Author's Note: What follows is a copied-and-pasted roleplay between TessMonster and myself, TheArtOfSuicide. She is playing as Betelgeuse and I am playing Lydia. Because of the nature of roleplay, the point of view changes often and you will see each event as it was perceived by our renditions of these characters. It's being posted here so that we can have a comprehensive archive to look back on and reread easily rather than having to dig through messages and docs.
This is the second installment of a planned trilogy and the sequel to In the Vast Dark. Highly recommend reading that one before delving into this.
Bound by Shadow
Betelgeuse sat at the big desk in his study and drummed his fingers against its polished top. He supposed it had been a good run thus far. They had made it six months and aside from the odd unannounced visitor that usually left quickly, he had been able to keep his little living bride to himself. Well, mostly.
After the initial glamour of their early honeymoon period wore off Lydia had asked, very sweetly, to finish her education. Unable to deny her anything she asked for, he'd found her one of the best. He wouldn't deny the woman was a wonderful teacher, and Lydia flourished under her tutelage. She was mindful and patient with his wife's disability and did a wonderful job accommodating her. She'd been a severe woman in life and death hadn't changed Madame Esmee Reinold much.
Mme. Reinold came to their home from mid-morning to mid-afternoon Monday through Friday. After the first few weeks of supervision, Betelgeuse made himself scarce from the lessons. The woman looked like a skeleton with skin and dressed in stuffy antique dresses. She didn't care much for "Monsieur Betel" and "zee distractions he brings with him". The two of them had had several heated arguments in rapid antique French, leaving an upset Lydia in their wake. That was why he was in the study now. Mme. Reinold had shown up and whisked his bride away to the classroom he provided.
Now that word had gotten around‒ he was going to blame Juno and her beauty queen assistant, that office was a fucking cesspool for gossip. The few visitors that stumbled upon them all came luckily enough when Lydia was in lessons or in the Solarium. He hadn't needed to keep her out of the spotlight, she tended to be so absorbed in what she was doing she never even knew they entertained guests.
However, this time she had floated into the entrance hall just as he shut the door on the currier. She felt the stiff press board envelope when she melted against him, small fingers reaching for it. He quickly vanished it to his desk before she could ask after it, then pulled her into a deep kiss moving to distract her from the missive. Mme. Reinold found them on the main stairs in a scandalous state of undress.
He fingered the 'invitation' from the royal palace. Some fucking awful gala event, a masquerade. The way it was worded it appeared to be an invite but was most definitely a summons. Betelgeuse knew he had enough power he could just refuse. He also knew that would be another thing for the powers that be to use against him. Before he hadn't cared but now… he had Lydia to think of.
"Guess we're going to the ball… fuck."
Lessons were dragging on and on today. Now that Lydia's French had improved, Madame Reinold insisted that every lesson, math and history and everything in between, be done in French so that Lydia could be made fluent. Once that was accomplished, they would be working on her Italian. Ordinarily, Lydia adored her lessons, always looking forward to whatever fun activity Madame Reinold had planned for her. They read poetry and plays, listened to music and played instruments.
Every day was something new, and there was never any pressure. Lydia was never tested or judged on her knowledge or what she was soaking up. Her lessons were approached like a conversation between colleagues rather than a superior and an underling, making the girl feel respected and appreciated as she went about her schooling.
Today, however, saw Lydia lackluster in her narration of The Odyssey. Her French was impeccable, they would be starting Italian next week, but Lydia who was usually such a talented little actress when she was given a script to work with gave the lines without any real feeling or life. Madame Reinold sighed, glancing at the grandfather clock. They had only been in here for two hours but she supposed she could cut her favorite student some slack and end lessons early today. It was a Friday, after all,
"Okay, okay, zat is enough," the governess waved her off, switching to English to denote the end of the work day. A fond smile pulling at her tight, thin lips when Lydia's expression went from a bored deadpan to a brilliant grin. "We are finished for today, you are free to be having fun with zee Monseuir. I will see you on Monday, Madame Geuse. Au revoir!"
"Au revoir!" Lydia returned, already skipping out of the room to go find her husband. She knew this home like the back of her hand. Furniture never moved without her being told, and things were never left on the ground for her to trip and hurt herself over. This allowed for an environment where Lydia could confidently prance the halls like a gazelle when she was excited, like now.
Flying down the steps two at a time, then turning down the corridor, she found her husband in his parlor playing a game of pool by himself, smoking a cigar, and helping himself to a glass of scotch. Something had left her in a particularly giddy and silly mood.
