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Leaving within the hour with Violet's ex turns into a whole day.
Tecarus is transparent enough—somethings off with the ship's crew; illness, compliance, tardiness. He can't remember whatever the fuck he'd said, and honestly he didn't care. He'd made a pointed effort in shadowing Violet most of the day in case he needed to fend off Halden—or Dain, but oddly enough, he seems overwhelmed with the environment around him—and Iron Squad has picked up on her discomfort with Halden; it makes it that much easier to bird-watch his lover.
Xaden lurks in complete silence as they all view the butterfly garden, the pools, and the pit that Tecarus had nearly lost his life at on the viewing terrace above. They're oo-ing and awe-ing over fantastical sights that seem too vivid to be real—lush color bleeding into every edge of the world, a nauseating contrast to Basgiath’s iron palette of ash and blood.
"Funny to think a place like this exists so peacefully beyond the wards." Violet says through the bond, caressing his mind with her sweet voice as she tracks tropical birds passing by them,
"I find it more appropriate to consider how repulsive it is that Navarre exists." he scoffs, crowding her from behind and encircling her body against the balcony above the third pool Ridoc has somehow managed to stumble upon.
She leans back against his body and places a wet kiss where his throat and jaw connect.
"Still feeling tired?"
Violet practically melts into him, "Unfortunately."
"It's only the early evening; we can turn in now if you'd like." he assures her.
She sighs deeply and Dain glances in their direction.
He looks right at her, but he's thinking about Cath.
Xaden's eyes narrow on the brunette; he's literally always thinking about Cath. He's spent the entire morning imagining what it would be like to fly over the palace on his swordtail, or over the ocean again, or to sit on the beach with him. He assumes Cath does it right back because he smiles randomly, earnestly happy without anyone saying a damn thing to him, like a creep.
Fucking weirdo.
He reaches for her—Sgaeyl, now a whisper in the void—but the silence is suffocating. Not cold. Not angry. Just... vacant. Like calling to someone who's already walking away. His eyes bulge a bit at Dain across the terrace; it's unfair that he gets to speak to his dragon all day while his wouldn't even spare him a glance. He rips his eyes away and refocuses on the pool.
"Did he do something?"
Xaden blinks, "Who?"
"Dain." Violet shuffles between his arms and he squeezes her,
"No. Just..."
She blinks up at him, "Reading him?"
He nods and rests his head atop hers, breathing in her light scent, "All he does is think about Cath, and his shields are usually up."
His own surprise leaks into her, "Really? Wasn't expecting that. Maybe that's what he thinks about when he doesn't need to think wingleader thoughts?"
"I barely thought about being a wingleader when I was one." He sneers inwardly; the whole point of leadership positions was to exercise the ability to efficiently utilize the chain of command and not overwhelm yourself doing it all individually.
Violet looks up at him again, calico eyes glassy, her flushed face kissed by heat and weariness. Sweat beads at her temple, catching in the pale wisps of hair clinging to her cheek. He wants to scoop her up, demand Ridoc freeze the room over until her body sits at a perfect resting temperature, and not let her lift a single finger. She's about to tell him about Dain's lack of natural charisma and impulsiveness when she sags forward,
"Violet?" he says gently then rolls his body forwards and pins her between the railing and his hips, "Let's head back."
She twists in his embrace and grabs his face, "No, please. Don't spend the day hovering over me; you should try talking to Sgaeyl,"
"We both know how that'll go, love."
"You can still try—I just saw them fly in, towards the shoreline."
The worry on her face is palpable and makes him sick. She won’t say it, but he sees it—the way her shoulders sag when she thinks no one’s looking. The tremble she hides behind that steel spine. Honestly he would rather sit in the room with her while she slept, just to watch her and eventually fall asleep himself but if he pushed she would only become difficult—because Violet. Xaden weighs the odds of her forcing herself to stay out if he insisted on following her. He could offer sex too, but he'd already worn her out this morning.
"What if—,"
Her features morph into a grimace, a breathtaking one, "Xaden."
He sighs, "Fine. I'll stare at Sgaeyl until Tairn tells me to fuck off I guess."
