april
1st Level Red Feather
- Joined
- Dec 16, 2006
- Messages
- 1,199
- Points
- 63
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Merrit was gone...off tending to the shadows that obeyed only him, to the realm that bent for his will alone. And though you knew he'd return...you couldn't stand the ache. Longing for him. The hunger.
You missed his beautiful face. That chiseled jaw. That mouth that was made to kiss and torment. His elegant, merciless hands. The sharp lines of his body, like art carved from moonstone.
And there was only one other who bore that face.
Sylus.
You stood alone in the middle of Merrits private chamber, heart pounding in your chest like a guilty drumbeat. You shouldn't do this, you know that. Calling him was like calling the devil himself.
You whispered his twins name.
Once.
Softly.
The candles flickered.
Twice.
The air grew colder.
Three times
And then he was there.
He didn't arrive so much as appear, unfolding from shadow, from silence, from the space between. Sylus stood before you like a blade in the dark; tall, sharp, still.
The resemblance to Merrit was perfect. Almost.
Black hair; albeit longer, that hung down in waves past his shoulders. The same pale skin. The same sculpted mouth and long, beautiful hands.
But the eyes-oh gods the eyes.
Merrits were ocean deep, nearly black.
Sylus's were silver. Cold. Metallic. Glinting with something between pain and rage.
He didn't move for a long moment. Just stared at you; jaw clenched, hands behind his back. His coat was long and dark; tailored over his lean body with clinical precision. He looked haunting; a ghost in command of death itself.
You swallowed hard. You'd done this. You'd summoned him. Not because you needed punishment. Not because you broke a rule.
You just wanted to see...him.
His face. Merrits face.
Sylus stepped forward, slow, deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating.
"You dare summon me," he said atlast, voice like frost cracking over stone. "And not because you erred...but because you're lonely?"
You open your mouth but no sound came out.
"You know the cost," he continued, now just a foot away. His gaze swept over you, not in desire, but in dissection. And yet beneath the surface...that curse stirred.
His hands twitched. His breath grew shallow. His silver eyes flickered; just briefly, to the curve of your lips, the line of your neck, the rising of your chest. He didn't move, but you could feel the war inside him. Cold control vs something unbearably hot beneath.
"You called me...just to look at me," he said low and dangerous.
His jaw flexed. His gloved hand curled into a fist.
"You wanted his face...and you thought mine would do."
You whispered, "I missed him. But your hands, your body, your face...they're..."
"Identical?" He cut in, fury flashing behind his silver gaze. "We are not the same. And now, because of you..."
He inhaled sharply. The arousal from the curse was already taking root. He was shifting, barely, his coat hiding the evidence. But his voice trembled with the finest restrained fury.
"...I burn."
He stepped in so close, your lips nearly touched.
"You've broken no rules," he whispered. "So I should not touch you."
But then.
His hand snapped out.
Wrapped around your throat, not tight, not cruel, just containing. Possessive. Punishing.
"And yet...you did. You called me for your own hunger. And now I suffer needlessly."
You felt it. The tension in his body. His hardness pressing against the inside of his coat. The way he looked at you now; not clinically, not analytically.
But a man starved.
Still, his voice remained ice.
"You wanted my face," he hissed. "So now...you will see exactly what comes along with it."
He stepped back, that cold expression bearing down into your soul.
He was aroused.
Against his will
Because of you.
He hated it. And still his body aches for you. Cursed by the gods to be forever tormented in your presence.
The shadows moved before he did. Inky tendrils rose from the floor like sentient ropes, wrapping around your wrists and ankles. They lifted you slowly, your body suspended in mid-air, arms above your head, legs parted just enough to rob you of any control. The cold touch of the shadow kissed your skin, holding you in a cradle of darkness.
Sylus stepped close, his voice as sharp as frost.
"You called me...because I look like him. Now I suffer because of you."
His gloved hand came to your chin, so your eyes met his.
"And now, you'll suffer alongside me."
You feel it. It began coiling in your belly, spreading, humming, titillating. Pleasure. Your mouth parts slightly and your head rolled back.; an open invitation to this delicious gift he's magically tethered between the two of you. Your body flushes under the sudden ecstacy and a gasp escapes your lips. It coils around you tightly humming for release. Tighter.
Tighter still.
Until what began as pleasure slowly grew into an inescapable, fiery, need. Hot, heavy frustration. You could barely breathe when you felt his first cold touch.
His fingers were precise, methodical. His gloves had vanished with a flick of his wrist, replaced by bare fingers - cold, smooth, merciless.
