Chapter Thirty-Three • Negotiations • Lillith
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Have I mentioned that Damien is evil? I’m sure I have.
After dropping the bomb about wanting to talk negotiations, this man insisted on ordering dessert before paying the tab.
And, boy, did he take his time eating it.
Pretending not to know why I looked about ready to vibrate out of my own body while taking tiny spoonful after tiny spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth.
I mean, who the hell orders a scoop of plain vanilla ice cream at a restaurant?
Evil boyfriends. That’s who.
By the time he finishes paying the bill, I’m some place between pissed off and anxious as hell. He smooths his hand down to the small of my back as we leave the restaurant and head out to the car. When I glare up at him, he has the nerve to smile at me like I’m an opinionated puppy.
“Don’t be mad at me, baby,” he says though a shit-eating grin.
“I will be mad and you don’t get to tell me not to be,” I say, crossing my arms.
“You are very cute when you pout.”
“I’m not pouting! This is very real irritation.”
“Uh huh,” he says, like he doesn’t believe it. “Are you irritated enough that you’re going to tell me you don’t want to be chased down in a secluded corner of a park before I tackle you to the ground and fuck you like an animal?”
I’m sure I had a retort ready to go. I’m almost certain I could taste the vitriol on the tip of my tongue. But here I am. Speechless.
He opens the car door after we reach it and I automatically slide in, my skin breaking out in goosebumps as he braces his elbows on the open car door and the roof, dropping his head into the doorway just enough to crowd me. “I’m pretty sure I asked you a question, sweetheart.”
Evil, evil, evil.
“No,” I mumble.
“Sorry?” he asks. “I didn’t hear you.”
“No, I’m not irritated enough that I... I don’t... want that...”
“Want what?”
“Damien, come on,” I whimper. “Why are you being evil boyfriend right now?”
His character breaks and he grins in that way that’s somehow boyish and sharp all at once. “Okay, okay. I did say we were going to negotiate. I’ll put it away for now. But I’ll tell you, baby, if you’re going to be a brat while we talk about terms, I will fucking tame you. Understood?”
The thrill of that has me thinking about being a little bratty on purpose. The quirk of his pierced eyebrow has me thinking he knows exactly the effect his threat has on me.
“I understand,” I say, almost begrudgingly.
He smiles and tips my chin back with the edge of his hand.
I meet his two-toned eyes and can’t help but challenge him with my gaze.
He leans down to kiss me, and I close my eyes, allowing it.
It’s a soft, quick thing, even though we’ve both parted our lips.
When he pulls away and shuts the car door, I almost jump out of my skin.
He comes round to the driver’s side, getting in and starting the car in one fluid movement.
“So,” he says, as he pulls out of the parking spot. “Negotiations.”
“Yes,” I say with a shaky exhale. “Negotiations.”
“I guess let’s start with the basics. Does my little idea sound appealing to you?”
My face heats and I manage a nod.
“Baby. Why do you always do that?” he asks me. “You always clam up and go non-verbal when I get a little filthy with you.”
“I—I don’t know,” I say. “It’s just embarrassing, I guess?”
“Do you know what one of the core rules of BDSM is?”
“I mean... doesn’t that depend on the individual dynamic?”
“Those are rules within a dynamic yes, but there are some guidelines too,” he says. He takes one hand off the steering wheel and holds up his index finger. “Safe.” He puts up his middle finger. “Sane.” Then his thumb. “Consensual. Those are the main rules that make up BDSM that works.”
“Safe, sane, consensual,” I repeat.
“Right,” he says. “Now, personally, especially with my background in the work I used to do as a paramedic, I know there’s no real way to avoid all risks associated with kink, but I do my best to uphold those principles, because I’m not going to be able to enjoy myself unless I know you’re enjoying yourself, alright? ”
I nod again, and he takes a moment to give me an exasperated look. “Baby, please. I need you to say things verbally, alright?”
“Gah, I’m sorry. It’s just... I’m not used to having such open communication like this.”
“I know,” he says, his voice softening with understanding. “I know, usually hookups are these, like, quick messy things. Random Fae Guy. Bricklepants—”
“Bastion Bramblethorn—”
“That’s what I said. Anyway—point being—Lillith.
Sweetheart. You are critically important to me.
As a pleasure Dom and a man who is madly fucking in love with you, it would be fucking awful to find out that something we did together was unpleasant or, goddess forbid, traumatic for you. I know I’m a fucker sometimes—”
“Most of the time—” I point out.
“—and we’ll put a pin in that for now. I know I’m a fucker sometimes, but when I’m asking you to be verbal with me, it’s not because I’m trying to make you squirm.
Your enjoyment of our activities is paramount to my enjoyment of our activities.
If I’m going to torture you, I want to make sure you enjoy every second of it. ”
He comes to a stoplight and looks at me. There’s that damn boyish earnestness again. There’s that worried tilt to his brow that makes me swoon for him.
“I get it,” I say. “I— really, really, really like the idea of you chasing me through a park and fucking me like an animal when you catch me.”
“Good. And I will catch you. You know that, right?”
