a/n – this one is nice and juicy so enjoy hehe

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Aiasthlyn

˚

I am forgetting myself. Not in mind, not in memory or personage, but in purpose.

My purpose is to guard my realm by carrying out my Charge, a mission that will not be seen through unless I do my part. But I am forgetting that, for the vampire at the centre of that Charge stands at my back right now, and yet my mind only ponders the one at my side.

They are still here— Kalem and his vampire. They have stayed longer than before, and longer than I think the vampire Lincoln would prefer, but since Kalem wishes to spend time with me, the vampire sits idly in a corner, watching; waiting.

Malcolm does not do this. Malcolm makes himself my shadow.

This vampire—the one who belongs to me, never strays too far. He matches my steps now that I have allowed him this close, which was an allowance I had given in a moment of reckless abandon.

It was only done because of what I heard and what I had seen.

What I had heard— He’s special, Linc. Something about him is just divine.

What I had seen— His slumped shoulders and miserable eyes when he returned.

Now, here he stands, at my side, charged and ready, energised as if he has absorbed a carrier engine’s worth of power. It makes being in his vicinity impossibly compelling for the very worst reasons.

Before, he was a strange being simply seeking company, one obsessed with me because of my unique nature as an elf. Now—

Are we done now? Am I free to go back to Aias?

Malcolm seeks more than simple companionship from me. Malcolm seeks me, and knowing that is inexplicably dangerous.

I think to leave, as I truthfully should have many moons ago.

I think of parting and pursuing my Charge without being so close to him. I also think of a myriad of other, less appropriate and wholly unacceptable things. Things I do not let linger in my mind for more than a moment at a time.

The trouble is, I no longer hate him. I no longer feel disgust or rage towards him for being a selfish slaver whilst attracting me so, because Malcolm has proved himself to be nothing of the sort, and now, I am looking again.

At him, and at those smiles. And I am playing too, which is the most foolish thing of all.

If there was a sliver of me that was obsessed with his appearance, and it was most certainly more than just a sliver, then fair enough. It had been activated the moment I first saw him, and I could not help that any better than I could help being in this realm.

That could not be faulted. But I did not have to encourage it.

Still, that was precisely what I did.

When he teased, I engaged. When he made witty attempts to draw reactions from me, I let him have my anger while I guarded my desire. I played with him, went along with our foolish games because … there was a feeling with him.

It arose every time he prodded me, and when he toyed within our conversation as I did, something deep within myself rustled from its long cemented post, like an aged dragon awoken from its nesting place beneath a mountain, and I grew addicted to that feeling of my foundations rattling loose. Selfishly addicted.

Worst yet now that I know why he sought my approval so. Malcolm wanted … wanted me.

“I need a blood bag.”

I jolt slightly behind my glamour, turning belatedly to watch the vampire Lincoln dash out of the room with Kalem upon his heels.

Had they said something before, something I had missed while I had sunk within the maze that was my mind? I was sure that they had not, but I was also sure that I had not been paying nearly enough attention to my Charge since the moment the two vampires returned with Malcolm, a wilted version of himself.

I had been paying attention before, when they had gone off and conspired to kill one of their own with some noted eagerness, and yet, instead of marinating on the implications of such a ploy and how my mission here might come into play, I could only heed that Malcolm’s smile was gone.

Before I knew it, I was standing at a table and encouraging his shadowing with words I knew would coax. Now here we stood, still at the table, building this overly complicated furniture, when there was much else we both should be tending to.

To my surprise, Malcolm does not speak now that we are left alone. He had been awfully garrulous before with Kalem, but now, he falls as quiet as a green mouse. He also does not look at me, which is strange considering that that is all he does whenever he can.

I continue on as if I do not notice, unbothered, until the moment his head bravely tilts in my direction, and I find mine doing the same.

Our eyes meet, and Malcolm stiffens a measure before he hastily looks back down.

My brows draw together. I had not seen a version of him like this in quite some time. He is nervous for some reason. It radiates from him as if he harbours a lantern in some secret part of his body, and my soul ignites to have more.

“What is it?” I ask, not bothering to divert my own gaze.