He tickled lightly at first; a soft flutter of fingertips right in the hollows beneath your arms. Feather-soft circles. Then sharper motions. Rubbing. Drilling. A cruel rhythm that made your shoulders twitch and your chest shake with laughter you couldn't stop.
"So reactive," he murmured. "Disgusting...and yet addictive."
Each time you jerked or yelped, he flinched too. His jaw clenched. A soft, involuntary grunt escaped him. He wanted to stop. He couldn't.
He moved to your ribs next; the sharp edges beneath your arms. His fingers spread wide and dragged slowly across each rib, counting them out loud.
"One...two...three...such a delicate cage to trap all that sound."
He varied the pressure. Light scribbles along the bones. A firm press between them. Occasionally he'd dig in just enough to make you shriek. Your laughter rang in the dark like bells...and each note twisted the curse inside him tighter.
He staggered back. His hands went to his hair, dragging through it in frustration, eyes squeezed shut as though he were in pain.
"You're...killing me."
He recovers quickly. Standing up straight, he adjusts his collar, collecting himself, and steps towards you once more.
Your body jerks again as Sylus's fingers glide agonizingly slow; down your inner thigh, tracing just above the sensitive skin behind your knee. His touch there is maddeningly light, barely grazing the surface - but with the magical tether between you, it surges like lightning through both of your cores.
He watches you writhe with clinical detachment, or he tries to. His silver eyes betray nothing, but the subtle rise of his chest, the way his jaw ticks, and the sudden swallow at the base of his throat tells the truth. Hes drowning in this...just like you.
"Do you feel that," he murmurs coldly, the barest edge straining his voice. His fingertips circles up to the lowest part of your abdomen.
You gasp.
He stumbles back a half step like your moan physically struck him.
"Tch," he wipes a hand across his mouth, frustrated with his own reaction. "I've tethered us," he hisses, voice lower and dark. "But its my body betraying me. My discipline cracking."
Without warning, both hands are at your waist, his thumbs digging wickedly into the curve just above your hips, pressing into the most vulnerable nerves.
He begins to vibrate them - short bursts; sharp, relentless flicks of movement that make you squeal, thrash.
The sensation travels down your spine like hot wine. He watches every contorted expression you make like a scientist in a lab. But his breath shudders again, and he growls low in his throat.
Hes hard beneath his coat - painfully so. So much so that he can't hardly stand it. Every time you beg. Every laugh, every moan and thrash of your body, only makes it worse for him.
"I shouldn't want this," he mutters as if to himself. "I shouldn't need you like this."
The arousal through the bond pulses through your body in mirrored waves, every touch of his fingers, a lash across both your senses. You're gasping consistently now, not just from the tickling but from the desperate flush that coils low and aching in your belly.
"Sylus please! Im sorry! Im sorry I called to you! Please...mercy. Stop! You have to stop!"
"Beg better!" He snarles back. His hands crawl upward. Cruel. Relentless. "Every time I see you I suffer! And still you call for me."
His legs are trembling slightly. His hand reaches up and curles it into your hair as if grounding himself. A soft moan, barely choked down vibrates in his chest. Hes visibly shaking now, on edge, needing to cum so badly; its written all over the sharp lines of his face.
He circles behind you now, breath hot against your nape. His fingers slide into your underarms once more, but this time he stretches the moment. Long gliding strokes that make you shudder, make you screech and sob with laughter.
You arch involuntary...and his control slips.
"Damn you, witch," he snarles as he walks back around to look you right in the eyes. With that beautiful face, Merrits face...but wasn't.
You saw him then, Sylus...and it took your breath away. His beauty was all his own. Those silver eyes, now desperate with lust.
It pushes you over the edge. You cum hard. Your body arches and you scream from the pleasure of the release. The bonds holding you disolve and you fall forward. Straight into his chest. He catches you by instinct, your body sliding down his like silk.
And that's it.
A sound is torn from him. Raw. Desperate. He stiffens completely, his hands gripping your waist as he gasps against your temple. Your orgasm, the friction, the tether, your scent - all of it crashes into him at once. His own release pulses through the bond, hitting you like a tidal wave. You both shudder, bodies quickening, breathing shallow and wrecked.
He doesn't speak.
Just holds you tightly, face buried in your neck.
Hes still trembling when he lowers the two of you to the floor, cradling you against him as though your body is made of fragile glass. The shadows in the room shift, drawing back like curtains parting to let in soft, golden twilight. You're not sure if its magic or mercy. But either way, it wraps you both in hush.
