He felt her still at the mention of the werewolf. Had she not realized he could do anything she could think of? He grinned into her hair, the scent of her fear doing more to chase back the last of his slight drunkenness than the coffee had. He liked this playful fear, more anticipation and excitement than the true terror she gave him in their earlier days. Growling softly, he pressed a kiss into her hair.

"To… to tie me up."

Well, well, well… what do we have here? His morbid little love was actually interested in this? Oh ho ho, this was unexpected. Jesus fuck, the smell of her excitement and fear made him want to just flip her over and have his way with her, here and now. No, no he needed to hear what it was that she wanted. What she was saying lit a fire in him. The mental images of her all tied up and helpless drew a low growl from his chest. He knew from experience nothing he could imagine would ever rival the reality of her. This was definitely something he was going to pursue, though he knew at this point he would have to traverse this carefully. He didn't want to spook his sweet lil' bunny. She was delicate and needed to be treated as such.

"Tie ya up, Sweetheart? That could be fun." He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. "Ya think ya'd like that? Tied up all snug n' helpless… wrapped up like the pretty lil' gift you are?"

He squeezed her tighter, another low growl escaping him. In a blink, they were settled comfortably on the lounge. He had her turned around, her head against his shoulder and thighs spread across his lap. He pressed a kiss to her lips, tongue asking entrance while his hands slowly ran up and down her, back holding her to him.

"Ya'd let me do that with ya? Take away all yer worries n' cares n' just let me do as I pleased?" He pulled back enough from the slow kiss, yet his lips still brushed hers as he spoke, clawed fingers teasing at her back with just an edge of sharpness.

She was burning up. Her discomforted wriggling stopped completely when his arms secured her like a straight jacket, giving her a taste of what it would be like to surrender complete control to him. He had fucked her like this before, held her in his lap in a tight hug and rutted his hips up hard into hers. With the naivety of someone who had never been truly bound before, she concluded that adding rope really wouldn't make it any different.

Her anxious little body wasn't trembling anymore, but her breaths were quick with anticipation. Lydia had always been sensitive, her other senses amplified with her lack of competent vision. It was part of what made her such an addictive lover to her insatiable husband. She gave a reaction to everything he did, be it a flutter of her eyelashes, a hitch in her breath, or a tiny barely audible vocalization of the effect he was having on her.

The tips of his claws dragged up her spine and she arched, whining at how electric it felt, thighs clenching around his hips involuntarily for a beat. He would take such good care of her. She wouldn't have to worry about whether or not she looked silly or was doing it right, not that he ever‒ ever‒ criticized her love-making capabilities. No, it was always Lydia doubting and questioning herself, though he did an excellent job at distracting her from any insecurities in the midst of vigorous fucking. Still, the doubt remained and Lydia had just been learning to live with it.

Maybe… maybe if he lathed her with his usual praise and adoration when she wasn't even doing anything to earn it… maybe she could finally believe him.

"Ya'd let me do that with ya? Take away all yer worries an' cares and just let me do as I pleased?"

"Always," she promised. "I just didn't think… you would want something like that…" She didn't think he would approve of her even fantasizing about the possibility of such a thing. "I read things in that book that‒ that‒" she swallowed, nervous and confused again. "I know it's not normal. I'm already not normal. I don't want to be more not normal."

"Always"

Fuck, did that sound good coming from her lips. He let out a small anticipatory sound against her hair. He was making plans, knowing exactly how he wanted to start her off down this road… wait, what? Normal? Shit.

"Why wouldn't I want any… all o' that?"

His hands were tracing up and down her back, a small frown pulling at his features. He pulled her back far enough so that a finger could raise her chin. He might not get eye contact but he would at least be able to read her face better.

"Honey, what is it ya think normal is? There ain't nothin' wrong with none o' that…" He was, not for the first time, reminded of how young and untried she was.

"Baby-girl, even if there was somethin' that might not seem normal n' ya wanna try it, we would." His fingers slid through her hair and plucked a leaf out to tickle her cheek with it. "'Cause I love ya n' I wanna give ya what ya want, what ya need."

He leaned down to press a soft but hungry kiss to her lips, one hand drifting down to cradle the swell of her ass.

"Honey, what is it that ya think normal is?"

