Contains explicit sexual content and themes of power imbalance.
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Aurelia fumbled with the remaining buttons of his shirt, her fingers clumsy, trembling, the fabric parting like a hesitant confession. It fell open, a stark reveal of sculpted planes, the latent power coiled beneath the surface like a coiled viper.
For a breath, she was lost, her palms tracing the cool, unyielding planes of his chest, the subtle tremor of muscle beneath.
What was going on with me?The thought snagged in her mind, sharp and unwelcome. It looked too obvious. I thought I hated him.
Her body, this trembling flesh, felt like a betrayal of every vow, every shard of self-preservation she clung to.
So what is going on now?
The confusion was a cold knot in her stomach, warring with the burgeoning heat that was rapidly consuming her.
He shattered the stillness. In a motion too swift to follow, he shoved her back, the heavy oak of the weapons table a harsh barrier against her spine. The sudden violence was a jolt, a brutal reminder of his nature, of the power he wielded. A sharp gasp escaped her, a premature reaction to the impact, her throat constricting.
With a brutal sweep of his arm, he cleared its surface. Daggers, arrowheads, and gleaming tools clattered to the stone floor, a discordant, ringing cascade of metal that echoed the violence of the act, a symphony of cold, hard edges. The metallic clatter seemed to vibrate through the very stone beneath her feet, a dissonant prelude to what was to come.
"Bend."
The command, a low growl that vibrated against her ear, propelled her forward, over the table's edge. His mouth found the sensitive nape of her neck, a slow, deliberate brand burning down her spine.
Each touch of his lips was a searing mark through the thin silk of her gown, an imprint of possession that burned deeper than skin, raising gooseflesh in its wake, a thousand tiny tremors erupting across her flesh.
A fever coiled within her, a tight knot of heat building beneath her skin, threatening to consume her from the inside. A fine sweat bloomed, tracing a slick path between her shoulder blades, each bead a testament to the burgeoning inferno, a surrender to the inevitable.
Her breath came in shallow, stolen gasps, her lungs struggling to keep up with the sudden, suffocating demand. Her cheeks began to flush, a faint pink at first, then deepening to a noticeable rose, then a furious scarlet that spread to her brow and the tips of her ears.
He fisted a hand in her white hair, yanking her head back with ruthless economy, just enough to claim her mouth again in a rough, devouring kiss, a communion of teeth and desperate breath that stole the very air from her lungs. Her lips parted under his onslaught, a silent cry against the rough exploration, her tongue desperately seeking purchase, then recoiling from the sheer force of his demand. The kiss was not one of tenderness, but of brutal claiming, a forceful assertion of dominance that left her head spinning, her vision blurring at the edges.
His other hand clutched the amethyst silk of her gown, dragging it upward with a sound like tearing moonlight.
The fabric yielded, revealing the pale, trembling length of her thighs. The delicate white undergarment, now starkly visible, felt impossibly thin, a fragile barrier against his predatory gaze.
It was a stark, vulnerable invitation, a whisper of surrender against the encroaching darkness. Her skin flushed crimson from her thighs to the tips of her ears, a visible testament to the invasion, a tell-tale sign of her body's involuntary arousal. Her thighs screamed with a silent, agonizing ache, the muscles bunching and spasming as if in preemptive fear.
They trembled violently, threatening to buckle, her entire lower body a testament to her terror and her overwhelming physical response.
A dark, guttural sound rumbled in his chest, a low vibration of approval. He released her hair, his fingers finding the vanadium chain at his waist.
The metallic whisper of its release was a promise, and a stark threat, of what was to come. A chilling prelude that tightened the knot of anticipation in her belly until it felt like a molten ball of fire.
He peeled the silk from her skin. His hand pressed firmly between her buttocks, the pressure insistent, urging her down, forcing her over the waiting wood. The table's edge bit into her flesh, a harsh reality grounding her as she surrendered to his will. Her hips bucked instinctively, a desperate, involuntary response to the pressure and the anticipation, a silent plea for what was to come, a whimper escaping her parted lips.
His hands moved to his waist, a brief rustle of dark fabric. Then he was inside her— his cork deep, a sudden, burning fullness that fractured her thoughts into fragmented shards of light and obliterating shadow. It was a violation, a tearing, a stretching that sent waves of excruciating sensation through her.