He sure as hell wasn’t getting torched by his daggertail for nagging her about his dissatisfaction with her reaction to the consequences of a choice he’d made himself, and the palace’s pomp sucked the pleasure of being away from Navarre straight from his bones. There was nothing to do, nothing worth his attention.
"Thank you, your Grace." she chirps and pulls him into a kiss.
Xaden closes his eyes and slants his mouth over hers until she pulls away; she has that dazed look in her face just from kissing him and he fights to keep himself from getting hard. Violet pulls back with a dazed smile, lips parted like she forgot what she was about to say and Xaden slides his hands up her sides. She grabs them tightly when he presses his thumbs into the dip of her hips,
"Only for you, love."
His displeasure peaks when Halden's voice floats through the foyer to where they stand on the terrace, "Go. So I don't have to fucking kill him."
He can tell he's close enough to eventually spawn in the area they're all occupying, but he also has company—Xaden reaches through the shadows around the Prince; there's no one important. Next to him Dain hears Halden's voice as well, and he imagines Xaden's signet pulling the Prince over the balcony, onto the polished stone flooring around the pool below, and cracking his skull against it. When Xaden looks over in surprise he finds a frown plastered against Dain's face; he glances over at him and Violet and then turns to where Halden's voice came from.
Violet's freed herself of his grasp and stretches a bit, lifting to her toes and spreading her fingers like a kitten, "What?"
"He just imagined me dropping Halden into the first floor."
Her eyebrows zip into the clouds, and she spares her best friend a concerned glance, "Really?"
"Maybe I should."
She lets one drop and giggles, it makes his skin pepper with goosebumps and he nearly purrs,
"Who would've thought that's how the two of you would bond? Murdering royalty."
"Done it before and will happily do it again." he coos.
He meant it too. Aaric was digestible—but the other two? Worth less than Dain.
"Go." he tells her again, "Before I change my mind."
"Please don't." she teases, stealing another kiss and bounding away in the direction of their room.
Xaden watches her, the switch of her hip and the loose braid that swings between her shoulder blades. Gods, he wants to go with her. There's nothing he'd rather do less than run around like some overly-impressed Navarrian in a palace full of people who wished they would—
"Not going with her?"
Dain's voice splits through his disassociation like a fucking migraine. He's fully turned towards Xaden, even closed the distance between them a bit. They watch each other, both tasting the salted air between them and feeling a breeze that fingers through their hair, tickling their beards. He glances down Dain's body; it's a smaller, tighter version of Xaden's, his kind of build made you underestimate how fast he could move—or how hard he could hit. Shame, Xaden realizes, because he never lingered around Dain long enough to find out.
"I'm sorry, did I need to report that to you wingleader?" Xaden's voice rips from his throat with cresting agitation and Dain winces,
"I didn't—I wasn't—," He stammers then abruptly stops and sighs, he spins on his heels in the same direction as Violet.
Xaden turns tail right after him.
"Where the fuck are you going?"
Dain doesn't bother looking over his shoulder, "To the beach, your Grace."
Xaden's eyes roll so far back they damn near get stuck—he hated noting the snarky similarities between Violet and Dain but sometimes they were just so fucking blatantly evident it made him gag. They'd managed to find some odd middle-ground in their damaged relationship—good for him—and she'd stopped being so weary of him; he'd taken full advantage of that, bringing on the small talk and the peeking eyes. Dain doesn't make him jealous, though, Dain made Xaden curious.
The man had gone through three mental epiphanies since he broke the Quadrant into two riots—the first being that, and the other two, after the battle at Basgiath, and his father ungracefully disowning him.
His life was a mess, his alliances and principles unwillingly realigned, but his mind? Clear as a summer day with Cath eclipsing any other thought he might've had. Dain’s intentions reflected this; his objectives were always somewhat reasonable and when he committed to something it was with his entire existence and that was something surprisingly respectable about him.
Above all else, he'd follow Violet to her grave like a loyal fucking mutt.
He was digestible now, especially when he wasn't talking.
"Going to harass Cath?" Xaden pokes as they descend the steps to the first floor of the palace.
