The cottage was quiet again, its lanterns flickering softly against the wood, though the silence carried a weight neither of them could ignore. The training grounds still rang in Lexi's bones — Derek's strength, his vow, the ruthless clash that had nearly consumed them both.
She entered first, her steps measured, though her breath betrayed her. She forced herself to appear unbothered, every sway of her hips deliberate. Yet her chest still rose sharply, her veins humming with the memory of his blade pressed against his own heart.
Derek followed, soundless, his shadow stretching long behind her. He closed the door without being told, the heavy thud echoing like a heartbeat. Then he simply stood, as he always did — still, silent, a sentinel carved from steel.
But Lexi could feel him now.
Not just watching. Not just existing.
Burning.
Her smirk flickered across her lips, fragile but sharp. She turned, eyes dragging over him, searching for cracks. "You nearly killed yourself out there," she murmured, voice low, teasing, though the tremor in her throat betrayed more than she wished.
Derek's eyes lifted to hers, steady, molten. "I only care about you."
The words coiled around her again, heavy chains and intoxicating promise. Her smirk faltered. She stepped closer, closing the space between them until her breath mingled with his.
"You'd really die for me." It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Derek said simply, unflinching.
Her fingers grazed his chest, feeling the solid heat beneath. His heart thudded, steady and strong, not even quickened by her touch. His restraint infuriated her. Thrilled her.
"And if I said I wanted something else?" Her nails dragged faintly across his skin through the thin fabric of his tunic. "If I commanded more than death?"
His gaze didn't flicker, didn't stray. "Then I would give it. Whatever you desire."
The air tightened. Lexi's smirk returned, though shakier, sharper. "Then kiss me. Not like last night. Not like a soldier following orders. Kiss me like you mean it."
For a moment, he was still.
Then Derek moved.
It wasn't hesitation this time. His hands rose, large and unyielding, grasping her waist with a reverence that felt almost cruel in its control. His lips descended onto hers — firm, consuming, precise.
Lexi gasped against his mouth. This wasn't obedience. This wasn't mimicry. This was him.
The kiss burned, steady and overwhelming, his control absolute even as her body trembled. His hands tightened, not enough to hurt but enough to bind her to him, to remind her that there was no escape from this storm.
Her nails dug into his chest, desperate to anchor herself. His lips pressed deeper, his breath hot, his intensity unrelenting.
For the first time, Lexi felt control slipping from her hands.
She fought it at first, tried to hold onto her smirk, her dominance. She kissed him back with fire, biting at his lips, dragging him closer with sharp tugs of his tunic. She whispered taunts between breaths, trying to regain control.
But Derek never faltered.
Every movement was deliberate, restrained, powerful. He didn't lose himself in her — he consumed her. His kisses weren't wild; they were precise, each one a strike, a claim, a vow pressed into her very skin.
When she tried to twist free, his arms caged her in, pressing her back against the wall. Her breath hitched as the wood cooled her spine, his heat overwhelming her front. His body loomed over hers, close enough to drown her, yet he held back, never crushing, never taking more than she could endure.
His restraint made her weaker than any violence could.
Her lips parted on a shaky breath. "Derek…"
His forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged but steady, his gaze molten as it bore into her. "You told me to please you, Mistress," he murmured, voice low, rough with intensity. "This is how."
And he kissed her again.
Her strength bled from her limbs. Her hands, once gripping his chest with defiance, slid up to clutch his shoulders instead, holding on. Her knees weakened, her body trembling under his unrelenting calm, his consuming focus.
Every brush of his lips told her she was his law. Every press of his hand reminded her he could shatter her in an instant — and chose not to.
The contradiction destroyed her composure.
She tilted her head back, lips parting as his mouth trailed along her jaw, his breath searing against her skin. Her smirk was gone now, replaced by something raw, unguarded.
Her eyes blurred from trembling too much.
"Why…" Her voice cracked, softer than she meant. "…why do you hold back?"
Derek's mouth hovered against her ear, his words a vow etched into her very bones. "Because hurting you would mean betraying everything I am. I will never harm you, Mistress. Never. Even if you command it."
Her breath stuttered. Her body gave in. She sagged against him, strength drained not by exhaustion but by the weight of his intensity.
For once, she had no control.
Derek lifted her effortlessly, his hands steady, his movements careful despite the power coiled in every line of him. He laid her gently onto the edge of the bed, but even then, he didn't let go. His body hovered above hers, caging her in with heat and restraint.
His lips found hers again, slower this time, deeper, each kiss a mark of loyalty, each caress a declaration. His control didn't waver, even as her hands clawed at him, even as her lips sought more.
Lexi trembled beneath him, her composure stripped bare. She had never felt small before, so powerless. Yet under Derek's unwavering intensity, she lost all strength — and she didn't hate it.
She gasped when he finally pulled back, his gaze burning down at her. Her lips were moist and swollen, her breath uneven. She smirked weakly, though it trembled. "You're supposed to be my puppet."
"I am," Derek said softly, his voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "But even a puppet learns to move better, to hold tighter, if it means serving you more completely."
Her chest rose sharply. His words clawed at something deep, something dangerous inside her. She turned her head, hiding the faint tremble of her lips behind a smirk. "Careful, Derek. You might make me believe you're more than that."
His hand brushed her cheek, his touch impossibly gentle for the power it held. His gaze never wavered. "I am only what you need me to be, Mistress. Nothing more. Nothing less."
She trembled again, though she disguised it with a scoff. "Then keep proving it."
His lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, but something that carried the weight of eternity. "Always."
And when he kissed her again, she surrendered — trembling, weak, but burning with a dangerous thrill that told her she would never be the same again.