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He’s not the first man she wants to take to bed. Lumine Viatrix is a professional at this, whispering pretty words, sliding under sheets and not texting back. It was a necessity when their family travelled and moved every few years—roots were not worth nurturing when they’d be ripped out from under her.
It wasn’t like it was her parents' intention, they worked hard to give Lumine and Aether good lives, but the nature of their jobs simply didn’t allow the Viatrix family to be in one place for long.
This was her family’s third time in Morepesok, the first time they had come, she was six—still naive enough to make friends, only to leave sobbing months later, holding onto Aether with one hand and a whale plushie gifted to her by a classmate in the other.
The second time, she was fresh-faced and fifteen. Old enough to know better and young enough to want to try anyway. A year later she exchanged tearful goodbyes and promises to keep in touch over social media.
Those friendships fizzled out with time.
And then she was twenty, in college. It had been a last-minute decision, Morepesok had the best Sociology course across Tevyat–and Lumine’s grades made the cut.
And now, she was in Ajax Alekseev’s room, watching him fiddle with the TV remote, glancing back at her with soft smiles. She’d rather be at home, but Scaramouch had dragged Aether to the party and Aether had dragged her.
She just wanted to find a room to rest in, and the host himself offered her his room–and him.
The man finally finishes whatever he’s doing on the remote, and the lights dim, widescreen TV pulling up some show that Lumine can’t be bothered to remember, not when there were better things to watch.
Ajax had been shirtless the whole party, abs glistening strangely.
Perhaps it was the Morepesok air.
The womaniser himself lies down next to her on his side, staring up at her. Lumine’s almost self-conscious.
“See something you like?” She leans backwards, smiling coyly.
“Yeah,” his eyes don’t leave hers. He is a womaniser, and he makes it too easy for her to lean over and press her lips over his. He tenses up for barely a millisecond, and then he’s returning the kiss, hands moving to rest under her shirt. Lumine shivers, his hands are cold on her skin.
“We’re doing this?” She murmurs into the kiss. “Mmm,” Ajax groans, pulling her closer.
“Pants off.”
The redhead stares at her, eyes wide.
“What?”
Maybe he’s never had someone take charge before. That’s not a problem. Lumine shimmies closer towards him, leaning down–and like a total whore, she pulls the zipper down with her teeth.
Ajax gets so hard his cock nearly punches her in the face, not that Lumine was complaining. “Where are your condoms?”
Ajax shakes his head, “Don’t have any.”
She laughs, “So you're a pull-and-pray kinda guy?”
Ajax hums with mirth.
“You’re lucky I’m horny enough tonight.”
She hovers over him, before sinking down, humming as she takes the moment to get used to his length and girth–what the hell were they feeding Snezhnayans? The man was hung.
Ajax grunts, hands moving to her waist, “Wait- wait- fuck you’re so damn tight- shit oh my god.”
She ignores him, grinding her hips experimentally and Ajax’s protests dissolve into moans, hands gripping onto her waist. Lumine closes her eyes and lets him take her.
The house is quiet when she gets home. But Aether’s on the couch, waiting with arms crossed.
“I hate you,” he grumbles. There’s no real anger behind it. He takes a weak swipe at her, missing entirely, “Just tell me next time, sitting alone on a couch until someone told me you were getting laid is embarrassing.”
Ajax wakes up to an empty bed and emptier balls. He stares at the ceiling, spread out like a starfish.
He just lost his virginity to the love of his life.
He has to call Scaramouche.