Beast Gacha System: All Mine

For gods’ sake.

The Emperor’s chamber was steeped in shadow when Damon Iondora finally pushed open the heavy oak door.

The hour was late, later than he had intended. The corridors outside were silent now, the servants retired and the guards at their posts.

The only light in the room came from the dying embers in the great fireplace.

He felt alone.

But perhaps this was the best case scenario. Because if anyone else was here... it would be more than scandalous.

In the center of his bed, was Ivy Cassia.

She lay curled on her side, her blonde hair spilling across the pillows, her face soft and peaceful in the flickering firelight.

The blankets were drawn up to her waist, and her breathing was slow. She looked smaller in sleep. Younger. The sharp edges of her... ’everything’... were all softened into something akin to classical poetry.

Damon stood at the foot of the bed and watched her for a long moment. His eyes were narrowed.

These days, he should’ve expected her.

Tomorrow, he was supposed to meet the woman Angela had chosen as his empress. Tomorrow, he was supposed to take another step down the path of duty that had defined his entire reign.

He should have been angry, woken her and demanded to know how she kept getting past his guards. But instead, he simply crossed the room, lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, and...

"If you truly want me, tell me now. Tomorrow, everything between us is no more," he whispered.

Ivy’s eyes blinked open slowly, as though she had been floating just beneath the surface of sleep and his words had pulled her back to the waking world.

The firelight flickered across her pale eyes, and he saw it, a small, almost imperceptible tremble in her pupils. The only crack in her composure.

"You really are going to marry the woman your sister prepared for you?" Ivy asked, her voice hushed but steady.

"Yes," Damon answered. "But if..."

"I can’t let Magnus go," Ivy said, cutting him off. Firmly too. "But can you let me go?"

"Ivy..."

"Can you? Because I already let you go." She sat up slowly, her hair falling over her shoulders. "The moment I knew you never considered love, it was over."

"It’s difficult because I don’t know what kind of love you want from me," Damon snapped, his voice rising before he could stop it.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I..." He sighed. "Lust—I lust after you, I do. Respect—believe me, I respect you more than anyone in this world. Like—I like you so much, Ivy Cassia, you have no idea."

He looked at her then. "Are those not enough?"

"Then what’s the difference?" Ivy asked. "You’ve offered me all of that. But if you did love me, what more would you offer?"

"It’s something I don’t have," Damon answered, flat and final.

"Are you sure you don’t have it?" Ivy pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Or is it that in your eyes, I will never be that kind of presence to you? The kind you can’t ever give up on?"

"You are so determined to drive me crazy, huh?" Damon snarled, his composure fracturing further.

"What’s the point of staying sane in this crazy world?" Ivy hissed back, her eyes flashing. "Are you scared it’ll destroy you? Consume you?"

"I AM THE EMPEROR OF IONDORA!" Damon spat suddenly.

"What if you’re not?!" Ivy snapped back without hesitation.

"If I’m not—" Damon’s hand shot out, and before either of them could think, he had clasped her neck and pushed her down against the bed.

His body caged hers, his violet eyes blazing wildly. "—I’ll go crazy for you. I’ll abandon all reason and devour Cassia too."

His grip tightened, just slightly, just enough to make her pulse jump. "Just to have you completely mine."

Ivy looked up at him, trembling now. This was what lived beneath the Emperor’s mask. This was the hunger he had been starving for years.

But then his eyes shifted. The fire dimmed. And sorrow settled over his features. "But wouldn’t that make your sister cry?"

Ivy’s eyes faltered.

When Damon pulled away, she watched him take a deep breath.

But Ivy didn’t move. She lay there on his bed, her hair spread across his pillows, her chest rising and falling with the rapid flutter of her pulse.

And then, slowly, she spoke. "You don’t have to give me all of that now," she said, her breath still uneven. "I just want to maintain this... relationship... for a secure connection to the dragons."

