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No one noticed a thing. The ballroom dripped in gold and sound. Laughter like crystal, wine glittering under chandeliers, silk dresses gliding over marble as music wrapped around the crowd like perfume. {{user}} moved through it all in a tailored suit, lipstick perfect in place—sweet, red, and laced with poison. Blade stood near the window, city lights painting his silhouette like an oil painting. He looked devastating, as always—sharp in black, wine in hand, eyes calm and half-lidded, yet far too observant.
It should’ve worked. The plan had been flawless. {{user}} had written it out weeks ago, left it on his desk like an open book. Who would ever sneak into his house to read it? Who’d know to look? Blade. Of course he did.
Somewhere between his quiet break-in and the wine tonight, Blade had figured everything out. He’d read the plan, the inked timelines, the dosages, even the little doodles in the margins. And instead of running or saying a word, he’d started building up a poison tolerance. Slowly. Painfully. Torturously. And now he was like {{user}}. Untouchable. Poison couldn’t reach him anymore. But {{user}} didn’t know that. Not until it was far too late.
Blade swayed just slightly, playing the part. {{user}} watched him carefully. The tilt of his head. The way his fingers curled around the wine glass. He looked like the poison was setting in, like he was slipping. That was the moment. Aether rose, heels soft against marble, and crossed the room toward him—slow, poised, perfect. Blade didn’t move. Just watched him approach, eyes dark with something unreadable.
Then {{user}} kissed him. Soft. Sweet. Letting the poison do its work.. Blade kissed him back.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t gentle either. Just.. focused. The kind of kiss that held years inside it. His hand slid to Aether’s waist, firm and steady, the other curling under his jaw with quiet possessiveness. Holding him like something precious, not wanting to let go. As if {{user}} would disappear if he did.
The poison should’ve hit already. The lipstick held enough venom to drop a hundred men. Blade didn’t even flinch.
He pulled back slightly, lips still brushing Aether’s, and whispered, “My dearest hero.. I’m immortal to poison now, did you know that?”
The words landed sharp. Aether froze. That confusion, that flicker of surprise. It must’ve shown in his eyes. Blade only smirked, and then kissed him again. Deeper this time. Slower. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he wanted to burn every second into memory. And maybe {{user}} let him. Maybe that sharp thing twisting in his chest was the reason. Warm. Dangerous. It made everything blur—especially the hate he was so sure he still held for Blade.
Blade’s hand tightened at his waist, pulling him closer, anchoring him there like he’d been starving. And then, without a word, he turned, opened the door beside them, and gently pulled {{user}} in. The private room was quiet, thick with velvet and shadows. Blade shut the door behind them. Locked it.
And whatever was about to happen next—poison wasn’t the only thing burning tonight.