Work Text:
“Zelkov, I need you to deliver this message.”
“As you wish.”
He accepted the piece of paper from Ivy. Her fingers brushed against his in a purposeful accident, but he didn’t react. He never reacted. Ivy wanted to grind her teeth together, but she didn’t. Instead, she gave him more tasks.
“Pick up that book for me.”
“As you wish.”
She had dropped it directly at her feet. She didn’t step back. As he bent low, his face was within inches of her body — all the way down, and all the way up. She seethed at how it sent prickling heat from her chest, through her stomach, to between her legs. Zelkov handed the book back to her without expression. It was humiliating how much the crown princess of Elusia wanted this strange and frustrating man. Still, she couldn’t stop acting out for his attention like a child. She would do whatever it took until he belonged to her.
“Help me onto my wyvern.”
Ivy was fully capable of getting up without assistance, and Zelkov knew that. Surely, he would refuse. But no. He never refused a command from her. It was another thing about him that drove her mad.
“As you wish,” he said.
His expression was blank, but his eyes were always smouldering. It took everything Ivy had to maintain her composure as he went down on one knee in front of her. This posture of devotion set her on fire. There had to be some way to keep him like this.
Ivy put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she stepped into his cupped hands. She was only allowed the briefest moment of contact before Zelkov tossed her into the saddle. After settling in, she crossed her legs to show him as much as possible — but not quite everything — then arranged her dress.
He was staring at the dirt on his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. Was he so bothered by it? Ivy spared a glance at her boots, hanging near his head. They were actually quite muddy. That gave her an idea…
“Shine my boots for me.”
“As you wish.”
Zelkov held his hand out to take them.
“Do you think I’m going to go barefoot?” Ivy said with hauteur. “You will have to polish them while I wear them.”
He gave her a measuring stare, then turned abruptly. “Very well. Follow me then.”
She walked behind him, taking in the way his coat hung on his shoulders and flared with his movements. When they arrived at their destination, Zelkov pulled out several sets of keys. He glanced back at her, then away — a quick flicker of gold between dark strands of hair. Finally, he opened the door, revealing his workshop which overflowed with art, books, tools, and more random objects than one could count. Ivy didn’t let it distract her. She swept past him, keenly aware of his proximity as he held the door for her.
Ivy took off her cloak and fascinator and settled onto the much-repaired sofa. For good measure, she also removed her gloves. Just in case there was anything in particular that she needed to touch.
She tossed her hair back from her now-bare shoulders as Zelkov rummaged around for the supplies he needed. Finally, he knelt in front of her. So nonchalantly, she propped her foot on his leg.
Keeping his gaze turned downward, he picked up a horsehair brush and cleaned off the dirt that had accumulated on her boot. Ivy closed her eyes for a moment, listening and feeling as the brush wsssked off the mud of many battlefields. When he had done all he could with the brush, he used a damp cloth and saddle soap to scrub away the more persistent stains. He cupped under her arch to rub firmly against the white leather. Then he ran a clean cloth all over it to dry it.
It was ridiculous what the mere pressure of his hand on her boot did to her. Her heart was pounding. Her eyes followed his every movement as he wrapped his first two fingers with another rag. He slid them against the polish before spreading it onto the leather. His fingers moved in circles, from the toe, to the arch, and up her ankle. Did he feel the strange intimacy of it? Or was Ivy really so desperate for him that this inconsequential act of service would have her flushed and scraping the worn brocade of the sofa with her fingernails.
If he did feel anything, he didn’t show it. Zelkov polished with no sense of urgency, taking his time and pouring his attention into the motion of his hand against her foot. Her heel dug into his leg as she clenched her thighs. It had to hurt, but he said nothing. He picked up a soft bristled brush and buffed the polish until her boot was gleaming.
The spike at the toe was not forgotten either. As his hand passed up and down it, she wondered if that was what it looked like when he touched himself.
She was startled from her fantasizing by Zelkov sitting back and saying, “That one is finished.”
Ivy twisted her foot back and forth, grinding the heel into his leg as she regulated her breathing. “Hm. I suppose it is acceptable.”