Dain finally looks at him, glaring indignantly, "I'm not going to harass him—he hasn't seen me today."
"And he wants to?" Xaden teases, Dain's ears turn red, and just like that, Xaden's evening entertainment schedule fills itself.
Dain turns forward, eyeballing the tapestry's and pompous decor that Tecarus has littering his hallways, "Of course he does, that's why I'm going."
Xaden follows him quietly as he rounds into a foyer that's taking them the complete opposite direction of the way the third-year wants to go. Xaden clocks it two corridors back, but watching Dain spiral was more entertaining than rerouting—he pictures Cath becoming irate with him on the beach; flicking his tail just above the sand.
"We're going the wrong way." He finally reveals, he can't help the smirk that rips up the corner of his lip as Dain spins around and Xaden nearly crashes into him.
"Why wouldn't you say that earlier?" he snaps, "And why are you following me?"
He shrugs, "Violence doesn't want me watching her in her sleep."
Dain snorts, "I wouldn't either, sounds like a fucking nightmare."
He laughs and Dain looks at him like he's absolutely insane.
"Want me to get you to your dragon?" he offers,
Dain groans, "If you would, please."
He lets his shadows creep up from the floor in the shape of arrows down the hall to the right of them—they're taking the long way, because why not.
"I can't stand you." Dain whines while raking his hands through his hair, following the guides nonetheless, "Can you just tell me where I should be going?"
"I am?" the arrow directly ahead of Dain spins in his face and wiggles, then repositions,
"Everyone's watching." he gripes, incessantly whining like he usually did.
Xaden watches his last fuck to give sprout wings and fly,
”Let them."
Cath looks baffled when Dain arrives on the beach with him in tow; he cocks his head to the side and snakes his neck down to sniff Dain at a distance and then blinks at Xaden. He's smaller than Tairn, bigger than Sgaeyl, and not intimidating in the way she is; his silence and stoic demeanor had always been unsettling. Case-and-point, he doesn't snarl, hiss, or even threaten Xaden vicariously through Dain when he saunters across the beach at his rider's feet and stops just short of him as Dain approaches his Red.
It's terrifying that Xaden has entirely violated the dragon-human proximity and Cath doesn't give a single fuck.
"Everything good?" Violet drawls sleepily in the bond, caressing him with reassurance,
"Just fucking with Dain." he responds,
She groans softly, but it morphs into a muffled chuckle, "Xaden please leave that man alone; he has a frail heart."
Xaden watches as Cath's eyes rake over Dain, assessing him as if he were his scaleless child fallen off the swings at their neighborhood park.
"He'll be alright. Go back to sleep."
"He... wants to know what you want." Dain sighs and fidgets nervously.
They've all been walking around in their uniform bottoms and cotton undershirts since it was two-million degrees and wet, and Dain's rubbed the insides of his left elbow so much it's red.
Xaden works his eyes up slowly to Cath and the swordtail's gold ones narrow into slivers of unimpressed scrutiny.
"Just hanging out with good-ole Dain." he offers sing-song-ishly, and then prays its enough to placate the Red who simply blinks at him then pivots his full attention back to his rider.
The two of them just stare at each other.
Dain laughs once. Maybe twice. Smiles too much.
That's it.
Obviously they're talking, but couldn't this have been done over the bond—is he a precious fucking gem or something that Cath had to retain visual confirmation of? Eventually Dain turns around to cover his eyes as Cath launches off the beach, whipping up sand so roughly it pellets Xaden's face and eyes. Xaden doesn't miss the quick smirk he hides by spinning around to escape his glare,
"Hey asshole," he barks once Cath is spiraling through clouds, "Couldn't tell me he was about to take off?"
Dain picks up speed but he's not gaining any distance between them, "Figured you'd be ready for it, since you know everything,"
"You know," he tilts his head a bit and shakes it in disapproval, "I was just thinking you don't fucking piss me off as much as I thought you did."
"I find myself surprised each time I wake to see the dawn considering how much you hate me." Dain offers while walking back towards the palace,
Xaden inhales sharply, "Touché,"
He lets his shadows spill into Dain's and feels through his mind but it isn't until they're within the white walls of it that the sparkling polished floors of the dining area materialize in his mind. Xaden watches Dain imagine himself eating, he wonders idly what there is to fill his stomach here in palace.
