A/n – I had Champagne Coast by Blood Orange playing while writing this, though it’s not strictly suited to the chapter. just sharing for those interested – it’s in the Aiasthlyn playlist on Spotify.

And new elven word introduced and added to glossary

khepat – a feline-like cat that belongs to desert regions

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Aiasthlyn

˚

Waking feels like trying to swim to the surface from the bottom of an ocean. Which is strange, because I have not once claimed sleep properly since having breached this realm. It has come either restlessly or in momentary bursts that are never this deep.

I swim upwards, prying open my eyes with effort as my soul rouses with my body, the pair having apparently taken a much-needed hibernation. Even through the haze of my mind, I find it a pleasurable affair after all this realm has made me endure, and I let myself relish it.

And I do— relish it… until my senses stir as well and I register another’s presence.

I shoot up from my covers as my natural form breaks free, extending my limbs and widening my frame as I twist to face my enemy. My palm opens, and my sword is quick to answer the silent beckoning, unfurling until its tapered edge settles a hair’s width away from… Malcolm.

I still.

Malcolm?

The vampire sleeps soundly, for once not maintaining his breathing act. He is completely still, but not stiff. He is too at peace for such things, and while sunlight softly caresses his cheeks, his skin is cool where we touch beneath the covers.

My Anael thrums in my hand, pulsing with magic that I keep poised as I probe my mind for the reason why, in Ythene’s realm, he was in my cot, and sleeping so peacefully at that. I have half a mind to slit his throat for invading my chambers without permission or invitation, but then, memories surface and soon collide.

They paint vivid pictures where I unleash the most unbecoming of phrases at Malcolm within his kitchens, and he, in turn, responds. Then, I touch him, and it is not long before he unfurls for me.

I frown so deeply my head aches.

That could not be. It simply could not be.

My mind had been overwhelmed with thoughts of the vampire, but they were supposed to remain as only that— thoughts. Imaginings. I was not supposed to act on them, and I never would have if not for… The Passion fruit.

It had to be that damned Passion Fruit. Its name was evidence enough.

There was something about that fruit that had caused my mind to wander from its usual path and loosen my tongue in the process. It had shattered my defences, leaving me an obscene version of myself who had no qualms about acting on my desires.

With my breath still held, I quietly draw my Anael back, careful not to pierce his enchanting skin. Malcolm sleeps through it all while my mind capsizes itself.

“Ythene’s Glory,” I sigh quietly as I pocket away my natural form and Anael as well, returning to the smaller, leaner form I had taken for this realm.

Brief as it was, longing already mounts to remain in my proper skin, but the feeling is muted as I bury my face in my hands and find respite in the long drapery of hair that shields me for a moment so that I can seize a moment to think.

It had obviously been a mistake. A blunder completely out of my control. If I had known that the Passion fruit was a fermented crop so strong against elves, I would not have even touched it, let alone consumed so much of it that I would act so carelessly with an unclaimed pisen.

Only no. Malcolm was not a pisen. It was impossible.

Pisens, the purest of elven souls, belonged in Ythene’s Realm alone, because they were elven creatures. Malcolm was a vampire— a very old vampire crafted by the hands of witches. And despite how he frequently aimed to please, as pisens so often did when they were trying to claim a pyro, it simply was not the same.

But there was that one moment, when I had overstepped with him. When he had shown me his second gift and I felt a force of power within him, one that my magic had found familiar. And then all the strange oddities about him— from his greyed eyes, to his pair of gifts and his heart.

But did a set of oddities in an already strange realm did not make a pisen. Surely not.

Breaking from the sanctuary of my hair, I gaze upon him, feeling my breath quicken as I do.

The matter of what he was or was not should be the least of my concerns. I had crossed a line with him, the very line I had tried so dutifully to stay clear of, and now…

My gaze wanders, trailing over him where he lies in my bed.

I must have stripped and cleaned him after our exchange in the kitchens because the only fabric that covers his skin is of my bedding and it is hardly thick enough to obscure him from me.

