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HELL’S KING 🔥🔞

@hellkingofficial

Any ladies down to collab in Ketterdam? Looking for the princess to my barbarian for a private project😈 Serious inquiries only through my page🔥

Matthias reread his tweet and scrolled down his mentions for a few minutes; there were mostly mentions from women telling him how much they liked his videos and how they couldn’t wait to watch his next one.

He smiled. His page had been doing really good the past few months; so good he had even got sponsors willing to pay if he advertised their products, which allowed him to quit his day-job and film videos for his page full-time. It wasn’t the life he had wished for himself; in fact, he had only started filming videos so he could pay off his debts when he couldn’t find another job. And then, he started filming more and more until his following grew a considerable amount and his viewers kept requesting new videos. It had happened overnight and he still wasn’t used to his new lifestyle, nor did he really know whether he truly enjoyed it; he just knew it was his job for the time being and, like any other, he needed to work hard creating content so he could eventually move onto other things.

Things had really taken off for him, though, when he added the option to request personalised private videos. It started when he received an anonymous request that offered a great sum of money if he’d send a private video of himself putting lotion all over his chest. Just that and he’d earn seven hundred kruge. He was in a rough moment and needed to pay his overdue bills, so he’d accepted; and with that, the real business had started.

This time, it was slightly different; he had received a private request that asked for a video of him “roleplaying the princess and the barbarian story”, but with one added detail: the message explicitly asked for no sex. Just the scene. And he’d not only been offered twenty thousand kruge for a twenty-minute video, but he’d been paid a portion of that in advance.

It was the opportunity of a lifetime; he’d be paid enough money to move out from Kerch and become a film director, which was his dream all along. And the request allowed him to produce a short film he could actually be proud of; he had enough money to really bring his vision to life, and he was elated to be able to prove his worth to himself (and even to whoever was on the other side of that screen). He’d accepted right away and the search had begun.

He closed Twitter and opened his e-mail account: he had tweeted less than an hour ago and had nearly fifty offers already. He spent the following hour reading all the messages he’d received, seeing if he knew any of them or they sparked his interest; so far, no luck.

But then, he stumbled upon a name that caught his eye:

Corpsewitch.

He’d heard of her; of course he had. Everyone with an Internet connection had heard of her. She was highly requested by men and women all over Ketterdam; nobody who hadn’t booked an appointment with her knew exactly what happened behind the four walls of her velvet-covered room, but news travelled fast and soon she became the woman you could count on to play out your deepest, darkest fantasies. She kept her business in the shadows and had her ways to make sure no one spoke of what happened privately; Matthias didn’t know whether it was a rumour or the truth, but people whispered of a shadow that ran over Ketterdam’s rooftops soundlessly and could get into any room, no matter how secure. “The Wraith”, they called the shadow; whether it was real or not, it certainly worked, for nobody knew anything about her other than her fees and where to find her: The Little Palace, as the sign on the entrance read, a discreet house near West Stave that only let in select people who were willing to pay the amount of money necessary for her services.

Matthias was equal parts curious and a bit scared; if there was one thing Corpsewitch had never done was show herself on camera, let alone film an entire video. His first thought was that it had to be a fake, someone trying to impersonate her to try to get his attention; that would explain it. But something in him was screaming “What if it’s actually her?” and he couldn’t shake the idea off his head.

With a gulp, he opened the e-mail:

From: <[email protected]>

Re: Business inquiry

Hello there,

I’m Corpsewitch. I was sent the tweet you posted earlier (see attached) by a friend; I’ve been following your content and I think we could help each other. I’ve been wanting to expand my business to other countries, and I think the exposure on your social media accounts could help me achieve my goal.

Let me know if you’d like to collaborate. My schedule can be freed if it need be.

Best regards,

CW ☠

Matthias couldn’t believe his eyes; he went to her webpage to double check, but it was unmistakeable; the address on her page was the same one as the one he’d just received an e-mail from. It really was her. And she wanted to film a video with him.

It was an offer he couldn’t reject; he could already see the amount of interest it’d spark and how much money he would be able to make with that. Maybe he’d even make enough money to quit making videos and follow his true dream.

With trembling hands and excitement rising in his chest, he pressed “Reply” and started typing.

***

Matthias had to repress the urge to gulp down as he saw Corpsewitch entering the room; even though he couldn’t see her entirely because she was wearing a cape that hid what she was wearing underneath, the black, thigh-high leather boots, the whip on her hand and her signature headpiece (a black mask lined with lace, accompanied by black, gilded feathers) was enough to make him stop breathing for a second.

