april
2nd Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2006
- Messages
- 1,253
- Points
- 63
The fire was still burning low, casting a warm amber glow across the dark stone walls. Morning light filtered in through narrow windows; soft, silvery, diffused by frost. The world outside might have been cold and quiet, but in this room,everything was heat and silence, except for the faint crackle of flames and the slow, rhythmic breath of the man beside you.
You hadn't meant to wake him. You had only shifted a little, your bare thigh brushing the thick fur rug, your head lifting slightly from where it had rested on his chest all night. But the moment your skin began to slide away from his, a hand shot out. Pale, strong, elegant fingers curing swiftly around your wrist.
Not hard. But unmistakable.
Your breath caught.
He didn't speak.
He simply opened his eyes.
Those deep abyssal eyes, like some distant midnight sea. Quiet, unreadable, haunting, framed by the soft shadows of lashes far too long for someone so dangerous.
He didn't blink. Didn't smile.
Not at first. He simply watched you. And then slowly...he sat up, never releasing your wrist.
He rose with that same terrifying grace he had possessed the night before, when you had first met, like something born of shadow and dusk, a creature that had chosen to be human just long enough to ruin you.
The fur rug bunched between his shifting legs. Still, he said nothing.
He leaned in, bare chest brushing yours, and his lips found yours in a kiss so devastatingly gentle, so achingly slow, that your whole body quivered beneath the touch. If you had been standing, you'd have collapsed. Instead, you melted.
His hand slid from your wrist, up your arm, then to your neck; fingertips gliding delicately across your skin, feather-light, reverant.
And it tickled.
You gasped a tiny laugh, nervous, delighted, involuntary.
He froze.
Eyes lifting to meet yours.
You were about to apologize when you saw something shift in his expression. Not confusion. Not irritation. But wonder.
A smile curved across his mouth.
Not wicked. Not cruel.
Beautiful.
Both dimples appeared at once, like two dark secrets revealing themselves.
"You...giggled," he said softly, voice rough from sleep and disbelief.
He lifted his fingers again, tracing your neck slowly. Purposefully.
You giggled again, twisting slightly away...but he caught you.
He was curious now.
Intrigued.
His fingertips became a slow exploration of sensation; your collarbone, the line of your shoulder, the hollow beneath your ear.
Your laughter spilled out helplessly, and Merrit watched you like you were some rare creature he'd never seen before.
And maybe he hadn't.
"It tickles," you whispered breathless.
"Does it?" He murmured.
His smile deepened.
Both dimples again.
And something darker stirred in his eyes now.
Something that said; Oh, Petal...what a dangerous thing you've just revealed.
The moment your laugh spilled out; a bright surprised squeal as his fingertips grazed your stomach, Merrit stilled.
The fire cracked behind him, a soft breath of heat casting shifting gold across the planes of his chest, his throat, his cheekbones. Shadows pooled beneath his jawline, like ink, and his mouth...those softly parted lips...twitched with something darker than curiosity now.
Something hungry.
He lays you back on the fur rug, your hair spread out like a halo of chaos, your breath catching as he slowly brought his hand back to your skin.
But not with pressure.
No.
With that same impossibly gentle touch.
His fingers traced up your forearms again, slower this time. Testing. Drawing invisible patterns across your skin, like he was memorizing you. Not just your shape, your sound.
You giggled again, quieter this time, trembling beneath his hands.
Merrit inhaled slowly.
"That sound," he murmured almost to himself. "Its addictive."
He ran a knuckle along your ribs, and you laughed again, a high pitched squeal that escaped before you could stop it.
His eyes locked to yours.
They were darker now; stormy.
No longer curious.
Fascinated.
"You're so...sensitive," he whispered, as though tasting the word. His voice had deepened, softened into a velvet rasp. "You didn't tell me that last night."
His hand hovered just above your stomach, as though savoring the anticipation.
"Is thst why you trembled when I touched your back?" His fingers ghosted downwards. "Why you curled into me in your sleep?"
You squirmed.
'Merrit..."
Too late.
He dragged two fingers slowly across your tummy again and you shrieked with laughter, curling involuntary.