She placed her right foot on the floor. As Zelkov switched from one knee to the other, she — oh, so accidentally — ran her left foot against the inside of his thigh. He didn’t look up.
He was meticulous and thorough, allowing not one speck of dirt to remain on the white leather. With firm, steady strokes and circles, he cleaned and polished. It was pathetic how Ivy orchestrated these moments where he would touch her, even if it was just her boots. Still, her back arched at the attention.
“It makes this process more difficult if you are shifting around, Princess Ivy,” he said while buffing the polish.
She didn’t answer, but tried to still her body. There was nothing that could be done about the liquid heat dripping from her until he belonged to her. Was he so oblivious that he didn’t see how deeply she needed him? Or did he truly dislike her so much that he would torture her this way?
What would it take to win his love? What could she do to capture his heart? She had to have it. Her nerves were frayed with desire for him. It was driving her mad.
Finally and yet all too soon, the left boot was shining. Before placing it on the floor, she dragged her heel, watching as it caught on the bindings around his leg.
Zelkov stood, so Ivy stood as well.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
“Absolutely not,” said Ivy before she could stop herself.
“Oh?” He looked down at her. “What is not up to your standards?” When she didn’t answer, he continued in a low voice. “I follow your every command. What more do you want of me?”
There was a spark in his eye that Ivy had never seen before. Anger? Or something else? His question burned inside her chest. “What more do you want of me?” Unable to stand it any longer, she spat out the truth.
“I want you! I want you to love me! I want you to belong to me!”
His expression now grew stormy. “I do not want you.”
Her jaw dropped. Rage and wounded pride were nothing compared to the stabbing pain in her heart.
She grabbed hold of the belts across his chest. “What’s wrong with me?”
He pried her hands off. “I do not want what I cannot have!”
“What?”
“I serve you well. I serve you with everything I have.” His voice became rough. “Yet you punish me by taunting me with everything I must not touch.
She latched back onto him. “You can have me. Take me. Please, I’ll do anything — anything you want — if you just say you’re mine.”
“Give me no empty promises.” He turned his face away. “I cannot survive being a plaything tossed aside when you marry.”
Ivy turned his face back towards her. “All you have to do is say you love me, and I will never marry any man but you.”
For a long moment, Zelkov stared into her eyes. “You mean that.”
“I do not make empty promises,” she said loftily, but then her tone changed to pleading. “Tell me you need me. Tell me you belong to me.” Her voice then fell to a whisper. “Tell me you love me the way that I love you.”
“Please. Do not do this to me. I have fought for so long — for your sake and mine. But…” He took her chin in his hand. “If you say you love me, you will have me.”
“I love you,” Ivy said with no hesitation. “By all that’s Divine, I love you! Please, please, tell me you’re mine.”
Zelkov studied her once more as if searching for lies. He would not find any.
“You intend to keep me forever,” he questioned, stroking his finger against her cheek. “To pour out your love upon me alone. To give your worship to me, even above that of the Divine One.”
“Yes. As long as you will do the same,” she answered with her whole heart.
The hardness faded from his expression, leaving uncertainty and longing. Ivy could hardly breathe. His hand traveled to her throat, and his thumb circled under her jawbone. The gesture made her weak in the knees.
He let her go. “So be it. I will not fight any longer. May fate have mercy on us both.”
Zelkov turned away from her, leaving her confused as he pulled a belt and a length of rope off the shelves. With a knife, he cut one end off the belt and stabbed holes into the leather. He then placed the belt and rope in her hands.
“What is this?” she asked.
“You have me,” he said. “Collar me.”
Excitement to the point of pain bloomed in her chest. “You truly mean that?”
“I do not lie.”
He took his coat off to make it easier for Ivy to slip the collar around his neck. Her hands were trembling so much she could hardly buckle it. The knot that she put in the rope was not up to his standards, so he tied it more securely, then gave her the rope.
She grabbed his face and kissed him again and again. “You’re mine,” she murmured between each one. He returned her kisses with a ferocity that told her he had been wanting this for a long time. He took her by the wrists, and she paid it no mind until she felt pressure around them. Ivy looked down to see her arms tied with the same rope that was around his neck.