“Ready to begin?” she asked, her voice soft, unlike everything else about her.

They’d already talked about it; she’d suggested a little twist on the original tale (which Matthias was surprised to find out she knew; she’d told him she was Ravkan and had heard of those stories growing up, as had he, with the difference that he was Fjerdan and had heard slightly different things about it): as they both knew, the story told the tale of a Ravkan princess and a Fjerdan soldier who captured her (“babink” she’d called him; “barbarian”. Matthias’s version of the story differed) and they ended up falling in love (and doing some other things in his cave that would definitely help his and Corpsewitch’s narrative). She had suggested an alternate version: “What if the princess got freed of her chains and decided to punish the barbar… the Fjerdan?”. Matthias had been hesitant to accept; he thought it could definitely work (and he had got lots of comments saying how his followers would love to see him be more… submissive), but he wasn’t used to being commanded. He was normally the one who led, the one who punished.

But he also knew that this was his chance to make something closer to the content he’d always wanted to create; letting her take the lead was just another step forward in that direction and it would definitely challenge him to step out of his comfort zone. He’d accepted; and when she’d asked him what he was willing to do, how far was she allowed to take things, he’d just looked her in her green eyes and said: “However far you want to take it”. They’d decided on a safe word (“green” if they were comfortable, “red” if either needed the other to stop) and all was settled.

 “Let’s do it,” he replied, setting his camera up.

She headed straight towards one of the two chairs in the middle of the room and took off her cape; Matthias watched her from his camera’s screen, which he was still setting up. She unveiled her undergarments; she was wearing a red dress that was meant to look torn apart, leaving huge portions of her skin uncovered. She wore a harness on top of that, that highlighted every curve on her body, the outline of her breasts, her skin deliciously escaping the straps; she set her whip behind the other chair, the one Matthias would be seated in, and proceeded to grab the ropes that would be binding her legs and wrists together.

Matthias forced himself to stop pretending he was setting his camera up and proceeded to get ready; she was an overwhelming woman, all around. If he didn’t force himself to look away, they’d be there all day long.

For a moment, the girl sitting on the chair forgot who she was supposed to be and almost slammed her boot against the floor; for the briefest instant she wasn’t Corpsewitch, the most requested dominatrix in The Barrel: she was Nina Zenik, the annoyed girl who was fumbling with the straps near her waist. She looked up and was about to ask the man for help when she had to swallow her words. He was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, his Fjerdan fur coat abandoned on a chair nearby, and was carefully applying oil to his body; the upper part of his torso was already shining under the lights he had set for the scene, and he was sliding his oily fingers across his abs, which flexed under his cold touch. He was doing so carefully, slowly, reaching every pore until they reflected the white light; he lowered his hands towards his lower abdominal muscles, which formed a deep “V” that disappeared into his trousers, and he made sure to draw over them with his fingers. Nina could see the look of concentration on his face as he unclasped his belt and lowered his pants slightly so he could reach the tender skin before the elastic of his tight boxers; he was told he’d be able to post a small part of the video and had received a request to promote a new line of Kerch underwear.

Nina looked up from his pants, snapping out of her daze, only for her eyes to meet with his on the mirror’s reflection; when he realised she was looking at his face again, he smiled. Nina looked away quickly and decided she wouldn’t ask him for help after all.

“Get a grip of yourself, Zenik,” she thought, scolding herself. She’d had hot clients before and she’d stayed professional; this was all it was, another client. Work. Professionalism.

She inhaled deeply. Why was she finding it so hard to remember she was working?

“So,” Matthias spoke, clearing his throat. “Are we ready?”

Nina looked up and his face had cleared of any trace of a smile; good. She sat straighter against the back of her wooden chair, as he placed his fur coat over his shoulders and slid off his pants. That was at least familiar terrain, men in their underwear; she only had to picture him as one of the pathetic, old, wealthy men that came to her asking to be put on a leash and walked around the house like a dog or wanting her to make them cry. That’d make it easier.

She pointed towards the ropes that were resting at her feet: “I just need you to tie me up and you can start recording.”

She even felt weird saying that sentence; she had to remind herself she wouldn’t actually be tied up the whole time, it’d just be the first few minutes of the video. She’d be fine.

He kneeled in front of her and grabbed the ropes; Nina could only see the top of his head as he untangled them. She almost put her leg over his shoulder as a reflex; she then remembered she was supposed to stay still for once.