"I'm off early today!" She squealed, flouncing into the room and bounding over to him, crashing into him bodily to throw her arms around his middle in a bear hug‒ or more like a koala hug with how petite his wife was compared to him.
"I'm so excited! Madame never ends lessons early. I wonder if she has a date." Riding the high of the novelty of extra free time‒ it was an illusion. All of her time was free time. No one was forcing her to keep the lessons up‒ Lydia planted an enthusiastic smooch on his lips before pulling back and abruptly beginning to strip, pulling her dress over her head without any preamble.
"Fuck me. Now. I want to make love."
They had been living like this for nearly half a year, and yet he would still get absorbed in a thought or activity and then Lydia would appear much like a specter and startle him. Today it was her delighted squeal and warm form colliding with his. He jumped in response and slid an arm around her, setting his cue to the side so that he could place his cigar in the heavy crystal ashtray on the edge of the billiards table.
"Doubt that talkin' wig stand has a date. Bunny, ya can't see her. She's terrifyin' t'look at." He returned her kiss and took a step away from her to put his cue away in the cabinet. If she was done with lessons then he was done wasting time here.
"Fuck me. Now. I want to make love."
As soon as the cabinet clicked shut he had her pinned beneath him on the pool table, all the balls having scattered in their wake and finding their way to the nearest pocket. He was kissing her greedily, eager to get back to what they were doing before her tutor showed up, his hands worshipping every bit of flesh he could touch. One settled over her core, fingers manipulating her clit with ease.
He earned another squeal at how rapidly he had her under him, using his supernatural speed and strength to haul her off her feet and onto her back before she could fathom what was happening. Her stockings and combat boots stayed on. Except for that and a thin black choker, she was nude all over, arching into his touch with crimson felt from the billiard table providing a backdrop to her luminous beauty.
"Let's go out tonight," she suggested with faux innocence, biting back a low moan as he thrust two fingers into her without much preamble, keeping them buried deep so that he could massage and manipulate an internal bundle of nerves that made her parted thighs jump and quiver.
"Somewhere here. In the Neitherworld."
He never seemed to want to let her explore the realm of the dead. For half a year now they had existed in wedded bliss, but whenever she conveyed curiosity, he found something amazing and spectacular in the living world to distract her with. Chinese New Year in Beijing had been particularly lovely. However, Lydia's curiosity would not rest.
Maybe a good fuck would turn things in her favor.
"I promise I'll be good," she begged in a dirty wanton voice, one she knew he liked. Lydia knew her husband and she knew that he was happiest when he felt like he was in control of everything. If she was weak and simpering and submissive, if he thought he was running the whole show, she could maybe make a successful play.
"I'll do whatever you say, and I'll stay by your side the whole time, and I won't talk to any strangers. Please please please pretty please?"
Her begging came in time with his rutting wrist, the force of it making her stutter and stumble over the pleas.
He groaned against her neck as she asked to go out in the land of the dead. Redoubling his efforts by moving to her perfect breasts, his hand and mouth teasing at her nipples. Nope she wasn't going to let it go, but she was begging. She knew she got anything she asked for and that begging was just the cream on top but he had a reputation to protect. Leaning up, his eyes glowed dangerously in the dim lighting.
"If yer still talkin' I'm apparently not doin' my job," he growled against her lips before pressing a hungry kiss to her mouth. Quickly, he did away with his belt and single-handedly shoved his slacks down.
Standing, he pulled her to the edge of the table, each hand catching a thigh and opening her to him. One swift movement and he was seated inside of her as far as he could go. This wasn't a new dance for them but everytime he was pleasantly surprised by how warm and tight she was. Her damp velvety warmth made him hiss. His movements were slow and forceful, every thrust causing the small globes of her breasts to bounce.
She looked like a wet dream stretched out on the velvet table top, the deep red contrasting with her soft coloring, making the pink flush on her face and breasts stand out. Folding her in on herself he leaned down to roll one of her hard nipples between his teeth.
Arms thrown above her head and legs furled around his waist, her boots pressing into his back with each weighty thrust, Lydia could almost be distracted from her goal.
"Please!" She shrieked as he slammed against her, all of his teeth bared in a grimace of pleasure, her own expression twisted up and tense as she begged.
