Ascension Of The Villain

Iyana's head rested on his chest, hearing his heartbeat after so long. She had calmed down by then. Meanwhile, Vyan sat there on the floor with her in his lap, one hand resting on her waist, the other stroking the bare skin of her thigh.

She felt the gentle heat of magic radiating from his palm, swirling through the strands of her damp hair. The warmth licked at her scalp and the nape of her neck, slowly drying her hair without a single word between them.

A light chuckle escaped her lips. "It still bugs you when my hair's wet," she said, her tone playful, as she raised her head to look at him.

Vyan frowned—adorably, as always. His brows knit together, a hint of boyish concern on his face. "What? I don't want you to catch a cold," he muttered, as if the very idea offended him.

She laughed again, amused and touched. "You're so adorable," she teased, reaching out to poke his cheek lightly.

He rolled his eyes in dramatic protest. "Well, if you want me to stay adorable, you'd better put some clothes on," he said, pointedly waving at her loosely tied bathrobe. "Because this"—he gestured vaguely, eyes flicking away like a gentleman failing miserably—"is very distracting."

She glanced down at herself. The robe really was barely holding itself together, especially around her chest.

Smirking, she raised herself and straddled him. She leaned in slowly as he leaned back, wrapping her arms around his neck, her breath brushing against his cheek.

"Well," she whispered, grazing her lips close to his ear, "nobody said you couldn't be distracted."

His breath caught in his throat.

He let out a strained chuckle, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "This is hardly the appropriate time or place, my lady…"

She tilted his chin up gently, forcing his gaze to meet hers. His pupils dilated. He swallowed thickly. "And your point is?" she asked, sweetly, challengingly.

Vyan tried to gather his words, tried to steady his racing heart. "We have… more important business," he mumbled. "Like—"

"Like what?" she hummed, cutting him off smoothly, but the teasing in her tone softened. "Like the fact that you seem to have lost a ton of weight? That you look sick? Pale?"

She leaned back just a little, but her hands never left his shoulders. Her fingers unconsciously rubbed slow circles over the back of his neck, grounding herself through touch.

Her voice dropped lower. "Should I rather ask what caused all this?"

She had noticed it the very moment he stepped back into her life. At first, it was just a sense, something subtle. But when she had held him… when her arms wrapped around his back, there were no firm muscles like there used to be. He didn't feel the same. He felt smaller. Worn. Like someone who had been running on fumes.

"Wherever you were," she murmured, brushing a thumb across his hollowed cheek, "did they not feed you, or what?"

Vyan didn't answer immediately.

Because she wasn't joking anymore. And she wasn't asking out of curiosity. She was asking because she saw him, just like he always saw her.

He let out a breathy chuckle. "No, they did feed me," he said lightly. "It's just that… I was in a coma for two months."

The words barely landed before Iyana's eyes widened, her whole body stilling.

"What?" she breathed, voice tight. Her chest twisted sharply, like something had physically reached inside and clenched her heart. "You were in a coma?"

He raised his hands in a soothing gesture. "Yeah, but I'm fine now," he said quickly, like it would undo the panic rising in her expression.

Her voice sharpened. "Who did this to you? What happened? What caused you to be in a coma?"

Vyan sighed, lips twitching with that familiar dry sarcasm. "I probably should've just agreed to be distracted…"

"Vee." Her tone turned stern, demanding eyes locking onto his.

He cleared his throat, scratching behind his ear. "Right. So, uh… I got shot. In the abdomen." A pause, wondering if he should add the next part. "And hit my head," pretty badly, "when I fell."

Her gasp sliced through the air. In a heartbeat, she reached out, grabbing the front of his vest and shirt, yanking them up with no hesitation.

"Thanks for asking permission, I guess?" he muttered dryly under his breath, raising a brow as she exposed the skin beneath.

But her focus wasn't on his sarcasm.

Her eyes analyzed the scar—an angry mark, pink and barely healed, stretched across his side like. Her fingers hovered just above it, trembling. Wherever he was, clearly they didn't have healing magic or even healing potions. Because regular potions and medicines didn't work properly on him. And Vyan already had a weak pace of healing on his own.

Her lips parted as tears welled in her eyes once again. "Oh, no…"

He reached down and pulled the fabric back over the wound, brushing her hands away with surprising softness.

"Hey," he said, giving her a small smile. "Why are you getting so sad? You must've endured worse this whole time."

"Even so—" she snapped, her throat tight, her eyes glistening.

He silenced her gently, placing a single finger over her lips.

"Quiet," he said softly. "You're not allowed to be sad for me yet. You've been through more. We'll talk about mine later, okay? It's irrelevant right now. Let's focus on you."

She shook her head, lowering her gaze. "I don't want to talk about it anymore…"

Vyan nodded without a trace of disappointment. "Alright. Not a problem. I won't force you." He offered her his hand. "Come on. Let's get you up and dressed. Then let's get you to eat something. You've got to be starving."

She looked at him, eyes slowly clearing, and murmured with a sly smile, "Starving for you? Yep."

He flushed, just the faintest pink coloring his ears, as he looked away. "Yeah… probably not the best time to flirt."

She grinned, eyes dancing now. "It's always a good time to flirt with my man." She pressed herself against him, voice dipping into a teasing purr. "Don't you want to take this robe off of me?"

He laughed, exasperated and flustered all at once. "Yes, but—"

She didn't let him finish. She closed the distance, kissing him softly, her lips grazing against his. Then she whispered against his mouth, her breath warm and close, "That's all I needed to know."

Vyan stared at her—at the way her lips brushed his, at the way her voice trembled with emotion and mischief—and something inside him finally gave in.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

He simply leaned in and kissed her back.

[Mature Content]

It was slow and gentle at first like he was rediscovering the shape of her mouth, the way her lips molded so naturally against his, but it didn't stay gentle for long.