That pleasantly warm tingle returns to the nape of my neck. “Mhmnn,” I manage to say, even though I want to nod as an answer again.
A honk sounds from behind us and we both jolt.
“Fuck,” Damien says under his breath as he finally sees the green light and accelerates perhaps a little too quickly, waving a hand in the back window in apology.
“Did you pick a park?” I ask.
“Mnnn—Del Lune seemed pretty big.”
“It is, but not very secluded,” I say. “Especially in the evenings. There are a lot of vendors that set up and picnickers and stuff like that.”
“Shit, really?”
“There’s another park,” I say. “More like a nature reserve. If... if that’s okay with you. It’ll be a little less tame, but more private.”
He nods, leaning to finesse his phone out of his jean pocket. He opens his phone and the maps app. “What’s it called?”
“It won’t show up on there,” I say. “It’s warded.”
“Ohhh... is it?” he asks grinning over at me. “Is this, like, the freaky sex magic park?”
I snort a laugh. “It’s a park with a secondary portal to The Buried City. Can’t have some random mortal stumbling into a pocket realm, you know?”
“Doesn’t that mean that someone could still happen upon us, then?”
“Theoretically, but generally speaking, witches, fae and vampires aren’t exactly the pearl-clutching type.”
“So you’re telling me they’d enjoy the show,” he says.
I swallow and flush. “Yep,” I manage.
“Would you enjoy putting on a show?”
I bring my thumbnail up to my teeth and follow the line between my incisors. “I mean... I... wouldn’t mind being watched. And the idea of being found is kind of thrilling?”
“Mnhh,” Damien says, his voice low and husky.
“Yeah. I can see the appeal of fucking you while someone watches. Baby, I would put you in the spotlight for everyone to see. Let everyone watch your perfect tits bouncing while you ride me, show them that perfect pink pussy, show them how well you take my cock down your throat.”
I can’t help it. I hide my face. Not because I’m ashamed, but because I already know I’m biting my lip thinking about it. Damien’s chuckle is warm in response, almost charmed.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he says. “Anything off limits for you? Also, can you give me directions to this place?”
“Oh, right. You can turn right at the next light,” I say. “And... I mean, nothing comes to mind. We’ve already done a lot, right? Aside from the usual, I can’t think of something else.”
“No degradation being the usual?” he asks.
“Mhmn,” I tell him.
“Alright. Usual safe words fine?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Do you want to know my plans for you once I catch you? Or would you like to be surprised?”
“I think... a surprise would be nice...” I say.
“Alright,” he says, smiling as he takes the turn I told him to.
“There’s a little service road coming up in about two miles. You’re going to turn in there,” I say.
“Cool,” he says.
The drive quiets down a little bit after that. “Green Eyes” by I Am Avalanche plays. Both Damien and I sing it quietly, and my mind drifts a bit from what awaits me in the warded woods only a short drive away.
More songs cycle through on Damien’s “Songs Lillith Sings” playlist. “Dumb and Poetic” by Sabrina Carpenter, “She” by Dodie, “I See How It Is” by The Starting Line and surprisingly, a deeper cut I didn’t expect him to have picked up on.
A song called “Diorama” by a dreamy LA singer called Laila Smith.
It’s “Euclid” by Sleep Token playing as we make it to the boundaries of the wards.
The song isn’t even over by the time I lift them.
As Damien parks, “Shiny” by The Decemberists plays, and the car idles as he watches me sing one of my favorite songs to ever exist. His elbow propped on the steering wheel, his cheek leaning on his closed hand.
His eyes are soft and neutral. He looks like he loves me and acts like it too.
What a pleasant feeling it is to be loved. To be wanted.
When the song concludes, he takes the keys out of the ignition and drops them into the cup holder. Silence becomes a heavy, tangible thing between us for a long time. Damien’s eyes flicker as they take me in.
“I love you,” he says, quiet and real. Like he’s in awe.
Like he’s suddenly been taken with the rush of gratitude you feel on a night where the stars are especially visible, or the sun slants through rain at just the right angle to summon two technicolor arcs of refracted light, or when the moonlight glitters off a sea that is somehow both calm and frenetic.
“I love you,” I repeat back to him, not like a parrot emulating him.
But like someone who experiences a transcendent moment with another; like someone whose survived something harrowing with a stranger; like someone slipping into a warm bath while their body aches; like opening your eyes for the first time in the day and looking forward to getting up. Like I’m awake. Like I’m rested.
He’s my home. And it’s beautiful and terrifying and everything I ever wanted.
He cups my face in his free hand, guiding me up onto my knees until I’m leaning over the center console. I grasp the steering wheel next to his elbow as he slips his lips against mine. As my body goes languid, I slip my fingers into his hair, dragging my nails against his scalp.
I taste his moan. I sigh into his mouth.
He brushes his nose against mine as the kiss breaks. When I open my eyes, his are already locked on mine, his pupils blown wide.
“You have ten minutes, Lillith,” he says, his lips brushing against mine. “Let’s hope those ‘fuck me’ heels are steady enough to give me a worthwhile challenge. Because I want to work for my prize tonight.”