Ⓒ︎Ⓞ︎Ⓝ︎Ⓣ︎Ⓔ︎Ⓝ︎Ⓣ︎ 🅦︎🅐︎🅡︎🅝︎🅘︎🅝︎🅖︎

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠. 𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑝 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑐 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑠𝑦𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑙𝑠: ☘︎☘︎

POV Akhyra

In the middle of the night, I'm woken up by some restless stirring next to me. With my eyes half open and the daze of sleep still clouding my mind, it takes me a moment to realize that the agitation is coming from Lucian. 

Now I'm fully alert, propping myself on one elbow to gently shake him out of whatever nightmare he's fighting against. 

"Lucian wake up," I call out softly. When he doesn't, I repeat myself with a raised voice. 

His eyes snap open and remain vacant, staring into the emptiness, a cloud of terror across his features that leaves a sour taste in my mouth.  

"Are you okay?" I ask, prompting him to finally look at me.

The second Lucian turns his head my way, the shadows that have been plaguing his face dissipate, leaving a groggy smile on his lips as he lifts one hand to caress my cheek.

"I'm okay now," he whispers. "Come here."

He scoots a little bit to allow me to nuzzle against his chest. My head is directly under his chin as my fingers begin to trace soothing circles on his abs. I can feel the frantic thrum of his heartbeat against my body. Whatever he's seen in his sleep was nothing pleasant at all.

"You're usually such a sound sleeper," I break the silence. "Didn't think you could have nightmares at all."

I keep my tone light in case he doesn't really want to talk about it, but after a short silence, Lucian answers. 

"I haven't had them for a while."

I notice the way that his voice is guarded as if he's debating how much he wants to tell me. I don't want to push his buttons, but I remember the way he was there for me back in Haiti when I woke up feeling like I was suffocating in that hotel room. I want to be there for him, too. I want to understand. 

"Did you have them often in the past?" 

His hold around my body tightens. He's a bundle of nerves. Maybe I should drop the topic. 

"Almost every night after I discovered Maëlla unconscious in that bathtub. They lasted for a couple of months. I was lucky if I could get three hours of sleep before getting dragged back into reliving this tragedy all over again."

"How did you get them to stop?"

"They didn't really stop. They just became different. They weren't about my sister anymore." 

This time, I don't need to ask to know who the subject of his nightmares turned into. 

"How long did this last?" 

"Around two years, maybe more. Then, when I joined the national team, they became less frequent. Our training was so cutthroat that by the end of the day, my brain was too exhausted to prevent me from sleeping."

There's a moment of silence before I ask, "Do you know why they've come back?" 

"It's probably just a minor relapse. Nothing to worry about." 

I don't think he's telling the truth, but I let it slide. I change the topic of our conversation to a safer territory, and we stay up chatting until we both slip away once again into slumber. 

I'm thinking about Lucian's former case of insomnia the next morning while I'm anxiously watching the frying pan to avoid burning the scrambled eggs. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when a pair of arms suddenly wrap around my waist, making me jump.

"Why are you up so early?" I whine. "I wanted to surprise you."

"I can always pretend I didn't see what's going on here," Lucian mutters in a deep morning voice that has a direct effect on a specific part of me.

He starts peppering me with neck kisses until I have to shoo him away because he's messing with my concentration. 

"It's almost ready. Give me two more minutes," I inform him. 

"It's alright. I can wait. The view is fantastic from here."

I turn my head to find him openly staring at my ass, partially covered in black lace shorties. I roll my eyes at him before focusing on my second attempt at making breakfast. I already tossed the previous one when it charred while I briefly browsed the internet for some critics about the debut of Enchanted Shadows.

When I finally put Lucian's plate down on the table, I'm quite satisfied with the presentation. The bright yellow of the scrambled eggs is a nice contrast with the two brown french toasts. The slice of tomatoes that I've added brightens up the whole meal. 

"Woah, this looks mouth-watering," Lucian gushes, then frowns in confusion when I sit down without a plate. "You're not eating?"

"Mine's in the trash. Burned." And to be honest, I did not have the mental energy to go for a third round after Lucian's eggs came out well.

"We're sharing," Lucian declares as he picks up his fork.

"But I made this for you!" I protest with a pout. I don't care if I look like a crybaby.

"This is not up for debate, Princess." He extends his hand as an invitation to come sit on his lap, and I not-so-reluctantly leave my seat. 

I watch with anticipation as Lucian brings the fork to his mouth. He keeps his face perfectly neutral when he chews on the first bite, giving me no indication about whether he likes it or not.