The question made her blink and reflect. The answer seemed so obvious, but when she tried to speak it, her tongue only tripped and stumbled some more.

"Normal is… it's when… it's what everybody does."

The words managed to string themselves together without any power or conviction, lending to the lightbulb pinging on in her brain and shedding light on that perhaps "normal" was a boring and overrated concept. Still, a shred of doubt remained. The things they were considering doing were completely foreign to her ill-experienced young mind. The new information she found in that book was titillating and exotic and poked holes in what little she had garnered about sex from teachers and other schoolgirls.

Yes, she doubted herself, but not her husband. He didn't have any reasons to lie to her anymore. As far as she knew, he would only ever speak the truth.

"I just… I don't want to be a slut."

That made him laugh, the loud sound bouncing around the inside of the glass greenhouse. The abrupt sound spooked Lydia's birds in the hanging planters above them, causing them to glide to one of the trees further into the garden. He pulled her back into his chest and started to comb his fingers through her hair, sliding down in the lounge to create a little more space for her to spread out on his lap.

"Bunny, I dun think that 'slut' is a word anyone would ever use t'describe ya." He conjured a cigarette and took a drag, the smoke rolling slowly from his nostrils. "Why would ya think that any of what ya read would make ya a slut?"

He shifted enough that he could cradle her in against his chest. His fingers dragging along her thigh up under her skirt. They had all the time in the world to get to the fun. He was enjoying this, her warm little body pressed to his, enjoying the small involuntary human movements.

"Was there other stuff ya wanted ta try? Don't worry 'out none of it bein' normal or not. What sounded fun ta ya?"

Instantly, Lydia was given flashbacks of the days spent in private schools with naughty rich girls and their fragile reputations. It seemed every other week, another had fallen off the line, done something with her body to be deemed dirty and untouchable by the other students.

"Because… Because…"

Surely, there was logic and reason within her somewhere. Usually, he was the one jumping to wild conclusions over nothing. The way he was holding her eased her tension, made her tongue looser. This was cozy and familiar.

"I don't know, I guess. There are so many rules about being a girl. I never know if I'm going to break one."

He knew more about these things than she probably ever would. He knew everything. If he said it didn't matter, that it didn't change her or make her lesser, then he had to be right. More tension unwound. She fiddled with the top button of his collar until it came undone, then casually moved onto the next as if she wasn't very slowly undressing him.

"There's this scene…" she blushed, a guilty, unkillable smile beginning to pull at her lips. "... where Lilith disrespects him in front of his clan."

From her tone, it could be gathered that she disapproved of Lilith's disobedience. Lydia was a good wife.

"And he gets mad… and he drags her to their room… and then he… he…"

A full-blown nervous giggle burst forth at her own audacity. She turned away from him bodily, covering her face with both hands in mortification.

"He spanks her."

He leaned his head back, eyes going shut, listening to her trying to explain herself‒ all the while his fingers slowly working up her thighs, nails tracing small circles onto her skin.

The frown was back. Blowing a plume of smoke off over her head, he removed the cigarette from his lips and cocked a brow down at her. What rules was she talking about? She didn't have any rules except the ones he gave her. Really, those were few and far between. That she called herself a "girl" made something deep inside his chest clench. She wasn't a girl. She was his wife. He hadn't thought of her as a girl since that morning in the attic. She was just Lydia, his sweet little lover. Yes, she was young for now… but she was just like him now. She would go on unchanging for eternity, forever frozen.

Her warm fingers slowly working on his shirt buttons had him relaxing back into the lounge. He flicked away what was left of his cigarette so he had both hands free to roam over her form, one moving up to play with a lock of her hair, running it through his fingers slowly. He had to let go of her when she suddenly turned away giggling, snowy cheeks blooming pink. He would never get tired of seeing that, one of the telling signs that she was very much alive.

"He spanks her."

That's what had her blooming pink before him? She wanted to be spanked? That was most definitely something he was willing to do for her. What had she said? The little vampire disrespected her werewolf… that sounded familiar. A sleazy grin crawled across his face, the hand under her skirt sliding around to cup her ass cheek more solidly.

"Is that what ya want, Sweetheart? Hmmmmm?" A large cool hand massaged her cheek before patting very lightly, his voice coming out in a low rumble. "Bunny wants t'be spanked?"

