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They broke up. Well, kind of. It’s not a big deal, Sparrow told himself that to sleep from the start of the fight, she would come around eventually. Well, actually, no, they would come back together eventually.
Except he’s missing her like a soldier missing his wife back home. Except she’s everything but his wife, lover, partner, all that stuff. And he hated that he had too much for the girl to let go of their damned relationship. And he knew she felt the same way. He hoped.
Sparrow dragged another smoke from his cigarette. This would be the end of his life someday. Not now, when he needed something to stay numb from the wave of unsorted thoughts. That’s the thing with him, he didn’t do feelings , especially, specifically with Duchess Swan, it’s like a death wish at some point and he’s not up for it. Except he did and next thing he knew, he wanted to throw up all those cheap, shitty beer and microwaved Chinese food. Get a grip, Sparrow.
Grinding the wasted butt under his heel, he reached for the second, intending to finish the whole pack that night, might end with another bottle of beer before hitting the couch. His crappy, nearly out-of-gas lighter flicked its flame pathetically on the fourth try. Sparrow tossed it aside after getting the nicotine into his system. Now he felt like shit when the idea of calling her crossed his mind. But phone was already in his hand with her contact on the screen, a press away from that tempting green button. She hasn’t blocked him. Yet. Probably because she was busy with the upcoming play all day and apparently, Sparrow was banned from the studio. Classic move. The clock ticked to 22:38. It’s still early for him, but too late for her beauty sleep. Best thing could have happened was that Duchess was already deep in slumber and worst thing was that she picked up and knew that he’s needing her. Sparrow could not afford to lose more faces when he’s high. His skin wasn’t as thick when they were in the Cold War.
He hit the button either way. Hoping for the best. Or the worst. At this point he didn’t give a fuck, never did, but Sparrow cared for the bitter princess too much to even considered leaving her alone. The waiting beeps sounded like torture as he finished the smoke. Then came the silence he feared before an annoyed “What?” went through. Not a hello, but a what, as if she has been expecting him.
“Miss me?”
“If you called just to get on my nerve again, then fuck off.”
He could feel her scowl and hiss from miles away.
“Are you home yet?”
“None of your business.”
So she’s at home right now. Huh. Sparrow hasn’t planned what to do with that information yet, in fact, he didn’t know what he was going to say if she picked up. Which she did and now his messed-up brain of nicotine and alcohol couldn’t progress any word. He has always been better at actions.
“…I’m coming over.”
It wasn’t an ask for permission, but a firsthand notice, much to her objection.
“Do not-“
He turned off the phone, shoving it back into his pocket. It would be rude to visit empty-handed, although for the son of Robin Hood, it’s never giving away, but stealing for him. He questioned how unusual he was acting because of Duchess. Fuck. No flower shop would open at this hour. Finally, after a minute of consideration, he ended up bringing the half-empty bottle of this expensive champagne he got for New Year, where, surprise, Duchess was also with him during the celebration. They could have finished it if it wasn’t for the marathon, if you catch his drift. Now that he thought of it, Duchess wasn’t a touchy person at all, let alone being horny, but she was different with him, to the point he deluded whether he had a special place in her heart or not. He hoped it was the second guess. Grabbing his car key, Sparrow made his way to the apartment’s parking lot.
—————
Their first time took place after Legacy Day, when Raven Queen rebelled against sacrificing herself to become trapped in the mirror prison forever after. The crowd grew wild. Chaos. Murmuring, crying, shouting, sighing of relief. And Sparrow wondered where Duchess fit between all of them. She has never been much of a Royal, much to her pride of being a Princess, he meant, what’s kind of Royal always scheming about stealing one’s destiny? What now? She could just, not sign the book. She could just abandon that doomed story and live her life as a living human. She could be with…anyone. Anyone, including him. Hm.
But Duchess Swan was difficult, stubborn and too prideful. She couldn’t dare to give up on the life she had been preparing for, couldn’t dare to face her grandmother’s eyes of disapproval. Sparrow never got it. Her only granddaughter was going to survive another day, avoid the betrayal and heartbreak of her Prince, being trapped in an animal body and losing her identity. Like her mother. No one would let their child turn into that. So why would she?
