touch, following the movements of Feyd’s hand. Feyd guided Paul’s head to rest against the pillows, Feyd was being as gentle as he could possibly be; treating Paul as if he was the rarest gemstone in the whole of the universe.

Feyd rose slowly, propping himself up by his knees, his feather light touch traced Paul’s hands that rested on his shoulders, also guiding them down to the bed; Paul’s hands now resting beside his head. The Atradies looked a picture of seductive radiance below Feyd.

Feyd softly slipped his hands down Paul’s chest, his skin prickling behind Feyd’s long fingers. Paul’s breath quickened the closer Feyd got to Paul’s undergarments. Feyd moved past them however, sweeping over Paul’s legs and unhooking them from his hips. He was moving torturously slow, enjoying all the time they had; however, even his own patience was starting to wane.

Paul was gripping the satin sheets below, his body aching and clenching, all but screaming out for Feyd. Who had moved on to finally stripping Paul, and himself, of their undergarments.

The shock of cool air against hot skin had both letting lose a round of grones. Feyd dipped back down, just below Paul’s sternum, giving light kisses down his stomach, again stopping at his hips. Feyd nipped at Paul’s soft skin, leaving a deep purple mark on the small area between Paul’s hip and groin. Paul was a moaning mess the whole time.

“Please Feyd.” He begged, having to hold himself back from bucking up. But it also helped that Feyd was holding Paul down by the hips.

Feyd chuckled, hearty and bright. “To your desire.” Feyd declared boldly, his eyes alight with something joyous, and ravenous.

Feyd dropped his head again, starting at Paul’s inner thigh, leaving feather light kisses and spark-filled bites, leading up to Paul’s hard, throbbing member. Paul had his gaze locked on Feyd, anticipation over taking him. Feyd gave a few tentative swipes of his tongue up Paul’s erect member. The simple action caused Paul to roar out a littny of moans; sounding almost like music, created by love and eroticism. Feyd held back a growl, the sounds urging him on. Before Paul could quiet, Feyd popped Paul’s member into his mouth.

Circling his tongue around the tip before taking Paul fully into his mouth. Feyd slowly retracted before sucking him back in. Paul could barely keep himself quiet, having to, almost painfully, clap a hand over his mouth to silent his near screams and moans.

Never before had Paul felt such pleasure, never been touched in such a way, never felt such affection. He was over the moon and beyond. But Feyd was still devious, hastfully ending his pleasuring ministrations as quickly as he began them. Paul whined out, loudly, despite his hand muffaling his uncontrolled sounds.

Feyd met Paul’s wanting gaze, propping himself back up, “Oh my Lord, how common of you.” Feyd laughed heartily, “To pout so openly.” Feyd crawled up to Paul, stopping just at his neck. Again kissing and nipping at the skin of his collarbone. He continued up until his lips were connected to Paul’s. However, when he pulled back and saw the tears that pricked at Paul’s eyes, he was instantly sent into a frenzy. ”Paul- I-“ Feyd kissed the tears away, swiping his thumbs down Paul’s reddened cheeks. “I’m sorry.” It came out a whisper, words seldom said.

Paul shook his head, though still between Feyd’s hands, his eyes were still glassy and lips swollen. “No, Feyd.-” Paul stuttered, his voice horse. He pushed up as much as he could, giving Feyd the softest kiss. “I’m okay. I am.” Paul nodded then, leaning against Feyd’s gentle touch. Paul’s eyes were full of earnest understanding, the smile he gave to Feyd one of sweet longing.

Feyd brought Paul into another kiss, this time deeper, that burning passion rising again. Feyd nodded too, “Okay.” His voice so quiet, it vanished with the light moving air.

Feyd held himself up on one hand, pausing a moment to think about how he wanted to proceed. His eyes dancing over Paul’s flush and sweat covered body. So focused on his thoughts, he didn’t notice Paul’s expression turning into one of puzzlement. However the Atradies figured out quickly what was taking up Feyd’s thoughts.