"How does it taste?" I ask eagerly.

"Original," he answers after a few seconds of internal debate.

"You hate it." He's too nice to say it to my face, but I'm not dumb. 

"I don't hate it," he argues. "This is great. Really."

I raise a skeptical eyebrow at him as I take the fork from him to have a bite. The second the food goes in my mouth, I start gagging at how much salt there's in it. I reach for the glass of water. 

"This is horrible! How could you lie about that?"

Lucian chuckles as he leans downward to plant a soft kiss on my shoulder. "I really appreciate you trying to cook for me, Princess."

"I should stick to ballet," I admit with a sigh. "The kitchen is really not my scene."

"It's okay. Royals don't cook anyway," Lucia adds with a wink before he continues to eat the food.

"What are you doing? This tastes like..."

Despite my protests, Lucian eats everything on his plate and downs two glasses of water afterward. There's a parade of butterflies inside my stomach as I look at him swallow the last drops before he leans back against his chair with a satisfied exhale, like he's just been treated to a meal worthy of a Michelin Starred restaurant. 

"You didn't have to do that," I say, moving closer to his lips.

What begins as a platonic kiss escalates into a display of fiery passion as Lucian abruptly stands up to put me on the table. He places his body between my legs that immediately lift to hug his back.

In one swift movement, Lucian removes my top and trails a path of kisses from my neck down my naked boobs, teasing one nipple with his tongue while playing with the other one with his fingers. 

However, I have other things in mind, and even though I appreciate the attention that Lucian is giving to my twins, I slightly push him away. 

"You've had your breakfast," I tell him. "Now it's time for me to take mine."

I continue to push him backward to get off the table. Lucian surveys my movements with a familiar intensity burning in his irises. I drop to my knees, looking up at him with a devious smile. This is the first time that I'm about to give him a blow job, which might be the reason why he seems to be frozen in place.

I think I broke my boyfriend. 

"Earth to Lucian?" I ask, gesturing toward his pajama bottoms. "I can't suck your dick if you keep this on."

He seems to snap out of it, lifting his hand to cup my face. 

"This smart mouth of yours will get you in trouble," Lucian warns with a voice that makes me clench my thighs.

"You're saying that like it's a bad thing," I retort with a defiant tilt of my chin. 

Lucian smirks as he removes his touch from my face. 

"Remember you asked for it."

☘︎In the blink of an eye, he gets rid of his lower clothing and stands fully erected in front of me. Seeing it from down there is definitely more impressive. I might have overestimated the capacity of my mouth to take him in, but I'm not about to chicken out now.

If I'd thought it was thrilling to see Lucian lose control during sex last night. It's nothing compared to how the muscles of his thighs flex when I swallow his length. I can see that he's fighting for control to give me the time to get used to his imposing presence in such a small space. But I don't want this restrained version of Lucian. I want him unhinged. Absolutely berserk. 

I retreat, and Lucian asks, concerned, "Too much?"

I shake my head. "If you're not going to fuck my mouth properly, I might as well get off my knees."

I can literally see the Lucian that I know transform under my stare, his gentle gaze now replaced by pure feral lust. Yes. That's the Lucian I want. 

His hand firmly grabs my neck to keep it in place as he brings his hips forward.

"Open," he orders. 

The coldness of voice provokes a delicious fire inside my underwear. The second I obey, Lucian rams inside, forcing my mouth to open wider to accommodate his girth. He doesn't stop until he taps against my palate triggering a gag reflex. The choking sound I make around his tip seems to almost be Lucian's downfall as he slides out, allowing me a brief reprieve before slamming back in. This time, he picks up the rhythm, each thrust more ruthless than the last. 

Lucian keeps on fucking my mouth with our gaze locked on each other until I finally see the veil of pleasure take over his face. His head falls backward, letting out a guttural groan as his cum spurts inside my mouth. I swallow instinctively, and he pulls out with a sheepish look.☘︎

"Fuck. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," I reassure him as I stand up. "That makes us even for making you eat salty eggs."

His laughter explodes in the room, making my heart flutter. This is how cheerful I always want him to be, without any trace of the shadows that haunted him last night. I feel like there might be something he's not telling me but I don't plan on interrogating him about the past. We both have our pandora box that we'd rather keep close.

***

As expected the critics following the opening night of Enchanted Shadow mainly praise The Swedish Swan for her outstanding performance. I did find one article that took the time to highlight all the dancers and their role but even that one seemed to be licking Brittany's boots.