His figure protrudes beneath it, the cords of his body denting even through the fabric, just like the print of his soft cock. I swallow and shift my gaze up to the skin that teases me openly. Twisted on his side as he is, I can only glimpse a portion of his wide chest, his unblemished skin, and one of his dark, supple nipples.

I would not be able to avoid him again.

Not him or this maddening lust that thrummed between us. Not now that it had proven itself to be more intense than my worst desires.

I wanted to deny it, to continue denying it, but I could not. Not anymore.

I wanted this man and his body more than I ever had another, and after my brief psychotic splintering, threadbare denials would no longer soothe.

I was barely satisfied as it was, for while Malcolm’s cock remained soft, I could claim no such comfort.

A curse sails from my lips as I tear my gaze away. I force the rest of me to follow suit, dragging myself out of the covers and away from the rooms.

None of this wakes Malcolm, for while I come undone, he remains at peace.

˚

The trees rustle their leaves as I make my approach, excited to see me, and that sweet reception eases the frown from my lips.

“Hello,” I greet, stopping where I can survey them all. “I trust all is well?”

There is more rustling, creating a symphony of sounds that soothe my soul.

What used to be a desolate graveyard is now a flourishing grove, made of trees of old. They stand tall and proud, ready to carry on another lineage for generations to come. And if this world is kind enough, I do not doubt that they will.

“I am sorry to disturb so soon. I meant to wait longer,” I confess as I approach the nearest, caressing its fissured skin with my fingers. “But I would like to ask a favour, if you would permit it.”

Wind skitters past, and as it does, it frees a few odd leaves that carry the trees’ acquiescence. I smile and bow gratefully.

“The man I live with. The vampire,” I begin, breath catching as flashes of warm grey eyes accost my mind. I blink them away. “He has been here for a long time,” I whisper as I move between them. “He appears to me to be kind, or kinder than his ilk, but I need to know if that has always been true.”

In my heart, I already knew that it was. Malcolm was many things, but he was not wicked.

Wickedness clung to its owners like a dragon did its horde; the stench of it could not be removed or hidden, even for those who sought to atone. The scent of Malcolm was too sweet for such things.

But he had a penchant for acting outside of himself. I’d witnessed it sundry times already. Amongst friends and strangers, he conformed to get his way, and while it was smart and often arousing to witness, I had to be sure he was not doing the same with me.

Playing the intelligent and kind vampire who was lonely and desperate for attention, because he somehow knew that was what would compel.

“Would you help me?” I ask, inclining my head once more.

This time, there is no answering flurry of wind and leaves. I do not have to listen for it because they reply with action.

The earth cools beneath my feet as the embedded roots draw life inward. They strengthen themselves, filling antediluvian arteries that had withstood the test of time, and persevered long enough to relay all it had witnessed.

It is a story of sorts, a tale of what was observed of all those who had walked above, and it is passed to me.

Malcolm had inherited this property. It had come from a fairy who had readied it as a gift for him. Why? They did not know, but what they did know was that when the exchange had been made, the fairy shed many thankful tears to the vampire.

The fairy visited often, and with a heart of gratitude that never wavered until the heart itself sang its last song. Then, there was only Malcolm. He traversed the property often in the beginning, admiring its beauty, but it was not long before he opened its doors. Parties, galas, he had them all. Invitations flew out and never returned unanswered, and all who walked these lands were kind at heart, giving.

When the age of celebration passed, Malcolm’s doors remained open, but for a new type of guest. The lost. There were slaves, wanderers, those born alone to this world, and those battered by it. Malcolm cared for them all.

By the monarchs’ accounts, there were only two constants. The vampire I knew, Lincoln, who, for his varying moods, remained a loyal friend, and another creature. An incubus who spoke to the trees whenever he skipped by, as if he understood them.

Time continued its journey, and not once had there ever been bloodshed, for while Malcolm had enemies, they were not the type to confront, for they lived in his heart. They stirred every time his guests left or a time passed too long without seeing one of his constants. Those times left the vampire alone to circle this vast property like he did the rest of the planet, until one fen, he went inside, and never came out again. Not until one early morning only a few moons ago.

But Malcolm, as he was, as he had always been… was a kind. That was no act.