With his legs still on either side of Feyd, Paul leveraged himself up, squirming some, trying to reach for his nightstand drawer. However, it was a near fruitless effort, as he and Feyd were in the middle of his large bed. Feyd had snapped out of his thoughts the moment Paul started to move, but he was enjoying the sight of Paul half struggling. Though he easily saw what Paul was reaching for.

Feyd followed Paul’s attention, quickly leaning over to the nightstand and rooting through the small drawer. With little effort he found what Paul was trying to get. The Harkonnen’s evident success brought a new wave of embarrassment washing over Paul. Feyd didn’t have to guess what it was; a small, half full, bottle.

Paul hid his eyes, not truly able to hide any other part of himself, downcasting his gaze, all but closing them entirely. Paul made himself small under Feyd, his chest and shoulders curled in some, his legs holding on a little tighter. Doing all this, feeling all this, all while Feyd was inspecting the bottle, plotting his next set of actions; when he finally noticed Paul.

Feyd leaned down, placing a chaste kiss to Paul’s cheek, his fingers gliding down Paul’s blushed cheek. “Are you ready?” He asked in a low voice, sweet and caring. With that same hand, he tilted Paul’s head up, forcing their gazes to connect. In the young nobles eyes were a flurry of emotions; excitement, joy, worry. So many feelings happening at once, it sucked the air out of both of them. Feyd brushed his lips against Paul’s, with his eyes open and looking deeply into Paul’s. “I love you, Paul.” Feyd’s voice was so quiet, the sound of their thundering heartbeats nearly overshowded it. But Paul heard clearly.

Paul’s eyes went wide, he knew his own feelings, and knew for how long he’d been harboring them, but he never thought, only hoped, that Feyd would return them. “I love you, Feyd.” Paul spoke louder, a declaration. Wrapping his arms around Feyd’s neck and pulling him down on top of himself in an embrace. A fit of laughter following after.

They connect again in a kiss, deep and passionate, their tongues locked in an erotic dance, while their hands explore each other's bodies. Feyd snaked his hand between them, slipping it around Paul’s member and stroking him heartily. Paul fell into another round of moans, each ripping from his throat; whereas Feyd was grinding himself against Paul’s thigh. Both yearning for release.

Feyd never stopped plumbing at Paul, but also never allowing him release, moving lingered, almost tourtorsly so. With his free hand, Feyd popped the bottle and slicked up his fingers with the lubricant; slowly and carefully working his fingers inside of Paul. At this point, Paul was more than a mess, moans slipped from him like a beautiful opera; Feyd’s ministrations had him a sweaty puddle.

Little by little. Feyd slipped three fingers into Paul, pumping in and out of him while also continuously stroking his erection. Feyd intentionally starving himself of touch, enjoying the moment and sight before him. His own erection painfully throbbing.

Paul gripped onto Feyd’s strong, flexed arms, “Feyd, I- p-please.” Paul could barely form words, let alone able to convey his wants. His eyes again glassy and half open, his lips now dry and chapped, but still puffy. The young noble looked the picture of perfection to Feyd.

Feyd nodded simply, gingerly removing his fingers, earning the deepest groan from Paul thus far. Feyd brought Paul close for a kiss, the softest, most gentle he’d offered the entire night; it took Paul by surprise.

Feyd adjusted his positions, scooting just a bit back to allow for himself to better align with Paul’s entrance.

Feyd had himself propped up on one elbow, staying close to Paul, while he began to slowly press the tip of his member into Paul. Feyd was met with a shutter from Paul. The noble’s hands gripping tightly at Feyd’s shoulders, leaving deep crescent shaped indents in his pale skin. Feyd tried to stifle a growl, but every sensation had him near roaring. In his excitement, Feyd pushed a bit more of himself inside Paul.

Paul clenched, hard, around Feyd; earning another animalistic sound from the Harkonnen.

“Paul.” Feyd’s voice was strained and low, the gravel that’s ever present exacerbated. It riled Paul up in a way he would never expect. “Paul- I-” Feyd spoke in huffs, having to fight every urge to not hammer into Paul.