She called him in the middle of the night. Sobbing, gasping for air. On her way to his treehouse. Already waiting outside when he opened the door, looking lost and stranded. He let her in. Upon turning around, her underbust had already fallen to the floor. He blinked. Then off the top and the frilly tutu skirt. Until nothing is covering her frail figure but white pantyhose hugging toned legs. He gulped, staring at an intimate spot hidden behind her hand, while the other was on her chest. Her cheeks flushed red as she turned away.
“Sparrow…”
He swore to Grimm his dick never jolted that fast from just a name. His name. Walking to her, touching her body, rough hands in contrast to the milky, delicate skin with soft moans by his ears when he cupped her full breasts. God, she’s like an angel. His lips lingered by her slender neck, tasting the lavender and vanilla scent of her shampoo.
“Are you sure?”
She hugged him. The first time she actually hugged him. Duchess nodded, eyes shut tightly and buried her head to his chest. Body was shaky and cold from the dash through the forest earlier, so his arms wrapped around her, tightly, closer, gripping onto her bare back. Chin placed on her damp hair as he felt the tears burning on his skin.
—————
He stood outside the fancy apartment, opposed to his cramped studio. It’s not like he’s too broke to afford a proper one, he’s far from being out of money with the release of their latest album, Sparrow just thought it wasn’t necessary to own a big place when he lived alone.
“Go away.” He could sense her presence right behind the door. “I don’t want to see your face.” But he did. He did want to see what face she was making right now.
“I’m already here.”
“I didn’t invite you.”
Ouch.
“Do you remember who I am? A thief doesn't need any invitation to break into castles to steal.”
“…I fucking hate you.”
“You are the worst at lying to me, Swan. I might fool you, but you can’t deceive a Hood.”
Silence. She was considering it. He knew, of course, his bait had been working extra time since Next Top Villain after all. The door clicked open, appearing with her pissed off face and deathly glare. He held up the bottle.
She let him in.
“What the hell do you want?”
Her arms crossed in frustration, growling at how the man immediately flopped down her sofa too comfortably as if this was his home, arms on headset. You . He wished he could say that. Not yet.
“Can’t a guy visit his favorite girl?”
“Since when I’m your girl?”
“Since forever, duh.”
“Last time I checked, your favorite was your fans.” She rolled her eyes, walking to the kitchen, maybe to come back with a knife. He hoped that. Nope, just a glass of his champagne for herself.
“You know I’m not sleeping with any of them.”
“Why should I care who you are sleeping with?”
Because you were always like this, dumbass. He clicked his tongue. Acting like a jealous girlfriend even though they were far gone from that. Dating, he meant. It used to be how her fairytale didn’t allow her to be in love, then when she finally, finally made up her mind, it led them into a cycle of…whatever this was.
“Come on.“
“Don’t you ‘come on’ me.” Her face was right in front of him, angrily pointing to his chest with her sharp nail, and all he could think of was how adorable she was when she wanted to kill him. “Either you start acting like my-“ Duchess paused at the word he had been dreading for years. Blinked before she backed away, a pang of disappointment in his gut when the alluring scent of her Dior perfume faded off. Sparrow raised a brow.
“Like what?”
The quietness was edging him. He let out a sigh, rubbing his temple.
“Duchess.”
“What…?”
She hoarse. He didn’t like that. The girl had potential for screaming metal.
“Come ‘ere.”
“I don’t want your reek of smoke ass.”
She still came over. Sitting next to him, avoiding any kind of contact. Startling slightly when his palm was on her shoulder. But she didn’t shove him away, only letting his hot lips nudge on her nape, chomping down. Didn’t move. And Sparrow took that as a green light to continue, hands roaming all over her frame, stripping down her babydoll lingerie strap. Tease. She never wore this to sleep alone. This was their problem, of never talking it out and just going straight for sex. Either to make up or to let out their anger. Not that Sparrow minded any, though.