Too quiet.
Merrit was gone...off tending to the shadows that obeyed only him, to the realm that bent for his will alone. And though you knew he'd return...you couldn't stand the ache. Longing for him. The hunger.
You missed his beautiful face. That chiseled jaw. That mouth that was made to kiss and torment. His elegant, merciless hands. The sharp lines of his body, like art carved from moonstone.
And there was only one other who bore that face.
Sylus.
You stood alone in the middle of Merrits private chamber, heart pounding in your chest like a guilty drumbeat. You shouldn't do this, you know that. Calling him was like calling the devil himself.
You whispered his twins name.
Once.
Softly.
The candles flickered.
Twice.
The air grew colder.
Three times
And then he was there.
He didn't arrive so much as appear, unfolding from shadow, from silence, from the space between. Sylus stood before you like a blade in the dark; tall, sharp, still.
The resemblance to Merrit was perfect. Almost.
Black hair; albeit longer, that hung down in waves past his shoulders. The same pale skin. The same sculpted mouth and long, beautiful hands.
But the eyes-oh gods the eyes.
Merrits were ocean deep, nearly black.
Sylus's were silver. Cold. Metallic. Glinting with something between pain and rage.
He didn't move for a long moment. Just stared at you; jaw clenched, hands behind his back. His coat was long and dark; tailored over his lean body with clinical precision. He looked haunting; a ghost in command of death itself.
You swallowed hard. You'd done this. You'd summoned him. Not because you needed punishment. Not because you broke a rule.
You just wanted to see...him.
His face. Merrits face.
Sylus stepped forward, slow, deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating.
"You dare summon me," he said atlast, voice like frost cracking over stone. "And not because you erred...but because you're lonely?"
You open your mouth but no sound came out.
"You know the cost," he continued, now just a foot away. His gaze swept over you, not in desire, but in dissection. And yet beneath the surface...that curse stirred.
His hands twitched. His breath grew shallow. His silver eyes flickered; just briefly, to the curve of your lips, the line of your neck, the rising of your chest. He didn't move, but you could feel the war inside him. Cold control vs something unbearably hot beneath.
"You called me...just to look at me," he said low and dangerous.
His jaw flexed. His gloved hand curled into a fist.
"You wanted his face...and you thought mine would do."
You whispered, "I missed him. But your hands, your body, your face...they're..."
"Identical?" He cut in, fury flashing behind his silver gaze. "We are not the same. And now, because of you..."
He inhaled sharply. The arousal from the curse was already taking root. He was shifting, barely, his coat hiding the evidence. But his voice trembled with the finest restrained fury.
"...I burn."
He stepped in so close, your lips nearly touched.
"You've broken no rules," he whispered. "So I should not touch you."
But then.
His hand snapped out.
Wrapped around your throat, not tight, not cruel, just containing. Possessive. Punishing.
"And yet...you did. You called me for your own hunger. And now I suffer needlessly."
You felt it. The tension in his body. His hardness pressing against the inside of his coat. The way he looked at you now; not clinically, not analytically.
But a man starved.
Still, his voice remained ice.
"You wanted my face," he hissed. "So now...you will see exactly what comes along with it."
He stepped back, that cold expression bearing down into your soul.
He was aroused.
Against his will
Because of you.
He hated it. And still his body aches for you. Cursed by the gods to be forever tormented in your presence.
The shadows moved before he did. Inky tendrils rose from the floor like sentient ropes, wrapping around your wrists and ankles. They lifted you slowly, your body suspended in mid-air, arms above your head, legs parted just enough to rob you of any control. The cold touch of the shadow kissed your skin, holding you in a cradle of darkness.
Sylus stepped close, his voice as sharp as frost.
"You called me...because I look like him. Now I suffer because of you."
His gloved hand came to your chin, so your eyes met his.
"And now, you'll suffer alongside me."
You feel it. It began coiling in your belly, spreading, humming, titillating. Pleasure. Your mouth parts slightly and your head rolled back.; an open invitation to this delicious gift he's magically tethered between the two of you. Your body flushes under the sudden ecstacy and a gasp escapes your lips. It coils around you tightly humming for release. Tighter.
Tighter still.
Until what began as pleasure slowly grew into an inescapable, fiery, need. Hot, heavy frustration. You could barely breathe when you felt his first cold touch.
His fingers were precise, methodical. His gloves had vanished with a flick of his wrist, replaced by bare fingers - cold, smooth, merciless.