“Thank you,” I whisper as the trees free my mind, letting me return to my proper form. “I am grateful.”

Sparing a measure of my magic, I share it with them, accounting for the energy used and some more. Leaves rustle overhead in gratitude, but as melodic as their song is, my chest remains tight, my heart heavy.

That was it then. Malcolm was all he ever claimed to be, and more.

He had a heart that stood out in this realm as a lantern might, its flame unwavering even as the cruel winds of time tried its hardest to snuff it out. He was good, preciously good, which made his compulsion over my mind all the more tantalising.

For this sweet, aged vampire with a gracious heart had devious desires that he did not feed, and I desperately ached to be the one to feed them.

He has already fled by the time I return to my chambers, and not just from my space, but his lands, too. And with him, he has taken all evidence of our twilight.

My bed is made with fresh, pressed sheets, and when I take myself to the kitchens, I find them spotless with not even empty receptacle bags to be found in the bins.

From the outside, it is as if it never happened.

I feel my jaw clench.

I consider following and forcing him from whatever hovel he goes to hide in whenever we find ourselves in this position, but that seems terribly cruel. Every creature deserved their privacy when they sought it out, and Malcolm was no different.

It would be a habit I would have to break, though, especially with how much I planned to use him; he could not go running off each time I made him spill.

There is much else I can be doing with my time until he returns, but not one of them proves to be as productive as simply waiting for him. So, I take a position in one of his larger rooms with a lounger that is lush enough to give me a modicum of the comfort I can not enjoy while I wait.

As haughty as it sounds, I struggle to recall the last time I had to wait upon another.

It was not always so, not when Virion was meant for the crown, but much time had passed since then, and I had gotten used to a certain treatment. Even in the cells, there was a level of dissent as they tried to break me, but for the first time in a very long time, I wait for another.

I wait… for Malcolm.

It is well into the evening when he does return, and my magic alerts me to his approach with enough time for me to hasten to the door and wait as I had last time, but I remain where I am. Somehow, I am sure that he will come to me.

Malcolm does not disappoint.

While it is slow, as if he is mustering the courage for it, his presence grows stronger until he creeps into the open doorway.

His neck is already bent, head cast down. He does not look at me. Not immediately. First, he stares at the polished floors, and next, his clenched hands. He stands still where he is, stiff in a way that stands out distinctly when a handful of hirts ago, he was a sketch of tranquility.

I stare at him throughout his display of shame, unable to tear my gaze away, and when he is finally brave enough to meet my stare, I feel my frown fade for the first time since I awoke. He really was a handsome thing.

Malcolm’s brows dip, contorting his features until he wears an expression of such upset that something inside of me aches. “I am sorry,” he begins, his tone deceptively steady. “I know I have said it before, and we’re here again, but I really am sorry, Aias.”

At another more appropriate time, I would ask him why he did that— apologise for matters that involved more than him alone, and yet, still claimed sole responsibility. For now, I somehow remain quiet while a familiar mania quickly sparks within.

“I…I do not know what happened, or I-I didn’t then,” his hands clench once more. “But I’ve been thinking about it, and it must have been the passion fruit. You were acting different, so—” he stops himself with a breath. “I wondered why, but it must have been that. It must have affected you to… do things you never would.”

His gaze finds mine, though he struggles to maintain it as he peers at me with raw desperation. “I would have never offered you the fruit if I knew it would affect you like that. Please believe me.”

“I believe you,” I reply before he can say something else that will worsen the soreness gathering in my chest. “It was not your fault. I know that.”

Pretty, grey eyes widen themselves for me as his lips fall open, blatant shock rendering him mute for a moment. But Malcolm is as quick as he is alluring. He recovers hastily, licking his lips as he does, and as hope sparks in his eyes, I wonder how much longer I can wait.

“Oh,” he sighs, relieved. His lips tug at the corners into an almost-smile. He stops it himself, wanting to appear serious instead. “That is… not good, but I am glad that you do not think I was trying to hurt you or take advantage of you. I was not.”

“I know.”