His throat dried when the top came right off, it did a poor job at covering her boobs anyway. One hand was up her dress while the other was playing with her tit simultaneously, groping and massaging, thumbing and flicking the nipples until it all poked and hardened up, puffy pink and milkable. Duchess wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and he grinned like a pervert, feeling his own face heat up. Slut.
It didn’t take him long to have her in his arms. A guitarist always had his way with fingers after all, and he’s proud of them, really, flattered even when he found out Duchess has been saving his performance videos for ‘personal use’. He smirked between the sloppy kiss, tongue prying its way into her mouth as his fingers slid in, stroking her inner wall, feeling it clenched down when he spread her wide, holding her closer as she arched away from his touch. Just a few curls onto that special spot, some rubs against her twitching clit, and Duchess’s breath was already ragged, tugging his leather jacket down as a loud moan escaped, her becoming a puddle of incomplete as she cummed on his hand. Head fell back. Whole body tingled. Sparrow smooched the tiny mole under her gaping mouth in a playful manner before picking her up, letting the satin fabric fall to the floor and carrying her to the bedroom. So light and easy.
—————
The wooden bed creaked. And creaked. And creaked. Two naked bodies intertwined on the thin mattress, and Sparrow kissed away her endless tears. From something. He hoped it wasn’t from the pain of having something thicker, longer than his fingers stretching her out. Blood has already dried up between the place where they were connected, so they have gone past the difficult work. Duchess was tight. So tight to the point it stopped being pleasurable to him, or to both of them as well. But God if he could complain with her hitching whenever he tried to move. Her grip on his back loosened slightly when his lips danced on her sweaty, heated skin. Wasn’t that gross? Unhygienic? But again, both of their minds were somewhere else. Anywhere else but the topic of a Happily Ever After being brought up.
They kissed, tenderly and gently into slow thrusts, pausing whenever she winced. This Sparrow was new to her. In a way that made her heart throb. Arms around his neck, meeting eyes like the color of leaves on a summer day, hints of faint freckles on his face, and piercings that seemed to glint under the glowy moonlight. She blushed. Hard. Legs were placed by his hip as she encouraged the movement. Just a little faster. He didn’t bite her. Sparrow always tried to mark her up during most of their make-out sessions despite her yelling and yanking the ginger’s hair. He never cared. He just liked biting like a damn dog.
Duchess cocked her head to the side to reveal her elegant neck of a swan, sheer blue and purple blood vessels beating under pale skin. Glancing at him with unspoken words.
And his fangs captured her whole.
—————
Sparrow groaned as he sank into the welcoming heat, couldn’t hold back from buckling his hip to reach the deepest of her, earning a surprised yelp and a scratch down his back. He barely felt anything else but waves of euphoria crashing at them when he began to move, gripping on her thin waist, a reminder of how often she skipped her meal. This has been a problem since their school days, and he never liked seeing her forcing the corset as tight as possible to appear skinnier. What’s the point, anyway? She’s already the tallest of all girls, the bitchiest, meanest princess of the Royals, and the best of best dancers in the whole school. What’s the prize of being unhealthy to the point of fainting?
The moans and impatient whines under him interrupted his thought, and Sparrow bit her neck again, feeling frustrated at how much of an idiot she was despite always getting top grades. Then kisses and marks, trailing down between soft breasts, nimbling on her fair skin and sucking one nipple with hunger in gleaming eyes while he fucked her greedy cunt with erratic paces. Duchess pulled his collar back to meet lips, eating into each other’s harshly in a way her grandmother would never approve of. As if she ever spared a glance at Sparrow.
“…love you.”
“Mmmh...”
Sparrow slurred against her hum, gawking at the tasteful flesh. It’s hard to control your biting tendency when you were related to a literal wolf. Her grip tightened like a vice, clasping down his member whenever he tried to devour her whole. Unless it’s because of the sudden confession, but they understood themselves enough to know nothing they said was serious during sex. Especially when it’s about love . The little bump on her flat belly budged whenever his thrusts hit the end of her wall and filled her up so good. His tip pressed against the spot that sent her to black out as she shrieked, legs giving out to grasp onto the crumbling, messy sheet. Pants became uneven and noises grew lusty and yearning. She’s close. How could he tell? Because she always covered those teary eyes and was embarrassed to have them unintentionally roll back. And Sparrow, like a jerk he was, always broke them off to watch her pretty face coming undone. Like right now, with her nail crawling into his back, his hands bruising her waist and thighs, them fucking like animals in heat, chasing orgasms.