Paul took steadying breaths, trying to relax his body, to some degree it worked. Paul felt as if his skin was on fire, his body igniting with a passion he could only find in Feyd. Paul couldn’t really speak, his voice so strained, so he vigorously nodded his head, kissing Feyd with the same amount of vigor. Through action, Paul conveyed his wants, and Feyd obliged.

Feyd broke the kiss to lock eyes with Paul, watching, almost dutifully, as he fully sheathed himself inside Paul. The noble’s mouth fell open, and eyes rolling back, his head thrusted into the pillow; a silent moan leaving Paul’s body any way it could.

Feyd began slow, pulling out some, before, just as slowly thrusting back in. Their mouths connected without them thinking about it. Though starting slowly, soon they were moving at a bruising pace. Feyd had fast repositioned himself, up on his knees, his hands gripped at Paul’s hips. Paul had his head buried into the bed, his hands balled into painful fists in the sheets.

Paul shifted his legs to drape over Feyd’s shoulders, while his own head and shoulders buried deeper into the bed. Feyd used the new angle and leverage to pound into Paul that much harder.

Feyd’s speed picked up after that. With his teeth gritted, he began to thrust into Paul harder. The sounds of skin and muscle clapping together filled the room, Paul’s moans having gone horse and broken.

Feyd’s thrusts and rhythm were quickly becoming erratic, his grip on Paul becoming harder. “P-Paul.” Feyd croaked out, his own voice starting to go. “I’m-” Feyd tried to give warning, though needless; Paul knew, his whole body ready and wanting. Despite his own erection going without attention, he was close as well.

“Feyd- I.” Paul tried, it hurt to speak, the angle he was at doing nothing to help.

Hearing Paul’s cracked voice breath out his name was Feyd’s undoing. He dug his nails into Paul’s skin, colliding their hips together; though Feyd was on shaky knees and quickly becoming fumbled and erratic. Feyd slammed into Paul, hard, a few times, releasing into Paul.

The new sensation that ran through Paul had him, almost painfully, arching his back, pushing against Feyd; all while shooting his load onto his own stomach, a shrill moan escaping him in that same instant. It was beyond euphoric.

Everything stilled then, as if frozen in time. The two felt like they were flying, adrift in the stars. When the crash happened, it was slow. Feyd pulled out of Paul before collapsing beside him, however, their legs were still tangled together.

The moment Feyd let go of Paul, he fell to the bed limp. The two a mess of sweat, pants and tangled limbs. They lay together, a bit sticky, holding onto one another.

Paul nuzzled into Feyd, his face pressed against the other s chest. Feyd held the Atradies close.

“You okay?” Feyd asked, combing his fingers through Paul’s curls. His other hand traced patterns on Paul’s arm.

Paul nodded, his face rubbing against Feyd’s pale skin. “I’m okay. Better even.” Paul answered, meeting Feyd’s gaze. Their eyes were filled with a deep love and passion. They shared a short sweet kiss before a big yawn left Paul.

“It’s late. You should sleep.” Feyd declared, going to remove himself from the bed, but was hastfully stopped by Paul. Grabbing his arm and pulling him back down.

“Don’t leave.” It came out as begging, but Paul was begging.

Feyd smiled, a small nod given, “Okay.”

Feyd pulled the comforter over the two of them, the lights going dim as they settled in. Though it was late, they still had a long night together.

Many nights were spent like this between the two. For three years they were able to be together, their time spent was blissful. A love as grand as theirs had not been seen in the universe in a millennia. But like all great happiness and love, comes great sorrow and hatred.

Paul and Feyd were able to keep the idea of regal marriage at bay, Paul switching his efforts into ascending Dukedom through other means. The plan they’d spent months on was simple; Feyd leaves Calidan to claim his right as Baron, and the two would marry. Forever changing the course of history; but things didn’t go to plan.

During the begging of their relationship, both knew the secret of them would not last without help. Paul turned to one of his closest friends; Duncan. Duncan was the one to help them in tight spots, see to them having some privacy, all around being the support system the two needed.

