Thread: Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity (Findarato and Lemon)

Gradually Zlatan's hands lessened their pressure on her. There was no point, he could not truly harm her. He would give her this child, and that would be that. It would forever be etched in his memory as a bad one, and whatever struggles they had against the humans now, they could do it without him. They had lost his trust. The hard gaze upon her was permanent, however, almost taunting her to do something, to slap him, give him any reason to put her in her place, in front of all of those in attendance. The ceremony did not require a kiss, only the drinking of liquids from a decorative chalice. Zlatan was thankful for that much at least. He had a few married friends, who had told him that the liquid made you ridiculously horny, but Zlatan refused to believe it. Nothing in the world would make him aroused near this woman, this bat thing. Most newly weds, he figured, were already aroused enough. The liquid just made you think you were. Once Venessa had taken her share, one of the priests extended another goblet towards Zlatan. Zlatan held it with both hands, lifted it up to his mouth, and drank. He had planned not to drink much of it, to show some sense of defiance... but it tasted so damn good to him. He drank greedily, gulp after gulp, raising it higher and higher to get every last drop. Some of it spilled onto his lip, and when he had finished and handed it back, his tongue flicked out, and licked the remainder of it from his lip. And that was that. Soon they would be ushered out, to a car, to be driven off somewhere to have their honeymoon to make sure they completely their duty. Zlatan waited, listening to the priests, they were blabbering on about some non-sense of how special and sacred it was. Zlatan slipped a ring onto her finger when prompted. It was one made of silver, with a small diamond on the top that glittered like a star. It would be over any moment now. Zlatan blinked. Had he just heard right? One of the priests just mentioned with a kiss, they would be husband and wife. No no no.. he was not going to do this. Zlatan almost laughed, before he looked up. A few paces behind Venessa, was his father. A glare pierced his soul, and Zlatan knew what he must do. He stepped forward, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. His eyes closed as he leaned in, his lips pressing against her own. It was surprisingly soft at first, mainly because Zlatan wanted minimal contact with her. His hand had been clasped at her cheek that faced the audience, so they could not examine the kiss more thoroughly. Another moment passed and Zlatan's lips parted, kissing at her lower lip a few times, before he reeled back, in horror, blinking at her. Why had he done that? He did not remember much after that. There was cheering. Hands guided them down the stairs, out of the castle, towards a limo. Venessa got inside, and Zlatan followed. All he could think about was why he had even kissed her like that. He had intended to bite her lip, to make it bleed, to let her know she was not going to have a good time tonight, but at the contact of her skin, he had realized how soft she was, and how she tasted so well. Perhaps the drink he had stuffed down his throat actually had some effect on his body, because he found himself wanting to kiss her more. He hated himself for it, but it was undeniable. His body was growing warm as he sat next to her, staring at her, trying to maintain his distance.