21. Undo The Restraint Between Us
21
UNDO THE RESTRAINT BETWEEN US
~NIKOLAI~
T he coffee pot hovers mid-pour as she appears in the kitchen doorway, haloed by morning light.
My dress shirt barely contains her curves — curves she's managed to hide remarkably well beneath uniforms and male glamours. But here, in the soft glow of dawn, there's no hiding the woman beneath the deception.
Her legs seem endless, toned with just enough thickness to suggest someone who puts in real work rather than merely posing before mirrors. The slight muscle definition speaks of training, of purpose beyond mere aesthetics. It's refreshing to see such honest strength in a world where appearance often trumps substance.
Her lips part in what I assume is surprise, eyes wide and questioning. Even her sleep-mussed hair adds to the appeal — silver strands catching light like captured moonbeams. She looks thoroughly claimed by slumber, soft and vulnerable in ways that make my ancient blood sing.
But it's when my gaze drops to her cleavage that I feel it — the pulse of the mark I somehow managed to trigger.
Our bond mark, unexpected yet inevitable, glowing with golden warmth above her heart. The magic binding us together had manifested despite all logic suggesting it shouldn't be possible between a Fae royal and a hybrid.
Though she did mention carrying royal blood...
The thought is intriguing, but in this moment of crackling tension, origins and bloodlines seem insignificant. We know so little about each other, yet the connection between us feels older than time itself.
Mortimer's voice cuts through my appreciation of the view.
"Should we leave?" he asks Cassius, his tone dry as aged wine. "It feels as though we're disturbing something rather... intimate."
"I don't mind," Cassius mutters, still engaged in his futile battle with breakfast. "I hate these eggs anyway."
His words snap me back to the present situation. The Duskwalker's ongoing war with proper nutrition needs addressing.
"You're not leaving this table until you eat those eggs," I declare, channeling centuries of royal authority into my voice.
His response is a pout that would look more at home on a sulking child than an ancient being of shadow and death.
"No."
"Why do you even hate eggs?" Mortimer's curiosity seems genuine, but before we can explore Cassius's apparent vendetta against breakfast foods, chaos erupts.
Grim appears — but not in his usual imposing form. Instead, a miniature version materializes, complete with a tiny scythe that he immediately points at the offensive eggs. Purple flames erupt from the plate, casting an otherworldly glow across our domestic scene.
Gwenivere's delighted squeal breaks through the stunned silence as she rushes to scoop up the diminutive death being. The sight of her cradling what amounts to a pocket-sized harbinger of death while cooing over his cuteness shouldn't be as endearing as it is.
"Put out the fire!" I call to Cassius, trying to focus on the immediate threat rather than how the shirt has ridden up dangerously high on Gwenivere's thighs.
"I can't," he admits, frustration evident. "It won't go out."
Mortimer's academic detachment remains intact even as purple flames spread across the table.
"We have approximately one minute before this gets out of control."
What follows is arguably the least dignified moment in our collective centuries of existence — three powerful beings scrambling for fire extinguishers while magical flames mock our efforts.
When Gwenivere offers to help, her amusement poorly concealed, we accept without hesitation. The subsequent dousing is probably deserved, though watching water cascade down her body as well proves incredibly distracting.
Once order is somewhat restored, she approaches with a towel. The proximity makes my skin hum with awareness, the mark on her chest pulsing in time with my heartbeat. When our eyes meet, the tension that's been building since she entered the kitchen threatens to overwhelm us both.
"Would you prefer answers now or later?" I ask, though explanations are the last thing on my mind.
Her teeth catch her lower lip — a gesture so unconsciously seductive it takes considerable willpower not to claim those lips immediately.
A quick glance confirms we're suddenly alone. My companions have made themselves scarce, displaying rare tactical wisdom.
"Wouldn't it be..." she hesitates, voice dropping to a whisper that sends shivers down my spine, "slutty of me to just want to kiss you? A Fae…gleaming in perfection and completely opposite from a hybrid like me?"
I can't help the laugh that escapes me. My fingers find her chin, tilting her face up until our eyes lock.
"If you’re slutty, I'll be Wicked Academy's ultimate player," I murmur, "if it means I get to kiss the hell out of you right now."