"...I'm hungry." Xaden groans while falling in step next to him.
His brown eyes attempt to cut through him, but the obvious exasperation overtakes his projected agitation and Xaden laughs when the image of Dain eating across a table with himself is plastered into the younger man’s mind. He wonders for a moment if the Navarrian actually felt so comfortable outside of Basgiath that he was galivanting around with his shields down.
"Enjoy lunch." Dain pipes, "I'm going to sleep."
"No you're not. Not before eating."
"Yes I am." he lies plainly, though his mind screams hungry!
Xaden leans over him and narrows his eyes, "No, you're not."
Dain throws his hands up in despair, "Don't you want to talk to Sgaeyl?"
"She has a mate, why would she waste time with me?" he suggests as he takes the lead, and begins towards the dining areas.
Sgaeyl actually hates his guts—and her shields were everlasting until further notice, an avoidable truth that left him as broken as Violet kept him whole.
Dain grimaces and his thick eyebrows bend, "Sounds lonely."
Oh Dain, Xaden thinks; it is.
"You and Cath talk all day or something?" He implies sardonically,
"Sometimes."
Xaden's head tips forward in disbelief, "Sure you do; I have friends. There's no reason to harass Sgaeyl."
Dain's recovered his position at his side and casts a mousey leer on him, "Garrick isn't here."
"Garrick isn't my only friend." he bites, fucking little shitstain forgot to mention Bohdi.
"Sure he isn't." Dain responds while looking left and right in undoubted skepticism,
"Considering you're the friendless one, shouldn't you be happy I'm tagging along?"
His astonishment flits through his body, rolling as he guffaws, "I'm not friendless; I have Cath."
Xaden peers over at him, "Does Cath know that?"
Dain's mouth falls open and he stops walking, so Xaden does too and he almost wants to laugh when the younger's face sours into unmanageable annoyance. Blonde hair spills against Cath's red scales in Dain's mind for a moment and Xaden's head tilts in unplanned response—who's playing around in Cath's house? Xaden nearly smiles but something behind him packs up the thought as Dain recenters his focus.
"What's wrong with them?" he says suddenly while waiting for Xaden to track what he's looking at.
There's a Poromish aristocrat affixed to the wall just ahead of them; she's sweating so badly that the red fabric of her dress looks maroon and shiny. Xaden recognizes the tell-tale symptoms of synthetic drugs working through her system. She's panting, pupils blown, and blathering nothing but lustful pleading as other pass by her.
She’s high out of her fucking mind.
Quite literally, because her intentions are a mixture of hallucinated consequences of not being able to control herself and wanting to escape into oblivion.
He'd Reached before, once, because Catriona had offered it as an experimental means of getting closer to each other and all it had done was leave him ill and raw the next morning, and insatiable the night of. The remembrance of it makes him fucking sick.
"She's high." Xaden finally responds, "It's a hallucinogen and an aphrodisiac; they call it Reach."
The irony of the name—Reach—makes him want to heave.
The woman's hands rub at her skin subconsciously, but it won't matter how often or intensely she touches herself; Reach made it impossible to feel your own skin and that was how the drug had received it's name—the unintentional reaching for others around you, the begging, and the debauchery.
"She looks like..." Dain avoids staring as they pass her,
"Like she's having a very public orgasm?"
His cheeks heat and they make eye contact for a split second before Dain breaks it, "Yeah."
Sick fuck tries to imagine it—what it’s like—until the thoughts choke themselves off before a flash of blonde hair consumes his thoughts and his mind calms.
Blonde again? Xaden thinks.
Dain-fucking-Aetos having a crush?
"You should ask someone about it tonight." Xaden chides, because knowing Dain, he just might.
He not only might; he does.
Dain knocks on the door three fucking times, panicked and sweating out of his dammed mind when Xaden finally answers the door. He's redistributing his weight from hip to hip in rotations as the door opens, and Xaden fixes a vexed glare on him.
