Chapter 2 - Blog Posts

ava22345

2 weeks ago

Title: [Untitled fantasy smut project]

Genre: Fantasy, Smut

Chapter: 2

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

Chapter Rating: NSFW

Series Summary: Lawrence Viscara, an aristocrat vampire from a famous noble family, is afflicted with a hex that causes him to go into heat. To help him recover and keep him from embarrassing the Viscara name he sent away from prying eyes to live with Syrath, a high class Incubus escort, who is hired to tend to his needs.

Chapter Content Warnings: Sexual Themes, Sexual Innuendo, Non-explicit chapter

A/N: Had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and am looking forwards to how to next one turns out :)

— Chapter 2 —

Syrath sipped his evening chai, scrolling through the details his agent emailed over one last time. This job intrigued him more than usual. He perched neatly on the black woven chair on his balcony as he continued to scroll. An NDA? He was used to being asked to keep his relations discrete, that wasn’t what piqued his interest. A male client? He had no qualms about his client’s gender or genitalia, he knew how to get them off either way. Bloodletting? Again not a first, a few of his Fae clients have even taken a liking to his blood. No, it was who his client was this time. A vampire. An aristocrat at that. They were usually an old fashioned bunch who looked down upon most of the pleasures his ilk had to offer. However, here was one hiring him, with an additional clause for extended cohabitation. Sure, he’d had clients ask to stay at his place before, but not usually for longer than a night or two. Something was definitely odd. It seemed very out of character from everything he knew of vampires.

Syrath looked down from his balcony as a black car, polished to a mirror finish, pulled up at the apartment complex. The driver was the first to leave the vehicle, an older woman in a suit. She walked around to the passenger door and opened it allowing Eleanor Viscara to emerge in all her pristine ruthless splendour. The woman then opened the rear door. Out emerged a young man. His pale blonde hair and ruby eyes a clear indication of his relation to the head of the Viscara blood. His body was adorned in a beautiful midnight blouse, tucked in at his waist, paired with shorts a shade darker, held with burgundy suspenders, that came to his mid thigh. Although his outfit was simple, it was carefully tailored to show off his svelte frame. The shorts emphasised his slender porcelain legs. The suspenders, intricately detailed with a floral pattern. The blouse, open-collared, framed his delicate neck.

That, Syrath thought to himself, is definitely a vampire.

—

Lawrence checked his reflection in the elevator. Checked his hair which, although usually went down to his shoulders, was now kept in a low ponytail. He checked his makeup, puckering to check his lipgloss, a natural shade of pink that added sheen to his velvety lips, fluttered his lashes to check his eyeliner, a subtle charcoal ring that made the pale blonde strands pop even more than they already did.

“I will never understand your incessant use of cosmetics.” Eleanor said with a sigh, “You are already one of the most beautiful of our blood.”

“I’m too proud to be simply ‘one’ of the most beautiful.” Lawrence quipped, tucking some loose hairs behind his slightly pointed ear.

“Your vanity is unquestionably why you were hexed, ma poupée” she joked.

The elevator chimed as they reached their floor, 6. They walked through the well decorated hallway, the driver first, scanning the doors for potential threats to her masters. They then reached an apartment with roman numerals on the door LXIX.

“Oh, c'est mignon," the driver remarked, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips, as she knocked on the door.

A man answered. He was slightly taller than Lawrence imagined, and looked impossibly more handsome than he did in photos. His midnight hair was artfully disheveled, his sharp features sculpted, reminiscent of classical statues and paintings. His eyes were framed by dark lashes, long and thick, that contrasted the bright sunset colour of his irises. He wore a long sleeved t-shirt with the shoulders cut out, exposing his umber skin and causing butterflies in Lawrence’s stomach.

Syrath invited them in. The driver took Eleanor's jacket, holding it gently folded over her arm so as not to leave any creases. Syrath guided them through his well kept home. They walked past the coat hooks and entryway bench by the entrance, where jackets, shoes and keys were neatly hung, to a large open-plan space that served as both living and dining area. The gleaming dark wood floors stretched, flawless beneath their steps, leading to a kitchen anchored by black marble counters streaked with elegant gold veins. He led them to the living room area, where a large TV sat in a sleek media cabinet, the shelves thoughtfully arranged with various trinkets and books. Opposite the cabinet sat a charcoal-grey sofa that looked invitingly deep and comfortable.