The mark on her chest pulses brighter, matching the surge of desire coursing through my veins. The golden glow casts an otherworldly light, illuminating the delicate curve of her collarbone and the fine sheen of perspiration on her skin.
It was maddening — how she pulled at me without trying, how her very existence seemed to shatter the carefully constructed walls I’d spent centuries building.
My magic churned beneath the surface, a volatile mix of desire and restraint, threatening to spiral out of control. Fae power was not meant to be suppressed, especially not in moments like these.
But I’m willing to hold it back, barely , for her sake.
The real question is whether I can hold it long enough to not lose complete control.
The desperation to claim her lips is driving me mad, and yet I try to think of a reason. To acknowledge the circumstance brewing between us.
“Can I?” I murmur the simple request, waiting for her to give me permission.
Give her the chance to say yes…or no.
"Y-Yes,” she says, almost breathlessly, neither of us able to fight this pull any longer.
“Do you feel it?” My voice was rough, the words barely audible over the pounding in my ears. “The way you call to me? To us ?”
I doubt she understands my emphasis on “us” and right now, that’s not important.
Nothing is really important but her right now.
Her lips parted, a faint tremor passing through her as the golden light of the bond mark flared brighter.
“I feel it,” she whispers, her voice shaky but resolute. “It’s…overwhelming…but good?” Her hesitation isn’t subjected to what is obviously going to occur if I fail to delay this any longer, and how that simply further riles me up with need.
I let out a low growl, my fingers tightening on her waist as I fought the urge to give in completely.
The power of the bond wasn’t just overwhelming; it was consuming. It demanded more than touch, more than connection.
It demanded everything.
Whenever my friends and comrades used to speak of their bonds, they could speak hours of this gravitational pull that made it seem impossible to concentrate unless confronted and tamed.
I’d roll my eyes, the commentary but fairytales in my standpoint, but here I am, finally experiencing what they had spoken of many years ago.
Leaning down, I brushed my lips against hers, soft at first, testing the waters. Her sharp inhale was all the encouragement I needed — my lips claiming hers in a heartbeat, sending hums of bliss through me.
This isn’t a reaction I’m used to.
To feel alive and untouchable with her in my arms.
The kiss deepened, growing in intensity as I poured my magic into it, unable to hold it back any longer. My arms wrap around her waist, pressing her against me, feeling how small she is against me.
The air around us crackled with energy, the kitchen lights flickering as my power bled into the space around us.
Her hands slid up my chest, her fingers grazing the glowing runes etched into my skin. The contact sent a shiver through me, and I groaned against her lips, my control slipping even further.
Fae aren’t used to physical touch. We’re the type that everyone enjoys viewing from afar. Witnessing our perfection and acknowledging how being accepted into our space is but a privilege.
I wouldn’t consider a hybrid as unique as a vampire witch would be able to cross that boundary so quickly, and yet here I am, lost in the sweet taste of her mouth that doesn’t hesitate to affirm what she wants.
To kiss me back with as much vigor as me.
Each brush of her fingertips ignited a fire that spread through my veins, burning away the last vestiges of restraint.
“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” I murmured, pulling back just enough to rest my forehead against hers. My voice is thick with emotion, my breaths uneven. “This bond…it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. So powerful…and dangerous.”
To be fair, I never paid attention to how exactly such a connection can benefit us. How being connected to another could push us to the next level in our paranormal world.
Many flaunt their bonds, but there’s very little spoken about the fruits it bears.
Pulling back enough when we’re both breathless messes, I watch the way her eyes narrow as she lifts her chin slightly, the trembling hesitation in her expression giving way to something fierce.
“You know…I have no clue what these bonds entail at all,” she confesses, her voice steady despite how breathless it seems we are after that heated exchange. “But I’m not some fragile weakling, Nikolai.”
I can’t even try to fight the smile that grows upon my sinful lips, surely making my eyes twinkle with hints of mischief. I love defiance when I see it. That stubborn uncertainty in the depths of those pupils that don’t want to back down.
That don’t want to be deemed weak and pitiful.
“Stop treating me like I’ll break.”
Her words struck me like a blow, the challenge in her tone sharp and unyielding. It was enough to make me pause, to see her not as the fragile, radiant creature I’d been observing like a fascinating pet but as the warrior she’s attempting to project.
Normally such turns me off, and yet her way of executing such control only lights that burning fire. Her magic surged, brushing against mine in a way that felt like a spark catching fire.