His growl deepened predatorily, and Lydia's nervous giggling pitched upward in hysterical embarrassment, almost like she still wasn't quite convinced yet and thought it was all some game.

"Well yeah."

She said it like it was obvious. Like he should have been able to just look at her and tell she was a girl in need of a spanking. The more his hand kept it up, the more her voice lost that joking quality and returned to that tremulous breathiness marking her arousal.

"I've never… ever… not that. I've never even been grounded."

With how she had rolled away from him in her embarrassment, she was on her tummy next to him on the lounge, him propped up on his side looming over her, the long skirt of her nightgown drawn up with his questing hand. As he kept on, the material shifted until she could feel the backs of both thighs revealed to the open air and the bottom half of her ass. A thoughtless arch into his kneading palm pushed it the rest of the way.

"Just…"

This was happening. It wasn't just talk anymore, his hand was on her ass and he was going to use it to cause her pain that she asked for. The cheek he was caressing so tenderly as if in preemptive apology for the damage he would wrought clenched.

"... not too hard, okay?"

Cheeky little thing, sassing him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The last twenty-four hours she'd worked up a laundry list of reasons that he felt she needed a spanking. The smell of her arousal, her pulse, and her breathing all told him she sure wanted something.

His sleazy grin widened as he spread his hand out wide across her ass, see how far he could span across her. Then he pressed his hand down against her, no strike just pressure. The first swat was quick and light, her pale cheeks pinking up. When she tried to wiggle away he clicked his tongue at her and energy poured over her. Not enough that she couldn't move, but she was pinned to the lounge.

The second swat was more solid. The color blooming across her backside got darker, the vague outline of his hand becoming visible. He was glad he made sure she couldn't just get up and leave. The little sounds coming from her called to the darker parts of him.

The last swat was heavy and solid, making a harsh clapping noise as his skin connected. His hand left a definite print, even leaving small marks where the ring on his index finger sat. He wasn't sure if it would bruise, she marked up so easily.

"How was that, sweet-cheeks?" He dispelled the energy pinning her down and let his cool hand gently massage over the irritated area as if he never stopped.

Never in her life, not even by her father or mother or babysitters or even Delia, had Lydia ever had a hand raised against her. Not even the nastier bullies dared. The occasional asshole might trip her on purpose, but no one hit her. Therefore, when that first light swat came it was shocking, making her gasp and jump and wriggle for an escape she didn't actually want.

It didn't hurt. She was just surprised. Then, a great weight settled over her, like he was laying on top of her almost, but she could feel that he wasn't. This only encouraged her instinctive drive to struggle and cry out with the next two progressively nasty smacks. These did hurt but it was barely anything really, and she was having a lot of fun fighting to get away when she knew she couldn't. Like when he tickled her but she wasn't laughing this time.

Before too long, it was over, the weight was gone, and she stopped pretending to struggle, panting lightly as he stroked that mean, blessedly cool hand nice and slow over her gently pinked cheeks.

"How was that, sweet-cheeks?"

It took her a moment to respond, but not too long. He didn't really need a verbal answer. Warm muted light filtering through stained glass above caught the glistening sheen of her inner thighs well as any words her lips could form.

"I think…" she held him in anticipation a moment longer while savoring his balming massage, eyes closed, licking her lips, "... I like that a lot."

The scent of her arousal was much stronger now, perfuming the air around them and rivaling the soft scents of greenery this room always boasted. Hand still working over her abused backside, he laid his head down next to her to check her face. Her eyes weren't always the easiest to read, almost never focused on specific points. Now, however, even unfocused, her pupils were blown, her face holding that lax dreamy quality it got when they were playing and he was being nice.

"... I like that a lot."

He knew the answer before she spoke it, but he really loved the sound of her saying that she liked it. His massaging hand got a little heavier as he braced himself back up on one hand to appreciate her form. A deep dark chuckle rolled out of his chest, a purely masculine sound.

"M'real glad, sweets."

His hand moved from her ass cheek, fingertips trailing along her skin to slip between slick thighs, fingers rubbing against her folds teasingly.