"I—,"
Xaden bends down the three inches he has on him and grabs his face, "You actually took the fucking drug."
Dain shoves his hand away and growls, "Please don't touch me right now."
Or it should've been a growl, but it was delivered more like a whimpered, please, touch me, and Xaden begins to close the door,
"Right, good luck with that."
Dain's hand captures the edge of the door, "No, please, I—,"
Xaden whips his head around to respond to Violet before she's ready to speak; he feels her rustle and stir in the bed at their voices,
"Xaden?" she yawns, "Who is it?"
Dain shakes his head wildly and his sweaty wisps of hair shake along his forehead; Xaden smirks. Dain’s so far gone, his thoughts are ballooning out of him like steam—and it’s almost concerning. Almost.
"It's just Dain." he announces, leaning into the doorframe,
"Is everything okay?"
Xaden cocks his head at him, "Is everything okay?"
Dain lets the silence stretch until Violet calls his name again, and his tousled mind focuses on Xaden's hands.
"No," he mutters, his face flushed and damp, "I can't feel them anymore."
Xaden lurches downwards, bending his ear close to the other man's mouth, "I'm sorry?"
Dain grabs the front of his own shirt, "I can't feel them—my hands. I've tried so many times and," he stammers, "I can't—,"
"Hold on."
He rounds Violet's side of the bed and kisses her until she drops back against her pillow, "Do you mind if I help Dain out?"
Her hairs out and splayed around her, and in the moonlight those eyes full of affection for him are nearly porcelain blue. She wraps her hands around his neck and kisses along his jawline,
"You're, going to help Dain?" Violet asks doubtfully, her voice tilts into a deep yawn and her eyelids flutter.
"That's why he's here, so apparently." Xaden sighs against her neck,
"Be nice to him."
He bites her throat, "Whatever you say, love."
Xaden guides them to Bohdi’s room and lights a single magelight.
He hadn’t been here in years—and neither had Bohdi—but of course the room was still immaculate. That was Tecarus’s agenda: no matter the chaos, the rooms were always left in a state of readiness. Wrecked or not, they’d be scrubbed clean, restocked, and perfectly organized by morning.
He remembers the havoc—how they'd ruin everything during parties, leave the place in shambles, and return to untouched order like it had all been a dream.
He grabs Dain’s face and tilts it left to right, eyeing the pulsing vein in his neck, his blown pupils, his shallow, rapid breathing in the dim light. Dain’s always had that pretty-boy thing going for him—and on Reach, he’s somehow... almost alluring?
"What's wrong?"
Xaden knows what’s wrong. He can see it—tented against Dain’s leathers.
"I can't calm down," Dain blurts, flicking his gaze to anything that isn’t Xaden.
"That it? Not seeing things?"
Dain blanches. "Will I start seeing things?"
"You might. Depends how much you took. How much did you take?"
"I don’t know, I—"
Blessed Amari.
"You don’t know how much of a foreign substance you put in your fucking body?" Xaden snaps. "Really?"
Dain tries to glare at him. Fails.
"This goes two ways," Xaden says, voice flat. "One—you consent to help. Two—you ride this out and tomorrow’s flight is the worst you’ve ever had. And we need you sharp. For translating."
Dain’s eyes dart in zig zagging lines—so fast it almost makes Xaden dizzy.
"I... I want you to help me." It’s a whine. Low. Hushed. The most desperate he’s sounded yet.
But not desperate enough.
Xaden smiles.
"Say please."
Dain’s face twists with pure resentment. "No."
"Try again."
Xaden takes one of Dain’s clammy, trembling hands and rubs slow circles into his palm. The other man shivers—then releases a heavy, wrecked sigh.
“That feels so good,” Dain murmurs, watching him with parted lips. He’s so fucking wrecked, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it back.
Xaden splays a hand across his chest and backs him up against the wall.
“Say. Please.”
He watches Dain juggle his pride and arousal on a scale that should not exist. Part of him looks ready to concede while other part looks like it wants to throw hands for even suggesting Reach in the first place.