I know she introduces herself as a hybrid, but I’m beginning to wonder if that’s all she is. Humans and vampires wouldn’t necessarily be considered hybrid potential, for that’s the normalcy for vampires.
Beings turned or born. Humans with heightened capabilities need the offering of blood to stay sane and manageable in our paranormal society.
Her witch qualities are in the realms of magic than they are in the aspects of supernatural shifters, leaving me to wonder why she’d label herself such.
Maybe that’s how those in her place of growth label it as.
Anything to emphasize she’s an outcast or monster.
“You’re dangerous,” I said, my voice a rough whisper, the corners of my lips curving into a faint, unbidden smile. “Leaves me wondering how lethal you can get with the right ammunition.”
Her smirk is everything, darkening her eyes that makes my heart skip a few beats. She really is a defiant little thing that could show strength at times everyone would least expect.
Like during the trials.
I’m already hearing the rumors. How all those cocky weak fuckers envy the power Gabriel portrayed. None of them know they were out beaten by a woman.
If they did, they would lose it.
“Then stop holding back,” she said, her voice commanding now, her wide eyes daring me to defy her.
Fuck…
The way my cock twitches at her spoken words that feel like some sort of command cuts that final string of restraint.
Of mercy…
It was all the invitation I needed. My lips claimed hers again, harder this time, the kiss searing with desperation and need. Her hands fisted in my hair, pulling me closer as I pressed her against the edge of the table.
The newspapers Mortimer had left scattered there crinkled beneath us before spilling to the floor in a flurry of pages. The sound barely registered; all that mattered was her—the way she clung to me, the way her body melted into mine.
My hands slid down her back, gripping her waist firmly before moving lower. The hem of the dress shirt — my shirt — rose under my touch, exposing more of her smooth, pale skin.
The sight of her, the feel of her, was enough to drive me to the brink of madness.
So soft…smells divine…and currently all mine to feast on.
“You’re exquisite,” I murmured against her lips, my voice rough with desire. My hands traced the curve of her hips, savoring the way her body responded to my touch.
When my fingers brushed the curve of her ass, I couldn’t hold back a low groan.
“So perfect, so tempting.”
Her breath hitched as my hands gripped her firmly, kneading the soft, plump flesh. The way she gasped, the way her nails dug into my shoulders, only spurred me on.
“You shouldn’t look like this in my clothes,” I said, my tone dark and teasing as I kissed a trail along her jaw. “You shouldn’t make me want you this badly.”
Her defiant grin is back as she smirks and moans at the way I suck at her flesh.
“Maybe I like it,” she shot back, her voice breathless but laced with defiance. “Maybe I want to see this perfect Fae lose control for once.”
Her words sent a jolt through me, a surge of magic flaring to life as my lips captured hers again.
The next kiss is a wild, desperate, clash of power and need that left us both breathless. My hands slid beneath the shirt, exploring the expanse of her bare skin as I pressed her back against the table.
Her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me to her.
The bond mark pulsed brighter, its golden light spilling over both of us, illuminating the room with its ethereal glow. The energy between us crackled like a storm, wild and untamed as if the bond itself was urging us forward, demanding we surrender to it.
“Gwenivere,” I groaned, my voice thick with longing as I trailed kisses down the column of her throat. Her pulse beat wildly beneath my lips, a frantic rhythm that matched my own. “My little Solstice…you want to undo me.”
Her hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet her gaze as I get a whiff of her arousal that’s pooling between those sinful legs.
All for me.
“Then let me,” she whispered, her voice steady and sure. “Like you said, let’s fuck and think later, Nikolai.”
A shiver ran through me at her boldness, my resolve crumbling as my lips claimed hers again.
This time, I let myself taste her fully, my tongue sweeping past her lips to explore her with deliberate, teasing strokes. She moaned into my mouth, her nails dragging down my shoulders as she arched beneath me.
I broke the kiss, my breath uneven as I leaned back to take her in. Her silver hair spilled across the table, her chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. The shirt had slipped further up her body, baring the soft curves of her thighs and the glowing mark on her chest.
My fingers traced the hem slowly, savoring the way she trembled under my touch.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Every inch of you.”
She bit her lip, her cheeks flushing under my gaze, but her eyes never wavered.