"I'll‒ fuck‒ do any‒ do anything‒ just please God yes‒"
Despite his best efforts, the disjointed rambling only paused when Lydia began to approach her peak. From her pinned and folded position, Lydia grabbed onto him tight as he thrust down, forcing him still for a moment so that she could jerk and squeeze and shimmy and wiggle herself into cumming explosively around him, a high-pitched pleasure-whine muffled into his shoulder.
As soon as he could feel her coming apart around him, he ground down against her. Looping an arm under the small of her back, he lifted her and straightened up, pounding up into her quickly, the angle deep, working her through her peak and ready to make her cry out again. His hips rolled against her hitting her spot, pulling more of his favorite little sounds from her.
Large hands supporting her as he pounded against her, his rhythm started to get rough as he neared his end. Unwilling to go before he got one more orgasm from her, his claws dug into plush flesh. She never stopped begging, and he supposed that she deserved a night out in the Neitherworld.
His mouth covered hers, tongue delving into the warm tight space of her mouth. She came apart for the second time around him so beautifully, he thrust another couple times and followed her, working against her aftershocks.
"Alright babes, you win. We can go out down here." He pulled back from the kiss just enough to pant his answer against her lips. "If ya still wanna do that?"
His arms tightened around her and he shuffled back to settle himself in one of the leather chairs placed around the room, a cool touch smoothing over her exposed skin.
Her second peak wasn't as dramatic as the first, but still left her all kinds of trembling and worn out in the aftermath, holding onto him like a weak kitten to its mother as he settled them in one of his big cozy chairs. She was a little sore, the area between her legs tender and raw from such a rough, quick fuck, but nothing she couldn't handle.
"... if ya still wanna do that?"
"Of course I do!" She pouted and squirmed, seeing right through his half-assed attempt to get them to stay in another night. "You never let me go see the Neitherworld!"
That he should not have had a say in the matter one way or the other in the first place never seemed to occur to Lydia whenever they had this debate.
"But you mean it? Really? We can go?"
She was bouncing in his lap practically, beaming the way she had when he brought home the first couple songbirds for the greenhouse and she heard them sing their song. Still bare-assed except for her boots and stockings, she hopped up from her seat in his lap to make an excited dash for the bedroom and her walk-in closet‒ a new addition to the house to make room for all the outfits he spoiled her with, though Lydia didn't know why he bothered. She never wore any of them more than once or twice. He was always conjuring up new things, treating her like a living doll.
She made it halfway up the stairs before making a one-eighty, skipping back to find the old man still naked and smoking in his chair. It was times like these that their difference in age was stark and noticeable.
"Where are we going?"
His lap was suddenly empty. He watched her pale form as it streaked from the room, grinning, and shook his head as he reclaimed the cigar he abandoned. She would be back. He could hear her on the stairs. Oversized boots clunked against the carpet then slowed. Settling back in his seat, he puffed on the cigar and waited. He hadn't seen her this excited in ages. Though he would rather take her topside and show her a good time in the land of the living, if she got this excited and stirred up for a night out down here, maybe she could talk him into more outings. Maybe. He would see how tonight went.
"Where are we going?"
Puffing on his cigar, a hand shot out to snag her and pull her back to his lap.
"Yer gonna have'ta let me think on that, Dollface. Ya only just coerced me inta takin' ya out downtown." He pulled her against his chest, his fingers playing in her hair. "It's barely even afternoon. Ya wanna see headliners don't ya? They don't take the stage 'til evenin'."
He knew exactly where he planned on taking her. There were a number of great clubs but most of them would be too loud for her. His personal favorite, not that he'd ever tell the owner, was Arachnaphobia. It was a dark smokey jazz club. The lighting would be low enough to not be a bother, and the music was loud up close to the stage but if he got them a booth at the back it would be fine. The dance floor was one of the better ones this side of eternity. It would be perfect. Besides, he hadn't been 'round to pester Ginger in ages. Maybe getting out in the Neitherworld wasn't such a bad idea after all. As much as he enjoyed what their existence had become, it had been far too long since he caused any chaos.
"Don't you worry, though. I'm sure I can think o' somethin' to keep us busy 'til then."
He stood up as if pulled by strings and banished the slacks still around his ankles. Hefting her up over his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to her ass cheek and headed for the bedroom, going mortal slow. She was struggling against him but he paid it no mind, continuing on like nothing extraordinary was happening. His greedy, kneading hand pressed to her warm cheek‒ y'know, for stability's sake. He loved it when she got all stirred up.
