Archive of Our Own ^beta

The room was dimly lit, its corners dancing with flickers of candlelight. A small plastic triceratops sat on the bedside table, one of many scattered across the space. The air smelled faintly of wax and something sweet—melted sugar, maybe, or smoke from the singed edges of Lilith’s skirt.

Deeno paced in front of her, hands flying animatedly as he spoke, hoodie tail swishing with every movement.

“And, okay, get this— parasaurolophus might’ve used their crests to make sounds, like, actual low-frequency booming calls across miles. Isn’t that insane? They didn’t even have vocal cords like ours but the structure of their skulls—”

Lilith sat on the bed, legs crossed with slow elegance, veil still half-draped over one shoulder. Her white dress was singed along the hem, blackened lace curling like ash. She hadn’t bothered to fix it. She liked the contrast: white fabric, burned edges, red belt. It felt like her.

She watched him talk. She always watched him like this— closely, quietly. Her head tilted, expression unreadable but intent. His voice bounced off the walls like birdsong, full of breathless fascination. He wasn’t looking at her. He never did when he was talking like this. The words were too important, the thoughts too fast.

It was only when she said, low and unblinking, “You get like this when you’re excited,” that he finally stilled.

He turned to her, blinking. “Like what?”

She rose from the bed with deliberate steps. Her heels were silent against the floor. She approached him, close enough that the flame from the candle warmed her cheek.

“All wound up,” she murmured “Breathless…”

“Obsessive.”

He laughed nervously, eyes darting to her lips and back. “I’m not— I mean, I like dinosaurs, that’s all. They’re just really—”

She reached for the zipper of his hoodie and ran a slow finger along the seam. “I know.”

He swallowed. The plastic raptor on his forearm squeaked faintly as he shifted.

Lilith leaned in, close enough for her breath to graze his jaw. “You talk so much,” she whispered. “But you never notice what it does to me.”

She kissed him then—slow, precise, burning. Like she meant it to sear the edges of his thoughts the way fire has kissed her gown.

He didn’t speak. Not at first. His fingers gripped the hem of her dress like he was holding a fragile relic. When she pulled back, lips red and eyes dark, he still looked stunned.

“Tell me more about dinosaurs,” she said, voice low and electric, curling around him like smoke.

⸻

The bed creaked beneath them, soft and slow as Lilith sank into the sheets like a flame into velvet. Her black hair spilled across the pillow in dark waves, catching the dim candlelight. She pulled him down with a grip that was deceptively gentle—fingertips cool, nails grazing the back of his neck in a way that made his breath catch.

Deeno hovered above her, hands planted to either side of her head, hoodie sleeves falling forward. His tail swayed behind him, the plush fabric brushing her legs. He looked at her like she was something ancient and sacred—like the fossil of a beast too beautiful to have ever gone extinct.

“You’re staring,” Lilith said.

“You’re… kind of gorgeous,” he muttered, voice hoarse.

Lilith smirked, tilting her head slightly. “Only kind of?”

“I—no— I mean—” He floundered. She reached up and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing the apology before it escaped.

“I like your voice,” she said.

Deeno blinked. “What?”

“You speak like your thoughts are trying to outrun each other. It’s chaotic. Sincere. Real.” Her legs shifted beneath his, the rustle of silk and scorched lace audible between their bodies. “I want to hear it. Every last thing in that buzzing, brilliant little brain of yours.”

He flushed deep red. “Even the part where I explain how ceratopsian skulls had these frill structures that might’ve been used for heat regulation?”

Lilith’s smile turned sharper. “Especially that part.”

She pulled him down again, mouth finding his neck this time. Her kisses were purposeful—like punctuation marks on every stammered word he tried to force out.

“I-it’s funny—” he gasped, “some people used to think T-rex didn’t have feathers, but now—ngh— they found evidence—like— impressions—”

Her teeth grazed his skin just above his collarbone. “Feathers, mm?”

“Y-yeah. Like protofeathers. Not full wings or anything, but more like— like.. uh fuzz, insulation—”

Lilith dragged her nails down the center of his chest, catching on the zipper. “You’re warm enough on your own.”

He let out a shaky breath. “I-I’m trying to stay on topic.”

She laughed, low and wicked, lips trailing back up to his jaw. “I know, You’re doing so well.”

He groaned, more from the praise than the contact. “You’re distracting.”

“You’re obsessed,” she countered. “But I love that about you.”

She flipped them in a smooth motion, taking control as naturally as a shadow claiming space. Deeno’s breath hitched as she straddled his hips, veil draping down like wings around his shoulders.

From above, she looked terrifying. Regal. Untouchable.

All his.

“Keep talking,” Lilith murmured. “Tell me what you love.”

His voice trembled as he looked up at her, hands finding the curve of her waist beneath all that scorched silk.

“I love… the ankylosaurus. And your hair. And I love that you carry around that little stego keychain I gave you even when you think I’m not looking.”

Her lips parted.

“I love that when I talk, even when no one else is listening, you always hear me.”

Lilith leaned down, just far enough for their foreheads to touch.

“Good boy,” she whispered. “Now show me what else you know.”