“Dain,” Xaden snarls, pressing his thumb to the other man's lower lip and pulling it down, “you’re going to need to come a few times to work this out of you. I guess you could risk getting caught with a civilian somewhere in the palace if you’d rather—but that’s unbecoming. Imagine that report making it back to Basgiath?”
“No,” he sputters, head leaned back against the wall to escape Xaden's touch, “I don’t want that.”
“Exactly. Ridoc’s a complete slut and you seem comfortable enough with him. But you show up at my door—with Violet inside? I'm afraid we're doing this my way since you've picked me.”
“Cath said—”
Xaden stills.
Cath?
“Cath told you to come to me?” His voice goes low—genuinely shocked.
“Yes.”
A pause. Then:
“Well,” Xaden murmurs, “guess that means I have to anyway, huh?”
Dain finally looks at him—bronzed gaze molten.
“Please.”
Xaden tugs at his shirt until the hem rolls up, exposing tan skin, “I’m going to take this off,” he says.
Dain nods.
Xaden works methodically; lifting the shirt over Dain's head gently, he pauses, patiently, as the cadet's arms follow sluggishly. The flush isn’t just in his cheeks; it blooms across his ears, his neck, even beneath the fine hair dusting his chest. He looks good with his arms overhead, so Xaden keeps him that way. His shadows slide up Dain’s sides, pinning his wrists against the wall—
—and a moan rips out of him.
"Good?" Xaden asks innocently, eyes wide,
Dain's are too, bursting at the seams while he stammers, "I don't know—,"
Xaden takes a step back.
He doesn’t need to touch him to get him off.
He doesn’t even need to ask what Dain wants.
He can see it.
Dain’s mind is unspooling fantasies—Xaden’s lips and teeth on his skin. Then his shadows. Always shadows. In every version, he’s being taken—shamelessly, hungrily. By him.
If he weren't in a committed relationship he might've considered a good time for the both of them, but his sweet Violet was asleep in their bed, nestled in the sheets and trusting him so much she hadn't even asked what or why Dain needed help at near midnight.
He considers an option that might leave him in the clear when it came time to explain this.
When his shadows drop Dain's wrists he stumbles forward and looks up like a kicked puppy. He could end this. Should, maybe. But Dain’s dripping, desperate, begging for something only he can give—and fuck, he’s already in it now.
"Take your pants off."
Dain blinks at him.
"This isn’t for you, it’s because of you." Xaden professes, "So get them off and get on the bed."
"Why?" Dain groans, "Can't you just—"
"Dain, what the fuck did I tell you earlier?" Xaden quips impatiently, "You're testing my patience."
He watches, envelops himself in shadows first, so Dain can't see the fiendish smile plastered across his face as he unbuttons his pants and drops them to his ankles. He opens his mouth to ask about his briefs but decides against and shyly slips out of them.
Once he's on the bed Xaden walks to the edge of it, wondering just how far Dain would let himself slip,
"I'm going to touch you,"
Dain licks his lips, "Please." he inhales deeply and rakes his fingers down his face before hiding himself, "This is worse than Cath when—"
Xaden taps his finger against Dain's hands once they're covering his cock, or at least trying. He's too thick and long to hide, so why even try? He furrows his brow while staring at his sack, wondering if Bodhi had oil in here somewhere, and Dain begins to roll onto his stomach,
"Don't want to look at me?" Xaden asks, a little offended—Dain should look at him, he knows he’s glorious; Violet says so.
"Everyone wants to look at you. Don't play dumb." Dain snarls.
Xaden grins wide enough that his cheeks ache: glorious.
"That so?"
He walks to the edge of the bed and slides his hand flat against his back and Dain stops breathing.
He starts at the dimples in his lower back, just above the curve of his shapely ass, then follows the trench of spine up to his shoulder blades and Dain presses his face into the mattress, gripping the flat sheet so harshly it bunches against his body.
He flinches as Xaden touches him but doesn't pull away.
"Xaden," he cries, "more,"
His voice is rough and heavy, thick in his throat while he shuffles against the bed.
"Tell me what you want,"
He wants Xaden over him, on the bed with him, completely pressed against him and talking to him.
"...maybe you don't want to be touched? Maybe I should just talk to you." he grates from behind him, kicking his boots away before climbing on the bed and crawling over him.
