Lose Control
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“Whose blood is this?” Wriothesley says, low and insistent, tracing the dark stain at his waist.
Across his corset, arterial spray paints the fabric a deeper shade of black, and below it—a mottled mess of flesh, an inky bouquet blooming just beneath Wriothesley’s hovering hand.
“It’d be so much easier if you didn’t ask,” Lyney says, fluttering heavy-lidded eyes. “Just pretend it’s my blood, okay mon cher~?”
Problem is they both know you don’t lose this much blood and keep standing. You don’t lose this much blood and then go begging to be fucked.
“Lyney,” he warns, fingers digging in, hard.
Series
- Part 13 of Alex’s Wrioney Fics
- Part 1 of Lose Control
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Slowly, Father rounds the desk. Lyney’s pulse speeds, his breath caught in his chest. Here it is, the moment his punishment arrives, his final curtain call.
“Clervie was Crucabena’s biological daughter.”
The moment, fragile as it is, stretches out. Clervie, ghost of a girl from Father’s past, only wanted to see the sun. Crucabena, familiar in a more sickening way. Clervie was her daughter, light born from darkness, flower bursting forth from snow.
“That is,” she says, clarifying, because Lyney does not know what this all means. Clervie was Crucabena’s daughter. Saturn devoured his children, too.
“It is not unheard of for the King of the house to bear children.”
Series
- Part 18 of Alex’s Wrioney Fics
- Part 2 of Lose Control