Chapter 6 Van
VAN
Is that okay with you?
She asked because she felt she had to, because consent was sacred to her, especially when she held all the power. It was one of the many ways she stood apart from other supes. It kept things distant, measured… fair.
“Of course.” I'd always say yes to her. Whatever she wanted, whatever made her feel something for me, the answer was yes. Always yes.
Some nights, I wished she wouldn’t ask. I wanted her to just take. To stop drawing that line between us with careful words and clean boundaries. But I could never say that. If I did, she’d vanish. She always ran from anything too raw, too real.
*Her gaze raked over me, sinful and hungry. I kept my body in peak form just to earn that look. It was one of the few ways I knew to hold her attention. Her eyes flicked back to the four rose gold jewels in my cock, and I almost laughed.
The piercing? That was for her, too. She’d seen someone on the main floor with one and casually wondered what it would feel like. I booked the appointment the next day.
My eyes flicked to the mirror that separated us from the viewing room. I knew someone was watching, someone she wanted to tease, and jealousy twisted inside me like a knife.
With a flick of my fingers, I summoned my earth magic. The wooden floor shifted and curved beneath her feet, rising and folding until it tipped her forward and right on top of me.
My hands roamed over her body, savoring every curve, every inch wrapped in one of my favorite dresses, the kind that left most to the imagination yet promised everything.
The fabric clung to her, elegant and dark, while sheer panels along her sides teased with flashes of skin, sending my thoughts spiraling into wicked places.
I grabbed her thighs, pushing the dress up, and she parted for me without hesitation. Her soft giggle tickled my ear, sending my heart into overdrive. That sound—so light, so real—meant more than any striptease. It reminded me that no matter who might be watching, she was still mine. My Aniyah.
Her fingers slid up my chest with a devious smile, laced with that intoxicating poison-sweetness I could never resist. Her hand found my throat as she pushed me back onto the bed, grinding against me with slow, maddening control.
“Oh, V… Did I keep you waiting?” she whispered, her voice a purr wrapped in silk. “Was I too slow coming for you?”
I shook my head, biting back the truth. I’d wait for you forever. But I didn’t dare say it.
Her smile vanished. Her grip tightened. “Use your words. You know the rules in here.”
“No,” I gasped as her hand squeezed harder, my vision blurring around the edges. “Just… enough time… to take off… my clothes.”
She loosened her grip, that dazzling smile returning like sunlight breaking through a storm. In a rush, clarity returned, every sense suddenly sharpened.
The press of her thighs against mine. The scent of her shampoo, sweet and wild. The way strands of her ashy white hair brushed my face, soft and silken. It was all just too much and not enough at the same time.
“I want to taste you,” I begged, voice ragged with need. “I want your hips on my face—want that sweet cunt to be the only thing I breathe.”
Her wings unfurled, delicate and sheer, catching the light as they fluttered open. The air shifted with her magic, lifting her hair like a crown, casting her in the glow of something divine.
In moments like this, I understood why mortals fell for fae. Why they gave up their life essence just to dance with them in moonlit groves, to feel chosen by something so unearthly. So irresistible.
It wasn’t just lust… It was worship.
But I shouldn't feel that way. She had made that clear from the start.
“Who am I to deny you, my mage?” That single word, my, sent a shiver down my spine. Had my heart aching for things I couldn't have.
With a powerful beat of her wings, she lifted herself, turned to face the mirrored window, and lowered onto my face, presenting herself for both me and the unseen voyeur on the other side.
She craved that attention, the eyes drinking her in, adoring her, aching for her. Just like when she stepped onto a stage, she came alive under a gaze. It wasn’t vanity; it was fuel. And knowing that only made me want to give her more—be more.
Her dress rode up higher, and I tore her lacy thong away, tossing it across the room. The soft thud of it hitting the mirror made her pause for just a second, and that was all I needed.
I seized the moment.
Reaching up, I ripped the straps of her dress down, baring her chest. I cupped her breasts in my hands as I dove into her slick heat, my tongue sliding along her slit. She arched back, but I fisted one breast, anchoring her as I devoured her.
My tongue worked in firm, hungry strokes while my fingers played with her nipples, alternating between teasing caresses and sharp little pinches. Her hips began to rock, grinding against my mouth, and my eyes rolled back with pleasure. She tasted like sin and sunlight.