There was defiance there still, a challenge she didn’t need to voice. My hands found the buttons of the shirt, undoing them one by one, each movement slow and deliberate, as though I were unwrapping something sacred.
When the fabric fell open, I sucked in a sharp breath.
Her body was a masterpiece — soft curves and pale skin kissed by the faint glow of the bond mark that pulsed in tandem with her rapid heartbeat. My eyes roamed her form, drawn to every detail, every imperfection.
The faint lines of scars caught the golden light, subtle but unmistakable.
I hesitated, my fingers brushing over one of the marks etched across her side.
“These,” I murmured, my voice breaking on the word. “Who gave them to you?”
It’s odd to feel a pitch of anger begin to brew within me.
The idea of someone intentionally hurting her does odd things to me. Makes me feel emotions that haven’t surfaced in centuries. She’d done the deed with Cassius, so did he not see these markings? Or was her glamor covering this layer of vulnerability as a precaution?
Yet here she is, laid upon this table, bear and unraveled for my eyes to take in and appreciate.
Her gaze softened, her hand covering mine where it rested against her skin.
“They’re old,” she said quietly, but there was a weight in her voice, a pain that lingered just beneath the surface. “They’re nothing to worry about.”
But they were.
They were everything.
I bent down, pressing a kiss to the longest scar, my lips lingering as though I could erase whatever memory it carried.
“No one will ever touch you like that again,” I say, my voice firm with unspoken promise. I don’t know how she acquired these, and I’m sure when we’re no longer deemed strangers and can rely on each other in this unforgiving space as deceitful as Wicked Academy, she’ll unravel that part of her past, but for now, I can at least emphasize that no one else will ever have a claim of her pain that leaves scars upon her precious flesh. “No one.”
She shivered, her hands tangling in my hair as I kissed another scar, then another, each touch a silent vow.
Her breaths hitched, her body trembling beneath mine, and when I finally looked up, her eyes were clouded with lust and something deeper, something raw and unguarded.
“Nikolai,” she whispered, her voice breaking on my name.
The sound of it spurred me on, my lips trailing lower as I kissed the soft curve of her stomach leading to the dip of her hips.
Her legs parted instinctively, and I sank to my knees, the sight of her laid bare before me enough to steal the air from my lungs. My hands slid along her thighs, savoring the way her skin quivered beneath my touch.
Her arousal was heady and intoxicating. I inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of her. My eyes met hers, and the hunger in her gaze was enough to undo me completely.
She was staring down at me, her lips parted, her chest heaving, and for a moment, I thought she might beg.
But no, Gwenivere wasn’t the begging type.
She demands.
“You’re taking too long,” she said, her voice breathless but laced with impatience.
A grin tugged at the corner of my lips, and I leaned in, trailing my tongue along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
She gasped, her hips jerking at the contact, but her hands found my shoulders, nails biting into my skin as though she could allow me to move faster.
“Patience, my little Solstice,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to the crease of her thigh. “Good things come to those who wait.”
She let out a soft growl of frustration, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused, her voice trembling as I trailed kisses higher, my lips brushing just shy of where she wanted them most.
“Immensely,” I admitted, my breath ghosting over her skin. “You have no idea how perfect you look right now. How perfect you taste.”
Her head fell back against the table, a frustrated moan escaping her lips as her hips bucked, seeking relief.
I held her steady, my hands gripping her thighs firmly as I took my time, savoring every reaction, every gasp, every shiver.
Because for once, I didn’t want to rush.
For once, I wanted to take my time, to memorize every sound she made, every way her body responded to me.
This wasn’t just about satisfying the hunger that burned between us.
It was about claiming her in a way no one else ever had.
And I wasn’t about to let a single moment go to waste.
The taste of her was intoxicating.
Sweet and salty, delicate and earthy, all at once. It was as though her essence had been crafted for me alone.
My tongue traced her folds slowly, deliberately, savoring every shiver that ran through her body, every gasp that fell from her lips.
Her hands tangled in my hair, tugging slightly, her nails grazing my scalp as she moaned softly.
The sound sent a pulse of heat through me, and I groaned against her, the vibration making her hips buck in response. She was slick and warm, her body opening to me like a flower in bloom.
Every flick of my tongue drew another whimper from her, and I couldn’t get enough.