He had initiated it, and so why should I deny myself the sight of him? Malcolm looks at me again, with those wide, grey eyes that blink owlishly at me, as if he is shocked by the questioning.

He thinks I care nothing for him, and that I find him aggravating, but while he did incense me, there was much about the vampire that no longer grated the way it should.

His attention, his positivity, his freely given answers, his servitude… That one did grate, but only because of how I reacted to it in turn.

“Nothing,” he mutters quickly as he tries to mould his expression into something neutral. “I just thought you were quiet.”

“As I always am. You are the one who is always speaking.”

Malcolm’s efforts go to waste as a smile pierces his feigned persona, splitting his lips apart to reveal his corner of the sun. “That is true. I guess I should make up for lost time?”

“Never once did I say that,” I retort, and he laughs, gaze returning to his working hands. My gaze is yet to part from him.

“I can not believe you are actually doing this,” he says, gesturing to the boards he is screwing together. “You do not have to, you know.”

“I know,” I reply while I eye how his arms carry out each movement.

His body is so forceful. It is natural, not sculpted. He is muscled as if that was what he was moulded to be— strong. If he were, then it shows in every inch of him. No part of him appears malleable, nothing easy to break, and yet when he looks at me again with those hesitant grey eyes, everything inside of him says that he is just that.

I cling to my glamour, fastening it on tight so that he can not see the way that prospect arouses me. It is bad enough that any part of him arouses me— he will never know it.

But it is almost as if he does, because as Malcolm stares back at me, it is as if he looks past the neutral front of my glamour and sees… me. His breath catches, he shifts, and then, he licks his lips.

I force my gaze away. Force the image from my mind, ignore the temptation at my side, and work my idle hands to complete this foolish task.

I should leave.

“Aias,” he whispers, voice low and full of need… yearning.

I ignore it, and him, until he slumps and continues his own tinkering.

He thinks himself to have failed whatever it is that he just tried to do, and that is a blessing, for if Malcolm were to be made aware in any fashion of what truly went on in my mind, he would become insufferable in that way that was becoming hard to describe as anything but aggravating.

If I left, he would have no chance of ever knowing, and yet, when Kalem leaves with the vampire named Lincoln, I do not follow suit. Instead of leaving this place, or at the very least, retreating to my quarters to dwell on the vampires’ unfolding plans, I turn from the closed door where I’d parted from Kalem to face the vampire who already stands at my back.

Malcolm maintains his post with an expression that reveals as much as it hides. He guards himself, shuttering his usual joys to make himself appear somber, but I have come to notice too much of this vampire to be fooled so easily.

I see how his vibrant grey eyes shift between my own, restless. How he holds himself, purposefully loose when he so often tenses when I pay him attention. How heat radiates from deep inside, defying his nature and beckoning mine.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asks just as I am about to take my leave.

I blink at him, surprised he would bother asking permission. “I do not promise to answer it,” I warn, and he nods.

“Why did you pretend not to know they were coming?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do not now pretend you do not know what I mean,” he dismisses quickly, his focus unwavering. “You acted as if you did not sense them, when you actually sensed them long before me. Why?”

Malcolm asked several questions, and often, but he never pressed for the answers, and not like this. Perhaps he simply itches to understand or perhaps he feels comfortable now to inquire about such things.

Either way, I move around him to find my chambers, leaving it unanswered.

If he were bold in this, Ythene knows he will be bold in more, and I am distracted enough as it is.

“You are ignoring me now?” He follows after me, sounding aghast, as if the prospect of my not entertaining him is unimaginable. “Aias?”

“I have nothing to say,” I retort, gaze straight ahead, as it should be. “Just because you ask something of me, does not mean I have to give it.”

I gave enough to him as it were.

“No, but I would like the answer,” he replies, his steps a sure match for my own. “I want to understand, so I can understand you.” My chest tightens. I subtly quicken my steps. “What would be the harm in answering it?”

He walks closer to me now. Not only in this moment, but in recent days. He has slowly been eliminating the space set between us, and I, in my foolishness, had observed it but had not stopped it because I was—

“Aias.”