He tickled lightly at first; a soft flutter of fingertips right in the hollows beneath your arms. Feather-soft circles. Then sharper motions. Rubbing. Drilling. A cruel rhythm that made your shoulders twitch and your chest shake with laughter you couldn't stop.
"So reactive," he murmured. "Disgusting...and yet addictive."
Each time you jerked or yelped, he flinched too. His jaw clenched. A soft, involuntary grunt escaped him. He wanted to stop. He couldn't.
He moved to your ribs next; the sharp edges beneath your arms. His fingers spread wide and dragged slowly across each rib, counting them out loud.
"One...two...three...such a delicate cage to trap all that sound."
He varied the pressure. Light scribbles along the bones. A firm press between them. Occasionally he'd dig in just enough to make you shriek. Your laughter rang in the dark like bells...and each note twisted the curse inside him tighter.
He staggered back. His hands went to his hair, dragging through it in frustration, eyes squeezed shut as though he were in pain.
"You're...killing me."
He recovers quickly. Standing up straight, he adjusts his collar, collecting himself, and steps towards you once more.
Your body jerks again as Sylus's fingers glide agonizingly slow; down your inner thigh, tracing just above the sensitive skin behind your knee. His touch there is maddeningly light, barely grazing the surface - but with the magical tether between you, it surges like lightning through both of your cores.
He watches you writhe with clinical detachment, or he tries to. His silver eyes betray nothing, but the subtle rise of his chest, the way his jaw ticks, and the sudden swallow at the base of his throat tells the truth. Hes drowning in this...just like you.
"Do you feel that," he murmurs coldly, the barest edge straining his voice. His fingertips circles up to the lowest part of your abdomen.
You gasp.
He stumbles back a half step like your moan physically struck him.
"Tch," he wipes a hand across his mouth, frustrated with his own reaction. "I've tethered us," he hisses, voice lower and dark. "But its my body betraying me. My discipline cracking."
Without warning, both hands are at your waist, his thumbs digging wickedly into the curve just above your hips, pressing into the most vulnerable nerves.
He begins to vibrate them - short bursts; sharp, relentless flicks of movement that make you squeal, thrash.
The sensation travels down your spine like hot wine. He watches every contorted expression you make like a scientist in a lab. But his breath shudders again, and he growls low in his throat.
Hes hard beneath his coat - painfully so. So much so that he can't hardly stand it. Every time you beg. Every laugh, every moan and thrash of your body, only makes it worse for him.
"I shouldn't want this," he mutters as if to himself. "I shouldn't need you like this."
The arousal through the bond pulses through your body in mirrored waves, every touch of his fingers, a lash across both your senses. You're gasping consistently now, not just from the tickling but from the desperate flush that coils low and aching in your belly.
"Sylus please! Im sorry! Im sorry I called to you! Please...mercy. Stop! You have to stop!"
"Beg better!" He snarles back. His hands crawl upward. Cruel. Relentless. "Every time I see you I suffer! And still you call for me."
His legs are trembling slightly. His hand reaches up and curles it into your hair as if grounding himself. A soft moan, barely choked down vibrates in his chest. Hes visibly shaking now, on edge, needing to cum so badly; its written all over the sharp lines of his face.
He circles behind you now, breath hot against your nape. His fingers slide into your underarms once more, but this time he stretches the moment. Long gliding strokes that make you shudder, make you screech and sob with laughter.
You arch involuntary...and his control slips.
"Damn you, witch," he snarles as he walks back around to look you right in the eyes. With that beautiful face, Merrits face...but wasn't.
You saw him then, Sylus...and it took your breath away. His beauty was all his own. Those silver eyes, now desperate with lust.
It pushes you over the edge. You cum hard. Your body arches and you scream from the pleasure of the release. The bonds holding you disolve and you fall forward. Straight into his chest. He catches you by instinct, your body sliding down his like silk.
And that's it.
A sound is torn from him. Raw. Desperate. He stiffens completely, his hands gripping your waist as he gasps against your temple. Your orgasm, the friction, the tether, your scent - all of it crashes into him at once. His own release pulses through the bond, hitting you like a tidal wave. You both shudder, bodies quickening, breathing shallow and wrecked.
He doesn't speak.
Just holds you tightly, face buried in your neck.
Hes still trembling when he lowers the two of you to the floor, cradling you against him as though your body is made of fragile glass. The shadows in the room shift, drawing back like curtains parting to let in soft, golden twilight. You're not sure if its magic or mercy. But either way, it wraps you both in hush.