He presses both of his hands against Dain's waist and pulls him upwards. The brunette assumes the position with ease; he even spread his knees farther apart before dropping on his elbows,
Xaden's eyes bulge in their sockets. He'd known Reach would disintegrate Dain into something he wasn't but he hadn't expected his pride and dignity to quietly morph into an afterthought in the process. There was no fighting the sensation in him, no room for denying himself carnal pleasure. He was simply heat and need and lust.
"Is this how you'd have me take you Dain, like a bitch in heat? Panting like a slut?"
He lets his hands glide forward and towards his hips, admiring the way his torso flares ahead of his abdomen, the taper of his slim waist, and the muscular rounding of his quads and thighs beneath him; Dain Aetos is undeniably pretty. He can see why Violet had been so taken to him at one point.
"Answer me." he commands after bending his body over Dain's, grabbing his throat and forcing him to look at himself.
He obeys, arches his back and presses his ass into Xaden's crotch, "Like this,"
Xaden breathes roughly through grit teeth, "I should've fucked you when you were a first year. Fucked your bratty ass into submission,"
Dain imagines it.
He imagines Xaden pinning him to a wall with shadows and fucking into him with abandon—Dain howls his name with teary eyes and a red face, biting into his forearm so the other cadets don't hear him being pounded to pieces in his squadleader's room. He imagines the drag of Xaden’s cock inside him—deep, slick, unbearable. Imagines the rhythm. The weight and stretch.
"My condolences, because I'm not fucking you tonight, or ever—"
Dain punches out a whimper of agonized self-control before reaching for his cock and falling face first into the mattress with his ass still hiked up.
"—unless Violet okays it."
"Please, Xaden, just do something," he nearly wails.
A breath of satisfaction shoots through his nostrils and he presses his erection against the crack of Dain's ass, reaching underneath him and slapping his hand away from his cock, then he starts low and slow.
He grabs his balls and presses his thumb between them while pulling down gently and Dain drops his hips, spreads them wider, to buck into the mattress. The trembling starts in his fingers.
By the time it reaches his voice, it’s begging.
"Touch my cock, please," He pants, thrusting into the sheets again, and his head drops between his elbows in defeat,
Xaden obliges him this time and strokes from base to tip, "I don't have any oil for you." he admits,
Dain body trembles, and he struggles to get words out, "I don't usually,"
"You beat off dry?"
"Yeah—" he gasps as a moan breaks through his body again, "—I'm too sensitive with lubricants,"
"Too sensitive?"
"Again, Xaden, please." Dain encourages while rolling his hips,
He grabs Dain's throat and lifts until he gets the idea, rocketing upwards until his back is flush against Xaden's frontal while on his knees, "How can you even fuck if you can't handle a bit of oil?"
"Don't know," he grabs Xaden's hand, "I haven't—don't hurt me please,"
Cool shadows waft around their bodies, pressing against his thighs and hips before finding Dain's wrists and pulling them gently between their bodies at his waist. Dain thinks about being in Xaden's position with that blonde again, it's brief but he chances it fleeting through his mind, then Dain tucks it back where it'd been past his shields.
"You haven't what?" Xaden teases, biting his throat,
"I haven't—I don't need sex it doesn't—"
Xaden squeezes the sides of his throat gently and Dain grunts, "Doesn't seem that way to me."
"This isn't me—"
"Look at your cock,"
They do it together.
He's leaking, practically drooling on the sheets from his slit, twitching in suspense when he glances at Xaden watching his caramel length—he leans forward, but then pulls back because the thought of Violet's disappointed face breaks through his lust all at once. He'd wanted a kiss. Poor thing was always so worried about his Violet, he snorts in disbelief before speaking again,
"You're like a faucet right now, and it's all you." Xaden amends,
"I want to fuck your hands," Dain snaps.
His pretty features devolve into a cute scowl and Xaden laughs in his face.
The little fucker just barked at him.
He grabs the hair at the nape of Dain's neck and slams him into the bed, then uses his free hand to scratch his nails from the small of his back to the back of his neck where he switches them; sliding his dominate hand to his cock and squeezing the front of his throat again with the other. Xaden applies enough pressure to make him frenzied again, but avoids his windpipe.