I pressed my mouth against her clit, circling it with slow, languid strokes, teasing her, building her up.
The bond mark pulsed between us, its golden light spilling over her skin, illuminating the flush on her cheeks and the tension in her thighs as she strained against the sensations.
“Nikolai,” she breathed, her voice breaking on my name. The sound was both a plea and a command, and I found myself obeying without hesitation.
I worked her slowly at first, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and focused attention on the swollen bundle of nerves that made her moan the loudest.
Her hips lifted, seeking more, and I slipped my hands beneath her, cupping her ass and holding her steady as I pressed her closer to me.
“You taste divine,” I murmured against her, my voice thick with desire. She whimpered in response, her legs tightening around my shoulders as her fingers fisted in my hair.
Her body writhed beneath me, her breaths coming faster, her moans growing louder as I increased my pace.
My tongue plunged into her, exploring the hot, slick walls that pulsed around me, and I felt her whole body tense. Her thighs quivered, her hips bucking against my face as I drove her higher, deeper into the pleasure that was building between us.
“Nikolai,” she gasped again, her voice trembling. “Please… faster…”
I growled low in my throat, the sound vibrating against her sensitive flesh as I obeyed, thrusting my tongue into her with renewed urgency.
Her cries grew louder, her nails digging into my scalp as she arched off the table, her body bowing beneath the intensity of her pleasure.
“I’m… I’m going to…” Her voice broke, her legs trembling as she tightened her grip on me, pulling me closer. “Nikolai!”
Her climax hit her like a wave, her body trembling violently as she cried out, her thighs squeezing around my head as she rode out the crest of her orgasm.
I didn’t stop, my tongue continuing to lap at her, drinking in every drop of her release as she shuddered and moaned beneath me.
Her taste flooded my senses, her scent wrapping around me like a drug, and I was lost in her. I didn’t pull back until her trembling subsided, until her body stilled, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath.
Only then did I lift my head, my lips glistening with her essence as I met her gaze.
Her eyes were heavy-lidded, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted as she stared at me. The hunger in her gaze hadn’t abated; if anything, it had grown sharper, more intense.
“You taste delightful,” I said, my voice low and rough as I slowly licked my lips, savoring the lingering sweetness of her on my tongue. “But now you’ve got me wondering…”
Her brow furrowed slightly, curiosity mingling with the lingering haze of her pleasure.
“Wondering what?” she asked, her voice soft and breathless.
I leaned closer, my hands sliding up her thighs, spreading her open again as I let my gaze drop to the glistening folds that still pulsed with the aftermath of her release.
“How those hot little walls of yours would feel wrapped around my cock.”
Her breath hitched, her cheeks darkening with a blush that spread down her neck, but she didn’t look away.
Instead, she held my gaze, her lips curving into a small, teasing smile.
“We won’t know,” she murmured, her voice steady despite the tremor in her body, “until you strip and find out.”
A smirk tugged at my lips as I rose from my knees, the heat in Gwenivere’s gaze spurring me on.
I took a deliberate step back, savoring the way her eyes followed my every movement, drinking in every inch of me as if she were memorizing the moment.
I reached for the button of my pants, undoing it with a slowness that bordered on torturous. Her lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling as she watched my every move.
The sound of the zipper sliding down was amplified in the charged silence, and her eyes darkened as I pushed the fabric down my hips, letting it pool around my ankles.
The moment stretched as I stepped out of the pants, standing before her in my naked glory. Her gaze swept over me, lingering on the defined lines of my chest and stomach before dropping lower.
The way she bit her bottom lip, her teeth sinking into the plush flesh, made my cock twitch with anticipation.
“You’re so fucking hot when you do that,” I said, my voice rough with desire.
Her eyes flicked up to mine, her cheeks tinged with a blush.
“What?” she asked, her voice breathless.
I took a step closer, my hands finding her thighs and spreading them further apart, making room for me to fit between her legs.
“When you bite your lip like that,” I murmured, my thumb brushing over the very lip she’d been abusing moments ago. “It’s hot. Seductive.”
She swallowed hard, the flush spreading down her neck as she held my gaze. I leaned in slightly, letting my breath fan across her skin.
“Though I have to admit,” I continued, my voice dropping lower, “I do like it when you do it as Gabriel.”
