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    Summary

    It was Vil’s birthday, but Rook was enjoying himself so much it may as well have been both of their birthdays. He was exactly where he wanted to be— on his knees next to Vil's bed with Vil's heeled boot digging into his shoulder.

    Rook shivered with delight, cheekbones already pink as he turned his adoring gaze up to Vil’s face. While Rook was unabashed in all of his expressions, Vil was valiantly trying to remain composed despite Rook’s hands rubbing his thighs. “Mon bien-aimé, surely your huntsman is putting on a submissive enough show to not warrant such force, hm?” He tilted his head, kissing Vil's ankle next to his face. “Or does Votre Majesté have other commands for me?”

    -

    Happy birthday to Vil, here's Rookvil to celebrate!

    Language:
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