“Could you please lift up your hips for me for a second?” he asked, as he tried to get the ropes behind her back so her wrists would be bound to the chair.

She did as she was asked and he slid the ropes behind her back; he then grabbed both her wrists in one of his hands and tied a tight knot with the other. Nina and the Corpsewitch were fighting an internal battle: the Corpsewitch hated being bound; she was always in control and her job was to be in command. Nina, on the other hand, wanted this tall, blond man to touch her while he was tying the ropes. She knew it wasn’t professional, and she was so confused as to what was happening to her; she’d never confused work with pleasure before. She knew her boundaries and she made sure to make them clear to all her clients, as well; but she couldn’t help herself. And, she remembered, he wasn’t one of her clients either.

The man then moved onto her ankles; he grabbed the rope and looped it around her boots, tying it tightly enough that it wouldn’t fall out in the middle of their scene but it would still allow her to break free easily. She could see his biceps flexing each time he adjusted the knots and the muscles on his broad back working on the ropes; he was close enough she could see the goosebumps that covered his skin, the holes on his earlobes that bore no earrings, the moles that covered his back.

He suddenly looked up; he was on his knees in front of her, his hands no longer tying the ropes, just looking up as if he was mesmerised. Nina’s heart started beating faster as she recognised the desire in his gaze; there wasn’t fear, as she was used to seeing. For a moment, she forgot he didn’t even know her name; it seemed as if he was looking at the woman behind the leather, at Nina and not the Corpsewitch.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll start recording then.”

Nina took a deep breath for the second time that night and seriously thought of leaving and coming some other day; there must’ve been something wrong with her. She needed to focus and remember he was looking at the Corpsewitch; of course he wanted her. Everyone did. It was the person she had made up for herself, the one that kept the real Nina buried deep down. It was her job to be desired and feared.

She focused back on her surroundings; his finger was over the camera’s “on” button and he was looking at her, waiting for her to signal him. She nodded; he pressed the button and got in character.

“So this is Ravka’s best… their little princess,” he said, walking threateningly towards her.

Nina looked at him with a hatred-filled glare: “Release me right now.”

“What if I don’t? What will you do about it? Your knights and guards won’t save you here, princess.”

Nina spat on the floor, near his feet; he looked down and then, back up with a devilish grin: “Oh, you’re bold. And here I was, thinking you were a poor little rich bitch.”

“Come closer and say that to my face, babink. When my father finds you, there will be just enough of you to feed our dogs with.”

“I’d love to see him try.”

He finally stopped before her and sat on the chair set opposite hers; he leant forward, his elbows resting on his knees, close enough for her to see herself reflecting in the blue of his eyes.

“You think this cave of yours can contain me?” she spat, leaning forward as much as her ropes allowed her. “You sealed your doom when you captured me.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to threaten me,” he said, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at him. “I’m not scared of a princess.”

“You should be,” Nina whispered.

She locked both her feet behind the chair’s front legs and used them to push her own chair forward. He jumped back in rehearsed surprise; she had managed to unbound her ankles from the ropes, that were now laying uselessly next to her chair. She didn’t waste another minute and lifted her legs, one on each side of his body, using her calves to keep his arms secured against his own body and locking her feet together behind the back of his chair; she took advantage of her strong grip and pushed herself forward, landing on his lap. She bent backwards slightly, grabbing the loose rope she had managed to free her legs of, and managed to slide it between her bound wrists and grabbed both ends with each of her hands. She began moving her hands in quick, up-and-down motions, using the friction between the two pieces of rope to break the one that was still bounding her arms together.

“Drüsje,” he spat, glaring at her. “I’ll make you regret tying me up.”

Nina ignored the rush she felt when she heard him speak in Fjerdan; she kept moving her wrists, looking straight at him. Matthias had to keep his own eyes from looking down at the way her breasts were jumping with each of her movements, too dangerously close to his face.

“By the time I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left to regret,” she replied.

She finally got freed of her ropes, letting them fall behind her body. She got up from his lap and cast a quick glance at him; he was still in character, his eyes bearing a murderous look, but his body spoke a different story. His grey underwear was light enough for her to be able to see his bulge, which was bigger than she had initially thought; she turned around to grab the other portion of rope and keep her eyes away from his body.

She bound his ankles together just as he had done with hers and then, grabbed her black whip from behind his chair. She walked in front of him, dragging it behind her, and she cracked it harshly against the floor; the snap echoed on the almost empty room.