He watched your reaction, mesmerized.
His dimples appeared again as his spread into a devastating smile.
"Oh, Petal...what have I just discovered?"
His hand drifted lower, his fingertips feathering just below your bellybutton and over your hip, just barely making contact and the laughter poured from you, helpless, breathy, sweet.
You wriggled beneath him, squirming across the rug like prey trying to escape a predator made of shadow and silk.
But Merrit just leaned in closer, his bare chest hovering above yours, midnight hair falling across his eyes.
"I think," he said, voice low and sickly sweet, "I've found your weakness."
He trailed a single finger back up your ribcage.
You jolted. Laughed. Gasped his name.
And he shuddered.
The sound of your laughter, the way you writhe, not in pain or fear, but in delighted torment. It was undoing him. His pupils were blown wide now, swallowing the blue-black sea of his irises. His breathing had quickened, not from exertion, but from arousal.
This wasnt affection anymore.
This was fascination.
Obsession.
Worship.
The change happened so quickly, it stole the breath from your lungs.
One moment, Merrit was a dream of firelight and bare skin, smiling with dimples and wonder, his fingers grazing your skin like you were something fragile and precious.
But then you saw it.
That look.
The real one from the night before.
The real one.
That predatory gleam in his midnight eyes, the slow flare of hunger beneath the surface, rising like a tide that could not be stopped. It wasnt curiosity anymore. It was need.
And it was all for your laughter.
You froze, watching the shift unfold across his face. His lashes lowered and his smile changed, twisting into something darker, more deliberate.
"There you are," he murmured, like he'd been waiting all night for this part of you to wake.
His fingers stopped wandering and slipped under your arm.
Deceptively gentle.
Soft as shadow.
And then...he struck.
His fingers curled upward, scrabbling fast into your underarm, and you screamed.
Your back arched violently as you shrieked with uncontrollable laughter, eyes wide, arms flailing instinctively to push him off, but he was already moving.
Before you could even roll away, his arms locked around your waist like iron bands.
He dragged you up in a single, swift motion, pulling you bodily into his lap and crushing your back to his chest. The rug tangled beneath you, your limbs struggling as your laughter tore through the room like a melody of chaos.
"No, no, love," he whispered darkly into your ear, his breath hot, cruely calm. "You dont run from this."
He adjusted his grip, one arm locked you across the ribs, holding you helplessly in place. His other hand dove back into your underarm, fingers dancing with ruthless speed, digging into that sweet, excruciatingly sensitive hollow.
You howled.
Your body thrashed but you were trapped, tucked firmly against him, completely encased in his strength. You could feel the hard curve of his chest against your spine, the rise and fall of his breath as he fed on your sounds.
"God's," he groaned, his mouth dragging along the shell of your ear. "That laugh...its mine now."
You sob-laughed, twisting in his grip, trying to wriggle your arm away, anything to escape, but he only shifted to your ribs next.
His fingers dug in, spidering mercilessly along the soft spaces of your ribs with maddening precision.
"MERTIT!" You wailed, body jerking in his lap.
His response was a low, delicious growl.
"You woke me up with your laughter, Petal. Now I'll wake your body up with it."
Your legs kick helplessly, your breath came in gasps, and still, still, he tickled.
There was no softness now.
Only heat, shadows and the man who had claimed you only the night prior.
He had stopped playing.
This wasn't exploration anymore.
This was possession.
Your laughter spilled out in wild, helpless bursts, no rhythm, no control. Just gasping, squealing, full-body surrender. Your muscles jerked and twitched as you tried to twist free, but his grip was iron.
And gods...he was hard.
You could feel it, pressing firmly into the curve of your lower back, undeniable. Every time you arched or bucked, your laughter spiking, you felt him twitch against you, his breath catching in a low growl behind your ears.
"Merrit...please..." you gasped through giggles, tears already at the corners of your eyes.
But he only chuckled, dark and low, his lips brushing your neck.
"The way you squirm..." he murmured, voice wrapping around you like smoke. "Every sound you make drives me mad."
You felt his mouth press a slow, burning kiss to your shoulder.