Her gasps echoed through the room, mingling with the wet, desperate sounds I was making beneath her. The more I gave, the more she demanded. Half-choked by her thighs, I pressed in deeper, locking onto her clit and sucking until she screamed.
“Oh yes. Oh fuck, V. Fuck yes. Keep… keep going.” Her thighs clenched around my head, but I knew she would need more for her first orgasm to come.
Reaching over my head, I grabbed the butt plug with a big red jewel at the end. Placing it near her clit, I rubbed the silicone over her, stimulating the area with a different texture. Then I pushed it further, licking and sucking on it while her cunt was still grinding on my face.
Once I thought it was enough, I lifted it up and grabbed one of her cheeks. She whimpered for a second as I pushed the tip around that tight ring of muscle, easing it in so her body could get used to it.
She began to ride me harder, faster, begging under her breath, “Yes, please. Fuck me with that, Van. Fuck me in the ass and make me come.”
I heard her spit, and for the briefest moment, I wondered what was going on until I felt her hand, slick and hot, wrap around my cock. Her grip stroked up and down, her pace matching mine like we were completely synced.
My hips jerked, aching to be inside her, to bury myself in that perfect heat or to feel her mouth wrap around me, to paint her in pleasure and mark her for the ghost behind the glass.
Until a loud crash shattered the moment.
Aniyah let out a startled yelp, wings twitching as she leapt off me, landing gracefully on her feet. Her head whipped toward the sound, as did mine.
“What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” she snapped, voice sharp and laced with fury.
I silently thanked the gods I hadn’t booked any other private rooms tonight, otherwise, this would be the talk of the entire club.
Propping myself up on my elbows, licking my lips to savor her taste, I spotted a tall, lean man in a casual sport coat and slacks stepping through the shattered glass like it was nothing. Calm, composed, like he’d strolled in to chat about the weather.
“I’ll pay for it,” he said in a cool British accent, gesturing vaguely to the broken window, eyes locked on her.
She took a single step forward, too far for my liking. My hand shot out, ready to pull her back to me, but he moved faster. A flash of fang, too quick to stop, and he was in front of her, fingers catching her chin and tilting it upward.
“I’ve had enough of watching,” he murmured, smug and sure, leaning close to her ear. “You think fucking someone in front of me is going to scare me off, darling?”
His hands slid down her arms, slow and possessive, then settled at her waist before he lifted her off the floor like she weighed nothing.
“W–what? What are you doing?” she stammered, thrown off for once, struggling to catch up.
“I’m proving something.”
He carried her back toward me, then, without hesitation, he shifted his grip, hooking his arms beneath her thighs and spreading her open like an offering. Her pulsing wet pussy called to me, begging me to fill it.
She wasn’t facing me yet, but I caught her looking back, confused eyes full of questions and uncertainty.
And, gods help me, I didn’t stop him.
I should have. I usually would have. Protecting Aniyah was instinct—not because she needed it, but because something wild and primal in me demanded it.
So, why now? Why, in this moment, did that instinct stay buried? Why wasn’t I trying to rip this fucker’s head off?
Placing her right on my stomach, he sharply commanded, “Grab his cock.”
I saw the tension in her shoulders, the hesitation before she obeyed, but she never backed down from a challenge.
Her hand wrapped around me, and a moan spilled from my lips before I could stop it.
Then he spoke. “Now, impale yourself on that pierced cock. I want to see you take it. I want to see your eyes roll back and your breath catch. I want the VIP seat, front row.”
Her wings moved, helping her hover over me, but her gaze flicked back to me. “Are you okay with that?”
“Yes.” The word came out too fast, too eager. She giggled, that wicked, sultry sound that always undid me.
Then, lifting her chin with defiant grace, she glared up at him and began to lower herself onto me. The movement was agonizingly slow.
The moment I slid into that slick heat, everything else blurred. Her tight, wet grip around me was ecstasy incarnate. I saw stars.
And judging by the garbled mess that escaped her throat when he barked, “Let it out,” she felt the same.
I ran a hand up her spine, tracing between her wings. She arched into it, her hips twitching, and I thrust up, nailing that spot inside her that always stole her voice. Silence bloomed until he slipped two fingers into her mouth.
She writhed against me, overwhelmed, and my vision went white as something in me snapped.