The man pretended to struggle against the ropes. “Where did you learn to tie knots like this, princess?”

“In the same place where I learnt how to do this,” she replied, as she whipped his leg.

She tried to do it as carefully yet believably as she could manage; it still made a painful sound when it came in contact with his skin. He clenched his jaw and his chest seemed to broaden; Nina feared he would break free on accident, but luckily the knot held. She walked towards him, her heels clicking against the concrete, and grabbed a handful of his hair, roughly making him look up at her.

He mouthed “green” almost imperceptibly; she barely nodded and moved her hand down to his throat.

“You’ve held me captive here for weeks; you didn’t think I’d go easy on you now, did you?” she whispered, loud enough for the camera to hear.

“So much shit coming from that pretty, little mouth,” he replied. “Free me and we’ll see how you waltz.”

She slapped him; again, she tried to be as gentle as she could, but the outline of her hand was drawn on a reddish tint on his cheek. He smiled, as if he was enjoying the pain.

“Shut the fuck up,” she spoke again, looking into his eyes.

“Green”, again. She didn’t think he’d make it that long.

“I’ll shut you up,” he replied, edging his face dangerously close to hers.

She let go of his throat, only to caress his face with her whip: “Don’t Fjerdans know when to give up?”

“Do all Ravkan princesses know how to tie such tight knots and how to properly use a whip?”

“Just me,” she replied, this time whipping the side of his chest.

They carried on the rest of the scene, delivering the lines they had practised and performing the torturous fantasy they had outlined the day before. Each time Nina thought she’d grabbed too harshly or whipped too hard, she was met with his resolved gaze and his mouth whispering “green”. She wasn’t used to doing things gently; it wasn’t her job to hold back. She had to constantly remind herself this was for a video and that the man before her wasn’t there to be humiliated or bossed around, but they were both actors of a rehearsed fiction. He played his part beautifully, the tension between his hatred and his desire clear in his words, making a game of it. By the time the scene was supposed to be ending, they were both panting and sweating.

Nina’s heel was on his leg, forcing his head to be against her knee, as if he was using her as a pillow.

“I won’t rest until I find you again,” he growled.

That was his last line and her queue to leave the scene: “Until we meet again, babink.”

She walked out of the scene, smiling wickedly, until she was behind the camera and could press the button to stop recording; it had gone exactly as they had planned. For a moment, they both stayed silent, panting, trying to calm down after the strenuous work they had just done. Nina looked at him; his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping, his hands still bound behind his back and his chest rising and falling heavily.

That’s when she realised there was blood on the side of his chest.

She quickly walked towards him and he opened his eyes at the sound of her heels clicking; he followed the direction of her gaze and saw the small gash right over his ribs, where she had whipped him a few minutes before.

“Oh, I hadn’t even realised,” he whispered, still looking at the blood dripping from his wound. “Don’t worry, I can’t even feel it.”

He struggled against the ropes, but Nina’s voice stopped him: “Let me.”

He looked at her with confusion and saw the piece of fabric she was holding.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing.”

“Please.”

He stopped talking when he heard that word. He only nodded and she took it as a sign to come closer. Nina carefully wiped the trail of blood and made her way up, towards the wound; it had stopped bleeding profusely, but the cloth still turned a dark shade of red when she wiped over it. He winced.

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I’m not used to holding back.”

“It was good,” he replied, looking at her, his pupils dilated. “I liked it. The video will turn out great.”

She looked back at him and then, realised he was bruising on the side of his neck, too. She immediately walked the three steps that separated them from the fridge and grabbed a pack of ice, walking back to him.

“May I?” she asked, pointing her head towards the ice she had just grabbed.

He nodded again. She stood awkwardly next to him as she applied the ice on the bruised area; he was just looking at her, in awe.

“What?” she asked when she realised he was staring.

“Nothing. This is just… not what I had expected.”

Nina snorted. “I’m a normal woman outside of who I am at work, you know. We’re business partners, you’re not my client.”

“I know,” he simply said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

Nina shifted her weight on her other leg and he realised she was uncomfortable.

“You can… sit if you’ll be more comfortable,” he suggested.

Nina looked at the other chair in the room, which lay on the floor, forgotten and with a broken leg. She looked back at him and was about to tell him she couldn’t sit on a broken chair when their eyes met; the blue in his was almost gone, the black of his pupils taking over. She felt her own heart beating faster with longing; she recognised the same feeling in his.