"Still wanna try bein' tied up?" He whispered it against her ear, cool lips brushing the curl. Rough fingertips slid up to strum at her pearl, the length of his fingers pressing against her folds.

It was odd to play with him and have nothing expected of her‒ except the parts when he was hunched over her, thrusting, taking. She drew one of her arms up leisurely, using her forearm as a pillow, and pulled her hand to her mouth to suck idly on her thumb as he stroked her over and asked once difficult but now simple questions.

"Still wanna try being tied up?"

His cool breath in her ear made her shiver, blood running hot, but she stayed right where she was for him to whisper and pet at.

"Uh-huh…" Milky thighs melted open further and further the more she relaxed, giving her all over to him. "I trust you…"

He loved her so much. So much. Lydia was struck by how much he had to love her. When she sensed him near her face again she arched into slick, stroking fingers at the same time she nuzzled up, pushing her forehead gently into his cheek.

"I'm so close," she whined, spun by how turned on all of this was making her, and pushed her butt harder into her husband's gently petting fingers, encouraging him with her every motion. Every time she stopped speaking, she went right back to sucking her thumb. Poor thing didn't seem cognizant that she was even doing it.

He kept his hand moving at a slow steady pace, adding more pressure the longer he moved against her. When her face bumped against his, he pressed soft kisses to her face. He could get her to her peak like this and then they could try something new. Besides it was always so much more fun to try new things with her when she was all lax and sensitive. She made the best noises and was so needy when he did it that way.

She was so beautiful like this; er skin slowly starting to turn pink, hair mussed, eyes fluttering and pupils blown. She was always beautiful but this had to be one of his favorite ways she looked. He could dress her up and peel her out of any outfit he could imagine, and he would still prefer her this way; half-covered in a modest nightgown, skin flushed.

His finger strummed against her pearl, urging her on. Another low growl rumbled from his chest while he watched her wiggle back into his hand, stirring his own lust. He shifted against her, pressing his own arousal against the hot length of her body. He was going to have to wait though, he had more plans for her before they moved on to that.

"C'mon, babe, let's hear ya sing." It was barely words, much more of a growl.

Lydia's already muddled vision of blurry colors and shapes kaleidoscoped as she reached her first climax of the day. That guttural demand crawling up his throat did it for her. His voice spoke to her core every time, that sinful drawl flowing into her ears and right down to her belly like hot spiced liquor.

A clear, high-pitched cry filled the greenhouse. Romeo and Juliet sang back heartily, the lovebirds appreciative of such quality sounds of passion. When she came down and realized his hard cock was very firmly pressed into her side, she pressed herself back, conforming to his shape to rub as much of her weight as possible against where she knew would feel best.

"Use me," she purred, grinding her gently abused ass against his hardness. "If you tie me up, you can do whatever you want."

As if she needed to sell him anymore on the idea.

Her voice was the first part of her he got to experience, and the sound of it always struck him to the core. That soft sweet sound was enough to bring him back from the dead if she wanted to try. He loved it when she sang for him or visited with him but he went mad for her cries of passion.

When she pressed herself against his cock, he let out a low shuddering groan, his face coming forward to rest against her hair. Taking an unnecessary breath, he put some space between their bodies.

"Don't be doin' that or we ain't gonna make it to tyin' ya up."

He panted it against her hair before rolling over her to get off the lounge. He brought the hand covered in her wetness to his mouth, slowly sucking her from his fingers as he decided what he was going to do with her. Once his fingers were clean of her he snapped them, stripping her of the nightgown. The sight of her pale pink-tinged skin exposed to him made him groan low in his throat.

"Fuck baby-girl… you are a sight." Her ass had definitely bruised a little, leaving her creamy skin streaked with reds and purples.

Another snap of his fingers and silk ropes bound her calves to her thighs, her wrists tied together at the front. He helped to sit her up, cool hands tracing along her sides as he helped her get settled before pulling her bound wrists above her head to attach to the back of the lounge, exposing her breasts and damp nether regions. Once she was steady and propped up with cushions, he was on his knees in front of her nuzzling at her thighs. Pressing heavy kisses and bites along her skin until he reached her center. He pressed his mouth to her, his tongue playing along her clit before he was on her. It was a long slow languid kiss, his hands supporting her and helping to open her to him.

