Rating: Very, very M

Author's Note: Okay, this is an idea that came to me when I was half-awake. So far the idea has spiraled into 21 pages of text, not all of which are posted here. I don't know if the rest will ever come together into a real story, or if it will just stay a bunch of disjointed scribbles. I thought I could at least post the parts that made ht emost sense leading up to the lemon scene that sprang fully formed from by head.

And please forgive the fact that this is really barely proofed. I needed to get it out of my head before moving on to other things (*cough, cough* Revelry *cough*) but I didn't want to spend too much time on it.

Sealed

"This is a travesty! How dare they not exempt you from such an outrageous law. You! A princess, for goodness sake!"

"Calm down, Amber," her sister placated, scanning the parchment in her hand for a second, then third time. When she felt she had the meaning well understood, she rolled the missive up, sliding it back into the gilded cylinder bearing the seal of the High Council of Wizards. "There's a year deadline. I'm sure the council will realize their folly before then and repeal this ridiculous decree."

"Less than a year now," the blond hissed, pacing an agitated line back and forth before the garden bench where Sofia sat. "Daddy's appeal took two months. And for what?" She waved her hand at the ornate cylinder that had arrived not ten minutes before by special messenger. "For this! 'We regret to inform you that Princess Sofia's royal standing does not exempt her from her blood status as the biological daughter of a warlock'."

Sofia pressed her lips together to keep from nibbling on her bottom one, betraying how anxious the decision truly made her feel. When the marriage decree came out two months before, she'd been so certain that it wouldn't last. Even going so far as to try and dissuade her father from dignifying such an outrageous law with an appeal. But appeal it he did, and she hoped his incensed letter wouldn't have need of a reply because the decree would be long repealed by then. As of today, the law still stood, and the council's letter clearly stated in no uncertain terms that she did indeed have ten months to capitulate and marry a man of magic blood.

She had no shortage of offers; they'd arrived daily from the law's announcement, some worryingly fast. She thought they'd dwindle as time passed, but a new offer arrived almost daily, some new, some modifying earlier proposals of marriage, trying to sweeten the deal. The longer she remained available, a princess and a fledgling sorceress, the more enticing a prize she became. Apparently, sorcerers, warlocks and wizards had an even higher opinion of themselves that Dukes, Earles, and princes.

Amber paused in her pacing, brining a hand to her mouth to nibbled an impeccably manicured nail, a testament to how unseated she was by the news. Having no magical blood in their family, the law did not apply to Amber or James. The father that Sofia barely remembered, his blood running through her veins, was what trapped her. Though, perhaps she could have escaped the council's notice if she hadn't grown into such a proficient magic wielder. Her skills were too adept for the council to ignore or make an exception.

"There has to be a way out of it," Amber muttered viciously. "There has to. They can't make you do this. They can't force you to marry one of those old, moldering magical lechers."

Sofia's hand convulsed involuntarily around the canister just thinking one some of the offers she'd received. Some were sincere, even kind, like sweet Merlin, claiming to be too old to be "of any bother to her", but willing to offer the protection of his magic and his name against some of her more unsavory "suitors". The shortage of new generations of magical blood had reached a crisis dire enough to not only enact the decree that superseded kingdom law, but to excuse past unethical, and at times out right criminal, behavior for some truly questionable characters. The day she received an ostentatious envelope bearing the chest of one Grimtrex the (not-so) Good, she thought the world couldn't get any more bizarre.

Others followed, some sweetly endearing, some outright disturbing, but most pushy and presumptuous full of empty boasting and swagger. And not a single one had done so much as tempt her to consider accepting. She refused to accept this new reality, almost as stubbornly as she refused to acknowledge the absence of the one offer she might have been tempted to accept. Or how deeply its absence stung.

But he hadn't offered. And she wasn't thinking about it.

Ten months. She still had ten months.

She rose from the bench, her shoulders held back in determination. "You're right, Amber, there has to be some way out of it."

There was no way out of it. She should have known. The high wizarding council would have known that they were effectively trying to trap some of the most devious, cunning trickster in all the kingdoms. If they were going to issue such a decree, they'd have to make it water-tight. And it was. She'd done nothing but study and research for the last six months since the day the appeal letter came, and she couldn't find a single crack let alone a loophole.