"I could fuck you just like this," he whispered. "While you're laughing...while you cant stop."
His hips rocked once, subtle, slow, just enough to press against you, and the sensation pulled a desperate whimper from your throat.
Bit the tickling didn't stop.
If anything, it worsened, his fingers moving down to your hips, pressing in firmly. You squealed again, your laughter now completely unhinged, your body bouncing in his lap as you struggled in vain.
"Helpless," he breathed, tightening his grip on your waist.
His mouth was at your neck again, hot, slow, reverant. But his hands were merciless.
"Hopeless," he growled, fingers spidering down your thighs now, making your whole body jerk and twist in his lap.
"And still laughing for me."
You were dissolving; laughing, gasping, trembling. The world had narrowed to this moment, this place, this man, his body behind yours like a vice of heat and obsession, his breath burning promises into your skin.
And all you could do...
Was laugh.
With a growl, Merrit twisted, dragging you down with him as he rolled you onto the rug, your back sinking into the soft fur, the warmth of the fire now behind him as he loomed above. His hands caught your wrists and pinned them down for one breathless second, his body covering yours completely.
Then his mouth crashed onto yours.
Not gentle.
Not questioning.
It was hunger, fire, claiming.
His kiss was desperate and feral, all the composure he'd carried through the night shattered under the weight of his obsession. His lips devoured yours, tongue stroking deep, pulling your gasp into him like oxygen. You could feel his entire body trembling slightly as he tried and failed to stay in control.
His hands released your wrists, only to drop down, sliding down your thighs and gripping them so hard his fingers left imprints. He pulled them open, forcing you to spread for him on the rug, his breath hot against your neck as he leaned in close again.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he gasped, voice wrecked with need. "You torture me. You torment me."
His teeth grazed the curve of your ear.
"I want to ruin you with pleasure until you cant laugh anymore."
Your thighs quivered in his grasp.
"You're going to beg. Not because I ask...but because you cant help it."
His hands squeezed again, possessively dragging another high pitched laugh from your throat. His hips press down against yours, and you felt him. Hard. Hot. Desperate.
Still he didn't take you.
Not yet.
He hovered, mouth at your jaw now, whispering things that make your skin flush and your breath catch.
"I could tickle you again...right now," he threatened, his voice so low it vibrated through your bones. "Hold you down, just like this...watch you scream with laughter while I kiss you until your world dissappears."
He smiles against your cheek, dimples flashing, eyes dark.
"Do you want that, love?" He murmured. "Or do you want mercy?"
Still giggling from the thrill of his words, you brought your hands up to his chest defensively. A feeble barrier. And you both knew it.
His eyes were feral.
"More?"
Your lips trembled with a smile you couldn't suppress.
Your eyes met his.
And you nodded.
Once.
That was all he needed.
Merrit stilled for a breath, like a predator right before the strike.
Then.
He moved.
He pounced, dragging his hands down your sides with wicked speed, fingers digging in, merciless, relentless. You screamed with laughter instantly, your entire body snapping in response, bucking and squirming on the thick fur rug.
"Oh, you shouldn't have nodded, Petal." He purred above your gasps. "Now youve given me permission."
His dimples were gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.
And oh, was he merciless, his fingers flying over your body like they knew every weak spot by instinct, clawing over your ribs, your waist, dancing under your arms and back down again. Laughter spilled out of you now, wild...uncontained, the kind of laughter that left your stomach aching and your voice cracking.
"Such a ticklish little witch," he growled with reverance, as though you were the most beautiful truth he'd ever uncovered. "And all mine."
His fingers mercifully slowed, finally, and he sat back, admiring your wrecked form. For a heartbeat you thought it was over, that maybe he'd lean in and murmur something soft in your ear...
But.
Instead...
His gaze drops.
To your feet.
Slowly...so slowly, it made your breath catch.
Dread curled hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. He was staring at them...hungrily. A hint of a smirk touching the curve of his lips.
Merrit reached down and ran a single fingertip along the arch of your foot.
Your foot jerked, the motion violent, accompanied by a squeal that caught even you by surprise. Your hands shot up toward your face instinctively, laughter bursting from your chest.