“Why do you pretend to be ignorant, even with your closest friend?” I ask, whirling around and stopping him in his tracks as I do.

Enlarged eyes stare back at me, illuminated by shock, pleasure, and then hesitance. I watch them all play across his face, greedily taking in his every thought before he even realises he has released them.

“I do not.” This comes slower and with less certainty.

“What is it you just said—” I repeat, stepping closer, “do not now pretend to not know what I mean.”

Malcolm’s eyes search mine, and close as we are, I can see his delight as it sparks and then swells inside of him. He is happy for this, this moment and the attention— to be engaged and seen, and to have it done by me.

“Why were you pleased to see me upset?” He asks instead, raising his chin by an inch.

That is a question I can not answer, in jest or in truth.

I had only done with Kalem what I had always done, comforted him. I hugged him when we were reunited, and when Malcolm sought to unleash his smart tongue in the presence of others, I retaliated by doing slightly more than simply hugging Kalem.

It was only a hand over his head, a soothing touch, but it had been enough to darken the vampire’s irises and cast a cloud of upset over his usually vibrant shine. It was not just a matter of Kalem receiving the physical touch I so vehemently denied him, because he did not bat an eye when we first embraced.

It was the hand on his head— the petting. That had sparked jealousy.

Pleasure cascades through me, taking a dangerous path south that I suppress with all my might.

“Why are your eyes shaded so?”

Malcolm loses whatever joy he had been harbouring from this back and forth, so stunned that it completely slips from his grasp. He blinks at me, as if to hide the subsequent colouring, but I know it as well as I know the strands that sit atop my head.

It is a query I have been sheltering for quite some time, and it had nothing to do with the shade being the same as my favourite hue in my realm, but everything to do with how, thus far, it appeared absolutely nowhere else, in this species or in this realm.

Every vampire I’d encountered had black, bottomless eyes, or perhaps a shade of brown. But this one, Malcolm, he carried a softer palette. He differed.

“I-I do not know,” he replies, brows crumpling overhead. “I have always had them.”

“Have you ever met a vampire with the same shading?”

His frown deepens, and then, he shakes his head.

“Only you?”He hesitates before nodding. “Odd, is it not? Only you have that hue, only you have two gifts, only you awoke with an urge to find me. Only you—” seduces my spirit so. My eyes rake over him the way my fingers can not, and as he shudders as if he can feel it, I swallow against my tightening throat. “… Only you.”

Malcolm remains mute, no longer so curious and prodding, only confused and lost.

He looks at me as if I have rattled his world with uncaring force, but I have only returned the favour. I know this, but still, my spirit cools with terrible distress to have troubled him so, which is jarring enough to return the remnants of my senses to me.

“Be careful with the questions you ask,” I warn before I leave him where he stands, so I do not entertain the wild notion of doing something with that expression of his.

Something that would leave him empty and without room to ponder anything that did not revolve around my hand.

Cursing, I quicken my steps and leave the temptation where he idles.

˚

When an elf’s mind finds itself filled with far too many thoughts or plans, the solution to clearing it was always to reconnect with what gave you life. Nature. It was the ever-present cure, keen to fix all ailments.

I seek it now, under the spray of my bathing showers. It is not the real spray of a river cascading into a fall, nothing sweet like my waters home, but I try to pretend that it is.

I close my eyes and picture that I stand at the bottom of one of our mountain’s smaller falls, enjoying the impartial spray over my head that would wash from my mind the rooted thoughts that had made themselves into problems.

It grants me a brief moment of respite where I do not wear the weight of my lineage. I am no king, only an elf, under a waterfall. I have no reason to worry myself with stress, for I will soon have a mind clear enough to fix them.

I tell myself this again, and again, and I believe it, almost. I am almost in a state of tranquillity so sweet that I could doze right where I stand, and perhaps I would have, if not for the knock that suddenly rattles against my outer door.

My eyes pop open, returning me to the water-glossed green tiles of this bathing room’s walls, in this decaying realm where my worries are very much problems that can not and will not be washed away.

I think I would be angry and annoyed at the disturbance if it were not so uncommon.