Four months remained, and the deadline felt like it was rushing up on her. The council had already sent one letter reminding her of her obligation. The offers had finally ceased, replaced by announcement cards as magic handlers across the kingdoms slowly capitulated, bowing to the council's rule. The nuptials brought some letters expressing regret that their offer hadn't been accepted, but expressing well wishes for her future, as yet to be decided marriage. She was disappointed to see that the likes of Grimtrex and Greylock hadn't been among those already sealed in a magical marriage. Both of their letters of intent were tucked away in a drawer, mixed in with a pile of as-yet available bachelors. She'd have liked to toss the whole lot in the rubbish bin, but pragmatic Violet insisted on keeping them. The maid was just as incensed as the rest of the castle at their beloved princess's fate and in her own way she was trying to help by keeping Sofia's options clear and organized. With each card embossed with gold scrolling and calligraphy, Violet dutifully matched the name of the new groom to his original letter of suit and removed it from the pile of potential matches. With only four months left, even Violet was gently urging her to choose from the best of a bad situation.

Not everyone was giving in without a fight though. Roland had sent another letter of appeal, this one garnering a response in a few scant days. It said much the same as the first appeal decision, just in more forceful tones. Sofia would not be exempt under any circumstances. But the concerns of one royal wouldn't be enough to over throw the long standing head of the magical world, and Roland couldn't risk outright war. The witches had a better shot of grabbing attention, though, by banning together and protesting as a cohesive unit. Every last single witch refused to marry, and their sentiment had gained some ground with smaller enclaves refusing as well.

Still, every day the announcements came, and every day there was one she dreaded most. She wasn't the only member of the castle beholden to the law.

But it didn't come. As casual as possible she inquired to her father no more than once a week, fearing detection in her interest. Every week he told her a variation of the same thing, "No darling, I haven't heard anything as of yet." Or, "There's nothing to announce." Or, "He hasn't made any decision yet."

She knew about the whispers. Lucinda assured her that most in the magic community assumed their fate was already sealed. It only seemed to make sense. If the princess was to marry someone of magic blood instead of another royal, then surely the Royal Sorcerer of her very kingdom was the obvious choice.

If she must marry, the choice was to obvious to her as well. It was to her heart. But it wasn't to be.

Because he hadn't offered.

They ate dinner in strained silence, the clink of silverware on fine china echoing loud in the grand dining room. Sofia sipped from her goblet of spring water, watching under her lashes as her sister fumed beside her, James drooped like a beaten dog across the table, her father scowled, and her mother quietly sniffed back tears.

One month. Thirty days.

The council meant business now. A second decree had arrived just that afternoon, in person, by a nervous apprentice. Sofia's and Cedric's presence had been required for the reading, so there could be no claim later that the meaning had been missed or misunderstood. Anyone resisting the law would be forcefully bonded to a suitor of the council's choosing. There would be no appeal afterwards, no recourse. The message was clear, the match would not be to their liking.

Choose, it said without words, choose now or suffer the consequences. Until that moment Sofia hadn't realized how her resistance had lent strength to the defiance of others. She should have realized that, given her status as a public figure, she was a natural rallying point. The council would make her pay for her resistance. Vision of a leering Grimtrex floated through her mind. As the months following his pardon rolled past, there had been more than whispers tying him to the High Council. He'd been panting at their heels like an obsequious lap dog, and every month he'd restated his suit for her hand in a new letter. He had a vendetta against her. His continued pursuit wasn't interest or even desire for her position; revenge drove him, she was sure of it. If she was bound to him, he'd make her pay for turning Cedric against him and thus ruining his chance to take over all the kingdoms.

The entire family stood present, including Violet and Baileywick, as the apprentice read off the new decree. Cedric stood rigidly at her side, not giving her so much as a sideways glance. Ever since the original law, every interaction between them had turned strained. When the letter was handed over to her father, rendering the message officially delivered and accepted, Cedric had done no more than turn on his heels and stalk out of the room without a single word.

Hours later, as they sat at dinner, the members of her family remained much in the same mood as they had when the news was first announced, but it was James, not Amber that surprised her by breaking the silence with a fiercely explosive anger.

"Are we really going to sit here and pretend nothing has happened?"

"James," her father intoned, his voice surprisingly soft.

"No, Father, I think I've been quiet enough." The prince looks around the table, his expression shockingly young in his handsome face. "Are we really not going to talk about the elephant in the room?"

Their mother cleared her throat softly. "What do you mean?"

"The solution is obvious."

