Purple and Wine

Their penthouse was wrapped in shadows, lit only by the flickering blue-white glow of the television screen. A late-night news broadcast murmured low in the background - something about a pack of Worgen causing mischief on the outskirts of Fellgrand. Ichigo paid little attention, having already read the report in full.

He was sprawled comfortably on the couch, arm draped along the backrest, one leg kicked over the other. His eyes were half-lidded, drifting from the screen to the reflection of moonlight glinting across the glass walls. The Underworld’s twin moons hung full and quiet in the violet night sky.

Across the room, Tiamat reclined against the wide windowsill, her silhouette traced in silver moonslight. She held a delicate glass of deep red wine between long fingers, swirling it thoughtfully. Her dress clung to her like water: amethyst silk draped over dangerous curves; slit cut just high enough to be scandalous.

"Is it just me," Ichigo began lazily, "or are the Worgens getting rowdier lately?"

Tiamat let out a thoughtful hum. “You have your mutt to thank. Its presence has emboldened the other mangy curs and riled up their paltry instincts.”

“I’ll probably have to do something about that,” he said idly. Saviġuk preferred the wild jungles that surrounded Infernity rather than the constant bustling citadel. It also helped she had plenty of prey to hunt as she pleased.

“Send out your little monsters,” Tiamat said from the window. “They’re sure to have some fun chasing a pack of wild dogs.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. “I want the Worgens brought in line, not eaten to extinction by my Reavers.”

“True. Your pets have little in the way of intelligence. I suppose that’s why they’re so taken with you, little one.”

“Hilarious,” he said dryly.

Tiamat hummed, walking barefoot across the hardwood floor toward the couch. As she walked, a soft ocean breeze filled their home, and Ichigo smelt the light scent of sea salt.

As she sat next to him on the sofa, Ichigo absently changed the channel, keeping his eyes on her half-downed glass. “Hurrian Snow Wine. You always drink the same thing.”

She looked down at her glass and swirled her drink. Her mood instantly growing somber. “It tastes like a memory.”

“A good one?”

She paused. “No. Just an old one.”

Ichigo didn’t press.

She shifted closer and leaned into him, head resting against his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple, letting the hum of the TV wash over them.

“One of my sons,” she said quietly after several tender moments, “he ruled to the north of Marduk’s domain. And like Marduk, he also inherited my command of storms. He would spend season after season moving clouds and rivers, obsessively cultivating what he considered to be the perfect grapes.”

She raised the glass and peered into it, a sad smile forming on the edges of her lips. “This was the first wine he ever brewed. He was so proud. Running up the steps of my palace and barging into my quarters, smiling a little boy’s smile. He wanted me to have the first taste. He was so happy when I finished that first cup and asked him for more. Every new wine he brewed, he always made sure his mother was the first one to have a taste.”

Ichigo ran his thumb soothingly across her hip.

“And then he betrayed me like all the rest,” she finished bitterly.

There was a moment of tense silence, and Ichigo made to say something, but suddenly, Tiamat downed her glass in one go.

Then, without warning, she turned and yanked him into a fierce kiss. As Ichigo felt her tongue push past his lips, he tasted an earthy and spicy flavor as the Snow Wine filled his mouth.

Tiamat’s lips moved hard and brutal, need and hunger and so much pain radiating through their mental bond. As his mouth moved against hers, Ichigo tightly wove his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

He pulled away from her, watching mesmerized as wine dribbled from her lips and landed between her breasts. A lone, dark purple drop traced its way down into her cleavage, and Ichigo immediately leaned forward and licked it up.

Breathing heavily, Tiamat leaned down and began nuzzling his neck, lightly nicking his skin with her teeth. “Make me only think of you,” she purred huskily.

He tore his shirt over his head and grabbed both her wrists, turning them around and pinning her down onto the sofa as his eyes began to burn red.

“Gladly.”