"Ehhhhh!" The groan ripped from her, raw, ragged, a sound wrenched from a place of pure instinct. Her fingers whitened, gripping the table's edge as if it could anchor her to the collapsing reality, her knuckles growing pale, then bone-white. Sweat rolled in unbroken trails down her spine, a slick sheen of violation, and a bead of it traced a path from her temple down her cheek, hot against her skin.
Her jaw went slack, her face contorting as a desperate, open-mouthed gasp for air that wouldn't come fast enough, each stolen breath a reminder of her subjugation, her lungs burning with the effort. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of terror and burgeoning sensation, each pulse sending a fresh wave of heat through her veins. Her face, now a deep crimson, flushed with the sheer intensity of the moment, her skin feeling impossibly hot to the touch.
A slow, predatory smirk stretched across his lips, a cruel curve in the dim light. He began with deliberate, deep strokes, a measured rhythm that felt less like passion and more like the methodical survey of conquered territory.
His movements were controlled, unnervingly precise, each thrust a deliberate charting of her body. The pressure was immense, her inner thighs screaming with the strain as they were forced wider, wider still, her muscles quivering under the relentless demand.
Then, without warning, the tempo shattered—he drove into her faster, a punishing, relentless pace that stole the rhythm of her breath, each thrust a hammer blow against her very core. Her hips involuntarily arched, meeting his brutal rhythm, a desperate, primal dance against the unyielding wood.
Her face flushed a deep, mottled red, her eyes squeezed shut, tears stinging at the corners, not from pain alone, but from the sheer overwhelming intensity of it all.
Her thighs screamed with the friction, the constant impact against the table's edge a sharp, insistent agony that pulsed with every deep, punishing stroke. They felt like they were being torn apart, yet her body, traitorously, continued to meet his thrusts with a desperate fervor, her hips writhing in a painful, ecstatic dance.
"Ahhh... ahh... ahhh—" The cries were torn from a place deeper than her lungs, primal screams against the suffocating silence. Her fingers clawed at the wood, digging into the grain, clinging not just for balance, but as if she might tear herself free from the unbearable sensation, her nails leaving faint marks on the surface.
Her breath hitched in ragged gasps, breaking into uneven sounds she couldn't swallow, each one a raw plea against the rising tide of sensation. Her throat ached with the effort of holding back screams, a constant, burning pressure.
She squeezed her eyes shut, surrendering to the brutal calculus her body had made: within this pain was a pleasure so sharp it bordered on obliteration, a dizzying precipice.
Her entire being was consumed by the overwhelming sensations, a tidal wave crashing over her mind, erasing all thought, all will. Her heart pounded a frantic rhythm, a wild percussion against the onslaught, each beat a thunderclap of raw sensation.
She could feel the hot, solid slap of his skin against hers with every punishing drive. The sound was a wet, percussive beat against the backdrop of her ragged breath, a rhythm of violation that seared itself into her awareness, a shock to her system with each impact.
"Emmmm..."
A scream built in her throat, a raw, animalistic sound, as her body, betraying all thought, began to move—arching, meeting him, falling into the brutal, unforgiving rhythm he set, a slave to the primal dance.
Her hips undulated, her spine curved and straightened, a desperate, involuntary response to the raw power he unleashed, her entire body moving as one with his relentless assault. Her thighs screamed with the friction, the impact, yet her hips continued to writhe, seeking more, seeking an end she couldn't fathom.
His grip remained, fingers digging into her, widening her, forcing a deeper submission, a surrender that felt absolute.
The pressure was too much, her body stretching, yielding, forced to accommodate his relentless advance, her muscles screaming in protest but yielding nonetheless, a symphony of pain and involuntary response.
Then, the stretch and fill, a stark, grounding reality shaped entirely by his will.
His release was a quiet, claiming rush, emptying his thick, sticky liquid into her as they held each other close, the heat of his possession a searing brand, a final, indelible mark.
The surge was hot, thick, overwhelming, filling her with a profound sense of both violation and undeniable sensation, a stark intimacy that left her gasping, her body shuddering uncontrollably.
He drew back, just enough to meet her eyes. She turned, her gaze searching his—still unaware this was only the beginning.
Her eyes, wide and disbelieving, were pools of bewildered emotion, reflecting the dim light and the raw aftermath. Her face was a map of flushed skin, tear tracks, and pure, overwhelming sensation, her lips bruised and swollen from his kiss.