Before Paul’s 23rd birthday the two decided it was time for Feyd to leave for Gedi Prime.

The night before Feyd would leave, “How will I know?” Paul asked, worried, near frantic.

Feyd brought Paul into a deep kiss, holding him close. “You’ll know. I’ll be on your doorstep.” Feyd wore a smile, but his gaze was soft, something concerning in them.

“I’ll be waiting.” Paul spoke in a hushed voice, a few tears slipping from his eyes. “I’m going to miss you.” Paul laid his head against Feyd’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

Feyd hummed, nodding in agreement. “I’m going to miss you.” Feyd whispered to Paul, kissing his cheek in the process. Paul held him tighter. Feyd brought his hand to Paul’s chin and tilted his head up to meet Feyd’s gaze. “No matter how far apart we are, we will always have the stars.”

Paul nodded, more tears falling, the two melting into each other's arms, committing everything to memory, as it would be the last they would share for a long time.

The next day, Duncan was to take him during a diplomatic mission to Kaitan. However, before they could leave for Gedi Prime, they were attacked by the Harkonnens.

When Duncan arrived back at Calidan with the news, it crushed Paul. For months he would not eat and barely slept. All alone, even then only Duncan knew and only he was able to comfort Paul, what little he could.

Three more years passed. Paul becoming a husk of himself, doing mundane things to keep his mind at ease, though most days a fruitless effort. Until one day, when his mother came storming into his room. Proudly announcing Paul’s betrothal. Something that about made him instantly cry, it took everything in him to stay composed in front of his mother.

Before he knew it, he was shipped off to Kaitan. Fast living in the Emperor’s palace, betrothed to the princess.

#fanfiction #fanfic #dune #dune part 2 #paul atreides x feyd rautha #paul atreides #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #princess bride #romance #fantasy #alternate universe #smut #feyd rautha smut #Paul Atredies smut

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redscrawl · 6 months

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what would y’all do if i wrote princess bride chainshipping au fanfiction

#saw #fanfic #fanfiction #saw 2004 #the princess bride #chainshipping #adam faulkner stanheight #lawrence gordon #saw franchise #redscrawl

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enjoy-my-swearing · 1 year

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I HAD TO

@ramblingoak

#the cardinal’s bride #princess my beloved #a true wild west queen #she'll be a cowboy one day #ramblingoak #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #mary goore #my art

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captainsophiestark · 1 year

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The Dread Pirate Roberts

Westley x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023 which features a ton of awesome creators and runs all year! Go check it out if you haven’t already!

Also, this fic wasn’t a request, but I’m dedicating it to @auroracalisto who is my fellow Princess Bride fangirl searching desperately for fic with me

Fandom: The Princess Bride

Prompt: Poseidon; Sea, Water, Storms

Summary: Prince Humperdinck has set his sights on Y/N to marry, but she can't simply forget the love of her life, Westley, and give that up for a life with the prince. So, she decides to run, taking a boat and setting sail for new horizons like her farm boy did so long ago.

Word Count: 3,192

Category: Angst and fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time as I undid the last of the lines holding my boat to the dock. In the dead of night, I couldn't see much, but in the far distance the lights of the capital city of Florin stared back at me. This would likely be the last time I saw this place.

A few weeks ago, I'd been in town to do some shopping for my family, taking a bit of a rare adventure away from our farm. While I'd been walking through the market, a procession had ridden through on horseback. Among the group of young soldiers and officials was none other than Prince Humperdinck, apparently in the city to visit his subjects before going back behind the walls of his massive palace. By some strange stroke of luck, he'd seen me, and apparently decided I was someone he wanted to get to know.

We'd spent the rest of the day walking around the market, surrounded by his guards, talking and taking in the day. At first, I hadn't minded. What other opportunity would I get to speak with a prince, after all? I told him of the troubles I faced in the countryside, and about things I thought might help or fix them. He listened closely, and I thought I might actually be making a difference. He even invited me to return to the capital city and the palace in a few days' time to continue our conversations. Of course I'd said yes, excited that the prince had listened to me and wanted to hear more of what I had to say.