“Please, have a seat” he said, indicating to the couch, his voice smooth as velvet.

Eleanor and Lawrence sat, the driver choosing to remain standing at Eleanor’s side. Syrath grabbed himself a chair from the dining table and pulled it over to sit opposite them.

“Am I safe to assume you’ve read through our terms?” Eleanor started.

“You are.” Syrath answered.

“I suppose you have questions”

“I do,” He responded, crossing his legs, “Like why would someone of noble blood such as yourself be seeking my services, have you come seeking forbidden pleasures not found amongst the elites?” He mocked.

“Show some respect!” Lawrence exclaimed, shooting forwards. Eleanor caught him by the collar and pulled him back to his seat.

“Tiens-toi bien, ma poupée”

“But Tati-”

“No buts, we are here under his roof, asking for his assistance, you should be the one showing respect.” Eleanor turned her attention back to Syrath, “Apologies for my nephew’s rude outburst.”

“No need.” Syrath said with a smirk.

“The reason we need your services is because my nephew here has been hexed.”

“I thought your blood was immune to such sorcery?”

“So did I!” Lawrence chimed.

Eleanor sighed, “Yes, but it seems that this one has managed to bypass our natural defences. As such we need to keep him safe and out of the public eye for a time.”

“You realise that I am no bodyguard.”

“Obviously” Lawrence huffed, crossing his arms.

“And I am no one's servant.”

“We need you because of the kind of sorcery he is afflicted with. An Amor’s Arrow hex.”

“The love spell?”

“A variation of it, our physician seems to believe. He’s mentioned physical intimacy as the best treatment.”

“I see.” Syrath answered, tapping his chin.

“Of course, we included a bloodletting clause for obvious reasons. And I trust the importance of discretion in the matter is understood” Eleanor said, the implicit threat clear.

Syrath nodded, the unspoken warning understood.

“As for the details of how you two cohabitate, we can leave that for the two of you to discuss in private.”

“Sounds fair.”

“Do you have any qualms with any of our terms or any other questions?”

“I’ve got the gist. But there is one thing,” Syrath turned his attention to Lawrence, “So, are you a virgin?”

“Excuse me!” Lawrence’s face flushed, “W-What does that have to do with-”

“For me to properly do my role I need to know your level of experience. I would like to keep things safe and fun for the both of us, so I don’t want anything like this to come as a surprise later.”

“That seems reasonable,” Eleanor chimed, “Ma poupée?”

“N-No, I am not.” Lawrence stuttered, turning his face away in embarrassment,

“Je vois…” Eleanor smirked. The driver also smirking, though barely.

“Tati!” Lawrence exclaimed.

Eleanor giggled a little, “Je rigole, of course I already knew Laurie. You are terrible at keeping secrets.”

Lawrence huffed and folded his arms in protest.

“I believe you should discuss the rest my nephew’s ‘level of experience’ in private.” Eleanor said, turning her attention back to Syrath, “Can I take it you accept?”

“I do.” Syrath said, with a hint of amusement.

“Très bien!” Eleanor exclaimed, as she stood, “Then I shall take my leave for the night.”

“Allow me to see you out.” Syrath stood as well.

“I will have your bags here by the morning.” Eleanor said to Lawrence, with a light kiss on his forehead, before following Syrath to the door, the driver alongside her.

“One last thing before you go.”

“Go on” Eleanor enquired, the driver helping to put on her jacket.

“Why did you decide on me?” Syrath queried quietly, opening the door for them.

“Oh that’s simple.” Eleanor smiled, “Lawrence chose you.”

“He did?”

“Oui, out of the list of candidates we had, you must have appealed to him the most.”

“His attitude surely doesn’t indicate that.”

“Mais non, he’s simply being bashful. Ma poupée can be… Abrasive at first. But he will warm to you,” Eleanor stepped out of the apartment, followed by the driver, “as I’m sure, you will to him.”

“I see.” Syrath said, skeptically.

“Well then, I bid you adieu.” Eleanor said amused.

“Au revoir, bonne soirée” The driver said, closing the door behind them with a curt nod.