“Coming…” He managed to grunt out, feeling himself tensed up upon her climax. “…inside you.”
“Asshole.”
She kicked his shoulder away, squirming when he caught her ankle easily and pinned her down onto the mattress.
“That’s where I’m railing you next.”
—————
Sparrow hugged the girl in their aftermath, slick still dripping onto the bedsheet, catching their breath. They could wash up later, right now, he just wanted to have her in his arms again, maybe forever and never let go. Placing kisses all over her body and whispering things he never expected to hear himself out loud.
But she never said it back. Her face, glooming and haunting like she had just seen a ghost, avoided the touch on her lips. Body was unresponsive despite the flinch at his touch.
“What’s wrong?”
“I…Uh, I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt somewhere?”
She shook her head, refusing to answer any further questions. He didn’t know if the girl had post-nut clarity as well, was about to attempt to crack a joke until he heard her mumbling.
“This was a mistake.”
Sparrow froze, feeling his world crashing down on him.
“What?”
“…I should leave.”
Next thing he could comprehend, she was already out of the bed, collecting her clothes and putting them on. Confusion and panic set in as he stumbled.
“Duchess? Cmon, talk to me.” His eyes widened when she yanked off his hand, tears brimming in her eyes. Fuck. “What- Did I do something wrong?”
“No. It’s all my fault.” She unlocked the door, didn’t even look back at him for a goodbye. It was all happening too fast, and Duchess had already disappeared into the night, running back to the dorm as disgust bubbled inside her stomach. Not because of Sparrow, God, she could never, even though the mutual feeling was a clear thing she had been ignored until this very moment, where she accidentally slipped off the facade, letting him see the vulnerability she had supposed to keep hidden. And she lost it, she gave it to Sparrow, simply the fact her purity must be kept for the future Prince, but how could Duchess let the main reason of her dead end steal away something so precious? How could she choose someone who would never look at her the same way Sparrow did? But Sparrow wasn’t her Prince Charming. But Sparrow was just a thief, an outlaw that they should be looking down for. But Sparrow was the one she wanted.
So she left him behind. Away from her. Who even cared if she died now or not? Who even needed a Princess that couldn’t be saved? Duchess arrived at the lake, staring down at the reflection of a ruined good-for-nothing Royal. No True Love, no Happy Ending, only despair and death were in store for her.
—————
He watched Duchess sitting up beside the bed, letting her hair cascade down her back, grabbing the comb on the nightstand and brushing. Sparrow has always seen her hair color as the most unique and captivating among their classmates. Black and white like music notes on paper of his notebook, with strikes of lavender that shared color with the necklace’s gemstones she often wore. And her eyes, a warm shade of cocoa brown despite the icy manner. And her iconic red lipstick. And her posture of a proud ballerina. And her dainty fingers, running through the mess of hair, face pouting. She must be cursing him by now. Chuckling to himself like a fool, Sparrow reached out to hug her back to the blanket, lying side by side, basking in the first light of morning glory. Duchess’s palms cupping his punchable face, pinching his cheeks and pricking on the goatee that he promised to get rid of. Ouch.
“I still hate you.”
Nothing she said in bed was real, and Sparrow reminded himself of that everyday. He patted her tummy lightly.
“Alright, let’s get breakfast before hearing your honk.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay Princess, we know how much you love me, but you can’t survive of my cum-“
A pillow flew straight to his face. Sparrow found himself wrestling with her next as they burst out laughing, Duchess pushing his face away as he forcefully tickled her cheek with facial hair, holding her wrists to himself and leaning in for a quick peck.
“Well, I really hate you too.”
Maybe he’s just as much of a bad liar as her. Maybe he didn’t mind it when she lied to herself. Maybe.