“The one holding the leash is bound as well. You can never let go.” He cupped her cheek. “You belong to me now.”
“I belong to you now,” she repeated.
She grabbed hold of the rope at his collar and pulled him into a kiss. It felt as good as she always imagined it would on hot, restless nights. It felt better, because his lips, tongue, and teeth were creative in ways that her imagination couldn’t keep up with. Ivy had gotten what she wanted, and she could cry with happiness.
Suddenly, Zelkov grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back. “You promised yourself to me. The crown princess — a woman of the greatest beauty and highest breeding — gave her body and soul to a bloodstained assassin. I have no family, no honor, no wealth. You said you would do anything. Now tell me why.”
“Because I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you’re captivated by one of your pursuits. You don’t sleep. You forget to eat. You can think of nothing else. I wanted to be the object of that… all-consuming passion.” She pulled on the rope again and ran her lips over his. “I knew you were the only one who could love me as much as I love them.”
“You shall have it.” He kissed her fiercely then pulled her back again. “Love, want, need, jealousy, obsession — you will have it all.”
The tear she had been holding back trailed down her cheek. “I knew you would be the only one to love me like I need.”
“This love will burn, and we will see what is left in the ashes.” Zelkov’s face was somewhat wistful as he wiped away the tear. “Do you think it could create something good?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He thrust his lips against hers, and she returned his kiss like her only hope of happiness lay in his mouth. The skin of her face, soft and delicate, was scraped against the sandpaper roughness of his stubble. Why had he bound her hands when she wanted nothing more than to touch him? She hooked her fingers in his collar to remind him — in case he forgot even for a moment — who he belonged to.
His hands were not bound, however. His fingers ran down the velvet and embroidery that covered the front of her dress. With that and the stiff boning that kept her bodice in check, she could barely feel it, but she knew he was touching her. That was enough to have her lightheaded from the pounding of her heart.
Ivy was so engrossed in this that it came as a surprise when one of the thin straps holding up her dress snapped. She looked down to find a knife in his hand.
“What are you going to do with that?” she asked breathlessly.
“Whatever I like.”
He sliced through the loop encircling her neck. The softest sigh escaped her lips as the tip of the blade just barely scraped against her flesh.
Suddenly, he was behind her with his hand clutching her breast. His fingers curved into the neckline, not exposing her, but rather keeping her from spilling out. The knife’s edge tenderly stroked her throat.
“My precious one, you dress like a prostitute,” he murmured into her hair.
“Mmm. Anything to catch your eye, my love.”
“You have caught other eyes as well. I see how they look at you. All the lust for the perverse things they would do to you.”
“Do you wish for me to dress differently?”
“No.”
The point of the knife trailed down her throat and chest to trace along the neckline of her dress. Goosebumps tightened her skin.
“Let them see everything they cannot have. Drive them mad with desire for you, but never let them touch you. If you allow them to touch you…”
“What will you do?”
Suddenly the knife was withdrawn and his body was no longer against her back. “I will never touch you again.”
She turned to him, pressing herself into his chest. “I won’t! Please! Only you.”
“Is it because no one can wield these like I can?” The corner of his mouth curved upward as he spun the knife around his finger. “You seem quite enthralled.”
Ivy realized that her lips had parted as she watched the knife. “There is something… something about it…”
As he held it up for her, she reverently kissed the flat of the blade. Her lips then pressed against it in a less chaste kiss. They dragged across the knife as her tongue reached out to stroke it. He took the knife back and licked where her breath had fogged on the cold steel.
“Perhaps my knives truly are all you want me for,” he said.
“No, don’t say that! Don’t think that. They are just… extremely… incredibly…”
She lost her train of thought as the knife point traveled across her breast once more. Where the straps had been cut, the dress had slid down. Her breath caught as the knife grazed her hardened nipple.
“No need to fret. I am only teasing you.”
“I did not know you were capable of something like that.” Her poor attempt at aloofness was spoiled by the point of the knife scraping up her neck to her chin.