She sat on his lap, unannounced. She held the ice to his neck but could feel his eyes on her; he wanted her. He didn’t only want the Corpsewitch; he wanted her, Nina Zenik, the girl that was tending to the wounds she herself had inflicted upon him.

And she wanted him; not Hellking, not the man she’d seen on his videos. She wanted the man that was looking at her as if he had been walking through the desert for days and she was the first gulp of fresh water.

He dared to look into his eyes and they both started breathing faster; Nina’s other hand went to the last trace of blood on his lip and wiped it off, lingering, outlining it with her thumb. He seemed to have stopped breathing; it was only her, his skin under her touch and their breaths, mixing together. They locked eyes again and he looked down at her lips; Nina knew what she wanted, and she knew he did too.

She let go of the ice pack and crashed her lips against his; he’d been expecting her and he welcomingly opened his mouth, biting her lip. Nina sighed and only broke the kiss to move her leg, straddling him; she moved her body closer to his, sitting near his bulge, and he released a low moan. His hands were still tightly bound together and her hands travelled quickly to the back of his hair, her fingers tangling between his blond mane. She felt his biceps flex and with one sudden movement, he had broken the ropes that were still holding him and his hands immediately went to her hips, pressing him down on her, grabbing her tender skin and moving upwards. He was tugging at her already torn dress, trying to take it off her body, but the straps of her harness were keeping him from achieving his goal; with strength Nina didn’t know he had, he grabbed it by its centre and snapped one of the straps in half, making it easier to take if off her body and reaching the red fabric that was clinging to her chest. She let out a low whine, which was quickly replaced by a moan when he slipped his hands into her dress and started massaging her breasts.

She suddenly jerked away and he stopped moving, his hungry eyes looking at her, his swollen lips open mid-breath.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, breathlessly.

“I don’t want you to be my business partner right now,” she said, bluntly. “I need to know who the man you became after I turned off the camera is.”

He looked at her for a brief moment and replied: “Matthias.”

“Nina,” she answered back.

“Now that the formalities are out of the way,” he whispered, “will you please, for all the Saints, let me fuck you?”

Nina didn’t even answer; she just smiled and went in for another kiss, her lips hungry for his. Matthias’s.

His hands were on her breasts again, even more desperately; Nina sat directly on top of his bulge and began grinding against him, urgently, trying to find the pace that would make them both enjoy themselves. Matthias’s left hand fingers found her nipple and began stimulating it, making her hard under his touch and encouraging her to move even faster on top of him. He let out a low moan and moved his hand to her back, pressing hard against her skin and moving his fingers down her spine, towards the curve of her ass; he used his other hand to tear off the remaining of her dress, roughly, and kissing his way up from the middle of her stomach towards her right breast. He licked the portion of skin that connected her breast with her chest and all the way up to her nipple, which he gently bit; Nina moaned louder and pressed even harder down on him, feeling the wetness soaking her underwear and him growing harder under her. Matthias kept licking, sucking and biting on her breast until Nina moved at a pace that made the both of them close their eyes in pleasure; he grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her down, towards him, kissing and biting her throat, until he couldn’t take it anymore and with one single move, grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her on his arms, searching for her mouth again. Nina locked her feet behind his back and pulled on his hair, pressing her body against his, still causing friction over his dick. Matthias walked blindly towards the bed, briefly holding her with only one hand so he could clear it and set her down. He placed her against his pillows and set himself between her legs, his mouth back on hers; Nina pulled his hair and forced him to move his head so she could reach his neck easily, kissing and biting all the way up to his earlobe.

Matthias couldn’t take it any longer; he needed to feel her melt under his touch. He roughly grabbed both her hands with one of his and guided them towards the bed’s head, pinning her wrists down behind her. She bit her lip and he kissed her again, and again, and again, his tongue tracing the outline of her plump lips and then moving down her neck. He let go of her hands, which she still held in place, and kissed down her breasts, her stomach and her inner thighs. He grabbed both her legs and placed them over his shoulders, biting the sensitive skin on the inner part of her legs; Nina held onto the sheets in anticipation. He grabbed her by her waist as he thrust his tongue into her. He savoured her whole as she moaned his name, which only made him move faster, travelling up to her clit, moving his tongue in slow, torturing, circular motions and in and out of her. Nina couldn’t keep her hands to herself and grabbed his hair, pulling, arching her back; he looked at her while he kept moving his tongue, watching her reactions, watching her coming undone because of him. He did so until she begged him to keep doing what he was doing and he kept a steady thrust. Nina’s moans filled the room and Matthias could do nothing but keep moving, his hands pressing deeper into her skin.

