The Vampire's Luna

Her fingers slid down his torso with nostalgia. They paused at his belt, unbuckling it as if she were unwrapping the past.

"There was a time," she said, almost laughing at herself, "I didn’t need to come begging. You used to show up with wine and a smile."

Damien gave a tight, bitter smile of his own. "That was before Luna," he said simply.

"Everything," she replied, unfastening the buckle, "was before Luna."

She met his eyes then, her pride bruised but still intact.

"If we do make an heir tonight, Damien... I promise. I won’t ask you for anything again. You won’t have to look at me like I’m a burden."

He looked down at her, this woman who had once shared his bed without expectation, without complication. And now she stood there, half-begging, half-bleeding dignity at his feet. Guilt twisted in his chest even as he navigated the fog of Luna’s face in his mind.

"Seliora," he murmured, almost apologetically.

She cut him off with a sad smile. "Don’t. Just... finish what you came for. Let’s both pretend it means something, if only to the kingdom."

There was no lust in the air.

Seliora kissed his neck.

Damien stood still, eyes distant, hands slack by his sides. Her lips were warm and familiar, but to him they were only shadows. In his mind’s eye, it wasn’t Seliora’s lips on his skin. It was Luna. The woman whose touch had carved itself into his soul, whose breathy moans still echoed in the corners of his memory.

He allowed himself to be touched because he needed to. Because the weight of the crown pressed so hard against his shoulders, and somewhere beneath that crushing pressure was the broken truth: the kingdom came before his heart.

Seliora stepped back just enough to let her robe slip from her shoulders, revealing her naked form. Her movements were fluid, practiced; centuries of seduction woven into each gesture. She was graceful, beautiful in the sharp, regal way of nobility. And yet... Damien felt nothing but a dull ache where desire should have bloomed.

She got to her knees, hands firm on his waist, and tugged his pants halfway down. Her touch was deft, skilled. He remembered the days when that same touch had stirred fire in him, when he’d responded out of want, not duty. But tonight, there was no fire. No passion. Just muscle memory and responsibility.

She kissed him tenderly. A gesture that once would have meant something, now only served to deepen the chasm between what he was doing... and who he truly wanted.

He wasn’t aroused not truly. But Seliora was centuries old. She had taken kings and generals to bed, read their weaknesses, and learned to conjure desire from thin air. She knew how to work a man’s body, even if she couldn’t reach his heart.

To Damien, it felt like watching himself from the outside. Seliora moved with precision and grace. But in his mind, she was gone. Replaced. He saw Luna; naked, proud, vulnerable. The image of her, standing before him just minutes ago, skin glowing.

He should have stayed with her.

He should never have left.

But he had. And now, here he was, performing his duty. Doing what was expected. What was required.

He fisted his hand in Seliora’s hair, helping her along as her lips wrapped around him, pleasuring him.

And through it all, he whispered her name in his mind.

Luna.

Always Luna.

He jerked her up, placing her on her vanity table with pent-up frustration and obligation. The table creaked in protest. Seliora looked up at him with glinting triumph in her eyes, mistaking his determination for dominance, mistaking his control for desire.

He slid himself inside her with a grunt, his body reacting despite his heart screaming in protest. The contact sent a tremor through her, one she welcomed. Her eyes fluttered, her toes curled involuntarily, and she threw her head back against the mirror behind her.

"Uh...your highness!" she moaned.

Damien didn’t react. He braced his hand against the mirror behind her, face rigid and far away. It wasn’t her voice in his ear, it was Luna’s. His every movement was mechanical, practiced. He’d done this before so many times before. But now it felt like betraying not just Luna, but himself.

He told himself it needed to be quick. The goal wasn’t pleasure, it was procreation. His cock was simply a biological tool. But that didn’t stop the rush of sensation from hitting him, not after having been a damn monk since Luna came into his life. Since the moment he saw her, the mere idea of being with anyone else had made his skin crawl.

Now, here he was. Biologically helpless. Cursing himself with every slow thrust. He hated that it felt good, physically at least. Hated that he could betray the woman he truly loved just because his damn body still functioned.

He grunted twice, sharp, restrained sounds of someone trying to finish something without feeling it and felt the inevitable build-up reach its crest. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

He stopped. Just for a second. Shut his eyes tightly.

Let yourself feel it, he told himself bitterly.

He allowed the wave to pass through him.

When he opened his eyes, Seliora was watching him with poorly disguised disappointment. She might have gotten what she asked for, but it hadn’t come wrapped in passion.

It was over.

She knew it.

He knew it.

Seliora might have won the night, but she hadn’t won the man.

And she knew better than to say it out loud.

*****

Luna knew the moment Damien returned.

She didn’t need to hear his footsteps to know. She felt it in her bones. Her body recognized the subtle change in the air pressure, the slight disturbance in the bond they shared, one she had once refused to acknowledge.

Without hesitation, she leapt from her bed. Her nightgown brushed her thighs as she moved quickly to the door. She turned the key in the lock, sealing herself in and her heart away from him.