And then, when I arrived at the castle, he proposed to me. To make matters worse, it was clear from the minute I set foot in that place his proposal came out of a place of attraction to me physically, and absolutely nothing else.

I immediately knew I wanted nothing to do with him, especially not in that way. I'd already met the love of my life, and although I'd lost him when he went off to sea and left my family farm, my love for him had never faded. Perhaps, someday, I'd be willing to love someone else, but that day was not today, and no matter what I knew it wouldn't be love for Prince Humperdinck. However, there was no saying no to the Crown Prince. So, to escape the fate of the loveless life I surely faced if I agreed to marry him, I'd decided to leave this land once and for all.

I'd had very little time to make plans or preparations, since my window to escape Humperdinck was incredibly small. I'd managed to pull together some provisions and to secure a small boat, that hopefully I'd be able to sail on my own. I was no expert sailor, but I could get by well enough to leave the country. I'd had no time to tell my family or anyone else I cared about, but eventually, I'd decided that might be for the best. This way, they'd have deniability when people eventually came asking about where I'd gone or why I'd left.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then chucked the final tether ashore and away from me. I ran around, adjusting the rigging and sails on my small boat as I drifted out of the harbor. There was a light wind tonight, perfect for helping me make my escape. The gods of the sea were watching out for me, or else my darling Westley, the love I'd lost to the sea, now acting as my guardian angel.

It was fitting, I supposed, that I'd eventually follow him out here. I hoped to find a new place to call home, somewhere no one knew me or my connections to the Prince of Florin, but nothing was guaranteed. This may well be the place I perished, to finally join Westley after he lost his life to the Dread Pirate Roberts.

I sat up all night, manning the lines and making sure my sails were always adjusted to catch the winds. I made good progress, leaving Florin in my wake, and eventually got comfortable enough that I could sleep for short periods of time in between making sure everything went smoothly. I'd actually managed to gather a decent amount of provisions, and I started to feel more hopeful about my prospects on this ship to find a new land.

At least, until a storm hit.

I woke up just after twilight on the third night since I'd left, being almost rocked out of my seat by the waves tossing my boat about. I shook my head, trying to clear it of the remaining sleep fog as the waves continued to grow around me. I swore as I looked to the horizon, only to find darker clouds and bigger waves. I was headed straight into the center of what appeared to be a very big storm.

I ran to the rigging, trying to change course. I wrestled the ship into a sharp right turn, thinking I could run along the edge of the storm until, hopefully, I past it. I'd never be able to outrun it by going back the way I came, and the odds of me finding the eye of the storm before I capsized were fairly low. I had no other way out.

I wrestled the rigging until my arms burned, and then found a way to keep going. Despite my best efforts, however, the storm only got worse around me. I clung to the ship, praying for a miracle or some way out of this, and then suddenly, I was underwater.

A massive wave must've finally managed to swamp my boat. I floated for a moment, letting my natural buoyancy show me which way was up so I didn't accidently swim further from the surface before I at last made my push upwards. I gasped once my head broke the surface, searching frantically for something to help keep me afloat.

I found a piece of my now-smashed ship not too far from me and swam towards it wildly, clinging onto it for dear life once I reached it. I frantically tried to come up with an idea to save myself, but I kept drawing a blank.

I was going to die here, tossed among the waves, resigned to a similar fate as my dear Westley. There was a certain poetry to that, I supposed, even as I fought back tears at the hopeless feeling now welling in my stomach.

Then, out of a break in the waves, I saw the mast of a ship coming closer to me. My heart leapt, and I started shouting and waving, doing my best to catch its attention. It was a far bigger ship than mine had been, meaning it hadn't lost its struggle with the massive waves around us. Maybe I had a hope of making it out of this after all.

That hope immediately died when I caught sight of the flag flying over the mast as the ship got closer to me and the wind changed. They were flying the Jolly Roger.

