> Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, including explicit scenes, strong language, and adult situations. It may not be suitable for younger readers. If you are uncomfortable with such content, please skip this chapter.
Morena, trapped, glared at him with feigned authority. "Release me at once... What do you think you're doing? I'm the queen of wizards... You can't..."
She was cut off when Alastor slowly brought his claws down, snagging the collar of her dress. The fabric gave way in a long tear, exposing his bare skin to the cold air of the room. She felt goosebumps rise on her arms.
"No… stop…" she whispered, her voice cracking with fear.
He didn't respond, continuing to tear at her clothes with cruel precision. Each shred torn off was a new humiliation: the sound of fabric tearing, the rustling against his skin, the air suddenly caressing areas never exposed. Soon she was completely naked, trembling, tears rolling hot down her temples.
Alastor sat up slightly, and she heard the scrape of a belt being undone, the slipping of the fabric of his pants. Then he came back on top of her, his rigid, hot member – paradoxically warm compared to the rest of his cold body – pressed against the inside of her thigh.
"Please… no…" she sobbed, desperately squeezing her thighs to block his access.
With an amused smile, Alastor tenderly caressed her face, contrasting with the brutality to come. "When you do stupid things, Morena, you also have to be ready to face the consequences."
He parted his thighs with a brutal gesture. She felt the cold air on her exposed intimacy, the total vulnerability. Then the pressure, insistent, at its entrance. He pushed suddenly, without preparation, without gentleness. The pain was immediate and wrenching – like being split in two.
"AAAAAAAHHHH...." she screamed, a hoarse scream that echoed through the room, her virgin walls stretching violently around her invasion. Hot blood flowed between her thighs, lubricating the following movements despite herself. Each thrust was a new burn, a wet and obscene slap of flesh against flesh.
Alastor savored every sensation: the tight, throbbing heat that gripped his cock, the tremor of her body beneath him, the involuntary spasms of her muscles that squeezed him despite the pain. He tilted his head, his lips brushing her ear.
"So... that way, I'm your first, after all. Not Asher. And to think that you pushed me away and kept yourself for him, but in the end, it was me who took your virginity," he breathed, his voice thick with cruel pleasure.
She was crying, her cheeks flooded, the salty taste of tears on her lips. "Dirty…monster…"
He laughed softly, a deep sound that vibrated in his chest against hers. "Monster? Are you calling me a monster? How about we talk about what you did to Kira? Have you forgotten?"
His thrusts became faster, deeper, slamming forcefully against her hips. Each impact sent a wave of pain through her pelvis, but also, treacherously, flashes of sensation she refused to acknowledge.
Suddenly, the memory hit her like a dagger: she saw herself leaving the room with her friends, leaving Kira on the bed, frightened, her eyes pleading, her voice breaking: "Please... Don't leave me... Help me..."
This image broke her more surely than physical pain. His resistance collapsed. His groans of suffering turned into resigned sobs. His body, exhausted, stopped struggling; she relaxed in spite of herself around the continued invasion.
Alastor felt the change. "That's it... Let it happen... Take responsibility for your mistakes..."
He sped up again, his grunts becoming more animalistic. Finally, he stiffened, buried to the hilt, and poured into her in long, hot pulses that she distinctly felt flowing deep into her stomach.
He stayed like that for a moment, panting against her neck, then slowly withdrew. A warm, viscous trickle flowed between her trembling thighs.
Morena lay on the cold table, naked, broken, her body aching, her mind haunted by the memory and by the lingering feeling of him inside her. The smell of sex, blood and sweat filled the room.
Alastor adjusted his clothes calmly, a victorious smile on his lips. "Now… we're even."
He turned on his heel and left, leaving behind Morena staring blankly at the ceiling, tears falling silently.