Damon’s jaw tightened. "If I marry someone else, I don’t want to have any kind of relationship with you. It’s disrespectful to my wife."

Ivy scoffed, a bitter sound that caught in her throat. "It’s baffling how kind you are for a man who doesn’t want to be in love."

"Leave," Damon hissed.

Ivy didn’t move. The firelight flickered and the wind moaned against the windows.

"I said leave," Damon repeated.

"If tomorrow everything will be over anyway, then tonight—" She reached for him. Her palm found his arm first, then slid slowly up to his shoulder, then to his chest, where she could feel the frantic pounding of his heart beneath the fine fabric of his tunic. "—without love... just the way you like it... the lust you were talking about..."

Her fingers curled into the cloth and her pale eyes met his.

She knew what she was doing. She knew that once she bedded him tonight, he wouldn’t be able to let go anymore.

Even after he married someone else. Even without love, this connection would stay with them forever.

And she wanted that. She wanted to leave her mark on him so deeply that no other woman could ever scrub it away.

Damon didn’t move. He stood frozen at the edge of the bed, her hand pressed against the frantic rhythm of his heart. The fire had burned down to embers now, painting them both in shades of dying light. And still he didn’t pull away.

"Ivy..." His voice was a rasp, stripped of every layer of authority he had spent a lifetime constructing.

"Shh." She rose up on her knees, closing the distance between them. Her other hand found the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. "Don’t think. Not tonight."

She kissed him. A kiss meant to brand. To cross the line that both of them had been circling for years.

Damon’s response was instantaneous. A low, broken sound ripped from deep in his chest as his hands finally moved.

They found her waist first, gripping hard enough to bruise, then slid up her back, pulling her flush against him. The kiss deepened, turned desperate, turned into something neither of them could control.

He pushed her back down onto the bed. His body followed, caging her beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, locking him in place, refusing to let him retreat. Clothes became obstacles, and obstacles were destroyed. The sound of tearing fabric mixed with ragged breathing and the distant howl of the wind outside.

His mouth found her throat. He dragged his lips down the column of her neck, over her collarbone, lower still, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

Ivy arched beneath him, her nails raking down his back, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps that turned into moans. Whatever this was, it was so much worse. So much better than any of them imagined.

***

"Ahh! Ahhhss!"

The Grey Cat Inn’s upstairs room was warm and dim, the fire in the small hearth burning low and steady, its light painting the walls in soft, flickering gold.

The curtains were drawn against the winter night, the snow still falling silently beyond the frosted window. The room was modest but comfortable with a wide bed heaped with furs and blankets, a small table littered with empty cups, and the faint, lingering scent of cedar smoke and mulled wine.

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

Eastiel moved between Cecilia’s thighs with single-minded focus only he could summon. His half-lidded golden eyes and lips parted, his lion tail lashing slowly behind him, he looked like a predator in heat.

His cock was already inside her, gliding in and out with a rhythm that was unhurried but deep, the ridged, length of him stretching and filling her with every roll of his hips.

"Ha... Feels good?"

"Good... Baby... You can go a bit faster now..."

The soft, wet sounds of their joining filled the room, mingling with the crackle of the fire and the whisper of the wind outside.

Across the room, Arkai sat in a heavy wooden chair, drinking ale as though it were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

His wolf ears were stiff, swiveling at every sound she made, and though he tried to appear composed, the front of his trousers betrayed him.

His cock stood rigid beneath the fabric, dark and straining, weeping at the tip as the bond fed him every sensation.

He drank again, as he freed big Johnny, since the cool ale did nothing to douse the heat building in his blood.

Oathran leaned against the windowsill, his grey eyes fixed on the scene before him. He worked slowly, deliberately, pouring a generous amount of oil into his palm and spreading it across his already impressive lengths.

His double cocks stood at attention, glistening as he slicked first one, then the other, his breathing growing heavier with each stroke.

There was no jealousy in his gaze. Only hunger.

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