An invisible force pulled her feet toward her ass before her ankles and thighs were bound together by silk. It was just tight enough to cut into her cushiony flesh appealingly and make it strain, but not cut off circulation. The abruptness made her meep, but she didn't struggle, not even when her wrists were tied too. She even giggled a little as he helped her up, somewhat self-conscious that she looked silly and graceless.

His soothing touch easing her back against the familiar arch of the chaise lounge made her feel better. Once her arms were secure, it was easy to let her weight rest, thighs sunk open, everything spread and open for the taking. This was one of her favorite reading spots. Everything about him, the atmosphere, the actions they had taken prior to coming here had eased the path to the point that she barely felt any fear or anxiety at all. She was smiling even, before he started in on her thighs, and whispered impishly "This is fun," like they were children breaking rules.

His mouth found her pussy shortly thereafter, those big hands spreading her bound and bent legs wide open like she was a butterfly pinned for dissection. Lydia, still sensitive from her first peak, cried out with a fraction of distress, slithering against the crushed velvet backdrop of the lounge while he worked her over. For a while, his tongue was content to slide fat and wet along her labia like one of their heated makeout sessions, but it wasn't long until he needed more. A hungry growl brought him impaling her on the snake-like appendage, its inhuman lengths exploring her tight, hot depths.

The things he proceeded to do made her squirm worse than his merciless teasing ever could. It was long. Longer even than his cock, reaching places within her that weren't meant to be licked or tasted, writhing and undulating inside her all the way. He had done this to her before, but not like this, not this deep, like he was starving and just couldn't help himself. Her inevitable orgasm was messy and only served to give the squishy, malleable tongue fucking her another rhythm to dance to.

He worked her through her orgasm before deciding that he couldn't wait anymore. Pulling back he licked along her one more time before standing and reaching to adjust the rope holding her wrists above her head, lengthening it. He all but collapsed onto the lounge next to her, belt and slacks undone but not yet open.

Hands grabbed at her waist, pulling her over to straddle his lap, he looped her arms around his neck. With them pressed together like this it was easy for him to catch her mouth with his, hungry excited kisses pressed to her rosebud lips. He made quick work of adjusting her thighs over his and then finished pulling himself from his slacks. his hard length slapping against her as he got his slacks down enough to be comfortable.

He pulled her close, using her mouth like he had her pussy. His hands lifted her by the hips enough that he could press into her in a quick smooth motion, hips bucking against her, a low growling groan muted against her mouth. As he held her pressed down against him and his hips pounded up into her, he groaned and growled into her mouth like an animal.

He pulled back when she needed air and went to work on the less abused side of her neck, with cool lips and sharp teeth marking and sucking at pale soft skin. His lips started to warm from maintaining contact with her warm skin.

Something about all this made him greedier than usual. Most of the time, Lydia was given a moment to adjust to his substantial size before he was pumping away at her, but not today. A heavy arm around her waist kept her anchored to him as he fucked up into her relentlessly. The tongue that filled her mouth and throat tasted distinctly of herself, a flavor she had become familiar with due to his frequent devourings.

The way she was tied up‒ off-balance, hanging on him, only supported by her knees and the knot of silk at the top of the lounge‒ there was only one motion in her arsenal, and it was to bounce and jerk on the stiff cock he had her impaled on. His initial furious pace slowed when he took a break from suffocating her with an all-consuming kiss to move on down her throat with harsh, suckling bites.

There was no need to hold her anymore so he didn't, freeing up his hands to travel her soft, petite curves.

"I can't move," she whined to him, shimmying her clenching little pussy in an awkward, uneven rhythm on him. Lydia was used to falling into the dance at her leisure, making him her slave with elegant, graceful rocking of her hips. A seed of doubt returned. She sweat with her effort to please him, fine mist coating alabaster flesh as she tried her damnedest to do anything at all.

Her balance tipped off again and she slipped down hard, forcing him deep to a place that made her cry out, just an itsy bit of pain tingeing the pretty sound. She panted and writhed against him a moment before going back still and murmuring;

"... are you… are you having fun?"

"Ya don't gotta babe."