I stopped waving, debating mentally whether it was better to stay in the water or be caught by pirates, but apparently a decision had been made for me. They'd already seen me, and I could hear shouting and see people pointing to me as the ship came even closer. I braced myself, trying to be as ready as possible for whatever this new challenge brought. I had been the one who'd decided to run, after all, and I knew in my heart I didn't regret that decision one bit, no matter what this new hell might bring me.

Before I knew it, I'd been fished out of the water and hauled on deck. I quickly backed away from the men who'd gotten me on board, and although most of them didn't pay me any attention in the chaos of trying to keep the boat afloat, two followed me as my back came up against the main mast, halting me in my tracks.

The men stared at me as they stalked closer, and every muscle in my body went into fight or flight mode. The man a bit further back from me seemed to be taking cues from the other man, his eyes darting between me and who I assumed must be the leader. The leader, the one closest to me, was dressed in all black with a mask on his face, his ice blue eyes tracking my every movement. My heart stopped dead in my chest. I'd never seen him before, but I'd heard enough legends and stories to know beyond a shadow of a doubt who this man was.

Before me stood the Dread Pirate Roberts.

A fury like none I'd ever felt raged through me, replacing the panic and fear that came before. This man was responsible for the death of my Westley. I glared at him, putting the full force of my hate into the look, then glanced around for a sword or something else to attack him with. I'd most likely die on this ship anyway, so I might as well go out attempting to get some justice for my lost love.

"You! What were you doing out in this storm?" yelled the pirate over the waves. I glared back at him and ignored his question.

He waited a few long moments for my response, then huffed in irritation. He looked around at his crew and the storm still raging on all sides, then back at his first mate.

"Keep us from sinking! I'll be back!" he roared at the man behind him before turning back to me. The man rushed off to fulfill his orders, leaving me more or less alone with Westley's murderer.

Before I could even attempt to make a move for revenge, the pirate surged forward and grabbed me by the arm. His grip was like iron, and although I fought against him, I couldn't break away. He dragged me across the deck of the ship with surprising strength, up the stairs to the ship's wheel where a navigator wrestled against the wind and waves, and then through a door to what I assumed must be his private quarters. He shoved me into a chair as soon as we were through the door, slamming it behind us before turning back to me.

I moved to stand from the chair, but before I could, he had his sword at my throat. I glowered up at him as he spoke again, a deadly calm to his voice.

"Now, I'll ask you again–and I expect an answer this time. What were you doing out in that storm?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists, debating whether it would be worth it to answer or if I should just let him slit my throat. After a moment's hesitation, however, I decided I didn't really want to die if I could avoid it, especially not before I found some way to get even the slightest justice for Westley.

"I was escaping the hell of being married to a man I don't love, a monster second only to yourself," I hissed. The pirate stared back at me for a few moments, seemingly considering my words, then spoke.

"Explain."

I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to get my temper under some kind of control.

"I caught the eye of Prince Humperdinck," I finally managed. "I had no desire to marry him, but he's not a prince who takes well to the word 'no'. Running was my only option, so I secured a boat and set sail as soon as possible."

"On your own?"

I nodded once, not bothering with a verbal answer.

"And being a princess was such a horrifying fate that you risked death in its stead?"

I sneered. "Being wed to someone I don't love after knowing what true love feels like is a fate worse than death, yes. And thanks to you I will never have my happy ending with my love, for he died at your sword while he was out attempting to gain enough fortunes for us to finally marry."

"...And what was this man's name?"

"Westley," I replied without hesitation. Up until now I'd been staring back at the Dread Pirate in rage, but my tone softened and my focus shifted to the distance as I got lost in memories of my beloved farm boy. "He was good and kind, something you'd know nothing about. He loved me, and despite the simple life we led together, we were happy. We could've lived long, wonderful lives together, but now that will never happen. So threaten me with your sword and whatever else you want. Nothing you say or do will ever match what I've already had to endure."

I faced the pirate again as I delivered the end of my speech, only to find him staring back at me with slightly wide eyes. When I'd finished speaking, he stared at me for a moment longer, before finally dropping his sword to his side. Another beat, and then he'd dropped to his knees before me, staring up at me like I was the sun. I leaned back a bit, confused, until he tore off the black mask covering so much of his face and looked up at me again.