Her blush deepened, and she looked away for a moment before her curiosity got the better of her.
“Does that mean you bend both ways?” she asked, her tone cautious but tinged with intrigue.
I chuckled, my smirk growing into something more devious.
“Would that be a problem?” I countered, watching her carefully.
She shook her head quickly.
“No, not at all,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Though I’d prefer it stayed within…our group.”
Our group.
This woman…
Her answer only made my smirk widen.
The possibilities her words conjured up sent a thrill through me, but I focused on the here and now, the way she looked beneath me, so eager and so tempting.
“I can follow those terms and conditions,” I said, my tone light and teasing as I shifted closer, letting the tip of my cock brush against her slick entrance.
“Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the blush still painting her cheeks. “But you’ll have to wait for me to adapt to being Gabriel. I barely know how to use my…winkie dinkie.”
The ridiculousness of her choice of words caught me off guard, and I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound filling the room.
“Winkie dinkie?” I repeated, my laughter shaking my shoulders. “Is that really what you’re calling it?”
Her glare was half-hearted at best, and I could see the corners of her mouth twitching as though she were fighting back a smile.
“Shut up,” she muttered, her tone tinged with mock annoyance. “It’s not like I’ve had much practice talking about it.”
I grinned, leaning in closer so that our foreheads almost touched.
“Well,” I said, my voice low and teasing, “I guess you don’t mind my winkie dinkie sliding into that needy little cunt of yours.”
Her attempt at a retort was cut off by a sharp moan as I began to inch into her, slow and deliberate.
The way her body stretched around me, the heat and tightness enveloping me, was almost too much to bear. Her head fell back against the table, her lips parted as a mix of moans and gasps spilled from her.
“Gods, Gwenivere,” I groaned, my hands gripping her thighs as I pressed forward, inch by inch. “You’re…fucking perfect.”
Her legs tightened around me, her nails digging into the edge of the table as she trembled beneath me.
“You’re…so big,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I paused when I was fully seated, the base of my cock pressed against her slick heat. My chest heaved as I struggled to control myself, to resist the urge to start moving before she was ready. Her body quivered around me, her breathing shallow as she adjusted to the fullness.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice tight with restraint. It’s taking everything to not fuck her roughly. I’ve been so used to it that taking things slow like this is a new challenge I wasn’t expecting to struggle against.
She nodded quickly, her hands reaching up to grip my shoulders.
“Please,” she whispered, her tone desperate. “Move. I need you to move.”
Her plea was my undoing.
I pulled back slowly, savoring the way her walls clung to me before thrusting back in with deliberate precision. The sound she made, a mix of a moan and a gasp, sent a shiver of pleasure through me.
I set a steady rhythm, each thrust slow and deep, each movement designed to drive her higher. Her body responded beautifully, her hips lifting to meet mine, her moans growing louder with every stroke.
The bond mark on her chest glowed brighter, its golden light reflecting the intensity of our connection.
“Fuck, Gwenivere,” I groaned, my hands sliding up to cup her waist as I moved faster, harder. “This is so fucking good. You have no idea.”
Her response was a strangled cry, her nails digging into my shoulders as she arched against me. Her body clenched around me, the heat and slickness driving me to the edge of control.
I leaned down, capturing her lips in a desperate, searing kiss as I poured every ounce of my desire into her.
The room seemed to fade away, the world outside forgotten as we lost ourselves in each other. Her moans, her gasps, the way she clung to me—it was all-consuming, a fire that burned brighter with every passing second.
And I had no intention of letting it die out anytime soon because those sensations of pure connection are far too addicting to let it dwindle away.
The pace between us quickened our moans and groans blending into a symphony of pleasure that filled the room.
The table beneath creaks and rocks with every thrust, the rhythmic sound punctuating the raw intensity of our connection.
Magic swirled in the air, lifting the scattered papers in a dance of ethereal energy, while the golden glow of my bond mark pulsed brighter with each movement.
My hair, usually a cascade of pure gold, began to shimmer and shift in the dim light, the ends darkening into a striking ombre of midnight blue and rich purple. I could feel the transformation as though my very magic had been set ablaze by the force of our union.
I braced my arms against the table on either side of her, my muscles taut with exertion as I ground into her, my hips rolling with precision and power.