It was Sofia's turn to speak, her voice just as soft as their father's had been. "James, please—"

"Come on, Sof. I know the answer. So does Dad, so does Mom. Hell, even Ambers suggested it, to me at least."

Her brows rose at that, looking to her blond sister, who blushed.

"Be that as it may," Sofia began, fighting to keep her voice light and soft, or she feared she'd start screaming her frustrations like a crazy woman.

James cut her off again, but gently. "I know you hate this law. It's unfair and disgraceful and damn well immoral, but it looks like you really have no choice. And you need to take advantage of what little choice you have left before that cursed council chooses for you." He spared a glance at their father who had remained uncharacteristically quiet, his slips pressed into a thin, hard line. "I'm sure at this point even Dad couldn't object."

He turned his soft, sincere hazel eyes back to her and Sofia clenched the linen napkin in her lap to keep from trembling, whether from sadness or rage she wasn't sure. Neither were directed at her brother, knowing he meant well, but at the situation she'd been placed into. "Don't—" she began, but her brother was already speaking.

"Why don't you just marry Cedric?"

Sofia took a long moment to compose herself, drawing on all her training to keep the waiver from her voice. "Because he's never asked me."

James tried not to shuffle his feet, reminding himself that he was the soon-to-be king of Enchancia, not a nine year old boy begging help with a broken window. He drew his shoulders back, affecting a confidence he didn't feel, lifted his hand and knocked. He ignored the twin gargoyles that leered down on him as he waited.

"Knocking," he heard a dry voice drawl from inside, "what a novel approach. Yes, what is it?"

The door swung inward, revealing a rather bored looking sorcerer on the other side. If he was surprised that it was Prince James darkening his doorstep, he didn't show it.

"Cedric, good, you're here." James rubbed his palms together, unsure where to begin. Cedric glared for a moment before stepping back, ushering the prince in with no more than an impatient wave.

The sorcerer took his customary place on his stool and crossed his arms. "Where else would I be? Well, get on with it. What is it you want?"

Over the years as his schooling in ruling increased, James had had less and less occasion to approach the other man outside of official meetings with his father present. He forgot how unnerving Cedric could be at times. Before answering the other man's question, he took a moment to examine him. If anything, the years between James's child hood and adulthood had been kind to the sorcerer. Still lanky, the man was no longer waspishly thin. He finally had some substance to him. The extended awkwardness of his twenties had given way to a more mature, self-confident man of his mid-thirties. James knew Cedric would never be considered classically handsome, not by the standards of the princesses that were his peers, but he suspected that Cedric wasn't completely objectionable, even, and here he had to dig uncomfortably deep, attractive in a way.

The prince shook himself, realizing the man in question was still staring at him with thinly veiled impatience. He sighed, forgetting any diplomatic tactics he might have thought to employ. "I'm going to level with you, Cedric."

The sorcerer raised a brow at that. James pressed on.

"You must know I'm here about this law."

"I know nothing of the sort," he replied, crossing his arms with a sniff.

"Well, that's why I'm here. I want to know why you haven't made a decision yet."

Cedric blinked at him, clearly expecting a lecture instead of a simple question.

James shrugged, trying to offer some olive branch to make the other man drop his obvious defensiveness. "Is it ... I don't know, lack of options?"

Cedric snorted inelegantly. "I'll have to assume that's what everyone thinks. Cedric the screw up hasn't capitulated to a ridiculous, demeaning law because of lack of options. Not that I might have a shred of dignity."

"That wasn't ... I didn't mean ..."

Cedric swept off his stool, a wand appearing in his hand with a puff of smoke. As he waved it over the empty workspace a cascade of envelopes filled the table top, some tipping onto the floor for lack of space.

James stuttered into silence, only able to offer a stunned, "Whoa."

"Yes," Cedric plucked out a letter at random. "This one is from Madame La Magie from Rudestan. Odious woman, mid-fifties with a dozen poodles she dresses up and call her babies." He tossed it carelessly aside, retrieving another. "Ah! Veronique Degouche of Freezenburg. Witch, late twenties, very pleasing ... attributes." He tossed it away as well, pulling another. "Gerogette Kingsley, Sorceress, old classmate from Hexly, sweet woman who volunteers with under privileged children in her spare time." That one met the other two in some dark corner. "Shall I go on?"

"I think I get the point," James rubbed the bridge of his nose. "So you've had your share of offers, both odious and some not so bad. But that still doesn't answer the question."