That's when you heard the low chuckle from him. The one that said he saw everything.
"Oh, darling," he said darkly, knowing. "That was just a single finger."
Before you could pull away, his strong hands had gripped your ankle, raising it until your foot hovered in the air, like an offering. He turned it gently in his palm, admiring it, holding it like a chalice of wine. He tilted it just slightly toward the firelight; perfectly arched, small, pale, delicate. The skin there gleamed faintly with warmth, a subtle blush painted across the ball and heel from your squirming. But what caught Merrits eye, the detail that fully undid him was your polish.
Your toes were painted the most stunning, glossy blood red. The color was rich, decadent. A lacquered crimson that shon like candied apples, every glint catching the firelight like ruby glass.
"Oh..." Merrits voice was low and husky, curling around the word like sin. "You temptress."
His thumb reached out and hovered just above your big toe. He didn't even touch yet, just admired.
"You look like wrapped candy." He whispered. "Perfect. Sweet. Waiting to be devoured."
Your foot twitched, toes curling. You whimpered.
He smiled.
"Pale, delicate...soft..." he murmured, fingers now brushing gently along the top of your foot. "And this polish, Petal...red like sin. You wore this for me, didn't you?"
Your eyes widened. You shook your head in frantic denial, but your giggles were already returning. He hadn't even truly touched you yet, and still, you were falling apart.
"Liar." He breathed.
Then he lifted your foot like it was sacred and brought it to his lips.
The first kiss was placed at the tips of your toes, lips brushing the glossy red with reverance. His tongue followed next, licking across the polish, tasting it, claiming it, worshipping it like it meant something holy.
"So pretty," he whispered between licks. "I could keep you here forever. Just like this. Spread open. Giggling. Begging. All for my mouth."
You screamed when he bit, just beneath your second toe, a firm, deliberate nip that sent ticklish lightning up your leg.
And Merrit moaned.
"You taste like sugar and laughter." He growled. "You're going to break for me again, aren't you, Petal?"
He traced each toe with the tip of his tongue. He kissed your arch, your heel, the soft pad beneath your toes. Every flicker of contact was cruelly slow. Every laugh you gave him made him hungrier.
His mouth was a weapon now; his lips, tongue and teeth moving in rhythm across your foot like he was eating you alive.
He sucked your big toe between his lips slowly, obscenely, like it was the most decadent thing he'd ever tasted. His tongue circled the tip with reverance, dragging around the base before he pulled it back with a soft pop that made you whimper through your laughter.
He drew the next toe in.
And the next.
Each one was worshiped, kissed, licked from the base to the tip. His lips were hot and wet against your ticklish skin, and each suck sent a fresh shiver of giggles racing through your whole body, your toes wriggling helplessly as he nuzzled and nibbled.
You shrieked when he bit again, playfully cruel, his teeth clamping down just enough to make your entire foot twitch in his hand. He growled softly in response, holding your heel steady, as if trying to keep you still for his next indulgence.
"God's, Petal," he murmured into the arch of your foot. "You're going to kill me."
His tongue dragged a slow, hot path across your soles, tasting every inch, every contour. He nuzzled into the delicate skin just beneath your toes, licking, kissing, breathing you in like your laughter was his favorite scent. His nose grazed across your instep. He inhaled.
And then, low and unguarded, you heard it again...his moan.
He was hard. So hard. Straining visibly now. You could see it, feel it in the way his shoulders trembled slightly His breath hitched. His hips pressed against the inside of your thigh and had started to grind subtly against it in response to your reactions, your foot, your helplessness.
"Your feet," he said raggedly. "Are going to kill me."
Without missing a beat, he reached down and picked up your other foot, gently setting the first aside. He kissed the curve of your heel, then dragged his tongue down the outer edge, sucking on the arch, licking back up with maddening slowness. His fingers traced the top of your foot in time with his mouth on the bottom; each stroke ticklish, each lick dizzying, every second making you laugh harder.
Your entire body was twisting. You're squealing, shrieking, arms flailing, hips bucking...completely helpless to his delicious torments. And he just kept worshipping, kept devouring.