“Good,” he replies, trying for another smile. It is just as short-lived. “And just so you know, I would not have… let you touch me if I knew that you weren’t in your right mind.”

His skin warms as he speaks, and he shifts on his feet for the first time while my fingers curl into themselves, clenching tight like his, but Malcolm does not notice. He does not notice much. Not the way my ears twitch, or even how my glamour trembles before him.

“It was a bad situation. A mistake on both our parts,” he infers confidently. “I promise to be more vigilant and careful of what we consume. But outside of that, I will make sure nothing like that ever happens again, so you do not have to worry. I’ll keep my distance. Okay?”

When he is done, he dons yet another smile. A real one this time. It stretches across his face, carrying so much hope, I feel cruel for squashing it, but I am at the end of my wit as it is, and long past working with a sensible mind.

“No.”

, Malcolm’s smile slips. “No?” He echoes as panic smothers hope, turning him stiff again.

“No,” I repeat, and neither my glamour nor courtesy can help me cull my tone as I push to my feet. “No, Malcolm. I do not accept this.”

There’s a moment where he looks as if he is frozen in time, as if he does not understand the words spilling from my mouth. Then, he adopts the expression of a bird that has returned to find its nest unsettled. “B-Because of what I did.”

It is cruel how sweet he is. A cruel gift.

“Because, Malcolm, the totality of one of your days has passed, and I have spent the entirety of it thinking of you, and what I aim to do to you.” The admission comes through clenched teeth, hissed like a feral Khepat as I steadily close the space between us.

His eyes widen, and his chest begins to heave, but shock keeps the rest of him where he is.

“I have not thought to eat. I have not even washed myself yet,” I huff, brimming with rage and disgust as I prowl closer— slow enough not to scare him off, but quick enough to still catch him. “I am a man with a life— responsibilities— but I can not see to a single one of them because of you.”

“I—” Malcolm begins as he drops his head, a soft, wounded sound escaping him, but I catch it on my fingertips as I take his face in hand and force his head up. I force him to look at me, to face me while I touch him, my thumbs brushing his plump lips that look like their own type of aphrodisiac.

A groan fills my chest, and not even my glamour can hide my pleasure as I step closer until we are only separated by the space it takes for our breaths to find each other.

“I’m sorry, Aias,” he whispers, and it is not meant to seduce. I know because he is miserable in this moment, assuming the worst, but it does.

“Stop apologising, and stop making excuses,” I dismiss, harsher than I mean to, but he survives it. “Leave it as the truth, and I’ll do the same.” Malcolm blinks up at me, his grey eyes staring nervously into mine as he waits. Always so heedful. “This, between us, is desire.”

Grey eyes flare, illuminating into that dusty iron-hued shade that compels me as much as the rest of him as he sucks in a breath.

“The things you want to give are what I want to take,” I whisper, leaving no room for argument as I pass my thumb over his bottom lip. It is softer and plumper than it looks. Perfect. Like the rest of him. “We are a match.”

Malcolm’s lips part as he fills his chest, but he does nothing but stammer until I shush him. Then he becomes very quiet for me.

I have to swallow the lust that explodes within me, raw and unrelenting.

“I have to deal with it— with you,” I whisper, speaking to both him and me.

I should not. I know that I should not, but my mind does not entertain the towering thoughts of all the things I should and should not do. Every thought concerning my Charge settles at the back of my mind, where I know they will stay until I have my fill.

“Here is my proposition,” I rasp, licking over my lips as my mind fills with visions of tasting him. “While we are together, in this realm, we use each other for pleasure— to experience all we never have before.”

I did not have to ask if that was the case for Malcolm as well; I already knew it was. He hid his desires just as I did.

“Everything?” He asks, swallowing while my heart hammers between us, fast enough to sustain both of us.

“Everything,” I confirm while I dip my thumb into his mouth, only to shudder at the wetness I find inside. I drag his lip lower as I stare into his bewitching eyes. “Every… filthy desire I know you have kept to yourself….I would carry them out, Malcolm.”

Malcolm’s body warms once more, and this time I feel it, inside and against my skin where my mind brushes his, because we are this close now. I can almost taste him, almost consume him whole, and I am about to— will— the moment he agrees.