The article stated: "Her stage presence exudes elegance, captivating the audience from the moment she stepped onto the stage." Whereas my role as the Evil Dwarf received the following comment: "Though her interpretation may lack the finesse of her counterparts, Akhyra brought a unique energy to her performance, infusing the character with a subtle blend of menace and complexity. However, some may argue that her presence was overshadowed by the larger-than-life personas of the principal dancers."

"Lacks finesse," they say, as if I'm some amateur stumbling through my lines. The audacity! I've poured my heart and soul into this role, and yet, they have the gall to belittle my contribution, reducing it to mere mediocrity in the shadow of the lead.

 As irritating as this article was, I can't allow this comment to ruin my day. If I paid too much attention to what critics said about me, I wouldn't be the ballerina that I am today.

Before the show, the cast has to arrive three hours in advance to have a stage rehearsal. For our second night, the dancers will be supervised by the choreography coordinator, which means that neither Madame Laroche nor Ambrose are here at the moment. I've been rummaging about finding a way to expose Ambrose to her, and the only thing I've come up with since Brittany will be of no use is trying to talk to other dancers.

This might be a good plan, except there are two problems. One: In all the weeks that we've worked on Enchanted Shadows, I've never talked with these other dancers. Two: I can't exactly walk up to them and ask, "Hey, have you felt some creepy predator vibe from our co-producer?" 

Had Simone been there, I might have felt less awkward about striking up a conversation with the others, but it seems like she's running late today. Well, the truth is I'm not sure she would've been much help anyway. I never had the opportunity to talk to her about Brittnany and Ambrose because she's been in a mood ever since our final day of rehearsals at the studio. 

I really don't know what's gotten into her. 

However, luck seems to be on my side when I stop backstage to change my toe pads. The dancer who plays the Evil Queen is drinking from a water bottle by the table where I lean to fix my footwear.

"Those are nice slippers," I say to start the conversation. 

She looks at me dubiously before letting out, "I've had them for five years."

Okay, not a glorious start. 

"Your arabesque technique is quite captivating," I compliment, then she puts her bottle down to face me.

"Why are you talking to me?"

Direct approach. Got it.

"Does Ambrose ever come off as aggressive to you?"

If she seemed reluctant to speak to me before, it looks like she's ready to bolt now. "What are you trying to imply?"

"I've seen something, and I wanted to confirm whether I'm the only one who's witnessed this side of him."

Her eyes scan our surroundings as if to make sure that nobody is eavesdropping.

"One time I stayed in the studio after hours," she begins. "When I was ready to leave, there was a girl alone at the reception, the employee had already left. She wanted some information about when auditions for Enchanted Shadows would begin. I had to tell her that auditions were over and we'd already begun rehearsals. She literally broke down, and I stayed until she calmed down enough to tell me that Ambrose had made her promises to pull her in the show in exchange for... well, you can guess."

"Have you talked about that to anyone else?"

"Are you crazy? You might only be here for fun until you go back to Stardom, but I'm trying to make a name for myself. I can't just go around talking shit about the producer of a show that I'm a part of."

"What if I told you I have proof about him assaulting a dancer of this cast? Would you be willing to talk about what you saw if I decided to expose him to Madame Laroche?"

This visibly shocks her. "He... assaulted one of our dancers?"

Her eyes roam around us once again as if trying to determine who it is. 

"He did. Will you help me or not?"

"Shouldn't you ask the victim for help instead?"

"She doesn't want to go against him."

"Then give it a rest. She has the right not to want this to get out."

"That's not the point. Ambrose is an abuser; he shouldn't be working with women."

"And why do you even care?" She retorts, frustrated. "You literally talked to no one since you've been here, and now all of a sudden you want to play little miss I'm an outraged feminist?" 

"That's not..."

"Look, if you really want to help, don't go stirring dramas that will reflect badly on all of us. As I said, this show might not matter to you, but for the rest of us, it could make or break our career."

She walks past me without throwing a glance behind , leaving me dumbfounded. As much as I hate to admit it, Evil Queen might have a point there. Maybe I shouldn't push the issue, especially since Brittany doesn't even want this to get out. 

As I choose a spot to begin my stretches , I can't help rehashing the conversation I just had. I probably shouldn't care that much. But I do. I don't know these girls, and yet something visceral awakens inside of me when I think about the potential threat that they are facing with someone like Ambrose. 

I'm not ready to back down yet. Sooner or later, I'll find a way to bring him down.