"Because," Cedric enunciated slowly as if speaking to an imbecile, "I don't want to marry any of them."

James snorted. "Well you and everyone else affected by this law, I suppose. But with this new decree ..."

"Yes," the sorcerer sighed, "It does complicate matters. I suppose I shall have to choose, won't I? I don't fancy the council stuffing me with Madame La Magie just for spite."

"Not you too," James groaned, rolling his eyes to the heavens and heaving a weary sigh. Cedric looked at him in confusion. "I can't be the only one to see the solution. Trust me, I'm not that bright. Cedric, you stubborn old bastard, just marry Sofia."

Though it was subtle, James still saw the moment the sorcerer went very still. Saw the flicker of some unnamed emotion across his cold face before turning his back to the prince. "That is not an acceptable solution."

"What! Why the hell not?"

"It wouldn't be appropriate."

"Appropriate?" The prince blinked stupidly. "But it makes perfect sense. You'd both be able to stay here in Enchancia. You're lives would barely change."

Cedric snorted, a dark, humorless sound.

"What? If I am failing to see the downside, please tell me."

"You don't know a thing about magical bonds, do you?" The older man snarled, a level of hostility creeping into his voice that James had never heard before. "These marriages, these sealings of power, bind two magic handlers together. They can only be undone under certain circumstances, but it's very rare and very difficult, sometimes impossible. The whole point of this law is to introduce new blood into the mix. Procreation," Cedric hissed when the younger man continued to stare at his cluelessly, "The point is to procreate. Bonds come with more than trite vows about 'to have and hold'. They come with charms against things like infidelity. Many I'm sure will willingly enter into sexless marriages expecting they can claim infertility when no children are produced. How long before the council takes more extreme measures to ensure the future of the bloodlines?"

"So, you don't want to marry Sofia because you're afraid you'll have to ... sleep with her?"

At that Cedric muttered an oath so vial even James blushed.

"Look, she's my sister and that thought is, admittedly, disturbing." James shook himself all over to remove the unwanted imagine in his mind. "But, you don't know that will actually happen, what you said about the council. And, Sof seems to like you just fine." He scratched the back of his neck, struggling with the new, uncomfortable turn of their discussion.

"Oh yes," the sorcerer drawled dramatically, "I've always dreamed of a marriage of forced intercourse for the sake of procreation where my wife 'likes me just fine'. Not to mention the part where she's a teenager I had a hand in raising.

"If coercion is to be my fate, I think I'd prefer bowing to the decision of the council. At least we'd both have no choice in the matter. Then we could hate each other with equanimity like civilized people."

"So you're telling me you'd rather enter into a miserable marriage forced upon you, than one of relative comfort? Sofia wouldn't hate you. She'd understand the situation was forced upon you both. She'd ... understand."

Cedric's shoulder shook as a low, mirthless chuckle rumbled through his chest. "Yes, she is ever so understanding."

"She would," James insisted. "She wouldn't hold anything against you."

"Well," Cedric rubbed his eyes tiredly, his voice dipped in acid, "That is ever so comforting to know she won't hold it against me when I'm forced to violate her."

James went quiet at that and Cedric could see the slow turning wheels finally clicking into place. He almost felt a sense of pity towards the prince. Almost. "You really have no idea the lengths wizards will go to to achieve what they deem necessary. The decree is the public face of their plan. Merlin only knows what scheming is going on behind the scenes. If magic handlers don't start pumping out a new generation of magical brats, god help us what they'll do next. At least if Sofia marries someone else she'll know who her enemy is. She won't do so with me. She'll give me every benefit of the doubt, just as you said. And I really do not like— cannot think on what measures she'd understand. "

"And that really is the extent that I can bear to think on it, James." He heaved a long suffering sigh. "Please do not ask me to explain any further, just know that I would not be the savior that you are looking for."

(Here's where the flow of the story starts to break down. I have no segue way for how I got from Cedric's reluctance to Sofia being desperate enough to think it's a good idea to get him drunk and seduce him. I thought about a scene where for some reason she encounters Grimtrex and he rather gloating and leeringly lays out his plans for their marriage, and it frightens and disgusts her enough to become desperate. Or changing the circumstances so that she doesn't plan to trick Cedric, perhaps they really do just get drunk while commiserating their fate and accidentally end up sealed together in a magical marriage. I don't think I like the idea of Sofia out-right drugging him, but I decided to post the lemon as I originally wrote it. In my defense, I did think it up while half awake, so things like reason were not of any great concern at the time.)