“While we’re together, in this realm?” He checks carefully, and I nod hastily.

“Or until one or both of us grows tired of it.”

It is a clause merely for him, because I already know that I will neither grow tired nor have my fill of this man before the day I return to my realm, or long after.

“Okay,” he agrees, shakily, before he swallows and tries again. “Okay.”

My shoulders drop as if a weight has been ripped from them, and for the first time in what feels like a very long time, I take my first real breath. It soothes me, reminds me of who I am as my soul settles within, and then, without barriers or formalities, lust swells inside of me.

“Strip,” I say, but I have already freed his mouth and taken hold of his wrist to shove him against the door frame.

Malcolm grunts, surprised enough to stand still while I drag his trousers down to get inside. “Wait? We’re doing this right now? Right here?!”

“I have been distracted long enough, Malcolm,” I snarl as I shove the fabric away, tearing it when it proves pestilent.

“We haven’t even talked about it! N-Not properly!” He protests even while he remains pliant for me. “I do not even know what you like.”

“You will learn.” I’d be using his mouth next.

“B-But what about—”

“We will talk after you spill inside my mouth,” I say as I still my fingers where they are curled over the last of his trousers.

It takes an egregious amount of restraint not to pull them the rest of the way with a trimming of dark curls peeking over, but I manage. I hold myself back, one last time, and look up at him.

Smouldering, slightly panicked eyes stare back at me, and he looks as if I have already razed him. I feel my lips spread. He is so oblivious of what is to come, it is almost endearing.

“Stop asking questions, Malcolm,” I say as I stare up at him. “Stop finding excuses. Unless you say no, there is nothing now that will stop me from having my fill of you. Nothing.”

He swallows, throat bobbing for me and my cock twitches.

“So…” I ask, tugging the fabric an inch lower to tease myself with the base of his cock. A guttural moan slips past my lips as a pool of satisfaction gathers inside of me. It is as dark as the rest of his skin, and I’m eager to follow. But I do not. Not yet. “…are you going to tell me no? Are you going to deny me?”

Malcolm’s eyes widen, panic surging within before he quickly shakes his head, as if the prospect of such a thing horrified him.

“Then, you should only have one concern right now, Malcolm, and that is whether or not you will be as giving to me as you were before.”

I yank his fabric down, discarding the last morsel of my restraint as I do.

A lifetime’s worth of desire frees itself, and for the first time, I do not try to stop it. For once, I let myself take, and Ythene have mercy on this sweet pet, I am going to take so very much.

———————

What Aias is about to do to this man… trust me when I say, the smut that’s gonna hit these streets will be unlike anything we’ve seen in this universe

Thoughts???????????

Thoughts on Aias’ POV??? His thoughts??? His acceptance FINALLY??? On Malcolm???? 

I knew going in from the last chapter, that this would kind of be Aias’ snapping moment. Like he’s reached the end of his wire, he can’t deny himself anymore and Malcolm doing it just sort of pisses him off cause he’s like, ‘I’m about to rock your world, so why are you still pretending this is casual’

I love it! and I love sweet Malcolm coming back with the same script from last time, only we see it from Aias’ POV, and he’s so damn endearing. I love him so much.

He deserves what he’s about to get, which is the action he’s always dreamed of!!! AHHHH I’m so excited. And the only reason you don’t have it yet, it cause I need to make sure it’s perfect cause it’s important for the book – like their first sexual experience.

Anywayyyyy, that’s all for now! I’ll have the next chapter out by next week. Let me know whose POV you think it should be!

AND IF YOU DIDN’T KNOW, Virion is completed and coming to Wattpad! It’s a short story about Virion, Aias’ older brother, that I’ve been writing for years on Patreon and just finished. It’ll be uploaded weekly from next week Wednesday!

Before that, if you want more content, an extra for this month will be up, most likely it’ll be one about Hagen, Aiden and Julian. Link in my bio! Oh and remember to vote if you liked this chapter!

Okay, I’m done yapping

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeeeee Humansssssssssssss