He panted the words into her neck, his hands moving up to cup and caress the plumpness of her breasts, expert fingers working her hard little nipples. Bucking into her harder, he adjusted his angle, trying to hit her sweet spot. Leaning back into the lounge more, he used his hands on her chest to sit her up. He admired her body moving over the top of his, pulling another appreciative groan from him.

"... are you… are you having fun?"

"Fuck yessss, ain't you?"

The soft sounds of pain and pleasure she was giving him stirred up the darkness but having her tied up like a pretty little present just for him soothed more of that than he expected. She had given him her trust and he couldn't fuck that up by letting the monster out. His hips rolled up into her, hands sliding back to her hips, fingers kneading her skin. He leaned forward to catch one of her pretty pink pebbles in his mouth, grunting softly against her skin.

"Yer so fuckin' beautiful." His eyes were glowing as he reached up to pull her into another kiss. This one soft and cherishing, only holding an edge of the devouring hunger from before. His hands roamed along her sweat-slicked skin, praising every inch they could touch.

"Uh‒ huh‒ Lotsa‒ Fun‒"

He had moved her arms so she wasn't hanging off of him anymore and could sit upright impaled on his erection while he used the rope holding her bound wrists as a sort of leash. This freed him up to sink back indulgently in the comfortable lounge, keep Lydia secure with his hold on the rope, and buck his hips up wildly without concern for whether or not she would fall.

"Beej‒! Ah‒! Fuck‒!"

Her speech turned garbled and unintelligible, the girl holding her bound wrists up under her chin, head thrown back like she was praying to a higher power. Her tits, and the other soft bits, jiggled and bounced freely without his groping hands to keep her still. Occasionally, she could feel him reach out to tweak a nipple, lightly slap one of her bouncing tits, but it was just a hiccup in the ocean of sensation he was doling out.

Her inevitable orgasm had her calling out his name to the Heavens while she jerked and shimmied back and forth in his lap, using his cock to massage deep inside and draw out the waves of pleasure for as long as possible.

Betelgeuse had been around for a long time, and he had seen many amazing sights in his time. Yes, he had spent most of his afterlife bound or in hell, but before that when he still worked in Juno's office as a guide he traveled most of the planet and saw the sights. However, none of them even came close to the glory of his pale little wife experiencing ecstasy impaled on his cock. He could never get enough of her like this, the way her skin flushed and breathing hitched, to the way her velvet heat enveloped him.

As she found her peak and called out his name, her little body spasming around him, his rhythm started to degrade. His hips still moved hard and fast but it wasn't as smooth and before. His large hands spanning her hips pressed her down against him with each thrust. Working her through her orgasm had him panting, claws digging into the plush flesh of her hips, bouncing her on his lap harder, their flesh causing soft slapping sounds to ring out across the greenhouse. It wasn't long before he followed her over the edge, continuing to thrust against her a few more strokes after he was spent. Finally, he pulled her down, pressing kisses to her face as he dispelled the ropes, curling her small form in against his chest and pulling a blanket from the aether to drape around her.

Relaxing back into the lounge he let out a sated sigh that turned into a low rolling chuckle. He pulled a pair of cigarettes from the air, one his usual brand, the other one of her sweet minty-smelling favorites. He passed her the correct cigarette before stretching out and kicking his boots up onto the low table in the center of the lounge area.

"Whatcha think about bein' tied up, Bunny? Somethin' we should try more often?"

His cigarette was perched on his lip and his hands were roaming along her body outside the blanket. His head rested back against the lounge, eyes slipped shut, a relaxed grin pulling at his lips.

Her legs screamed in relief as the silk bonds dissipated and she collapsed over him bonelessly. There were thin red lashes marking the parts where she had been bound but they would disappear in a day or two, unlike the numerous hickeys and bite marks and the imprint of his hand on her ass. It didn't help that Lydia was particularly fragile and bruised especially easily. He marked her up all the time by accident, gripping too tight or pressing too hard without meaning to. Lydia didn't mind. He made it up to her by being gentle and thoughtful everywhere else when it came to her.

Even here. A sturdy arm around her provided stability while she felt shaky and weak in the aftermath, barely able to hold her own cigarette.

"Whatcha think about being tied up Bunny? Something we should try more often?"

"That," she paused, taking a savoring drag of peppermint tobacco, "was amazing. You can tie me up whenever you want if that's what you're gonna do with me."