The world swam in and out of focus, his surroundings melding and flickering, a confusion of soft light and ubiquitous castle corridors. She was pushing him into an unfamiliar room. It was far too ... white, too sweet to be anything like his tower. Even the coverlet on the bed was alabaster satin, the edges trimmed in quaint purple roses. He snorted inelegantly. Her bedroom, it had to be. Why it was funny though, he had no idea. The alcohol churning through his brain made everything surreal and slightly absurd.

She was kissing him, which he knew couldn't be real. But she was. Sofia had him pressed up against the door, kissing him, running her over his chest. He his hands tangled with hers as he attempted to push her away, but without conviction. The next thing he knew her lips were on his neck and his cock rose at the warm, wet heat of her mouth on his skin. Her hands tore at his cloths. The heavy sorcerer's robes fell to the floor and then he was moving. Floating. Falling. Suddenly on his back staring up at a ruched canopy of lavender satin while her hot little hands pressed his shirt open before going to work on the placket of his pants.

Hot breath ghosted across his lips. "Kiss me Cedric, please," she pleaded, her voice shivering down the center.

His hand rose of its own accord, cupped the back of her head and drew her down. He kissed her. He kissed her. He wasn't supposed to be kissing her, but here he was doing exactly that. She was meant for someone else, someone better, someone ... not him. Long months, nearly a year of denial, and it all crumbled to dust with one breathy request from her lips.

Fuck it, he decided. In his drunken stupor, now seemed an exceptional time to abandon his morals.

Her lips pulled away, leaving him, and he moaned dismally at the loss. The canopy spun, turning in improbably circles, time losing all meaning.

And then ...

Then ...

Hands, warm, smooth hands reached inside his pants, drawing out his stiff cock. Breath drifted over him, scalding, and then her tongue touched him in a brief, tentative flick. He groaned his approval. Her tongue, oh gods. She licked at him without rhythm or skill, but the Gods be damned if it didn't feel good. The ridiculous dainty coverlet bunched between his fingers as he gripped the bed beneath him, needing some measure of grounding. Her lips brushed across the tip as she breathed— licked— teased. When she parted her lips encompassing the head ...

"Fuck," he growled, his hips lifting towards the heavenly temptation of her mouth.

She bobbed in tentative strokes that made him want to palm the back of her head, showing her exactly what he liked. Valiantly, he resisted the urge, gripping the blankets until his knuckles ached. Down, further down, she sank deeper with each pass before going too far and coming back up with an embarrassed cough.

"Sorry," he muttered, though he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for. Just seemed the gentlemanly thing to do.

The bed shifted and then she was over him, straddling his lap, naked as the day she was born. Inelegantly she grasped his cock and placed it at her opening. She wasn't nearly aroused enough, too dry, and it took three determined downward thrusts before she broke him through her maidenhead. Her hands braced against his chest as she cringed, only half-way down his length. The magical vial on the bedstand glowed, drawing his blurry gaze. He blinked at it stupidly. The sight of the blood pooling at the bottom finally sobered him to reality.

The blood ... her virgin blood ...

She'd sealed them.

The lingering fog in his brain warned him that she'd done more than ply him with alcohol. His tongue rolled across the roof of his mouth, tasting traces of Lover's Bane (for arousal), Follyweed (for lowered inhibitions), and ... and something else, something that tugged at the back of his mind but he couldn't place it. The alcohol and the other two ingredients were enough. She'd planned it. The whole thing. She'd knowingly drugged and seduced him to save herself. Perhaps he should feel flattered that she'd chosen him.

He didn't.

He looked to her. She was staring at the glowing vial, her shoulders easing away some tension. When she finally looked at him, rage rolled through him in a red wave. The look he gave her told her plainly that he understood exactly what she'd done, what means she'd resorted to. A flush broke across her cheeks and she shifted nervously. The maneuver only settled her deeper onto him and her eyes rolled closed on a gasp.

"I think—" Her voice wavered. "I think that's enough to—"

She didn't finish, couldn't finish. When she braced her hands against his chest, about to pull away— to pull off of him, he clasped her hips in startlingly strong hands, holding her still. Her eyes flew open wide.

"Oh no," his tight, grim smile was wolfish at best, and frightening at worst. He twisted suddenly, rolling her beneath his body, still joined. Sofia blinked up from her new position, startled. "You went to so much trouble to get me, Princess, and now you have me."