The moment she sighed into his mouth and pressed closer, something raw and hungry unraveled between them.

His hands slid up her bare thighs, the silk of the bathrobe parting further under his touch. He gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him as her knees framing his body on the cold tiled floor. His suit bunched beneath her, but neither of them cared. The world outside the bathroom no longer existed.

Her robe loosened more with every shift of her body, slipping off one shoulder, revealing soft skin. Without hesitation, Vyan dipped his head, trailing kisses down her neck—intentionally slow, dragging ones that made her gasp. His tongue flicked against the hollow of her throat as she arched her neck to give him more access.

"You drive me mad," he murmured against her, voice rough with restraint.

She smiled triumphantly. "That's the goal."

His mouth returned to hers, but this time, he kissed her deeper, his tongue slipping past her lips, coaxing hers to meet his in a heated dance that left them both breathless. His fingers threaded into her now dry hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, and he kissed her harder, rougher, as if trying to make up for every moment lost.

Her hands explored under his shirt now, skimming over his chest, nails lightly dragging down his sides. He shivered beneath her touch. Even though some of his muscles were still there, it was obvious that he had lost a good amount of muscle mass. It made her heart ache even in the middle of their desire.

But she didn't stop. And neither did he.

One hand slid under her robe, splaying across the small of her back, guiding her into him. Her now exposed chest brushed his fully clothed torso, the friction maddening, teasing. The kiss turned feverish, her hips thrusting just slightly against his pelvis. His head rolled back with a soft groan at how delicious that felt.

But then he paused.

His breathing was ragged, his lips red, pupils blown wide with want, but he still pulled back just enough to speak.

"Iyana," he let out, "we're on the bathroom floor, and… if we keep going, I won't be able to stop."

Her eyes searched his, lips parted, heart racing. She leaned in again, pressing their foreheads together.

"Don't stop," she whispered, voice trembling with more than just longing, as she guided his hand to her breast. "Please. I just… I need to feel you."

He exhaled shakily, his fingers absentmindedly playing with her nipple. "Someone might hear us outside…"

"I'll be super quiet," she promised in that bewitching way he couldn't resist, then she kissed him again before he could protest. "I missed you too much, Vee… too much."

And with that, she pushed off his suit from his shoulders and kissed him harder. Her tongue slid against his, her hands unbuttoning his vest and shirt. He groaned into her mouth, gripping her tighter as the last of his restraint slowly gave way.

She felt the heat of him, the strength in his arms even now, the desperation in his touch as he clutched her like a man clinging to life.

Then, he flipped them.

She was now lying on the floor, with him over her. Her robe hung open now, spread around her like a pink background, her hair splayed as well, her face red and flushed.

He sat up straight, his eyes ravaging her up and down filled with both desire and admiration. "Oh, how I missed one of my favorite views."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What are your other favorites?"

He smirked, gaze gleaming with a wicked softness, and dipped lower, pressing a kiss over her sternum before taking her nipple into his mouth. The warmth of his tongue and the sudden wet heat made her head fall back, a soft moan slipping past her bitten lip.

"One of the other favorites," he murmured against her chest, "is when you're on top. In charge."

She bit down harder on her bottom lip, trying and failing to stifle another sound. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, grounding herself through the haze of sensation.

"Another is very simple—when you're sleeping."

She chuckled breathlessly, "You've got some odd tastes…"

"Mm, maybe. But then again, I've always been mad about you."

"What's…" she inhaled sharply as his teeth grazed her lightly, "What's your most favorite?"

He lifted his head just enough to meet her eyes. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, voice rough, but his gaze had turned serious.

She nodded, heart thudding. His hand cradled the side of her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone.

"You in a wedding dress," he admitted quietly.

Her breath caught.

"But… I haven't even worn one."

"I know." He kissed the corner of her mouth, slowly. "But I also know it's going to be my most favorite view—the day you become my wife."

Iyana stared at him, her fingers frozen against his chest. Her eyes shimmered, not just from desire now, but from the way his words struck something so tender inside her, it made her ache.

"You mean that?"

He nodded, brushing his nose against hers. "With everything I am."

Her body moved on instinct, pulling him down into another kiss.

And just as his lips returned to her chest, just as she arched into him with a shaky moan—

Grrrrrgle.

They both froze.

A beat of stunned silence. Then she blinked, realization dawning with absolute horror.

"…No," she whispered, scandalized. "That did not just happen."

Vyan's head fell to her shoulder as he laughed, full and shameless, breathless with amusement. "Oh, it happened."

She pushed his shoulder half-heartedly. "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"I felt it," he grinned, leaning back just enough to meet her eyes, still laughing. "Your stomach just threw a tantrum."

She groaned into her hands, face flushed with a mix of mortification and lingering desire. "I was being sexy, damn it."

"And you are," he assured, brushing his fingers over her thigh. "Sexy and… apparently starving."

"Unfair," she muttered.

"Come on." He kissed her cheek, wrapping the edges of her robe around her again, tying it with more care than she had earlier. "You get dressed in some actual clothes, I'll serve the food, which has probably gone cold ages ago."

She gave him a look. "You better still want me after I've devoured everything you sneaked in here."

"Oh, love," he said, kissing the tip of her nose, "I'd still want you if you turned into a gremlin after midnight."

"Gremlin?" She arched an eyebrow as he helped her up. "You really need to work on your compliments, Your Grace."

"And you," he teased as he closed his buttons, "really need to eat before you attack me again."

"I hate you."

"And I love you."

"I'm still mad you stopped," she grumbled as he led her toward the door.

He suddenly paused and looked down at himself, then murmured, "Hey, do you mind if I take a quick dip in your tub because… um."

She followed his gaze, and this time, it was her turn to laugh.