Her voice was sleepy and drunk sounding, eyes lidded in post-orgasmic haze. Now that this door was opened, all sorts of things were on the table, concepts that were new to Lydia but she no longer felt shy voicing aloud. Not anymore, not after that.

"If you want to, uhm, boss me around or, uh, you know, tell me what to do‒"

She may have known what she wanted and had the courage to ask for it, but that didn't do anything to expand her vocabulary on these matters.

"You can do that, and I'll listen, and I won't get mad. I mean. Unless you're being a jerk."

"Boss ya huh?" Another round of those low purely masculine chuckles poured out of him. "I think I can probably make that happen."

He pulled her in closer shifting her so he could get himself back inside his slacks, then moved to layout along the lounge. He positioned her so that she was draped across his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this lax and content. She truly was the peace he spent most of his mortal life and all of his death searching for. His fingers trailed through her tangled curls, content to spend the rest of the day lazing about in the warmth of the garden and her embrace.

"We got summoned to the royal court. Some stupid ball… or somethin'. Ya think we should maybe teach ya more dances than the box step?" He flicked away his cigarette stub and ran his hands along her curves.

He pulled the invitation from the aether to hand to her, having already infused the heavy pressboard with braille. As unappealing as going was to him, the thought that he could get her to dance, and of the kind of outfits he could dress her in and show her off had him vibrating with excitement.

"A ball?"

She blinked, eyes going large.

"Like a dance? Like prom?"

Of course that would pique Lydia's interest. He stole her away before she ever got the opportunity to pine for a date to a hypothetical prom the way teenage romance novels told her she should. A hard rectangular piece of paper imbued with braille was passed to her and she wasted no time in trailing her fingers along the little bumps.

"To the residents of six-six-six sandworm circle‒ is that our address? Cool‒ you are hereby invited to the five-hundredth annual deathday celebration ball of Sir Vincent Malloy III, Prince of the Damned and Sovereign of Souls." She paused to blink again, breathing a sigh of wonder. "Wow. There's a Prince here? You know him? I didn't know there were Princes and Princesses down here."

Lydia had read a fair amount of Neitherworld literature, but nothing that alluded to a monarchy or ruling class. The system of enslaved suicides working as caseworkers to the newly-dead was the extent of Lydia's understanding of how the politics of the afterlife moved. That there was a Prince blew her fucking mind almost as much as that her husband had a car and a driver's license.

"Five hundred years is a long time to be a Prince. If he gets married, does he become King?"

"Yeah, that's the address…" Her face lit up and her eyes got shiny, telling him how excited she was for this. Well, why shouldn't she be excited? It seemed like a fairy tale, Princes and Princesses, grand balls… Jesus fucking Christ.

"I mean… I know of him… us gettin' invited is more of a status thing."

He cleared his throat and shifted slightly beneath her as he drew up one of his legs, helping to corral her body in against the lounge with him.

"M'one o' the most powerful beings on either side of the veil, n' now that I ain't bound no more? They gotta recognize that." His fingers played through her hair.

"His title is real fancy but it's just that." With a flick of his wrist, he was handing her a mimosa and had a neat whiskey clutched in his own clawed hand. "A title. Not like me. I earned 'Ghost with the Most'."

He watched her think over what he was telling her. He pulled another lit cigarette from thin air and took a drag, taking care to blow the smoke away from her face.

"Five hundred years is a long time to be a Prince. If he gets married, does he become King?"

"I'll have ta find ya a book on the royal family."

He didn't want to try and explain it to her. Not that he didn't think she would make a good audience but he didn't care enough to know how it all worked. What he did know was that the monarch was more of a figurehead and that some elusive higher powers controlled the bureaucracy that made the Neitherworld run smoothly. Still, the royal family held sway, thus why he was dragging Lydia to the ball.

He drained his glass and set it on the table next to them, frowning softly. He hadn't really thought about that before. They were invited, yes, but technically, aside from the sheer power he gathered over the centuries, there was no reason for them to want to invite him. As a murderer and a suicide he was on the lowest rung of society… fuuuuck… that meant they just wanted him so that he would bring Lydia. As far as he was aware, she was the only living being to spend this much time here in the afterlife.

He apparently had research of his own to do.