Lawrence jolted a little at the sound of the door closing. He resisted the urge to fidget, acutely aware of Syrath's presence now that they were alone.

“Come,” Syrath instructed, “I’ll show you the bedroom.” He said, opening a door beside the media cabinet.

Lawrence stood, felt a lump in his throat.

The bedroom was even more decadent than the rest of Syrath’s home. The dark wood flooring was decorated with a thick luxurious black fur carpet. The walls, a deep indigo the same shade as the midnight sky, were dimly lit by the cove lights in the ceiling. The bed, king sized, had a golden frame and sheets of the finest silk that shimmered, like an ocean.

“I expect you must be nervous.” Syrath said.

“What for? I am of the Viscara blood. A mere incubus could never intimidate me.” Lawrence deflected.

“And yet,” Syrath leaned in close, gently tilting Lawrence’s chin up to meet his gaze. “You’ve been blushing this whole time.”

“I-” Lawrence faltered, “That’s because you embarrassed me in front of Tati.” He finally said, slapping Syrath’s hand away.

“Sure.” Syrath said smirking, “For tonight I will leave you to rest. Acclimate yourself. I’ll take the couch for tonight. We’ll have plenty of chances to share the bed later.”

— End of Chapter 2 —

Next Chapter

A/N: Decided here I'll put a translation of the french used just in case it wasn't clear based on context: ma poupée - My Doll (Common in french as a term of endearment from an older relative)

Oh, c'est mignon - That's cute (In this sense used ironically at Syrath's door number being 69)

Tiens-toi bien - Behave yourself

Je vois - I see

Je rigole - I'm kidding

Très bien - Very good/Excellent

Oui - yes (surely you knew this one?)

adieu - goodby/farewell

Au revoir - goodbye/see you again

bonne soirée - have a good evening

Chapter 3 teaser

Lawrence glanced up, his gaze catching Syrath smirking and placing a hand on his cheek in amusement. Lawrence furrowed his brow and stopped.

“Something funny?” He said annoyed.

“No,” Syrath replied nonchalantly, “I simply enjoy watching when someone sucks me off.”

Lover, You Should’ve Come Over: Chapter 2

Note: okay okay i know i said i’d get it up last week but i rewrote it 4 times and i was busy the WHOLE month 😭. to make up for it, this is a really long chapter.

Warnings: None!

Y/N had been stressing the whole week before the gig. It was all she could think about. She didn’t think about anything that important either. She thought about her hair or her dress or what she could talk to Brian about. Maybe that last part was the important part. What did they even have in common besides Jo or Roger? Oh my God Jo. The real important thing to be thinking about was whether or not Jo was going.

Whatever. She needed an outfit for the gig. Maybe it was time to ride down to Biba? With that thought Y/N jumped up to put on somewhat presentable clothes and brushed her hair quickly before rushing out the door with her keys. Jo barely even looked her way, too caught up in some soap opera to care. Y/N ran down the stairs of the apartment breezeway, gazing up every once in a while to spot her car.

_ _ _

Y/N made it to the busy streets of London. Apparently everyone else wanted an outfit too. Y/N stepped out into the cold air, shivering a bit. Of course she’d forget a coat on such a cold day. She eventually made it to Biba without a scratch from all the pushing and shoving. At least she could get free clothes since she knew a girl who worked here. Said girl, Mary, was sitting in the back on the floor, picking her nails. Y/N spotted her and walked right past the register and the other employees, getting a few looks and whispers along the way.

“Hey, Mary.” Y/N says as she sits next to the blonde woman.

“Hey. Where have you been?” Mary murmurs, turning her head to look at Y/N. Where have I been? Y/N thought. She thinks back to the last time she saw Mary and she can’t remember. She stares at the gray metal door of the backroom.

“Just at school. Sorry” Y/N prays Mary isn’t mad at her. Mary smiles and nods while Y/N finally builds the courage to look back at her.

“So, what are you here for? New clothes? Something special? Something sexy?” The fair-haired woman teases.

“Yeah I might need a combination of everything you just listed,” Y/N giggles, “going to my crushes gig tomorrow night.” Mary pretends to be shocked and stands up, grabbing Y/N’s hand and pulling her up.

“You didn’t tell me it was that important!” Mary hurries her into the actual store.