“Shall I tease you more?”
“Please, don’t,” she said, and dipped her head so that she could slide the knife into her mouth.
“Very well then. I will take this seriously.”
He watched, enthralled, as she sucked on his blade. She moaned, mostly — but not entirely — for his benefit.
Finally, Zelkov put his thumb on her lower lip. “Open up, my lady. There are other uses for this knife, and other things to put in your mouth.”
She allowed her jaw to fall open so that he could withdraw his knife, and it was immediately replaced by his tongue. She sucked on that just as eagerly as his weapon.
As their mouths tangled, the knife traveled down Ivy’s side until it reached bare skin. The flat of the blade stroked against her hip, then slashed through the sashes that kept the skirt from exposing her.
If only her hands weren’t bound she would be touching him all over. As it was, her arms were pinned to her chest by the press of their bodies. All she could do was grab hold of the collar. That was enough to keep him close. She would have to use the rest of her body to touch him.
She hooked a leg around his hip. The hand not holding the knife went to support her thigh, then slid up it to take a hold of her ass. She hummed gratefully, though she didn’t stop kissing him.
The only thing that stopped her was the feeling of cold steel against the warmth of her inner thigh. She stared into his eyes, breathless, as the flat of the blade rested so close to her dripping, aching cunt. The edge scraped over her skin, collecting the slick juices that had coated her thigh. Without breaking their gaze, he brought the knife up to his mouth and ran his tongue along it.
“Such a fine taste…”
“You like it?” she asked.
“Very much.”
She brought her hands up to play with the tip of the knife. “There is something else you need to taste.”
“Oh? And what is it?” he asked.
“Do you know why we wear wedding rings on the fourth finger of our left hand?”
“Why?” His brows raised at this non-sequitur.
“Because there is a vein there that connects directly to the heart.”
“I do not think that —”
She cut him off by pricking her ring finger on the knife, then pushing it into his mouth. She stroked it against his tongue.
“There,” she said. “Now there is a part of me inside you. Straight from my heart.” She drew her finger out of his mouth. “I expect you to reciprocate.”
“I will be inside you soon enough. But if you wish for my blood, you shall have it.”
“It is mine by right, since you belong to me.”
“Very well,” he said easily.
He sliced open the fourth finger of his left hand and put it in her mouth. The contents of his heart dripped onto her tongue. She savored the salt and iron taste of it.
He slid his finger out, then squeezed it to get more blood. Lightly, he drew it over her chest.
“Crimson looks lovely against your skin.” He traced over the tops of her breasts, dipping down into her cleavage on the way. “But I would rather not get it on your dress.”
“You’ve already cut the straps,” she said with some humor.
“I can repair that easily. I would rather not do any washing.”
“I suppose you will have to take it off of me then.” She held up her bound wrists to show why she couldn’t do it herself.
He undid the buttons at the back and slid the dress over her hips. She stepped out of it.
“I would not want to mar the polish on your boots either, so I will remove those as well.”
He knelt down and took off her boots, one at a time. Ivy grabbed a fistfull of his hair to steady herself. Perhaps it wasn’t only to steady herself. When the boots were off, she shoved his face against her cunt. They both made pleased noises as he licked her lips.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” she sighed as she threw her leg over his shoulder. “To take your pitiless face and force it between my thighs.”
His mouth was too busy to make a reply, but his hands gripped her ass harder. He lapped at her greedily. His tongue slid into her dripping cunt as if he was starving for her. She rolled her hips, desperate for the stimulation of his mouth against her. Every stroke of his tongue drew breathless whines from her. She had been on edge for so long that it took an embarrassingly short time before he had her shuddering in a climax that went on and on. Her nails dug into his scalp as she rode it out against his face.
He kissed her cunt one last time after she released him. Her legs felt unsteady beneath her.
“Was that acceptable?” He gave her a rather smug smile as he got to his feet.
“It was… sufficient.”
He caught her chin. “Shall we discover if you are sufficient for me?”
“You had better hope I am, because you will never have anything else. You belong to me, remember?” She tugged on the rope attached to his collar.