His fingers worked slowly at the laces of her corset, each tug a quiet release of breath and tension. The stiff garment loosened, then slid from her body to pool at her feet like a discarded skin. Now, she stood bare before him—skin bathed in the dim, flickering light, vulnerable and unveiled, a tableau of surrender. Her skin, still slick with sweat, shimmered in the faint light, every curve and plane laid bare, her flushed cheeks still burning, her nipples hardened against the cool air, aching with a sensitivity that bordered on pain.
His hands found her waist and turned her, lifting her easily onto the edge of the table. Without a word, he drew her forward, seating her firmly against the wood, before pulling her close—until there was no space left between them.
He was between her knees, the fabric of his trousers brushing her inner thighs. One hand stayed firm on her hip, the other rose to cradle the back of her neck. Her thighs trembled, still aching from the impact with the table, yet her body responded to his touch, to his proximity, a faint tremor running through them, a desperate seeking.
Her eyes locked on his—or where his should be. A glint of gold caught the faint light: a mask covering the upper half of his face, ornate and utterly unreadable. For a moment, her gaze dropped, taking in their reflection in a nearby window —her bare flesh, him still clothed, half-hidden behind the cold, impassive gold. Her reflection stared back, a picture of raw, vulnerable womanhood against his shadowed, masked presence. Her face, still flushed, looked almost painted against the starkness of the scene, her lips parted, her breath still coming in ragged gasps.
Why did he wear it? What in this world was he hiding?
His hand pressed firmly into the small of her back, his lips at her ear.
"Don't make a sound."
But was this a command, or a dark game? She knew she could—would—if she wanted to.
Instead Aurelia screamed louder, her hand rising to cradle the nape of his neck. Her lips followed, pressing a silent, deliberate kiss against his skin, a surrender laced with defiance, a silent plea.
Aurelia arched into him, her damp skin sliding against his. Their bodies found a rhythm—a slow, deep roll of hips and breath. Her back curved and straightened with each motion, a silent, undulating dance where only their touch spoke. Her hips moved with a new, urgent grace, seeking a deeper connection, a release she hadn't known she craved. Her thighs, still aching, now moved with a desperate longing, their screams of pain replaced by a desperate seeking.
She bit down on her lip, hard—fighting to keep silent, though every slow roll of her waist against his begged for sound, a desperate whisper against the stillness. She loved this: the deliberate pace, the strength in his hands, the almost unbearable tension. Her heart thrummed with a dangerous mixture of fear, awe, and a burgeoning, desperate need. Her flushed face turned towards him, eyes half-lidded, a silent testament to her internal battle, a landscape of raw sensation.
But what if he went faster?
The thought was a lightning strike of fear and want in her mind. He might ruin her. He might ruin her beautifully.
For a while, he held the pace slow—almost languid, a deliberate torture. His control was absolute, making her own loss of control all the more potent, a testament to his power over her.
Then his presence shifted. Subtly at first, then deeper, faster.
Crin...Crang...
The table groaned beneath them, its legs scraping against the floor in a clumsy, rhythmic protest, a frantic heartbeat. The sudden increase in tempo sent a jolt through Aurelia, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes snapping open, wide with a mixture of terror and exhilaration.
Aurelia hands braced against his chest, her mouth falling open in a soundless cry before the name tore from her:
"Tenebrarum—"
"I told you," he breathed against her skin, his voice a low, dangerous rasp, "not to call me that."
Through the half mask, she could see the flash of his smile—sharp, predatory. His teeth grazed her neck a second before his palm struck her thigh.
Tassss...
A sharp, stinging slap, timed with a deeper thrust. Again. And again his palm met her flesh, a brutal cadence.
The sting radiated through her, coiling heat low in her belly, a fire consuming her from the inside out, her hips instinctively meeting each punishing impact. Her face twisted, a silent scream escaping her lips as her body met the sharp, stinging blows with a desperate, writhing intensity.
Her thighs throbbed, an intense ache that pulsed with every jarring impact, a constant reminder of her surrender and his dominance, their screams of pain now mingling with involuntary moans of desperate need.
A punishing rhythm that stole her breath and coiled heat low in her belly, a fire consuming her from the inside out.
She couldn't stop staring at it.
Wow! He's so good.
Her mind screamed, she didn't expect her to really enjoy it like this.
Aurelia body was no longer her own; it was a vessel of pure sensation, an instrument for his pleasure, her mind a distant observer lost in the overwhelming tide of physical experience.
But what did she expect, It is Tenebrarum.
He is terrifyingly great.
Her very essence was being rewritten in this brutal dance, each sensation a brand etched into her soul.
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To be continued...