"Ya like spiders babe?" He grinned around his cigar.
He kicked open the bedroom door and deposited her in their coffin, then climbed in with her. He flicked what was left of the cigar into the fireplace and pulled her in for a teasing kiss.
"Hey! You‒! Let me go!"
This was a game of theirs. Well, it wasn't much of a game as he always won. He would toss her over his shoulderand stride across the house to an undetermined location for the purpose of making love to her while she wrestled and play-fought and tried to get away knowing that she couldn't. Lydia didn't know what she would do if she ever managed to succeed and drop from his shoulder. Probably giggle madly from the short-lived victory and make a run for it.
Once they got to the coffin‒ he must have been feeling cuddly to choose here‒ and he crawled in with her searching for a kiss, she purred happily into it before cutting it short with a new bubble of laughter, scrambling to get away and keep up the charade.
"No!" She gasped breathlessly, lunging for the other side of the coffin, landing weak blows that weren't meant to hurt. She knew he enjoyed the chase. "Villain! You'll never catch me!"
Her boot caught him in the shoulder and she gave him a good kicking shove before throwing her top half out of the coffin, butt suspended in the air, her torso hanging toward the ground, hair brushing hardwood.
"Oof." This was a bad idea. She couldn't reach the ground to find a way to get out and was too nervous to kick out and just fall, leaving her to squirm and wriggle awkwardly trying to get back in.
"Beej? Help?"
"Help ya?" His voice was warm and held an edge of laughter. As much as he loved it when she screamed her laughter made him feel young. His hand ran over her presented ass and he nudged her legs a wider. Leaning in, he ran the flat if his tongue along her damp folds, making her squirm dangerously.
"I thought I was a villain?" Another long slow lick. "Mm… Bunny, ya look so pretty like this."
A big rough hand massaged one of her presented cheeks. Reaching down he pulled her up enough that she wasn't dangling before he leaned down tongue delving, mouth sealing over her sensitive parts.
"Oh!"
His frigid tongue slithered between her aching pussy lips, swollen and hot from their most recent rough little quickie, and Lydia jolted as if shocked, back arching deep and neck snapping back. If she were a cat, her fur would have bristled. Then he manhandled her back a few inches for the sake of her comfort, and Lydia arched deeper into the position, pushing her hips back into his face with a low moan and settling in for a good time.
Two orgasms deep already, a third would take a little more work not that either of them minded. Fooling around was just what they did to pass the time. It was a daily occurrence, unless Lydia wasn't in the mood which was rare. Still, despite the quality and quantity of their sex, Lydia couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding back with her somehow. He was rough‒ not all the time‒ and he certainly didn't treat her like glass, but there were times when he was buried deep, his gleaming yellow orbs the only shape visible to Lydia, and that's when she saw it.
That evil part of him, sated and contained most days, but still there; lurking and hungry. What would it take to please him?
When she pressed back against him, he grinned something awful and really got to work. He was done with teasing light touches. He wanted to hear her, feel her little body writhe, the taste of her igniting things he kept tamped down.
His hands gripped at her thighs just hard enough that there would be hand prints. The thought that he should really mark her up before he took her out among the spooks tugged at the back of his mind. Make it very clear she was fucking taken. The longer his thoughts delved down that particular rabbit hole the rougher he got with his mouth. He sucked harshly at her and used an edge of teeth.
That's the ticket. Her little body started to rock against him. He met her rhythm happily, his tongue coming to take up residence over her clit. She was making all the wonderful little noises he knew he could wring from her.
"B," she whined out when he took it to a mean place, gripping onto the edge of the coffin for dear life. His claws were still digging into her hip from where he dragged her back from falling, his free arm looped around her back to force her arch deeper and hug her ass in close while he went to work.
She knew she was in for something nasty whenever he finally ripped another climax from her. It could get brutal when he was like this. Teeth-biting, hair-pulling, ass-smacking rough, hard fucking that would leave her incapacited for hours while she slept and recovered from the intense bout.
Wait just a minute…
"You can't fuck me into forgetting," she bit out right before the bubble burst, a gush of moisture running down her thighs as she cried out her explosive release.
"We're going out tonight!"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Bunny."
He was licking at her thighs, relishing the smell and taste of her. His hands had slid up to cup at her breasts, a slow line of kisses trailing up her back. He was kissing and nipping his way across the smooth skin of her shoulders. Cold lips found the big vein in her neck and he bit at her pulse.