He laughed at that. “Worry not. If I find that your technique lacks skill, I will train you. You belong to me, remember?”
She huffed at that, but was extremely intrigued by what training would entail. She was even more intrigued when his knife came out once again. He sliced up the side-seam of his shirt, then ripped the rest of it off.
“Oh! Are you going to repair that as well?” she asked in order to hide how much she wanted to lick his chest.
“Of course.”
Ivy decided to lick his chest anyway. It belonged to her after all. He pressed her head against him, then pushed it down.
“Your turn to get on your knees, fair lady.”
She would have liked to say something more intelligent than “Mhmm,” but it was difficult to think with her face in his crotch.
“These boots could use polishing. It is a shame I do not have the patience to teach you right now. Take them off.”
“Of course, my love,” she said as she unlaced them. It would have been easier if her hands were free, but she made do.
Once she had pulled the boots off, she began to undo the bindings that went from the arch of his foot up his calf. The process of unwrapping him was quite enjoyable. She was far more excited about the ones around his thighs though. She loosened the buckle at the top, then worked two fingers between the bindings. A gentle pull exposed the fabric of his breeches. She kissed that spot, feeling his body heat with her lips. He raked his fingers through her hair.
With her fingers and teeth, Ivy loosened the wraps until they slid down his leg to the floor. She did the same for the one on the other side. Desire tightened his muscles. Now seemed a good time to enact a bit of revenge for all the times she had been forced to hide how aroused she was around him.
She rubbed her face against his thigh, then the swell at the front of his breeches. She nipped lightly at the strained fabric before planting a few kisses on it. Her tongue dragged up the black cotton. He made a sound low in his chest.
Taking that as encouragement, she hooked her fingers into the waistband and pulled down just enough to place her lips against his hip. She pulled lower and lower, softly running her mouth along the channel between his thigh and his body, until finally his cock sprang free.
“No more of your cruelty now, woman,” he warned.
“I think…” She kissed the tip. “I’m being…” She flicked her tongue against it. “Exceptionally kind.”
Perhaps she needed to show him just how well she could polish.
She took slow, indulgent licks from the base to the head, leaving slick trails. She looked up very innocently at him as she did this and was filled with pleasure at the wild need in his eyes. Now she was the one in no hurry as her tongue traced circles along his shaft.
After a few more amorous kisses, she finally wrapped her lips around his cock. He took the opportunity to grab her by the back of the head and force it down her throat. She gagged, and he let her go. She let her teeth scrape against him slightly as she pulled her head back. This cycle of revenge seemed to be working out well.
As she passed her mouth up and down his shaft, her thoughts inventoried all their promises. She belonged to him. He belonged to her. She believed him with all her heart, but surely there had to be something stronger than promises to bind them together. An idea began to form in her head — a compulsion that filled her body with hot desire. She stopped and pulled away.
“Is something wrong?” he asked with far less composure than usual.
“You cannot finish in my mouth.”
“I cannot?”
She used his body to climb to her feet, overwhelmed with excitement at her idea.
“You and I belong to each other. I have promised myself to you, and you promised yourself to me.”
“Yes.”
“I know a way to create a bond between us unlike anything else! It can never be undone.” She clutched the rope tied to his neck.
“What is that?” he asked, wary of her agitation.
“You and I will have a child together!”
She pressed herself against him as his eyes went wide.
“Think of it!” she urged him. “Our flesh and blood united.”
“Do you realize the consequences?” he demanded.
“Yes. Yes, there will be plenty of consequences. I will deal with that later. Right now, you need to get me pregnant.” She pulled on the rope until they were face to face.
“A child would not simply be pieces of us. It would be an individual requiring love and care.”
“I am aware of that. But it would be ours. No child could be more loved and cared for.” She kissed him deeply. “No one could be a better father than you.”
Ivy could see his mind turning that over.
“Imagine your child inside of me. Not some prince or lord’s, but yours.” She turned away. “Think of all those princes and lords longing for this chance to take me, lay me down, and fill me with their little heirs.”