The matter was, it had been quite some time since Malcolm bothered me in such a fashion. Ever since I allowed him his rooms back, there was no need to man the entrance of mine, and so I had found peace in that way.

I suppose the more time he saw me outside of them helped, but still, he had not knocked on my doors in quite some time. Now, a single morning has passed in which I have not allowed him to see me, and here he is, knocking, again.

The faintly thrilled sensation rustles free— the terrible pleasure that has rewired my senses. It shakes, vibrating through me with the demand for more, which is ludicrous because what exactly do I want more of?

His pining, or his steadfast attention, or… both?

We had not spoken since the exchange in his halls, had not seen one another either, though that was entirely my doing.

Malcolm had paced outside my doors in the evening, had fretfully told me that he had prepared dinner, and then done the same this morning. When I had not come out for either, his pacing worsened.

I switch the spray off and trudge away from my fantasies. I dry myself unhurriedly, knowing he will wait and only approach when the towel secured around my waist is fastened tight.

I should clothe myself. It was the proper thing to do, and as the king of the Anael faction, the only acceptable thing to do, but I was only a nameless elf here. I wore no crown, held no titles, and if I were not Aiasthlyn Kethalana, wise and focused, then perhaps for a moment, I could be Aias, the greedy fool.

I open the doors as I am, and Malcolm’s eyes rise to mine, bright and excited to finally see me, before they swiftly drop to the rest of me.

He draws in a breath, and for the first time, it seems to be one that he truly needs as all that I have come to know as ‘Malcolm’ crumbles before me.

His entire body swells, inflating while his muscles bunch and his fingers twitch. His face, carved from precious stone, loses its structure as his lips fall open and his eyes rake over every measure of my open skin.

His gaze feels like delicate fingertips, drifting over my skin, awakening desire and sensations that make parts of me burn under the confines of my glamour— my glamour that has not been strained so thoroughly in years.

It is overworked now, forced to endure while the needy vampire looks at me.

He is salacious with his attention, greedy, and not at all bothering to hide it, though I do not think he can, for when he does meet my eyes again, after he has already licked his lips twice and released a soft sigh that sounds periously like a moan, shame engulfs his vision.

He steps back, practically jumping back, and then tenses as if he realises what he has done. The shame deepens, sinking beneath his veins and marring his features into that of a scolded pet.

“Oh, Gods. I am sorry,” he whispers, dropping his head along with his gaze. “I… I am so sorry, Aias.”

It is only because he looks away that he does not see how my ears twitch restlessly while I tongue my own lips.

What went on in that head, I wondered…

I had my fill of bodies in my realm, and pleasure too, as I liked and how I liked it, but not one of my bedmates had ever been like this— so terribly desperate for attention, for pleasure by my hand, only to find shame in the depths that desire took itself. And if they had, then they had never broadcast it as openly or honestly as this vampire.

If they had, then I would have done to them, ten times over, what I envision doing to this insatiable creature now.

“You are sorry,” I repeat, my tone curious. “For what?”

I did not play with fire; that was for my more irresponsible siblings. For those who did not shoulder the realm and our kingdom on their shoulders. I did not have room to entertain such whimsies.

I do not have the room for it now, but I entertain it nevertheless because Malcolm, the vampire who follows my steps and hangs onto my every word, has awoken things in me best left dormant.

He looks up at me, only for a moment, but it is long enough for me to spot his surprise, and then his blossoming fear before he mumbles, “I… I do not want to say it.”

“Say what?” I ask, curious again for his sake, while I know precisely what he apologises for.

For looking, for wanting, for desiring me in ways he is ashamed to.

Malcolm bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. My length thickens beneath my towel.

“Is it for the way you looked at me?” I ask, stepping forward.

Malcolm immediately takes a step back, as if sensing danger. I swallow the groan that tries to escape.

He so often chased me, I did not know there was pleasure to be found in chasing him, but now that I know…

“You have no reason to apologise,” I continue, stepping forth and continuing every time he makes any attempt to retreat, until his back is pressed against the opposing wall and there is nowhere for him to go.