"O' course we are, babes. Gave ya my word didn't I?"
He punctuated his sentence with another, harsher bite. He told her they would go out in the Neitherworld and they would. This way, he thought, he could get her acclimated to the folks down here before he had to take her to the Royal Gala. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he could tell she was getting lonely. Living things apparently needed way more social interaction than he was able to provide from the safety of their home. She would love Ginger, and he knew she would love the club. Plus, he would get to dress her up in another cute little number he'd just get to peel off of her later.
He got himself lined up and slowly started to press inside her, growling against her skin as he slid into her velvety heat. A sturdy arm moved to warp around her middle and brace her against his thrusting hips. Easily, he set a rhythm and gave into the want to mark up her neck and shoulder.
As meek as she had the capacity to be in life, preferring to squirrel herself away in a corner with an odd hobby rather than socialize, Lydia was quite the vocal lover. She never held back her screams and moans, lettings him have each one unabashedly.
"Oooh," she hissed at his quick pace, head lolling to the side to allow him more flesh to discolor. "Slow down, Beej…"
He wasn't moving too terribly fast, but it was a bit quick for what she could handle so soon after what he did to her on the pool table. She tried to be as open and available for him as possible but sometimes her mortal body just couldn't keep up with his supernatural libido. Their significant size difference didn't help matters… but God did she love it when that big fat cock was fucking her good and right, so deep she could feel it in her soul.
Like now. She was wetter than usual, snug and swollen, gripping every thick inch as he withdrew and lunged, at a slightly slower pace as per her request.
When he adjusted his speed he also adjusted their position. A hand at her throat pulled her upright so he was rolling his hips up into her rather than down against her. His claws pressed into her skin just enough for her to feel them as he moved inside her. An inhuman length of tongue rolled down to tease at her breasts, the cool slick muscle pulling and playing with her pebbled nipples.
Her hot little breaths were panted against the side of his face. Abandoning the nipple he'd been toying with, he turned her face so she could meet him in an open mouthed kiss, tongue and cock mirroring one another. Groaned into her mouth, he finally let off the kiss to allow her air, and returned to his desecration of her neck and shoulder. He didn't want her in pain, but he did want anyone who looked at her tonight to know who she belonged to.
Slowing his pace even more, he could feel her little body shaking. He figured he could probably get one more orgasm from her, though they always had later this evening. If he kept this up she would never make it to the club. As appealing as that was to him, he gave his word. He wasn't about to disappoint her.
They fit sickeningly well together, the pouch of his gut nestled in the concave of her arched back, her thinner but still soft and grabbable thighs cushioned and spread wide over his flabbier, thicker thighs. When her head was pulled back and turned for that kiss, it was able to lay perfectly comfortably on the crook of his shoulder while their tongues wrestled.
"I love you," she sighed dreamily in an obscene counter to their debauchery. He kept one arm wrapped secure around her middle, massaging and playing with her tits while the other drifted over where they were joined. It would very lightly stroke her swollen little bead before moving down to her stretched taut labia just to feel what a number his cock was doing on her, then back to her clit for more tortuous stimulation.
When she came this time, she had been pushed and pulled and overworked to the point that she was painfully oversensitive and the explosion of euphoria tipped over the border of too much, drawing superficial tears to her big eyes. She slumped back into his lap, his still fucking hips, no longer able to hold herself in that rigid stretched position that made everything feel so good. It was still good like this with her lax and pliant seated on his cock. Now he could hit deeper, inspire those chest-deep groans that would make any ghost worth their salt proud.
As far as he was concerned she could just come apart like that around him every time. Her body pulsing around his pulled one of those deep groans from him. Speeding up his pace again, he chased his own finish. The arm around her middle pressing her down against his aggressively bucking hips. Now that she was so pliant in his grasp he could feel her whole little body move with every thrust. His own grunts and growls filled the room as he finally reached his peak. He gave a few more thrusts before pulling out, smearing them both with the results of their romp.
Sated for the time being, he moved them so he was laying on his back in the coffin, her draped across his chest. Fingers playing through her now thoroughly mussed hair. She was in glorious ruin; hair wild, body glistening with sweat. The marks he left on her neck and shoulder stood out against the palor of her skin. Enjoying the feeling of her resting against his chest, he shifted enough that he could look down and see her face.