Our lips met in heated kisses, desperate and consuming, as though we were trying to devour each other’s very souls. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, and I didn’t hesitate to lavish them with attention, my mouth claiming a nipple as my fingers teased the other.
She cried out, arching into me, her hands gripping my shoulders as though she’d fall apart without the anchor I provided.
“Fuck, Gwenivere,” I groaned against her skin, my lips trailing along her neck as I thrust deeper, hitting a spot that made her gasp and claw at my back.
The table groaned again, its protests drowned out by the sounds of our passion.
For me, it was a unique torment—a blissful agony—to feel my climax approaching far too quickly. It was unheard of for me to be so undone, to be driven to the edge this fast.
Normally, I could hold back for hours, teasing and savoring my partner until their mind and body were completely mine.
Bu t Gwenivere… she’s different. She’s undoing me in every possible way.
“Are you on birth control?” I managed to grunt out, my voice thick with urgency.
Her hazy eyes locked onto mine, her lips curving into a teasing smile.
“Why? Don’t want Fae babies?”
The very idea sent a shiver through me, and I groaned, my hips driving harder into her.
“Fuck, don’t tempt me,” I muttered, my grip tightening on her thighs as I folded her legs higher, spreading her wide.
I adjusted my angle, and the sharp cry she let out told me I’d hit exactly where she needed.
“Oh gods, Nikolai,” she moaned, her nails digging into my arms as her body quivered beneath me. “Don’t stop.”
“The idea of you pregnant would drive me out of this place,” I growled, my thrusts becoming more deliberate. “I’d take you back to my kingdom where you’d never have to lift a finger.”
Her breath hitched at my words, and she bit her lip, her body tightening around me.
“It’s…tempting,” she panted, her voice shaky. “But for now, I thrive on survival.”
I leaned down, my lips capturing hers in a searing kiss that left us both breathless.
“Maybe Wicked Academy will get that out of your system,” I murmured against her lips. “And you’ll let me spoil you the way you deserve.”
Her chest heaved as she pulled back just enough to look into my eyes.
“I didn’t say…I don’t want you to give me this,” she whispered.
A soft chuckle rumbled in my chest, and I kissed her again, this time slower, deeper.
“We’ll see when you start classes,” I teased. “You might despise me.”
Her lips quirked into a smirk even as her body trembled.
“We’ll see,” she echoed, her voice filled with both challenge and promise.
The tension between us coiled tighter, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm as we neared the precipice.
At the last moment, I slid my arms beneath her, lifting her off the table and holding her securely in my grasp. The new position allowed me to drive into her with a desperation that matched my own need, my hips slamming against hers with relentless force.
“Nikolai!” she screamed, her body arching as her orgasm tore through her. Her walls clenched around me, the intensity of her climax sending me hurtling over the edge.
I thrust into her three more times, each movement deep and deliberate, before stilling, my own release consuming me.
I groaned her name, my head falling to her shoulder as my body shuddered with the force of my orgasm.
We stayed like that for a moment, our breathing ragged and our bodies trembling as we came down from the high.
I slowly lowered her back onto the table, my hands still cradling her as though she might break. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair a wild mess, and she looked utterly breathtaking.
“So, you do have a form of birth control?” I asked, my voice hoarse but teasing.
She chuckled softly, brushing her hair out of her face.
“Yes, so you don’t need to worry. Not like it seemed to matter to you.”
I leaned down, brushing a kiss along her temple.
“It doesn’t,” I admitted, my tone serious. “If you did get pregnant, I meant what I said.”
Her expression softened, but she raised an eyebrow.
“I’m still just a stranger to you,” she pointed out, though her voice lacked any real bite.
“For now,” I agreed, a sly smile tugging at my lips. “But now we’re strangers on a first-name basis who just had really good sex. So maybe that’s a start.”
She laughed, the sound light and genuine.
“Oh, I’m going to make you struggle before you find out everything about me.”
I grinned, brushing my lips against hers.
“I’ll count on it.”
Our eyes met, a silent understanding passing between us. Gwenivere leaned up, her lips capturing mine in a kiss that was softer, slower, but no less consuming.
It’s a seal on our words, a promise unspoken but deeply felt.
We lingered in the moment, savoring each other, knowing that reality would soon call us back.
And deep down, I know the reality of Wicked Academy makes this feel like a fairytale in comparison.
The calm before the storm.