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Killing nobles feels fairer than killing commoners. They can afford better protection for Whisper to bypass.
There’s something particularly striking about the slim young man under the red awning, surrounded by lights and plush carpets and gigantic cats.
balls-deep
:/
“That’s a storage closet, Your Highness,” one of his guards says helpfully. “Excellent,” Julien says through his daze. “Wait out here while I check inventory.”
“I’m promoting you to Master of Cats. Or something. I’m still workshopping the title.”
During those final moments, Whisper becomes the worst and most important person in their lives. It’s only natural they become an indelible part of Whisper too.
“Don’t worry. I’m a responsible royal scion. I’ll keep my dick in ungrateful, backstabbing courtiers where it belongs.” “It belongs in a cage,” Nadine mutters. Julien taps his chin thoughtfully. “Is that treason? I think that might be treason.”
I’m definitely not going to fuck him, Julien tells himself. At least, not before the background check comes back.
bleached-white
they have bleach??
Julien reaches out slowly, as if to pet a nervous cat. Warm fingertips kiss the skin under Whisper’s eye. “You always look so tired.” And for a translucent, painful moment, Whisper feels seen.
Rumi’s mental voice shatters the moment. Can we eat it yet? If not, somebody do something, because Fisk is about to eat it. When the humans whirl around, Fisk innocently retracts his paw from nudging the wyrm’s dead face.
It’s hard to think with Julien’s breath in his hair. The scent of the woods surrounding them, the warring impulses of attraction and despair. Whisper isn’t used to being so close to people when they’re alive.
The space between them is meaningless when Julien’s presence suffuses every particle of air, fogging the glass around Whisper’s heart.
It’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to Whisper—and the most painful. Julien has no idea he’s comforting his murderer.
As if the surprising part is that the fellcat understood the tailor’s directions, and not that he telekinetically handed her the fabric swatch.
If he falls any further, Whisper doesn’t know how he’ll survive the end of this job. This starlit dance is all he can afford to carve into his bones and hollow heart. A kiss would shatter him.
He dodges the spray—can’t get blood in his eyes.
Julien touches Whisper’s face hesitantly. His fingertips skate down to Whisper’s throat in devotion instead of a threat.
Julien’s kiss unravels him and weaves his heart into something new.
“They’re the ones who realized you were gone,” Julien says.
actually crying 😭
“Come to bed with me, kitten?” Will’s fingers tighten. “You don’t need to ask.” Julien kisses his hand. “I like asking.”
He kisses Will’s fingertips one by one.
Julien yearns to mark Will all over, as if his touch can erase everyone that’s ever harmed him.
His own impending orgasm is a distant echo of the pleasure from Will’s every movement, the beat of his pulse, the taste of his breath, the iron blood from his split lip.
He tosses Julien the towel and slides onto the bed next to him.
that’s not very gentlemanly whisper
“I’m not used to waking up next to beautiful men. I usually chase them away before morning.” Whisper’s breath hitches. “Maybe I was just too tired to run.” Julien laughs and leans down to take Whisper’s lips in a kiss like silk and sunlight.
There’s no guarantee of privacy with a telekinetic fellcat in the castle.
Whisper lacks a scale to measure betrayal. He can’t weigh whether he’s been crueler to Julien than he was to Aneko, or anyone else he’s killed. All he knows is that he’ll have far less of himself when he’s done with this job.
He counts his bruises and regrets that none of them are from Julien, who was far, far gentler than Whisper deserves.
One of the Langleys from upstairs who talked about killing him. Whisper doesn’t resent him for it. They’re both the same. Just two professionals trying to do their jobs.
“Is it weird that watching you interrogate him was unbearably hot?” Whisper’s hand slides to Julien’s chest. “It’s a little weird, Your Highness.”
“Wait, I really had something for you.” “Really?” Julien catches Will’s hand and kisses the palm. “I thought that was just a coy way of offering yourself to me.” Will shivers at his touch. “You can have me too,”
Their fingers brush as Julien takes the parchment. He has the sense that Will intentionally permits the slight touch, which is as exhilarating as anything else they’ve done.
Will has to look up to meet Julien’s eyes. “I can’t stay cooped up in the castle. I want to find out who’s trying to kill you.” “Not who wants to kidnap you?” “I’m not important,” Will says, his gaze lowering under crescents of golden lashes. He touches Julien’s forearm. Slides his hand into Julien’s. “They were just using me to get to you. You’re the one they want to hurt, and you’re the one I want to protect.”
“I took this scar for you,” Whisper says. “That’s not a bad thing. I’ll never regret it.”
None of this hurts, but he’ll carry every moment forever. Bruised into his soul, never to heal.
Julien growls against his neck. “I said I was going to fuck you proper this time.” “What does that mean,” Whisper whines. “I can’t remember,” Julien says. “Slow. Thorough. Romantic. Rose petals on the bed. I was going to blow your mind.” “You don’t need rose petals for that,”
Fisk pads over and stretches out half beside, half on top of Rumi. She flicks her ears and scoots over. We remember. Hopefully he will be awed by our majesty. The little servants here are getting used to us. Disappointing.
“Head Cook Sybil,” Dury says immediately. “She’s scheming to steal your magic cats. Have you seen how many treats she gives them? The seneschal is going mad trying to figure out where all the extra roast chickens are going.”
“Hey, kitten. What’s wrong?”
I love them so much this is actually endearing to me and not cringe in any way
“Spit on your cock. Take me dry. I don’t fucking care.” His hands slide from Julien’s shoulders to his chest, and tension echoes through him. “Fuck me so hard that I feel it for the rest of my life.”
“This isn’t fair of me either,” his lover says. “But my real name is Whisper.”
“Nobody likes to admit it,” Julien says, “but I’m my father’s son.” Rue magic. He’s been hiding Rue magic. Breathing is difficult, and it’s more than just the pressure of Julien’s magic. “That makes two of us,” Whisper says softly. “They said you’re the weakest of your brothers. But I never had a chance, did I?” Julien’s grin is brutal. “I am the weakest. My brothers are just that good.”
“Someone,” Lucien repeats. “Let me think. Who in Alantha has a grudge against Silaise, the entire continent’s supply of scalestone, and thousands of purple-eyed people who want to kill you?” This again. Julien rubs his temple. “The least subtle Draskorans in history.” “Draskorans are never subtle,” Lucien says, exasperated. “They ride dragons!”
“With all due respect, Your Highness, you’re insane.”
Maybe Nadine’s right—he’s insane. Because one thing hasn’t changed. Whoever Whisper is, whatever he’s done, Julien refuses to see him hurt again.
Julien’s fingers tense against his cheek. His voice goes low and dangerous. “You don’t get to escape from me that easily.”
“Respectfully, Your Highness, fuck you.”
Julien’s eyes lower. Ignoring Nadine’s judgmental glare, he touches Whisper’s cheek. Brushes away the dirt, and says, “I made this difficult for you.” Whisper shudders. “If you apologize for me trying to kill you, I’m going to start crying.”
“Your Highness,” Nadine says, sounding tired and annoyed. “Are you done flirting with the assassin? Or spilling state secrets, or whatever you’re doing?”