They rush through every rack there is looking for the perfect outfit. Mary offers plenty of revealing dresses that are way out of Y/N’s comfort zone. Finally the both decide on a deep purple sleeveless shift dress paired with white go-go boots. It was a little short but it’d have to do. At least it made her feel beautiful.

“You know, I didn’t want to do too much. But I feel like the length is a lot. What do you think?” Y/N turns back from the full-length mirror in the changing rooms to try and read Mary’s expression. Mary gives her a reassuring grin and tucks hair behind her ear.

“It’s not doing too much. The length looks good on you and you totally have the body for it!” Mary says in a light tone. She brushes her hand against Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N looks at the fat on her arms and sighs. Not really, Mary. Though she didn’t like it, it seems she’d have to live with this body. The hardest part was making Brian try to like it when she didn’t.

“Thank you, Mary. You always make me feel better.” Y/N swallows, staring at herself a little longer.

_ _ _

After Y/N returns from Biba, she walks into her shared flat and slumps onto the couch. Jo walks into the living room with a smirk.

“Hey, Y/N,” She says, puffing on a cigarette. “Where’d you go?”

“Biba. Got an outfit for the gig. Speaking of it, are you going?” Y/N breathes into a pillow on the couch. She’s found herself in this position time and time again but it’s always just as comforting.

“Smile? Saturday?” Y/N nods while Jo laughs and puts her cigarette in the ashtray. “Who invited you?” Jo said the last part in more of a surprised tone than a mean one. Y/N takes her head off the fluffy pillow and grins at her proudly.

“Brian.” She almost squeals. Jo does all the squealing for her. Jo nearly jumps up and down out of excitement.

“let me see the outfit then!” Jo exclaims while walking over and grabbing onto Y/N’s hands.

_ _ _

Y/N lays in her bed, thinking about tomorrow night and how she’ll even approach him. What if he thinks she’s weird? it’s not like they’ve known each other forever anyway. The first time they’ve hung out will be tomorrow night. Maybe he admired her like she admired him. Or what if he only did it to be nice? It was most likely the ladder.

At Brian and Roger’s shared flat, Brian and Roger were drinking beer on the couch and talking.

“So why’d you invite that girl?”

Roger questions the man on the couch next to him.

“I don’t know. She seems sweet,” Brian smiles and laughs before shaking his head. “I have no real reason, I just thought she’d be nice to bring along. I mean i’ve seen her in my class and i’ve wanted to talk to her if i’m honest.” Brian starts to rant but stops himself before he can.

“Do you have a crush?” Roger teases.

“No, i just” Brian stutters and doesn’t finish his sentence. Just feeding more into Roger’s beliefs.

“You do, huh?” Roger laughs. Roger barely knew the girl either. He’s spoken to Y/N once or twice but never had a serious conversation since he was just her best friend's boyfriend and nothing to her. Brian shakes his head.

“We’ll decide after we have a real conversation tomorrow, Rog.” Brian says as he sips his beer. Roger grins at him.

“Let’s call her.”

“Roger, she’s probably asleep and that’s weird.” Brian defends quickly.

“Who goes to sleep on a Friday at 12 am?” Roger asks, getting up to get another beer from the fridge. He gazes at the phone on his way to the kitchen.

Brian huffs from the couch before calling out, “Uh normal people!” Roger pulls out a beer and walks back to the living room with a smirk plastered on his face. He mutters, ‘boooring.’ before plopping down on the couch yet again.

“C’mon, Bri, just call her,” Roger begs, “Not in a prank call way either. Just a normal conversation because I want to get to know your little lady caller.” Brian shakes his head.

After a few minutes of begging, Roger ends up losing the battle of begging and Brian ends up in his room while pretending to sleep. He didn’t want to call her in front of Roger because he had a feeling he’d manage to stutter or embarrass himself in some way around Roger.

Y/N was still thinking about Brian. Now she was sitting on the side of her bed and setting her alarm clock for five in the morning. She had to get up early to look her best even if the gig wasn’t until seven that night. Y/N settles back into bed and places her alarm clock in its rightful spot.

Y/N stares at the ceiling while the sound of Jo cooking a midnight snack fills the house. She begins to think about Brian’s smile and his soft voice and his pretty curls and it manages to soothe her into a tight slumber.