Westley. Somehow, by some miracle, I was staring into the face of Westley, the love of my life.

"I... How... What kind of trick is this?" I demanded, trying to get my head straight. Had I been drugged somehow?

"No trick, my love," he replied, staring at me dreamily. He scooted a bit closer to me, but didn't touch me, instead letting me work through my thoughts.

"Tell me what's going on," I demanded, sounding a bit more desperate than I wanted to.

"As you wish."

He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I didn't bother listening. That was enough to satisfy any lingering doubts I had. I didn't understand it, but I could also say with complete certainty that this was, in fact, my Westley.

I slid out of my seat, joining him on the floor on my knees. We were face to face, and he smiled softly at me, but I didn't give him a chance to do much more before I pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

After a few seconds of shock, he kissed me back, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me tighter to him. I ran my hands through his hair, over his arms, across his shoulders–anywhere I could reach. I'd gone years without Westley, my darling farm boy, the love of my life, and I needed every bit of confirmation I could get that he was here, and this was real.

We stayed like that for long minutes, only pausing our kiss once or twice to come up for air. When we finally broke apart, I laid my head on his shoulder, holding him tight to me as he likewise held onto me, a few tears finally starting to fall.

"Westley..." I breathed, relief flooding through my system as I felt his strong arms around me and heard the steady beat of his heart. "How is this possible?"

"When the Dread Pirate Roberts raided my ship, he didn't kill me," Westley breathed, speaking softly against my ear as he ran his hands up and down my back. "I begged him for my life, and I told him about you. My love, who I needed to return to. I told him I couldn't die because I couldn't leave you.

"He ended up sparing me that day. He kept me prisoner, and told me each day he'd most likely kill me in the morning. Over the course of time, he trained me, and I learned everything to do with being the Dread Pirate Roberts. Eventually, he told me his secret. He was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. He was a man called Ryan, who had inherited the position from someone else who was not the Dread Pirate Roberts. The title carries more weight than anything else, and so the name has been passed down every few years, the previous Dread Pirate Roberts retiring with their fortune after choosing and training their successor. He'd chosen me to be his, and a few days after he told me as much, we docked at a small island port. We hired a completely new crew, and then he left. I've been the Dread Pirate Roberts ever since."

"I... I can hardly believe it."

"Imagine how I felt when I found you bobbing in the water just as I was finally on my way back to you," he chuckled. I huffed a laugh with him, then at last pulled back to look him in the eyes again.

"So... what now? What do we do next?"

"Well, we can't stay on the ship. It's not the best place to start a life together, to say nothing of the questions it would raise that I left you alive."

"Of course."

"And you can't return to Florin or, truly, any country near it, lest the 'prince' find you and throw a wrench into our newfound happiness."

"Agreed."

"Then that really only leaves one option, doesn't it?"

"And what might that be?" I asked, smiling and leaning into Westley as he stared at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"To find a completely new place and start over, of course. I've already picked my successor–I was planning to promote him once I reached the shores of Florin, but now I'll wait until we find our new home."

"My love, I can't think of a plan I'd more like to initiate," I said, beaming happily back at him. He leaned down and kissed me again, then pulled away to stare at me with love in his eyes.

"So, where shall we go?"

"I'd say you know the lands far from Florin's reach far better than I. You choose. But... pick someplace with green fields, and perhaps a gorgeous lake we can swim in on hot days. With land enough for us and any future children to roam and have adventures, and room for a home for us to curl up in on cold winter nights."

"Well, that's not much to ask for," he teased, leaning into me a bit. "Anything else you'd like to add to the list, my love?"

"Yes. I want our new home to be some place we can live happily together, without anything to ever separate us again so long as we both shall live. I want it to be a place where we can be by each other's sides for the rest of time, where we finally get our happy ever after."

He smiled at me warmly, leaning down to place a soft kiss on my lips before pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.

"As you wish."

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