Her posture was lazy and defeated, but a palpable killing intent shone in the depths of her eyes.
Her beauty was otherworldly even in such a state, causing Adam's concentration to momentarily flicker.
"Swoosh!"
Even in this state, in that split second, a final flicker of defiance made her raise a trembling hand to strike his face.
Adam reacted, stopped admiring her beauty, and caught her wrist effortlessly, his grip firmly grasping her deceptively strong and dainty hand.
He held her captured hand between them, forcing her to look at him. Her mercury eyes were pools of stormy conflict: rage, humiliation, and a dazed, unwanted submission laced with an inkling pleasure.
"Join me, Lyra," He said, his voice a husky, compelling whisper that vibrated through their connected bodies, "Not as a servant, not as a slave, but as my queen…" He stopped and corrected himself, his burning gaze locking onto hers, "No. You are my queen."
His words law that gave Lyra no choice in the matter.
He pulled her caught hand, bringing her face close to his, their lips almost touching, his breath hot on her velvet lips.
"Together, we will use the nexus. We will reach heights of power those petty elves you hate could never dream of."
He saw the flicker in her eyes at the mention of her past. He pressed his advantage, his voice dropping to an intimate, sinister promise.
"And then... we will use its power. We will walk through the dimensional gate, and we will visit your old world. I will stand beside you as you burn their homes and tear down their ivory towers. Your revenge, my aid, will be my gift to you."
The words were a key, turning in the lock of her deepest, most sacred desire.
His body was still moving in a subtle rhythm, enjoying her body more than anything.
Her resistance, already crumbling under the dual assault of intense pleasure and utter exhaustion, began to shatter.
A part of her, the primal, devilish nature that understood strength above all else, had already subconsciously submitted.
It was the raw, base submission of a powerful female devil being thoroughly, roughly, and intoxicatingly subdued by a stronger male devil. Eons of instinct and evolution made fiends, even devils, easily susceptible to submission during a sexual assault; especially the weaker, the lower realm, one was.
The pleasure, to Lyra, as undeniable and shocking as it was to her, was a potent drug that weakening her resolve just as effectively as his fists… no, more effectively than his brute strength had!
She couldn't understand why he was doing everything he did, why he made those promises.
'Was it because of my body?'
Such a concept was alien to her in her past life, and even more so now as a devil. She had resisted at first, but was now discovering that the act was pleasurable; though she didn't like the way they had gone about it.
At this point, she was already humiliated and defiled; the deed was done and irreversible at this point. Yet another question sprouted in her mind: what's next?
Why fight now, when you could get your revenge another time…
Exhausted, she allowed her body to move with his as she no longer fought it, a whisper escaping her lips.
"Your... name..." She panted, the question a form of surrender in itself.
"Adam," He told her, a genuine, triumphant smile appearing his features as he released her wrist.
Lyra's head fell back, a long, shuddering moan escaping her as he drove particularly deep at the same moment.
When she looked back down at him, her eyes held a complex mixture of shattered pride and a terrifying, new-born hunger.
"Adam..." She exhaled, testing the name, engraving the name of the brute bastard, "You shall... remember... unggg… your p-promises~"
It was not a plea.
It was a contract, sealed in blood and pleasure.
Adam's smile widened at her words. Her submitting to his overwhelming prowess and strength was intoxicating as it was addicting.
The room was heavy with silence after her words, broken only by Lyra's ragged, pained breaths and the faint, distant hum of the barrier.
The weight of their 'pact' bore down on the ravaged deviless.
She laid on her back, her body painted with bruises and small cuts, her expression one of dizzying pain.
The world still spun, but through the nausea, a cold, hard reality solidified: she was captured, had she had given in.
Defeated.
The defiant fury that had sustained her had been slowly ground down, burned away in the short, brutal skirmish and the relentless, disorienting fucks that had followed.
Of course, there was still a petty hatred and frustration at the whole ordeal, but she couldn't logically find a way to hate her current situation: a powerful nexus, sex is surprisingly amazing, and she could now lived in a more civilized way, befitting of her status.
Thus, in her mind, a subtle shame was buried by the terrifying, unwanted thrill that coiled low in her belly.
This devil hadn't just beaten her; he plunged into her mind, as she had his. They had seen the very core of their being, the trauma and hatred that had formed them and allowed them to be reborn. He had seen her humiliating, pathetic state, and yet still found her worthy of capture; his desire for her hot and smothering as he leaned in close to her.
It was a perverse form of validation that both sickened her and made her tingle with excitement.
'Am I a slut?' A simple question popped into her mind before she no longer cared.
Everything doesn't need a label, just knowing what you like and what you don't is enough to move on through life at times.
Adam leaned in over her, his cuts still weeping with tiny beads of black-red blood, smoke trailing towards the sealing as his demonic physique worked to close the wounds. The sight of his own blood, drawn by her, didn't anger him, but fueled him instead.
It was a reminder, proof of her spirit!
A feisty, unyielding personality that only served to attract him deeper and deeper into her mercury pool-like eyes. Even in her lazy, submitted state, a bone chilling killing intent radiated off of her naked, seductive form.
His smile was gone, replaced by a look of intense, predatory focus.
The fire within him was no longer just the thrill of the hunt; it was a consuming need to possess, to dominate, to brand this beautiful, furious creature utterly and completely.
He didn't speak, for words were unnecessary; his actions would be his language.
So he sought to immediately cash in on her words.
He descended upon her, his weight pinning her to the hide and furs.
"Ehh?"
An involuntary, weak gasp escaped her mouth, her hands instinctively coming up to push against his chest. But her strength was gone, her arms feeble, and her gaze hazy.
He caught her wrists in one large hand, easily forcing them above her head, pinning them with an unbreakable grip. His other hand traced the line of her jaw, where his punch had landed, his touch surprisingly gentle before it firmed, tilting her face up to his.
Confusion and recklessness flowed in her silver pools, while Adam's red hot gaze burned into her.
Then his mouth crashed down on hers.
It was a deep claiming upon her delicate lips.
Brutal, hungry, and devoid of tenderness; just desire, obsession… possession.
His tongue invaded, tasting the coppery tang of blood from when she had bitten his neck, mingling with the unique, electric flavor of her shadow-tainted essence; her taste was a nectar of sin that he couldn't get enough of.
Lyra stiffened, a final spark of defiance trying to subconsciously ignite, but it was smothered under the overwhelming force of his presence.
"Mhmmmm~"
A moan, torn from somewhere deep within her, was trapped in her throat. Her body, against its will, began to respond. The shame was still there, but it was now intertwined with a shocking, undeniable arousal.
He released her mouth, his lips trailing down her throat, biting and sucking marks into her light brown skin, branding her with his passion. Crimson hickeys marked a trail of possession on her sun-kissed skin. Her pointed breast heaving up and down while her ass clenched as she lifted her hips.
His free hand roamed down her body, over the subtle curves, tracing the delicate tracery of shadows that pulsed beneath her skin.
Her breasts were small, pert, tipped with nipples the color of dark rose quartz.
He lowered his head, taking one into his mouth, his tongue tracing its shape, his teeth grazing with just enough force to make her cry out, her back arching off the furs in budding pleasure.
His hand slid down her flat stomach, over the quivering muscles, and into the warmth between her legs.
Ready to start another match…