He holds me gently as if I’m something…fragile—precious. Cradles me in his palms. I cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep hold of any…intelligent thought. His thumbs swirl, slow, maddening circles over the painfully pointed tips, and my control shatters with a strangled cry that calls his attention back to my mouth. His head shifts, looking like a man drugged as he stares at my lips. He presses his mouth over mine, and that fire in me swelters as he kisses me softly, his tongue sweeping across my lip and into my mouth in cadenced motions.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
I rock, that tender swollen bud between my legs sliding against the soaked strip of fabric separating us, desperate for friction. I wriggle against the magic levitating me. I’m wrapped around him but not where I want to be, too high up his waist. I shimmy down, searching for purchase—gasping when I find it. He’s rigid, digging into me exactly where, exactly how I need him to.
“Fuck,” he groans.
He’s the perfect size, length solidity. The perfect post for me to clamp my thighs around and grind myself up and down. Like this is exactly where he belongs.
Like this is what it was made for.
I’m already dancing too close to the edge but unable to stop myself from ratcheting myself closer and closer to that inevitable conclusion.
The harder I try to hold onto my restraint, the more vigorously he tortures me, switching back and forth between kneading my breasts and plucking me out between his fingers to soft tantalizing caresses. I give in, letting my moans spill free.
More, give me more, give me everything.
He responds vigorously, shoving me back as he props an elbow against the wall and grinds into me. Strong, confident, practiced aggressive motions. His abdominal muscles flex with each drive of his hips. I move with him. His hand wraps around my jaw, forcing me to meet his dilated, hungry and wild eyes. “Pet.”
He spears me into the wall.Once. Twice. Every muscle in my body is pulled tight, past the breaking point.
“Sitri, I—“
He stiffens, but I’m too far gone, movements autonomous as I drive that tender bundle of nerves over the hard ridge of his cock, that single point of tension that holds the whole thing in place. I explode with a final cry, body jerking with violent wracking heaves of pleasure. I’m vaguely aware of him pushing back at my hips in a futile attempt to pry me off of him but my legs are locked like vises around his hips. His head dips, teeth closing around my neck with a strangled groan. I’m pretty sure I’ve pulled him right over the edge with me when his hips suddenly jerk reflexively, cock pulsing between my thighs, coaxing several more shudders out of me.
I hold him more tightly through his pleasure, my body still twitching with the after shocks of my own. He collapses against me, both of us breathing raggedly. My body goes limp, magic suspending me against the wall. My mind’s suspended too, drifting lazily. Finally sated and enveloped in a peaceful, lusty haze. I stroke a hand over his back, nuzzling further into his neck. Press my lips there.
I never want to come down.
Finally. Nothing has ever—could ever feel more right than this.
Minutes pass before his cock emits another pulse between my thighs. I respond with a throb of my own, the henbane already gearing me up formore. I trail my hands down the grooves of his abdomen. Lower. Press my hand over the tip of his cock, unsurprised to find his pants there damp. There’s no question in my mind.
I unhook the top button of his pants and then the next one. His body tenses a second before his hand comes down to shove mine back. He heaves a swear, spiking a bolt of anxiety through my lusty fog. I lift my head, peering at him through half hooded eyes, but he refuses to meet my gaze, head bowed as he peels me off of him and settles me on the floor.
My legs wobble and I totter dangerously, lifting a hand to brace myself against the wall. He rushes to do up the buttons of his pants before swiping his shirt off the floor and I see it, regret flashing in his eyes, in the rare red of his cheeks.
My stomach sinks so quickly. The peace I was experiencing only seconds ago feels like an illusion. His eyes dart over me and away with the air of a child who’s done something they shouldn’t have. Like he’s just broken his mother’s favorite vase and he’s bracing himself for the consequences. He opens his mouth as if to speak but he says nothing as he taps awkwardly at my shoulder a few times. As if it will magically take this moment away, make that it never happened.
But he can’t. He pulls his hand back, closing it into a fist to keep it from betraying him further as he heaves another swear. My brows crease. “What’s wrong?”
I step forward, wrap a hand around his arm. “No!” he snaps, ripping himself from my hand. “Fuck, pet! No.”
It feels like a piercing strike to the chest. My face crumples. “Wait—“ He forms a symbol I’m all too familiar with. Locks my feet to the floor.
I cover myself with my arms like a shrunken, shriveled plant.
“Gods fucking dammit.” He tears a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, we can’t. We can’t do this.”
I’m too stunned to say anything as he bolts for the door. It slams shut behind him with a deafening clank. The daemon strikes inside of me, face burning red hot. The magic lets off and I sink down on the floor, pulling my legs up to my chest and burying my head in my knees. I bite at the back of my hand to muffle the sob that tears up my throat.
I want to be anyone, anything other than this.
Once, there was agirl locked in the kingdom fortressed by the Wall. The Wall repelled magic and monsters so the people could live there safely. But it was also the same wall where she had a great fall. She was once a happy girl. But when she woke up from the fall, she was changed. She woke up with a deep sorrow, a yearning she didn’t understand, and a fire, this pain in her veins that never dampened.
She didn’t take well to the Shroud. The chains were heavy and restrictive. The bars dug in at awkward angles when she slept, and she woke with an ache that never seemed to dull. Her head sagged with the weight of it, and the Grand Prioress would snap at her to hold her head straight. The Shrouded are meant to be seen and not heard. The Shrouded are meant to be good, obedient, demure, weak, submissive, and yielding.