In the dark his rumbled words sounded like a threat, just as he'd intended. The shiver that rocked through her curled his toes as she unwittingly clenched around him. He leaned in close enough to see the bright sliver of fear in her eyes as the slow realization came that she'd made a dire miscalculation. His hips pressed forward, just a little, just enough to make her gasp, before withdrawing completely. Sofia only had a moment to blinked up at him in owlish confusion before he dropped his head, forcing her into a deep, decadent kiss. Her hands came up, clutching at the lapels of his open shirt.

Where she may have expected violence, he kept her off balance by sliding his tongue against hers in a kiss achingly tender. Slowly, she began to relax underneath him.

That's it, little mouse, don't fight it. Don't struggle. I promise you won't even see the teeth until they've swallowed you whole.

While he plied her with kisses, his hand brushed up her thigh, finding the soft, dry warmth of her sex. He touched her softly, gently stroking the quivering flesh until she began to tremble all over. He left her mouth open on an amazed pant and ghosted his own downward. Tenderly, he left little love bits across the swell of her breast. The nipple he took into his mouth plumped enticingly, eager for the sensation of his tongue. Sofia moaned, her building arousal evident by his slicked fingers. They rolled over the beaded pearl of her clit before a single digit dipped inside. She arched, keening as he slowly, methodically stroked, letting the pleasure build. He suckled her other breast until that nipple also stood out proud, glistening from his attention.

When he deemed her ready, he pushed a second finger inside. She gasped, squirming, drawn closer and closer. When she opened those innocent, guileless blue eyes, pinning him with a pleading stare, it was his undoing. He replaced his finger with the head of his manhood, demonstrating her inadequate folly with one smooth, silky stroke that buried him three-quarters of the way inside.

"Oh!" She gasped, clutching his forearms.

He pulled almost all the way out before sliding further in with a torturously slow thrust. Beneath him, Sofia whimpered, but it was a sound of pleasure. The pain was gone, as was his intention. Silly, stupid girl, he didn't want to hurt her. Now that she'd trapped him, he wanted to show her the exact caliber of man she'd tied herself to.

He continued to pull back and press forward in a slow rhythm. His voice dropped into a velvety thrum that slithered between them in the dark. "Is this what you wanted? Did you take this into your careful calculations when you thought to use me to save yourself from your more unsavory prospects?"

She didn't answer, or perhaps couldn't, as she mewled. He felt her tightening, fluttering. Her hands clutched at his shoulders. Still, he fucked her so slowly, his hips moving at an achingly tender pace meant to seduce her mind as well as her body.

"Did you fear what the likes of Grimtrex or Greylock would do to you, to this delicious body of yours, if you'd been forced into a bond with one of them?"

Her neck arched back, her sobs reaching a pitch, unable to ignore the commands of her body— of what his body was doing to hers. He went just a little faster, a little harder, his control shaking. The rage he felt envisioning what those other sorcerers surely had planned for her burned through his veins like acid.

"Did you think," he was panting now, sweat beading down his spine, "that I was the better option? The ... safer option?"

She tried to open her eyes, tried to speak but all that came out was a choked, "I—" before his hips snapped forward harder, stealing her breath. Her eyes pinched closed, her body rising, her senses filling with only him.

He braced himself on his elbows, putting his mouth close to her ear. "Did it not occur to you what I would do to you?"

Her hands wrapped around his back, clutching helplessly at his shirt as she gasped and moaned. Close, so close.

"You're going to come, Sofia," he whispered in her ear. "You're going to come because I, your claimed husband, made you come." He bit her ear lobe, sucking fiercely as she sobbed and sobbed. Such pleasure. Such, such pleasure. Pleasure she never expected, never asked for, but wanted. Now, yes, she wanted. He'd make her want. Make her long for things she never imagined. Make her long for him. He released her ear with a soft, wet pop. "I'm going to make you come again and again."

"Yes," she murmured, finally finding her voice, "Yes, yes, please, yes ..."

He slid a hand beneath her head, fisting his fingers in her hair. The other hand encompassed her breast, tweaking the sensitive bud of her nipple. "I want you to come," he growled, punctuating each word with a hard, rocking thrust, "and when you do, I want you screaming My. Fucking. Name."

Sofia cried out softly as she began to break, trembling over the edge. He felt it in the rush of heat over his cock, in the way her nails dug into his shoulders. "Oh gods, ohgods," she sobbed.

