Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Whoa, you’re sensitive.” Lucien said, long fingers rubbing the soft fluffy ears attached to Cassian’s head while the elf wiggled in protest. He’s sitting halfway across the vampire’s lap, hands bound uselessly behind him.

“S-stop it!” Cassian grunted, though it came out more breathy than he intended. This didn’t deter Lucien in his ministry.

“He’s pretty like this.” Gale says, indicating Cass with a jut of his chin. The captain is standing a couple steps away from the pile on the bed, but his eyes are closely following every move he makes. Appraising him. Waiting to pounce. 

Rosco snorts from his position behind Cassian. “He’s always pretty, bro. It’s unfair.” He says, but there is no real heat behind it. If anything, he becomes more intent in his petting.

Cassian is sure that he’ll turn into a puddle of goo any moment now. Warm hands are enclosing him, rubbing sensitive parts of him, and another set of hands is going through his hair, stroking his sensitive bunny ears relentlessly.

A hand on his chin snaps Cassian’s attention back to the surface. “Zanny…” He pleads, low and slightly desperate for something he can’t even articulate for.

“A white bunny,” Zanny starts, amusement thick in his decadent voice. “A symbol of pure innocence…” He trails off, a thumb rubbing the underside of the elf’s jaw. 

Cassian’s head tilted accordingly, following the sensation. 

Hot air touches his ear, the pointy elf one, and the seductive voice speaks again. “But also known for their crazy sex drive.” Zanny whispers scandalously before biting his ear gently between his teeth. 

Cassian jerks and wiggles in response, an involuntary gasp leaves his mouth unbidden as hands prevent him from moving around. He finds himself breathing heavily, mind spinning from the numerous sensation across his body. 

“And we are going to take care of you, darling.” The incubus whispers, magic oozing steadily as he whispers straight to the bunny ear this time, and Cassian is gone. 

The hands move simultaneously, seemingly spurred by the declarations and Cassian holds his breath.

It’s starting.

Chapter Text

Money, pleasure, and beauty.

Those are Gale Galleon’s top three of the things that he loves. 

And he can admit this easily, but Cassian is truly something unfathomable. Elven that he is, his beauty is ethereal, out of this world, and so violently inhuman. 

Thick, silver lashes brush his cheeks, hiding golden irises underneath. He paints a beautiful picture, but Gale’s limited mortal mind can only settle on: “Pretty.”

“Hm? Did you say something?” The object of his musing asks.

Oh, shi– Inside thoughts! 

“Nasty! I said you’re nasty.” Gale replies, he’s aware of the way his volume climbs up as he clambers on to hide his mistake. Crap.

Cassian raises a judgy eyebrow. “...I’m nasty because I drink tea?” He asks slowly, tilting the cup that’s hanging delicately between his fingers. The content sloshes the tiniest bit but not dripping through the rim.

“Yeah! Precisely. Coffee only in the mornings, dude.” Great, Gale doesn’t even have to make an excuse because Cass here has it out and ready for him to use. He laughs boisterously, grabbing his own mug filled with coffee.

“We are not fighting over beverages first thing in the morning.” Another voice, notably sleepier than Cass, mutters from behind them. 

The kitchen is flooded with morning sunlight, but Lucien defies even the supposed nature of his kind. The vampire trudges in, unafraid of the light. He’s wearing a dark sweater and soft pants, evidently just woken up. He has no problem slipping behind Cass, who’s seating next to Gale on the couch, and drops an affectionate kiss on top of the elf’s head.

That draws Gale’s attention back into Cass. It’s fascinating, he thinks. The dash of black hair braided into Cass’ silver locks, not unlike Luci’s own silver bangs in his sea of jet black hair. 

Soulmates, they called it. Something something about immortality and living a damn long time and finding each other in the midst of it. 

Gale is not sure if he should feel awe and reverent, or balks with jealousy at the concept of your destined person. 

He settles on watching them, content to let the morning work its way to noon.