Work Text:
By the stars, does she hate Cardan Greenbriar.
Loathes the arrogant gleam in his eyes, despises the confident swagger in his stride, and utterly detests his hands, arctic to the touch and yet filled with searing fury.
Most of all, she hates the way those hands feel on her hips, pressing hard enough to bruise, hates the way his eyes shine with wonder and something else as his cruel mouth shapes begs for her to climax already.
“Cardan, Cardan-“
His name leaves her lips in nothing short of prayers, her nails digging into his chest as he slams her down on his cock again and again.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, an arrogant smirk on his lips as if he isn’t as desperate for release as she is. “Come, Jude, you’ll wake the household.”
Something tells her that’s what he wants.
She had slept with him - once, she declared. To comfort him, in a moment of pity. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, something they would never speak of again.
And yet, when she had spat insults at him and his friends, after they tormented her and her sister, she couldn’t help but notice the thick tension between herself and the prince. The tension that they both denied until found themselves secluded in a hidden grove, far away from the public eye, and his gaze strayed to her lips for a tick too long.
And when he had pressed her against the trunk of an old tree, already mouthing at her neck, she hissed that this wouldn’t happen again, that this was just to release some steam.
She should have made him agree, should have remembered humans lie as often as they breathe.
Because truthfully, she knew after the third or fourth time, this was how their relationship was going to snowball. Maybe if she had tried harder, they wouldn’t be in this position now, in a well-hidden meadow behind her house, at an ungodly hour for humans and fae alike.
Far away enough to not be seen, but not enough to be unheard if she kept moaning his name aloud.
Glaring at the prince beneath her, Jude covers her mouth with her hand, biting her lip at the same time he thrusts particularly hard into her, and she swears she tastes blood for a moment.
Cardan looks too pleased with himself, squeezing her hips with an emotion she doesn’t wish to name.
“I thought I told you I don’t like it when you hide what you want,” he remarks, and because he is an utter annoyance, picks up his pace, moving his hips at a speed that has her scrambling for leverage.
She grips his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, and falls forward onto his chest with a cry. One would think she’d have the advantage with being on top, but alas.
Cardan squeezes her hips, lifts them slightly to above the curve of her bottom, hugging her to him, and he groans when she sinks her teeth into his shoulder, both to punish him and to silence her cries.
Unsuccessfully, since her whimpers still ring true and clear in his ears.
For him. And him alone.
He shouldn’t find the mortal girl so attractive, and yes, perhaps he gets a kick out of knowing such a proud and stubborn creature writhed under - or over - him, but her beauty, her charm - they were dangerous on an otherworldly level.
She hardly begged him, stubborn as ever, but it just made it all the more exciting for him whenever she came undone in his arms. Or when she would glare at him, brown eyes gleaming in the moonlight, seconds before she pressed her mouth against his. For the better, as he’s always moments away from letting out embarrassing noises of his own when she looks at him like she can’t decide if she hates him or not.
He isn’t sure he wants an answer.
“Jude, look at me.”
He isn’t begging; that is below him as a member of royalty, someone who commands those around him. And yet one could argue there is something pathetic, desperate almost, in his words.
Sweaty, brown hair clings to Jude’s skin as she pulls her head back slightly to meet his eyes, lips chewed pink and puffy from how hard she was biting them, no doubt trying to avoid saying his name or awakening anyone in the manor nearby.
She is going to ruin him.
Cardan’s hand flies up to cup the back of her neck and pulls her down to him, a deep groan leaving the back of his throat as he kisses her. His tongue licks at the seam of her lips and he whines in delight as she opens up for him. His hips are faltering in movement, body unable to focus properly in this position.
Her hand slides from his shoulder down his chest, her nails barely scratching his skin, and he flinches like had been thrown in icewater. In a blur of movement, he flips their positions, body hovering over hers as her back presses into the mossy grass of the meadow.
A string of saliva connects their mouths together and she barely has time to wipe it away before he is on her again, kissing her like his life depends on it.
Maybe it does.
A high-pitched moan vibrates from the back of her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him close to her, and the press of her soft breasts against his chest drives him mad.
“Cardan,” she moans against his lips, and his hips stutter in movement.
Names are powerful, like the mortal’s foolish gold and silver, to those belonging to the Fae, and Cardan prays that the devilish girl beneath him never learns just how much control she has over him when she sings his name like that.
Embarrassingly, it isn’t until she runs her hands through his hair, tender and soft, that he realizes he had come, so caught up at the way her lips slotted against his. From the way her warmth hugs his cock, he could tell she had too.
She kisses him languidly, seeming to forget they are short on time. Well, she is - his absence would hardly be missed.
“Will you meet me in the meadows again?” He murmurs when she pulls away, and he moves some hair from her face as he gazes down at her brown eyes, almost golden in the moonlight. “Or will I have to drag you away without discretion?”
“I’d like to see you try,” she answers, a hint of amusement in her words. “You might leave with a scratch or two.”