He pinched her nipple hard enough to cause a quick gasp of pain.

"Cedric!" She corrected on a sharply indrawn breath. Tighten and release, she stroked him with her walls. "Oh gods, Cedric ..."

He nuzzled her neck, murmuring, "Good girl."

It was a good thing he was drunk, otherwise he'd have come himself from the feel of her. As it was, he stilled to catch his breath.

With the euphoria of her first orgasm fading, Sofia came a little back to her senses. Cedric was still locked deeply inside her. He hovered over her, the warmth of his breath wafting over her face, smelling a caramel liquor and dark tea. She dared to open her eyes, and found a burning sense of rage looming down on her. She swallowed, her throat thick with guilt at her hasty, panicked plan.

"I bet it didn't occur to you," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous in the dark. It rose goosebumps across her naked breasts. "What I might do to you if I ever had you in my bed. You thought you'd ply me with alcohol, slip just far enough down my cock to seal the bond, and then, what, I wonder? Did you think I'd be too embarrassed, too shy, perhaps too timid come morning to ever expect—" Here he shifted his hips, moving again, making her breath catch on a roll of quicksilver pleasure. "—to ever demand any further rights to my own wife?"

She began to shake underneath him, squirming when his thrusts lit up some secret spot inside her. His anger made her feel ashamed of what she'd done, but it was difficult to process anything except the newly blossoming pleasure of what he was awakening inside her. "I—" she gasped, uncertain what she meant to say. What could she say? There was no defense against her actions. There was nothing to say— sounds, only incoherent sounds rolled of her lips— pants, moans, sighs.

"Did you never imagine in your sweet little fantasies how I might desire your body? That I would want to make you come."

She bit her lip, whining, because she had imagined. She'd dreamed of a world where Cedric might desire her for his sealed wife. But never, never had she imagined this— What he could do to her. What he could make her feel. She was rising, coiling, condensing down to a single hot point of need that began and ended where his body joined with hers. He wanted her. He wanted her! The knowledge lit up her insides, suffusing her with joy as well as pleasure.

He sat up, splaying his knees wide and held her legs open. Sofia blushed to see him looking down on where his body joined with hers. His thumb came down to rub the sensitized nub of her clitoris. She choked on a gasp, gurgling incoherent sounds of ecstasy as his touch and his thrusts and his desire all coalesced until she was fairly vibrating. Her head pushed back into the pillows, her chest thrust up as she cried out. She shook until she thought she might shatter, vibrating until she collapsed back onto the bed in languid exhaustion. Cedric didn't allow her to rest, snaking his hands up over her belly, tweaking her nipples until she was forced to acknowledge the demand for her attention.

Her eyes rolled open, uttering an intelligent, "Nugh?"

But he didn't speak, merely watched her with an unnerving intensity until his ministrations began to ignite her again. He smiled when she shivered, less frightening this time and more wolfish. She never expected to see such an expression on Cedric's face. All previous attempts at diabolical behavior proved an utter failure on his part; he was always too tender at heart to truly be evil. But now, right this moment, Sofia begins to wonder how much deviousness really lurked beneath the surface. At the moment he seemed utterly horrible for holding his hips so still while his hands worked her sensitive breasts into a state of wanton arousal. Her hips began to move of their own accord, needing more sensation. His grin turned into a snarl as his eyes roll back and closed.

He let her go on for a few moments, then pulled away. Sofia found herself rolled onto her stomach. His hands grasped her hips, coaxing them up until she was kneeling on all fours, blushing and confused. The heated head of his manhood parted the petals of her sex, the slide so easy now. So slick, so wet. His used his knees wedged between hers to part her legs further, allowing him to sink deeper than before. She whimpered with the smallest amount of pain.

"Shhhh," he soothed, running soft hand over her back, easing the tension gathered there. His hips pressed tightly against her, rocking with a slight circular movement, stirring her insides to liquid fire.

When she came apart this time, her limbs trembled so badly, from pleasure and exhaustion, that even his hands wrapped around her hips couldn't keep her up. She collapsed flat onto her stomach with Cedric laid out on top of her. She moaned helplessly as he continued to slowly grind against her core, hitting some deep, undiscovered place inside her. So much skin, so much sensation, so much pleasure, her nerve-endings hummed on overload. When the wet warmth of his mouth kissed the nape of her neck it proved too much. She clutched at the sheets, trying to muffle her involuntary sounds against the mattress.