Dain groans loudly when he pumps his erection with his fist gripped tight, and wastes no time fucking into the feeling, he wriggles around to try and free himself from the shadows but Xaden holds him there.
"No. Like this." he deadpans, "Behave."
"I am—"
Xaden squeezes harder and Dain's thoughts blur. His thoughts all collapse on themselves until he's entirely focused on the sensation of his cock getting drained,
"By screaming in my face?" he tuts, "I don't think so."
Dain can't manage words anymore, but he conjures up a bed in his mind; himself with that blonde again, and she dances on the edge of every fantasy of his. He works his throat as he struggles to breathe while stupidly thrusting into Xaden's hand, his own spasm between them, fingers bending and cramping in their magical restraints,
"I'm gonna come," he wheezes, "I'm gonna come."
"Go ahead, pretty boy." Xaden coos, "Come."
Xaden squeezes him harder and his body adopts a rough tremor as his dilating thrusts stutter and he opens his mouth to scream, but there's nothing, just his neck snapping back to escape Xaden's grasp. He pumps himself to completion and Xaden releases him as he recovers—he's still hard and twitching when he flops onto his side.
He doesn't let Dain come down altogether, instead he rolls him onto his back with his clean hand and uses the one he'd emptied himself into to stroke him long and slow,
"One more?" Xaden grins down at him,
Dain's hyperventilating as he breathes out, "Yes,"
His cum provides a slick medium that they didn't have before and Dain is reduced to lights and phantom sensations; he slaps his hands over Xaden's and kicks his legs around beneath him. His thrusts are slower now than they were when he was on his knees, and he shakes violently whenever his hips return to the mattress,
"Tell me Dain," Xaden teases, "tell me which blonde you're thinking of."
Dain's eye pinball in their sockets—did he say her name? Did he see him watching her? His mind feebly projects moments where he might've exposed himself and he purses his lips stubbornly before shaking his head.
"You should say her name," he stops stroking at Dain's shaft and slips upwards to his tip, he tortures him with quick flicks of his wrist, milking him relentlessly, "Imagine how good she'd feel on you like this, how happy she'd be to hear it."
Dain squeezes his eyes shut and he bites his bottom lip.
"She'd be tight, and wet, and fucking hot. Violet grips me like a wet fist; it's my favorite thing in the world, feeling her taking me over, and over. I love her hair against my skin, and the smell of her, fuck. I fit in that little body perfectly Dain, all the way to the hilt. I don't know how she takes my cock every time—"
"Xaden—"
"Is she tall? Short? Thicker in the hips? You seem like you'd like someone you could throw around. Or maybe you'd like someone to straddle you and fuck you. Maybe you'd like her hands on your chest while she fucks herself on you; and you'd sit there and take it like a good boy wouldn't you? You'd say 'thank you' while she caught all of your come, wouldn't you, pretty boy?"
He wanted to know who it was that occupied his mind outside of Cath, what kind of person brought Dain Aetos to his knees. Was she half the woman Violet was? Because anyone else was surely a downgrade.
"I—"
His eyes flare and his hips lift a foot off the bed when his orgasm assaults his mind again. It races through his subconsciousness and Xaden smiles in satisfaction as the image of his affection barrels to the forefront of his thoughts and Dain belts out her name as he comes thick, white ropes all over his stomach and chest.
She's a bit taller than Violet and certainly as ferocious; he likes when she talks back and yells at him, loves those twin, blonde plaits whipping behind her mid-flight, and those bright blue eyes that have been twinkling whenever they caught his brown ones recently—
"Sloane," he rasps, but it’s not just a name—it’s the only thing he’d been holding back, "Sloane,"
He watches Dain succumb to sleep quicker than he'd ever seen him recite Codex infractions with a dumbfounded expression.
"Sloane?" he parrots, staring at the copious amounts of come on his hand and Dain.
Xaden slowly gets to his feet and wipes his hands off on Dain’s uniform before turning to watch the third-year, his own jaw hanging open.
What the fuck?