“As opposed to the ones you leave on my back?” Cardan pecks at her lips and rolls over to his side, slipping his cock out of her as he does, so his body weight is not entirely on her. He preens when she mirrors him, curling her body against his side. As usual, his tail flicks against her leg, the fur end lazily running up the length of her thigh. And as usual, it tickles her, and she tries her best not to show it - but he knows. He always does. “I suppose that’s your retribution?”
These times are the ones he secretly treasures the most, after they come down from their highs and pretend for the briefest of moments that they are not Fae and mortal, prince and captive, cruel prince and wicked woman. When they are simply Cardan and Jude.
She traces circles on his shoulder with the faint points of her nails, humming as she does.
“My retribution is yet to come,” she says finally, after a long period of silence. “I will see it through.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will succeed.” And the fae do not lie. “Our moments of passion will surely lessen as your hatred comes to fruition.”
“Of course they will.”
But the mortals, oh they lie as easily as they breathe.
Jude tilts her head up to meet his dark eyes, and her mouth finds his again. Her fingers gently caress his face, from his jaw to his cheek and brow, before she strokes under the curve of his ear. It is so intimate and soft, the way she acts when she’s in his arms, that he can almost convince himself she loves him.
Almost.
“You’re thinking too hard.” Her tone is light, teasing, and they are back to their little act of pretend. “I see it in your brow.”
“Do you, now?” Cardan pulls her closer into his arms, burying his face into the crook of her neck. His lips brush against her collarbone, and he smiles when her breath hitches. She’s always liked when he left marks there, despite her protests that said otherwise. “Do you see it now?”
Jude huffs, but cards her fingers through his hair like it’s a given. Her body is soft and blessed with curves that do well to hide the strength and muscle he knows she has. In his weaker moments, he imagines how she would look while sleeping by his side, if he were to ever wake before her.
And in his even weaker moments, he recalls the one time he did.
It had been the first time they slept together, when she took pity on him in his ridiculous, pathetic, heartbroken state. It was her first time and she had kissed him until she had fallen asleep - only the tenderness of a new experience could wear her out, lower her defenses, as he’s certain she would have never done so otherwise.
Her eyes were always so sharp and guarded when she was awake, barely hiding the resentment she held for his kind, and it made her features that much more angular, angrier. In her sleep, she seemed peaceful, more relaxed - not quite as much as the foolish mortals that fell into Elfhame, but not fearful or angry like a feline facing a storm.
Cardan allowed himself another act of greediness, playing with the ends of her hair as she slept in his arms until her even breathing eventually lulled him to a land of dreams himself. At some point, she slipped out of his bedroom before he woke, and he would have thought it was all a drunken dream if not for the way she looked at him next time they met in person.
Eyes widening, cheeks flushing, teeth biting down on her lower lip - those actions confirmed it had been no dream, and at the time, he had been unsure if he was ungrateful for that or not.
Now every time they meet like this, he wonders if he’s dreaming and toys with the idea of not waking up if so.
The prince is disrupted from his thoughts as he feels Jude shifting beneath him, likely trying to guess how much time she has to get back to the manor. He chuckles lowly under his breath - looks like it’s time for him to wake up again.
Must you go? He wants to ask her, but he refuses to act so desperate for her company. At least in so many words.
Cardan presses a light kiss to her collarbone before he lifts his head, meeting her gaze.
“Are you going to beg me now to let you go?” He asks, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Or will you knock me out and slip away?”
“Well, don’t tempt me.”
Jude looks at him expectantly, though there is a hint of wariness as if he might actually make her beg. Perhaps in the past he would have. But he’s learned it’s far more satisfying when she asks things of him without his influence, as she finds it all the more tortuous.
With an annoyed sigh, Cardan rolls to his back, allowing her to get up and gather the clothes he had thrown in random directions. With no reason to be in this wretched meadow sober, he also gets to his feet and starts picking up his things. Not that he’s as concerned about appearances as she is. Mortals and their modesty.
He does glance at the lake that has tempted him all night. The sea is so bitter and cold, but the freshwater lake has promises of a refreshing beauty. Had they more time, he might have tried to convince her to join him in the water and share flesh there - or at the very least, wash off.
Actually, perhaps it was best that the opportunity slipped away - the act of cleaning each other up might be too intimate for either of them to process.
As Jude slips on her second boot - an amusing fashion choice with her sleepwear, honestly - Cardan grabs her wrist before she can slip away, and kisses her again. It’s more than their - their affectionate pecks but not as captivating as when they’re in the throes of passion.
She makes a surprised noise, a hand flying to his chest but laying flat as if unsure if she wants to push him away or not. He counts to fifteen before he releases her and she stumbles back, blinking at him.
“Until next time, Jude Duarte,” says the prince, smiling lazily at her.
And because the Fae do not lie, he knows there will be a next time. And despite her efforts to lie and say otherwise, she knows it too.
Whether either of them like it, Jude and Cardan’s fates are sealed together.