"You're not allowed to look this pretty," he murmured, flicking his tongue against your pinky toe. "Not if I cant touch you forever."
You writhe, laughter cracking from desperation. Merrits eyes were black with want.
He was panting now.
You could hear it, feel it against your skins. Merrits breaths, ragged and uneven, spills in hot bursts against the arch of your foot as he nuzzled into it again, tongue flat and drawing a slow, excruciating path between your trembling toes.
Your laughter had gone high and breathless at this point, crying, your body trying to buckle and twist against the rug. But exhaustion disallows it. Legs quaking, your foot twitching weakly in his hand; no strength left to fight.
"So sweet," he murmured into your skin. "So perfect like this. Shaking for me. Mine."
His teeth slid over the ball of your foot in a teasing bite, and your hips jolted. You didn't mean to, but the sensation was too intense, the line between pleasure and ticklish torment too thin to walk anymore. You screamed.
And then everything changed.
He rose over you in a single motion; fluid, predatory, his body pinning yours before you could catch your breath. His hands were traps.
One still gripped your foot possessively, the other planted beside your head, caging you in. His chest was bare, pale and smooth against your broken form and the heat of him was unbearable.
His mouth crashed down against yours. Not with gentleness, but with hunger.
Teeth.
Tongue.
The taste of your feet still wet on his lips.
You tried to speak his name, but it melted into another laugh as his hand slipped up to your thigh, squeezing, gripping, dragging you against the hard heat of him. You felt it now, all of him, pressed to your core, straining with aching, restrained desire.
And still, you were laughing.
The aftershocks of his ticklish worship were still rolling through your body, and every small shift, every graze of his fingers sent another wave of giggles spilling from your lips.
He was folding.
"I cant wait," he growled. "I need to feel you. Now."
He didn't rush. But he didn't ask.
Merrit guided your body beneath him, locking your thighs open with his own, and kept his mouth on yours as he aligned with you. His body trembled with overwhelming need, from the torment you unknowingly inflicted on him with every giggle.
He took you.
Deep. Full. With a groan so dark it rumbled in his chest against your breastbone.
You cried out from the devastating, complete sensation of being filled by him, of being claimed by him, of being taken while still giggling, still overwhelmed, still lost in heat and shadows.
His rhythm was punishing, steady, every thrust drawing a gasp from your lips, every retreat leaving you desperate for more. His hands wrapped around your waist, dragging you closer, deeper, locking you to him.
Your giggles dissolved into moans. Your moans twisted into breathless sobs. You didn't know what you were anymore; prey, worshipped thing, lover, toy. Only that Merrit had you. All of you.
He was losing it.
You felt it in the way his rhythm began to falter, not from weakness, but from a desperation too powerful to cage. His breath was ragged against your throat, panting like he'd just run through fire.
"I cant..." he growled, voice wrecked, raw, real. "I cant hold back. Oh god's, I cant..."
His hips jerked forward harder than before, deeper, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing into the glow of the firelight. Every thrust was now driven by pure need; wild, heated, irreverent. He wasnt composed. He wasnt careful. He was yours.
You were so close..both of you.
Merrit was falling apart inside you. You felt it.
The trembling.
The frantic thrusts losing rhythm.
The way he burried his face inside your neck and moaned, deep and broken, as his whole body tensed.
"Cum with me, please," he whispered, pleading now, like it was the last thing he'd ever ask for. "Cum with me, love. Now."
And you did.
You shattered together.
One final thrust.
One final cry.
His name, your name, laughter, pleasure; everything colliding into heat and motion and flame.
His arms locked around you as his body pulsed inside you, breath stuttering, a desperate, gutteral sound spilling from his throat. You held him through it, your fingers tangled in his raven hair, your bodies locked in trembling waves of release.
Just the two of you.
Lost in the storm you'd created together.
Bonus Story
Meeting Your Monster M/F
The realm is still and strange, not quite dark, not quite light; like twilight filtered through the mist. The air hums with something ancient, almost sentient. You stand barefoot on what looks like black marble, veiled in silver, though it feels warm beneath your skin, almost...alive.