"Ya think yer up for some dancin' tonight?" He was grinning as he conjured a pair of cigarettes, passing the menthol down to his little bride before taking a long drag off his own. He doubted she would want to dance but it was always fun to tease her. "I'm thinkin' a Jazz club… whatcha think, Dollface?"
He was a bad influence and therefore Lydia now had a nicotine addiction that very much appreciated a good after-sex smoke. At first, she was concerned that partaking in such an activity would cut her life with him short, but after he explained the status of her immortality‒ a concept that took many weeks to accept and still felt unreal‒ Lydia stopped caring. After taking a toke just as deep as his, she appreciated the blurry bright haze of smoke as it erupted and dissipated inches in front of her face while he petted and suggested plans for the night.
"Ya think yer up for some dancin' tonight? I'm thinkin' a Jazz club… whatcha think Dollface?"
What a wonderfully terrible idea. Lydia was torn between hopping back up, throwing on some shoes, and demanding they leave right that moment, or deciding that he was right all along and she wasn't ready to experience the afterlife yet.
"Dancing…?" She murmured fearfully, a concerned expression meant for him aimed indirectly at the ceiling. Hadn't he been paying attention? She couldn't dance. The simple circles he waltzed her in when they were alone in the parlour being amorous were not the same as twirling about and making a spectacle of themselves in public. Despite her thriving curiosity, Lydia was still very much shy and reserved, anxious of strangers and their seemingly unanimous rejection of her.
That was her experience in the living world, anyway. She didn't see why the Neitherworld would be any different.
"Do we have to dance? Can we just play pool? You can teach me how to play darts and take credit for it when I inevitably put someone's eye out."
The soft scent of her fear started to settle over them. As much as it used to drive him into a lust, now it just made his skin crawl. He pulled her up to press a soft kiss to her lips.
"You dance beautifully." She did wonderfully for just recently learning. Granted, he hadn't taken the time to teach her more than a few slower steps but she was a quick study. "We don't gotta dance, but there'll be music n' some o' the best drinks this side of eternity."
He sat up, lifting her with him and grinned down at her, clapping his hands together. Next to them a spread of her favorite foods appeared on the bedside table. First things first. Take care of her human needs then they could get her all dressed up for an evening out on the town.
"Should probably eat before we go out. Ain't sure you'd enjoy this place's idea o' food." His hands played along her exposed skin. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he leaned back against the head of their bed, watching her shift closer to the side table. "I was goin' t'come up with a cute lil outfit for ya but I really dig this look ya got goin'."
She really did look like a dream, with her hair mussed and dressed only in stockings and boots. No matter what he decided to dress her in, a garter belt was definitely on the menu. The dress, because it was always a dress, would have to show off her shoulder and neck. He hadn't put in all the work to mark it up just to dress her in something too modest. If they were going out for jazz, then she should look like a flapper. He couldn't wait until she was ready to get dressed, he was already building the outfit in his mind.
Fashion was an afterthought to Lydia most of the time. She couldn't see herself and didn't really care what she looked like as long as she didn't look dumb. Betelgeuse's presence in her life had changed that. She was now more aware of how fabrics fell over her, which ones hugged tight and draped alluringly, which colors affected him the most. He seemed to favor red, but the occasional striking emerald green affair sometimes made its way into her wardrobe.
Tonight was a rare green night. After she ate her fill and decided yes, she did want to go to the club even if it was crowded and scary, he had her stand and twirl, the easy emerald velvet materializing out of thin air over her nude form. When she stopped spinning, black tassels on the hem of her skirt kept moving. The dress was long and shapeless, hanging off of her more than she was wearing it. The skirt itself ended around her knees but the tassels hung down to mid-calf. Thin spaghetti straps held it up on her shoulders, a plunging neckline with exquisite black lace detail drawing attention to small, plump, pert breasts‒ as well as the smattering of hickeys and bite marks that marked her as claimed.
Two long strings of freshwater pearls fell over her neck. Platinum hair swept itself up into a loose chignon, a headband bejeweled with pearls and emeralds stringing itself across her forehead. Lastly, she felt herself rise an inch with a pair of kitten heels as a dramatic black feathered boa settled over her shoulders.
The skirt and boa were fun, so Lydia giggled and gave another twirl even though she didn't need to. She couldn't see herself, but judging by his wolf whistle, he was happy with his work. Playing dress up with her husband was always fun.
"My skirt's all swishy," she flustered charmingly, wriggling her hips back and forth to make the tassels keep playing with her legs. "You like?"