Nina’s arched back and the way her voice went a few tones higher told him she was on the verge of coming; when she finally did, he felt her grow hotter and savoured her entirely, tasting her like he’d taste a fine wine. He went back to her mouth and she kissed him, desperately.

He broke away. “Colour?”

At first, Nina didn’t understand; but then, realisation dawned on her. She licked her lips before answering: “Fucking green.”

He was about to crash his lips against hers again, but she got hold of his shoulders; she grabbed hard enough that her fingertips left red marks on his skin and she flipped him over, straddling him for the third time in the day. He held her in place by running his hands up and down the sides of her torso, his thumbs brushing over her breasts. Nina leant forward to kiss him, her chest crashing against his, her hand instinctively around his throat. With her other hand, she probed around the open drawer on his nightstand; she found what she was looking for.

“Put it on,” she commanded, handing him the condom, “but not just yet.”

She kissed down his chest and all the way to his underwear; she grabbed the elastic between her teeth and slowly outlined it, her wet lip leaving a trail on his skin.

“Fuck,” she heard Matthias whisper, and that was enough for her to lower his underwear, helping herself with her hands.

Once the fabric was out of the way, she grabbed his cock by its base, making slow movements, using her tongue to pleasure him too. She licked her way up to the tip, slowly drawing a circle around it with her tongue, making him grab the pillows; she put it into her mouth and moved her head up and down, her fingers working near the base, and Matthias grabbed her free hand and intertwined their fingers, letting out a stream of cussing under his breath. She moved her head faster and used her hand to help her mouth until he was groaning and telling her he was about to come.

She stopped. “Put it on. Now.”

“All the fucking Saints above,” he whimpered, but did as he was told quickly, desperately.

As soon as he had finished sliding his condom on, Nina settled himself on top of him, over his throbbing cock. She began lowering her body, carefully, as she felt him inside her and going deeper the more she came closer to his body; once she was comfortable, she started grinding on top of him, moving her hips up and down, left and right, carefully, his hands on her hips guiding her. She closed her eyes when she reached the spot that made her moan and started moving faster. Matthias suddenly turned her over and he was on top again; he set his elbows on either side of her and started thrusting deeper while Nina’s nails scratched his back, trying to hold onto him. They both closed their eyes, their breathing quickening, Nina’s arched back and Matthias’s steady thrusts telling the other they were both about to climax; she moaned “harder” and he obeyed and a few seconds later, almost at the same time, they both collapsed, Nina against the mattress and Matthias against her, panting hard, their bodies sticking together with sweat and their cheeks red like the sky they could see from the only window in the room.

Matthias rolled to his side and used his elbows to set himself on the pillows, his head next to Nina’s. He breathed in deeply and slid his hand around her waist, hesitantly, ready to pull back if she asked him to; Nina didn’t and turned to face him, coming closer to his body.

They both stayed in silence for a few minutes, trying to ease their breathing; Nina thought he had fallen asleep and was ready to silently get up, get dressed and leave his house.

“That was…” he spoke, the ending hanging in the air between them.

“Yeah,” she replied, knowingly.

“You’re…” he tried again, unable to finish his sentence.

“You have a way with words, I see.”

“Beautiful,” he blurted out, surprising her. “You’re beautiful.”

She looked up at him and he looked ashamed, as if he hadn’t expected to say those words; he had given her the best sex she’d had in her whole life and he had the nerve to look ashamed.

“I know,” she replied, smirking at him. “You’re not too bad, I guess.”

At that, he laughed with the last of his breath. It was a beautiful sound that lit up the whole room, and for a moment, Nina felt like herself, like the real her, like the happiest girl in the world who had just make a cute boy laugh.

“You’re overwhelming, Nina,” he said against her hair, kissing the top of her head. “Do you want breakfast?”

She hesitated; she looked out the window and noticed the sun shyly peeking behind the rooftops of the nearby houses. They had spent the whole night together, between the scene they’d recorded and what had happened afterwards.

And there he was, offering her breakfast. Ironic, she thought, how the man she’d least expected was the gentlest one. He’d seen the Corpsewitch, fucked the girl behind the mask and now he was offering to cook breakfast for Nina.

“That’d be nice,” she finally replied. “Do you have any waffles?”