CHAPTER 133: CLOSER

Aelin

The food smelled better than I remembered. Or maybe that was just because of how nervous I was.

I sat across from Draegon at the small round guest table near the window, steam curling from the bowl of spiced stew in front of me. The golden glow of the lanterns cast soft shadows on the walls, flickering gently as if the room itself was holding its breath.

He hadn’t spoken much after we sat down—just a polite thank you to the maid, and a murmur of gratitude when I handed him his spoon.

Now he sat across from me, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes as he looked at his steak once before lifting the meat stabbed fork to his lips. I caught the subtle sigh he gave after the first bite, almost inaudible, but real.

"You like it?" I asked before I could overthink it. My voice was small, unsure.

He looked up. His eyes met mine—warm and unwavering. "I do. Very much."

I smiled, quietly triumphant, and took a small bite of my own food. It was good. The flavors were comforting, warm. Familiar. But still, there was that silence between us again—pleasant, not tense, but I wanted to fill it. I wanted to talk to him. I just didn’t know how to start.

My spoon hovered in my bowl as I tried to think of something.

Anything.

"So..." I began, then immediately cursed myself for sounding awkward. Draegon didn’t flinch. He just looked up again with quiet interest. "You... um. You always work this late?" I asked such a stupid question.

I know he works late! Who would know better than me?

A flicker of amusement passed over his face, subtle but real. "Not always. Only when there are too many reports and too few people to delegate them to."

I laughed softly. "Maybe you should delegate more, then."

"That’s what Draken says," he admitted, and for a moment, a small smirk tugged at his mouth. "He’s usually very vocal about it."

I chuckled. "He does seem like the type."

That made him smile more openly. "He is."

We lapsed into a moment of eating again, but the silence felt lighter now. Less like walking on glass, more like... a gentle breeze. Encouraged, I tried again.

"Is the steak as spicy as it smells?" I asked, tilting my head as he took another bite.

He swallowed, then nodded slowly. "It has heat. But not too much. Just enough."

"I tried to make sure it wouldn’t be too strong. I wasn’t sure what demons liked in their food."

He looked up again, eyebrows raised. "You chose the menu?"

I blushed. "Well, I—I asked the kitchen to make this specifically. I... I wasn’t sure what you liked. But I thought you might prefer something filling and warm. You haven’t been eating much lately."

He went quiet for a beat. Not the heavy kind of quiet, just thoughtful. Then he set his fork down gently and leaned back a little in his chair.

"That was very thoughtful of you."

I shifted in my seat, heart fluttering at the way he looked at me just then. Like he really meant it. Like this little gesture meant more than I’d dared hope.

I busied myself with my food to hide the flush rising in my cheeks. I felt stupid for making such a big deal of it, but something inside me stirred with hope.

"You don’t eat much either," he said suddenly, his voice quiet but clear. "At least not around others."

I paused mid-bite. "I guess I don’t."

He tilted his head. "Why?"

I shrugged, eyes on the bowl. "I think it just... a habit,"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. But I didn’t regret them. Not when I looked up and saw the soft expression on his face.

"I see," he said simply. No pity. No apology. Just understanding, "I hope that you’ll eat more, at least when you’re with me."

I couldn’t hide my smile

"I think... I wanted this to feel like something normal. Sharing a meal. Just... something that was ours."

"It is," he said. "It can be, if you want it."

My heart did a small, fluttery thing in my chest. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and took another bite to hide the giddiness rising in me.

He glanced at the pastry on the platter in the center of the table. "That’s for dessert?"

I nodded. "Peach tart. I wasn’t sure if you liked sweet things."

"I do."

I smiled. "Good."

We kept eating after that—talking a little more.

I never thought I would ever get to have casual conversations with Draegon. But We fell into a rhythm I hadn’t expected.

Easy.

Warm.

Comfortable.

By the time the meal was over and the plates cleared away, I was sitting with one leg tucked under me, elbow resting on the edge of the table, chin on my palm as I watched him talk.

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this... safe. And not just in a physical sense. Safe being with someone. Talking. Laughing. Existing without needing to prove something.

"Thank you," I said softly as we stood and made our way toward the door.

He turned toward me. "For the food?"

I shook my head, then looked up at him. "For eating it with me."

For a second, I thought he might say something charming or brush it off. But he simply nodded, like he understood exactly what I meant.

"I liked tonight," he said, voice low.

"Me too." We paused at the door, just standing there. I could feel the warmth of him beside me again. Could feel something else too—something unspoken. Unexplored, "I would like to do this more often," I said

"I would like that as well," His voice was very sweet.

I didn’t try to name it.

"Should we go to bed?" He offered me his hand

"Yes," I took it and we walked together in the quiet corridor with a little more lightness in my step, and a quiet kind of joy I hadn’t known I needed.

***

Ariston

His lips left mine, trailing kisses down my jaw, nipping at my earlobe. His breath was hot against my skin, his teeth scraping against my flesh. I shivered, my body aching with need. I reached for him, but he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. His eyes met mine, a challenge in their depths. I met his gaze, unblinking, my breath coming in ragged gasps. He smiled, a slow, sensual curve of his lips. Then he kissed me again, his lips soft and gentle this time, a stark contrast to the fierce kiss from before. It was a kiss that promised pleasure, that promised pain, that promised everything in between. And I was more than ready to take it all.

I gasped as Drakkar’s lips left mine, his breath hot against my cheek. His grip on my wrists was firm, unyielding, as he pinned them above my head. I could feel the weight of his body pressing me into the mattress, the heat of his skin seeping into mine. His eyes, glowing with lust and dominance, never left my face, watching my every reaction.

"Tell me what you want, Ariston," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my chest. He knew me, knew the unique sensations that coursed through my body. He wanted to hear me say it, wanted to hear my desires laid bare.

"I want you to touch me," I panted, my hips bucking upwards, seeking any form of friction. "Everywhere. I want to feel you."

A dark smile spread across his face, and he released my wrists, his hands trailing down my arms, leaving a path of goosebumps in their wake. His fingers danced over my chest, teasing my nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. I moaned, my back arching off the bed, urging him on. My shaft throbbed, trapped between our bodies, my body leaking from both ends. My vulva ached, swollen and wet, desperate for his touch. I could feel the sensitivity of my body, the need for pressure, for release.

He paused for a moment, "Is it just me? Or is your chest a little swollen and your dick smaller?"

!?!

"Shut up and keep going!" I said even though his words triggered me

Drakkar’s hands moved lower, his fingers tracing the lines of my muscles, the curves of my hips. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, freeing my reproductive organs. I groaned, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the heat of my skin. He wrapped his hand around me, his thumb circling the sensitive tip. I bucked into his touch, desperate for more.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Ari?" he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "Do you want me to fill you, to make you scream?"

"Yes," I gasped, my body trembling with need. "Please, Drakkar. I need it."

His hand left my shaft, trailing down, down, until his fingers brushed against my vulva. I moaned, the sensation overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain. He circled my clit, his touch firm, demanding. I bucked into his hand, my body aching with need. He slipped a finger inside me, then another, stretching me, preparing me. I could feel my body clenching around him, desperate for more.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine. "I’m going in now," he growled, his voice a low rumble. "I’m going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before."

I nodded, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Yes. Please."