He yanked on the rope, pulling her to him. “No other man will touch you. You are mine, and you will bear no one’s child but mine.”
She grabbed his collar. “Exactly. So come inside me.”
He growled in frustration, then swept her off her feet and tossed her onto the sofa. Before she could catch her breath, he was on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he drove his cock inside her.
She closed her eyes. “Perfect… You and I are perfect for each other.” She moaned and arched her back at the feeling of him sinking into her. “I love you.”
“You love me… Truly.” He looked down at her and his expression turned to a soft sort of confusion.
Instead of grabbing hold of the collar, Ivy looped her arms around his neck. She drew him in for a kiss as their bodies moved in perfect rhythm.
“I want you beside me every day for the rest of my life,” she said.
He kissed her lips, her cheek, her jaw, her neck — everywhere that his mouth could reach with his head caught in the circle of her arms.
“As much as I struggled against it, I was always doomed to love you,” he murmured against her neck as he leisurely buried himself inside her. “The only one whose need runs as deep as my own.” His breath flowed hot against her skin. “I belong to you.”
“Yes.”
“So I will give you everything you ever wanted.”
He rammed his cock into her, making her gasp.
“Please,” she moaned.
He now dedicated himself fully to the task she had given him. He fucked her with the all-consuming intensity that she had dreamed of. Their eyes were locked, faces inches apart. Their breath mingled. His hair brushed against her. The rope tied to his collar chafed between her breasts. Even as he thrust inside her as far as it was possible to go, she relished every connection between them.
Reaching, grasping, pulling, yanking — their greed for love grew to fever pitch. They bit and clawed at each other for a taste of it. The roughness set Ivy ablaze. She used her legs, wrapped around his waist, to drive his cock inside her even harder. It sent deliriously aching shockwaves through her stomach. Just because they had a goal in mind didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy it.
This passion was unmatched. Ivy had known it would be. All that had needed to happen was for the flames to be fanned high enough to burn all their bridges.
Finally, Zelkov gave her what she asked for. Biting into her shoulder, he came inside her. She clung to him through pulse after pulse after pulse. She didn’t let him go even when he had shuddered to stillness and their breathing began to slow. Both stayed in place, dazed, not ready to return to reality.
Eventually, though, he pushed himself up. They stared at each other for a moment longer before he got off of her. Ivy closed her thighs together, determined that not one drop would spill out of her.
Without speaking, Zelkov untied her hands. He rubbed her wrists. With contemplative gentleness, he ran his fingers down her palms. Ivy tugged on the rope to bring his head closer. She brushed the hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear before unbuckling the collar. He got up and put it onto a shelf next to a jar filled with paintbrushes. He cleaned himself off, then pulled his breeches back on and laced them.
Ivy watched him from her spot lying on the sofa. He picked her dress up off the floor, then selected a spool of thread from a large collection. He stuck a needle into a pincushion, then brought all of these things over to the sofa.
Without getting off her back, Ivy moved down so that he had enough room to sit. He regarded her for a moment, then set his armload on a stack of books piled up beside the sofa. Zelkov brought his coat and draped it over her like a blanket. She tried not to be too obvious about bringing it up to her face to take in his scent. Whether he noticed or not, he sat down on the sofa and began threading the needle. As he repaired her dress, she moved so that her head rested on his thigh. It was probably inconvenient for him, but he didn’t say anything or attempt to move her.
Even after life changing events, things settle back into the mundane. But how could life ever be considered mundane when Zelkov belonged to her? Ivy laid there, feeling sticky and content. She had forgotten why her chest was also sticky until she looked down to see that he had drawn a heart there with his blood. She put a hand on it and smiled. She loved him — the only man who could love as fiercely as she could. And soon they would be indelibly linked by a little prince or princess. Their love could be passed on into the future.
Her eyelids were beginning to feel heavy, so she broke the silence. “This is… agreeable.”
“I normally do not seek companionship when carrying out my tasks, but I believe I could get used to your presence.” He placed the needle between his lips so he could stroke her hair.
“Good. Because I belong to you, and you belong to me.”