She hoped he did. Sometimes he would have her twirl three or four times before finally settling his doll in an outfit.
When he came up with most of these outfits he thought they looked good in his mind's eye. Then he would get them on her and realize his wildest fantasies couldn't do her justice.
"Yea, I like it, n' if ya wanna make it to the club for the main show, yer gonna need to stop doin' that with yer hips."
His voice was low and raspy when he said it. He pulled her in for a quick kiss, as not to muss the dark lipstick accentuating her lips. He should have left her hair down. It wouldn't have matched the look as well as this did, and then he could have played with it like he liked. As it was she was a stunner. He left it be. Too perfect to mess with.
He stood back and snapped his fingers dressing himself in the usual stripes. Since settling into the house with her he'd tried other suits for himself and when they went topside he didn't wear the stripes, but he realized that it was one of the things she could see and looked for. So the stripes stayed. Tonight he added a green vest to match her dress. He was hoping she got tired of the crowds early. He was going to have a hell of a time keeping his hands in check. Not that he really cared, but he knew she didn't care for that in public. This dress also wouldn't hide what others had in the past.
"Ya wanna take the car or want me to just pop us there?"
He was draping a large fur coat around her shoulders as he asked. The way her face lit up at the mention of the car had him rolling his eyes. How silly of him. Of course she would choose the car. Pulling her to him, he took them to the garage. Steadying her as they popped into existence, he placed her hand on the rear tail fin of a bright orange Chevy Bel Air.
That he had a car at all and knew how to drive it blew her fucking mind. Six months into their marriage and he had never not once driven her anywhere. That they had a garage at all was also news to her. She gaped like a fish the moment the words came out of his mouth and all through him putting her in that heavy luxurious coat, poofing them to their ultra-super-secret-for-some-reason-garage, until her palm was pressed up against fiery sunset orange paint.
"You have a car?!"
Lydia was shook. This was low on the list of fantastical things he had shown her, and maybe that's why she was so amused and flabbergasted and miffed all at once.
"We have a garage?! Is this new or has it always been here? Where's the door? When were you planning on telling me about these things? Our twentieth anniversary? Jesus, Beej."
There was a whole ass room in her house that she had been living in for six months that she didn't know anything about. How the fuck did he pull that off? Better yet, what other rooms existed that had never seen her touch? Tomorrow, she would walk every room one more time and feel the walls for whatever other secret doors she had obviously missed. Now that the information had time to sink in, she supposed it made sense that he never drove her anywhere. She was a bit of a hermit, admittedly, and most of the time he poofed them wherever they were going, rendering other modes of transportation obsolete.
Her hand trailed all along the passenger's side until he opened the door for her and got her settled with a gentlemanly flourish.
"Where's…?" She was feeling all along the dark leather interior, searching and coming up empty. Heat furled in her belly to find no partition between the passenger and driver side's, meaning they could mozy up close and do irresponsible lovey things while he was driving.
"Where are the seatbelts?"
"Of course I have a fuckin' car. There ain't no door in the house, it's a separate building. I can add a door if ya want though."
He leaned against the passenger door with his hip and lit a cigarette.
"If by 'new' ya mean I only got the car in the 50's." He scratched at a spot on his cheek and blew out smoke rings. "Built the garage not long after that." He'd had to build the garage separately. It was nothing to add a closet like the one he added to keep all her things in, but it was another thing completely to add something the size of the garage to the house.
"Honestly didn't think ya'd give a shit if we had a car or not." He opened the door and helped her get settled. Before moving to the driver side to climb in.
"Where are the seatbelts?"
"There ain't no seatbelts. We're in the Neitherworld remember?"
He flicked a finger and the big doors at one end opened up as he started the engine. His hand landed on the stick shift in a very practiced manner, shifting into reverse before backing out of the garage and onto the road‒ a road that was more of a magically suspended ribbon of asphalt above an eternal sandstorm. There were a number of reasons he didn't want her going out of the house. Besides the fact that their house sat magically suspended over the hellacious sand storm and desert far below. It was infested with sandworms. He didn't need her wandering off the edge of their property or getting gobbled up.
He also had fixed the damaged wards around the house after their first few days there. It made it easier for him to set the temperature inside to something livable for her. He had even had to work some quick magic on the garage and the car to keep the eternal chill of the land of the dead from creeping into her. After getting them lined out and as they sped down the highway, he grinned over at her.
"Wanna drive, Bunny?"