You're alone. Or so you think. Then...a whisper. Not a sound exactly, more like a presence brushing against your awareness. You turn, heart quickening, breath catching. And that's when you see him.
At first he's just a silhouette in the fog. Tall. Still. A shadow carved in the shape of a man. But as he steps forward, the mist parts like it knows him,like it fears him, and he comes into view.
He is Stunning.
Pale skin like porcelain kissed by starlight. Tousled black hair falls into his eyes, which are so deep blue they appear black, rimmed in darker lashes that would seem delicate if the gaze beneath them wasn't so piercing. He wears a simple black shirt, open at the throat, and dark trousers tucked into boots. Elegant. Sharp. Unapologetically powerful.
The air grows heavier. The silence between you deepens, taut and electric.
And when he sees you, he stops.
For a heartbeat, he doesnt move. He just looks. Like a storm evaluating the sky.
You look back at him shyly, curious but nervous. He can smell your innocence carried gently on the wind.
"Well..." His voice is low, smooth, deeply British. "Aren't you a little out of place."
He approaches with quiet grace,. Not a sound from his steps, but every molecule of the realm seems to tremble. When he stops before you, the scent of sandalwood and cold smoke clings to him.
His head tilts.
"But I think ill keep you."
His fingers lightly graze your cheek. Just barely.
His touch is like silk drawn over embers; so soft, its almost cruel in its restraint.
His hand is beautiful, elegant, precise. Long pale fingers tipped with neatly trimmed nails, strong and steady, like they were carved from artistry...or for control. He tilts your chin up with just two of them.
"Look at you," he breathes, almost reverantly. "Still warm. Still trembling. Not yet ruined." A pause. His thumb brushes the corner of your lips, the touch reverant now.
"They sent you to me?"
He chuckles, but it isn't humorous. Its dark. Disbelieving. Possessive.
"You dont understand what this place does to a creature like you, do you?" He murmurs, his other hand lifting now, brushing a curl from your forehead with the backs of his fingers.
"You shine too brightly. You're soft where you should be wary. Like a flower, like a Petal. You feel, and in this place,that is..." he leans in closer, his breath brushing your lips "dangerous. "
A stillness falls between you. Thick. Laced with hunger. Hes studying you now. Studying everything. How you breathe. How your pulse flutters. How your chest rises and falls, but trying to look brave but betraying every ounce of your unease.
"I should send you away," he says more to himself than you. "You're not meant for me. You're not ready"
But he doesnt move.
His thumb presses just a little more firmly against your lip.
"And yet..." His voice drops to a whisper, like smoke curling against your skin. "I already want you."
He draws his thumb down, tracing the line of your lower lip,gently slides it just inside your mouth, offering it, commanding it, testing you.
"Let's see if the rabbit will bite," he murmurs. "Or suck."
You pull away; subtle, slow but deliberate, and his fingers slips away with a little wet sound, still glistening from where it touched you. Your eyes flick upto meet his, steady. Defiant. A flicker of mischief blooming in your chest even beneath the tension. For a heartbeat he doesnt move. Then...
A sharp inhale. A shift in the air.
Merrit straightens, looming now. The smirk playing at the edge of his mouth isn't charming anymore. Its dangerous. His dimples show, but this time they only mock the storm rising behind his eyes.
"Oh..." he breathes, almost amused. "You want to play. "
His voice lower now, threaded with the kind of threat that comes wrapped in velvet in silk. His eyes trace every inch of you, devouring, but not in haste. No this isn't hunger. This is the look of a predator who has all the time in the world.
"Alright, little rabbit " he whispers, circling you slowly.
"You want me to chase? Then run. Let me see how long your innocence protects you."
His fingers trail over your shoulders, as he walks behind you, lingering, almost tender, before they vanish.
"Just know this..." His voice is right behind your ear now, breath hot, words curling around you like a binding spell. "When I catch you...and i will catch you, you'll beg me to put my fingers back in your mouth. But it won't be just one next time."
He steps back into the shadows. Disappearing. Silent. Waiting.
The second your feet hit the cold ground and you bolt, the entire realm seems to shift. Purgatory breathes with you. And it hungers.