"That's it, Baby," he crooned in her ear, his mellifluous voice hitting a note of tenderness she'd never heard before, "Once more. I want you to come with me."

She was going to. There was no stopping it now. Too much, it was all too much. The hot, wet friction of him inside her, the heat of his bare chest against her back, even the scratch of the clothing that still hung off of him, the note of affection in his voice. She didn't deserve any of it. She'd lied to him, tricked him, and some how she knew this was her punishment. Be careful what you wish for. As Cedric said, she'd wanted him, and now she had him. He'd never be content with some bland, sexless marriage of convenience. She hadn't expected this when she hatched her half-baked plan. She'd been prepared to accept a future devoid of things like pleasure, or passion, or love. She never expected, never hoped — And now that she had it, she never wanted it to end.

His careful strokes began to lose rhythm, but compensated with speed and force. The angle pressed him further against that unknown spot and she began to tense, nails tearing at the sheets. "Please, Cedric," she writhed beneath him, his breath heating her ear, "I can't— I can't take— any more, please."

"Yes, you can," he soothed, smoothing a hand down her ribs. That same hand wedged itself beneath her hips, cupping her monds. His fingers parted her folds, found the pearl of her clit and stroked. She jerked back against him, straining. The scream that warbled out of her throat died on a hoarse moan. He groaned a low masculine sound into her ear as he stuttered into stillness above her. The heated length of his manhood pulsed against her insides, filling her with his essence.

As the heat of desire faded away, the reality trickled down her spine like a bucket of ice water and she began to shake. She'd just had sex with Cedric. They were sealed now, married against his wishes. She wanted to run, to hide from him, from the anger that was sure to simmer over once the ecstasy cooled in his veins. What she really wanted was more of his touch, his voice, soft and soothing like she'd never heard before. She wanted to curl up in the comfort of his arms.

He pulled out of her with a low hiss and rolled away.

She curled her arm tight to her chest, drawing her legs together from their wanton sprawl. She couldn't work up the courage to move, to draw a blanket over her slowly cooling body. Cedric sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched with his fingers laced through his hair. The tense set of his back warned her against drawing attention to herself.

He staggered when he stood, a poignant reminder of what she'd done to get him here. All her fault. This was all her fault. Tears stung her eyes. Slowly, methodically, he did up his pants, buttoned his shirt and tucked it in. He slipped into his shoes and snatched his robe off the floor. She held still, even though her wanted to curl into a miserable ball. To pull a blanket over her head and hide.

When there was nothing left to collect, no more clothing to set to rights, he finally turned to look at her. His flat, cool gaze took in the whole of her nude state in one swift, dismissive sweep. She felt a needle of pain jab her heart when he turned away without a word.

"Cedric—" What was she doing? She should let him leave. There was nothing she could say, nothing she could do to fix this. He turned back, one elegantly lifted brow mocking her. "I'm—" she choked and tried again. "I'm sorry."

His snort was pure disdain. He sauntered back to the bed and she almost drew away. With one hand braced on the bed, he used to other to softly sweep the hair from her ear. His voice was a silken whisper, his breath wafting across her cheek. "No. Not yet. But you will be."

Her eyes widened with uncertain fear as he pecked a kiss to her temple then spun on his heels and stalked from the room without another word. Only then did Sofia finally give into the tremors that wracked her slender frame. She stuffed her knuckles into her mouth to muffle the sob of dismay. What had she done? Oh, what had she done?

As the room blurred before her eyes, her mind fought to focus on something other than the sorrow threatening to swallow her whole. At least her plan had been a success. She and Cedric were sealed in a magical marriage and the council could no longer bond her unwillingly to the likes of Grimtrex. She blinked the tears from her eyes, focusing on the precious vial and realized with a shock that it was gone.

Author's Note: So that was ... I don't really know what that was. I have some thoughts/explanations for some of the things that went on in this scene, like the third ingredient Cedric can't readily identify in the concoction she gave him (it's Freewill Flowers, so his self-agency wasn't completely taken away). And then there are the other things I haven't developed yet, like what does the vial do, except bind them together? I have no idea.

I'm actually hoping this idea dies here and now and I don't have to worry about yet another unfinished story. :P

Still, reviews are greatly appreciated. They are my own little addiction. I love them! :D So, thoughts? Feelings? Requests? Ideas? Anything. Please leave a contribution in the little box. :)