Malcolm’s chest heaves, working desperately while his startled eyes dart around for an escape, but if he finds one, it slips from his grasp every time his gaze slides over my skin. It snags his attention, and his face crumples each time with frustration, as if he is angered by himself.

It is that resentment and shame, that self-inflicted disappointment, that drives me to madness.

“It is only skin,” I say, voice as sure as always, as I let my magic undo the knot of my covering.

Nudity amongst elves was common and nothing of note.

Our bodies were not something to hide, as it was in this realm, so I was used to being seen the way Ythene had put me in her realm. I had lost a piece of that in chains, but for the first time since I have come to this realm, I feel my usual indifference at being seen so. In fact, I want it.

Malcolm’s eyes flare, turning red for the first time, I realise. This too is different, for it’s not a blood red, but a dusty rose that shines like a jewel while the rest of him burns beneath his deep skin. That lantern in him cracks, flame roaring like an unleashed torrent that lashes into the skies.

My cock presses cruelly against my glamour, trying to reveal my desire to this pining vampire I so desperately want to touch, and lick— Ythene, I want to taste his shame and turn it into proud pleasure. But my glamour is like a second skin, and it hides my worst parts as it does all else.

To Malcolm, I have not noticed his desire, and if I have, I have mistaken it for prudery. He does not know that as I gaze upon at him now, I envision fucking him on my cock.

Malcolm shuts his eyes, clenches them tight— his only way to hide, and Ythene be good.

I liked shy, and dirty even more, and the stench of Malcolm’s true desires wafted from him as flagrant as his innocence.

What an unfairly potent mix in an already enticing package.

“Aias,” he says after a determined breath, “can you please, put it back on? Please.”

“My towel?” I ask as if I do not know why he speaks. “Does nudity offend in this realm?”

“No, but… I—” he stops himself short, jaw clenching. “I will go. I-I won’t come to your rooms again. I promise, I’ll leave you be.”

“Why?” I ask, amused that he is yet to uncover my teasing because he is so rattled. “I did not say that you had to leave.”

Malcolm claws at the walls, nails digging in.

“I—”

“You can not speak to me with your eyes closed, Malcolm.”

He makes a pained sound, and my heart rages as I lean forward, desperate to taste it on my tongue, even if it’s just as commanding from the air. I am too close, too involved, but I can not stop myself or my body that unravels suddenly and without care.

“Please, I—”

“Open your eyes.” It is a swift command, strong and plain, but the moment I utter it, those greyed eyes are open for me.

I smile, pleased, and he begins to pant. I am much the same, with a heart that refuses to settle, and breaths I have no hopes of wrangling, but that is fine. I focus on the fiend I am set to tame.

Malcolm holds my gaze, or tries to, but then he withers like the rest of him, squirming, uncontrolled, and his gaze falls again to the rest of my naked body. He makes another sound, this one breathless, desperate, needy, and I am about to bite it from his lips when—

I stiffen, sensing another— sensing Kalem— approaching again, so soon, and this time, his familiar light is shadowed in some dark emotion.

I step back, blinking free from my desire that now feels like a hexed dream as the world returns to me, along with sense and mind and— Ythene have mercy, what had I been doing?

I blink at Malcolm, but he only stares at the ground, his body slumped, his trousers tented. By the realms.

Without a word, I stride from him, again, leaving him as he is, and I do not look back.

I do not dare, not now that I have exposed such depravity between us.

I keep walking, just barely managing not to run. 

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Aias is such a little bitch lmfaooooooo, respectfully. 

nah he’s actually hot as fuck when he commits

Thoughts?????????

Thoughts on this major change for these two???? On Aias making a move??? On him realising just how much Malcolm wants him and exactly what that looks like???

I like to think that both Aias and Malcolm have been suppressing their desires for different reasons in their lives, and while Malcolm met Aias and hasn’t be able to stop himself, Aias is only now seeing that fuck, this is what I want hehe

I’m obsessed adn I can’t wait for yall to see what is coming in the next set of chapters. Those on my Patreon and website already have an idea from past extras.

I won’t be updating until Christmas day! So be patient until then and you’ll get a very special gift! Until then, please share, comment and like of course if you enjoyed!!!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeeeeeeee Humanssssssssss