The darkness parts just enough to let you flee, every echo of your footfall swallowed by velvet shadows. You dont know where you're going, only that you have to get away.
But oh, he knows.
Every twist. Every turn. Every thought in your head. Because he isn't just behind you now. Hes everywhere.
"Faster," his voice whispers from the trees. "Such a pretty little thing. I wonder how long your legs hold out."
A gust of cold air rushes past your ear. A brush of fingertips at your waist, too fast to catch, too real to ignore. Hes toying with you.
Then silence again. And you know what's happening. You can feel it. Merrit is stalking you. Drawing out your panic like silk on skin, letting your fear bloom just long enough to taste sweet before he strikes. And strike he will.
You burst into a clearing, moonlight spilling silver over the field like spilled milk. You stop, breathing heavy, chest rising and falling. Eyes wide. Skin flushed. Then...from behind. Right behind.
"I've caught you," he breathes into your hair.
One arm snaps around your waist, the other clamps over your mouth. And he drags you back into the shadows like the darkness belongs to him.
The moment your body surrenders, everything shifts. Your muscles loosen in his grip, head tilting back ever so slightly against his chest. Your breath ghosts across his palm where it covers your mouth, warm and trembling. And that's when he freezes.
Still as death. Breathing sharp. Possessive arms now trembling slightly.
He didn't expect that. He expected you to bite, to fight. To struggle like a wild, defiant creature he saw moments ago darting through the trees.
But now...
Now you're in his arms like you were made to be there.
"Smart girl," he whispers, his voice like silk drawn over fangs. His mouth brushes the side of your ear. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"
His hand at your mouth slides down slowly, fingers grazing your throat, elegant pale fingers trembling with restraint.
"I should torment you," he murmurs, lips now against your neck. "I should teach you why you never run from me."
But he doesnt move, he just holds.
"Say something," he growls at last, his voice raw. "Tell me why you stopped running. Tell me why you gave yourself to me."
"I...I dont know," You stammer., the very first words you say cut through the night like sharp glass. "I cant explain it. Its like...you're mine."
He shudders.
That one sentence fractures something in him, some ancient wall he'd built around himself in this bleak place. His grip tightens, not in cruelty, but in desperate confirmation.
"You're mine," he whispers your first words to himself, almost in disbelief.
A low guteral sound escaped his throat. Not quite a moan. Not quite a growl. Somewhere in between, a raw feral noise of recognition.
"Oh gods," he breathes against your skin. "You feel it too."
He presses his forehead against the curve of your neck, breathing you in like he needs the scent of you to breathe at all. His fingers span your waist, pulling you back into him, until there's no space left.
"You're mine," he whispers it now, repeating it like a prayer. "Mine and im..."
He doesnt finish his thoughts, only turns you gently to face him.
"I should scare you," he says lowly, his voice barely a whisper. "Im not kind, im not soft. But you..." His voice hitches. "You walked into my realm like you belonged here. Like I belonged to you. Say it again. Say it like you mean it love."
You do not hesitate, not even for a moment.
"You are mine."
That quiet declaration, so quiet, so sure, undoes him.
"Then take me," he says, voice ragged, broken open with longing. "Whatever I was before, whatever shadows and sins built me, I'm your's now. I've always been yours. I just haden't met you yet."
And so close, you feel the ghost of his lips against yours.
"Ill follow you into heaven," he breathes "or burn beside you in hell. Just dont let go."
His mouth hovers. Waiting. Offering. Begging. At first its just breath, yours and his mingling. And then...
His lips touch yours. Soft. Slow. Like he's afraid you'll vanish.
When you sigh into him, when your fingers curl into his shirt, he shudders, breaks the sweet kiss, just long enough to press his forehead against yours, panting softly.
"You are mine," he breathes. "from now until the end of all things."
And with a sudden fluid grace, he lifts you into his arms, cradling you as though you were made of light and air. His hair falls like a shadowed curtain as he gazed down at you, eyes glowing with hunger so raw it bordered on holy.
"Ill never let you go Petal. Not even death could keep you from me."
He begins to walk through the misty halls of Purgatory, into the dark beautiful unknown.
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