How long had he waited for this moment? Years. Centuries, it felt like. His belongings were stuffed with photographs with the faces scratched out, newspapers with blurry articles, and the occasional receipt. They had been careful, had almost disappeared. Almost. Nothing was ever really gone. Not even him.
When she walked into the room, it was as if no time at all had passed; she had always looked older than she was. He took credit for that. It wasn't until he got a good look at her face that he could see the small differences time had made.
His grip on her arms is sharp as he smacks her back against the wall. In the shock, she says the only thing she can think to say.
"No-"
"Did you really think that you could outrun me? That I wouldn't find you?"
She doesn't cry, staring him straight in the eyes, the way only the hopelessly desperate do, doesn't look away because she can't, "You're not here right now. You're not here."
"I might not be as much ghost as you had hoped, but I will admit to haunting you," he digs his fingers further into her arms. "I had almost hoped you'd be more clever than this, walking right into a trap. How did you survive this long so stupid?"
He sees her eyes dart to the door, but before she can do anything, he's kicking it shut, "Don't bother. No one is coming."
"If you think-"
"I think-" he interrupts, "that you are more gullible than you'd like to believe. Last I remember, you were supposed to be the smart one. Pity how things change."
"You've been here the entire time?" She looks around the room, following the piles of miscellany with her eyes, disgust creeping in on the terror.
"You'd be surprised how patient I can be, Orphan."
"And the other passengers?"
"A fun mixture of unsuspecting civilians and outright foes. I'm afraid, my dear, you are entirely alone."
"How did you even get on board? We-"
"Does it matter? It's too late now for stupid questions. Sufficient to say I am, and if you'd like to survive, I'd start with doing a better job of shutting up."
"Or what?" Aggressive, she shakes off his grip, "you'll kill me?"
"Getting ahead of ourselves, aren't we? Not unless you make me. And seeing as you're trapped at sea with me-"
"You are just as much trapped with me!"
"Yes, but I have something that you don't."
"Insatiable horrendousness?"
"I would have said a stronger will, but fair enough. I'm not afraid of, shall we say," stepping closer to her, he sneers, "breaking a few eggs."
Involuntarily, she shudders, "And I'm supposed to be afraid of you?"
Clicking his tongue, he shakes his head with a wicked grin, "I knew you weren't smart enough for that, no. See, the unfortunate thing about such attachments is they can often… hinder you."
"Your point?"
"As soon as we stop, you're going to come with me to collect your two nightmares of siblings and all the money in your deep pockets."
"Or else?"
"Or else, I might be forced to do something…" he pauses, making sure the horror has sunk in, "unfortunate."
"So you'll kill me if I don't?" Her clandestine voice takes him by surprise.
"I thought I made that clear."
"Fine," she crosses her arms, "kill me."
There is a moment of silence as they regard each other.
"If you think I'm bluffing-"
"I know you're not. I'm not either. But you don't want to kill me."
"Oh, Orphan," his palms itch at her words, "if you had any idea of the sheer magnitude of-"
"You want to kill me, sure, but I'm worth more to you alive."
The sheer disbelief at her boldness causes him up laugh. "Stubborn, aren't we? After all this time, you still think you have anything you can offer me?"
"I'm the only one who can give you what you want." She says the words matter-of-factly, still hesitant in her desperation.
At that, he perks up, almost laughs again, "What I want? I can already have whatever I want, Orphan."
"You don't even know where they are."
"Don't I?" He smiles, "I'd recommend you start gaining some perspective. There's no one here to save you this time."
"I don't need to be saved."
"You don't?" Stepping closer, he draws his face so close to hers, he can feel when she holds her breath. Despite it all, she doesn't shrink away. "Brave little Violet can handle it on her own? Thinks I won't kill her just for the fun of it?"
"You won't kill me until you've gotten the fortune, with or without my help."
"I only need one brat for that. You just happen to be the first I've caught up with. You're dispensable, Violet."
"You'd kill my siblings before you'd even think to kill me."
Still sneering, he leans back, "And what makes you so sure?"
"It's the cruelest thing."
"Clever girl, aren't we?" pinching her chin between his fingers, he forces her to look up, forces her to meet his eyes. "You always were my favorite. Even that can't save you, though. You're right. It would be criminal to waste such a pretty face. Yes, I'll keep you alive long enough to make it to the reunion, but when I do," snarling, he tightens his grip, "I'll make sure your last moments live up my very creative expectations."
Despite her bravado, he can feel her tremble, though that might just be the force of his own pulse.
"Why all three of us, then, if you only need one?"
"Call it a loose ends contingency. Besides, wouldn't it be better than making them die alone just for the sake of your own selfishness? I did so want the pleasure of doing it myself, but I could send someone-
"They've done nothing-If you'd just leave us alone, I'll sign over everything!"
"I'm more than adept at taking."
"Give me time, a few months and you can have everything-"
"Oh, yes. Why wouldn't I trust such a generous offer?" As if to make a point he shoves her again. "Surely the… collateral would be more thorough incentive to make sure you don't change your mind?"
"Leave them alone and you can have whatever-"
"And deny me the right to destroy you?"
"I won't fight."
"I don't need your permission to take your money, Orphan-"
"Anything you want. I won't fight. At all." Unblinking, she sets her jaw.
A contented putting roars inside his chest before he even gathers the implications of her words.
"You think any fight in you would be an issue for me?"
"Historically, yes."
"Maybe I enjoy your fight." Just as quickly, he snaps his hand down to her sternum, pressing her back against the wall. Taking a shuddering breath in, she gasps, grasping at his hand as his fingers slide closer to her throat. Tears stand in the edges of her eyes as she takes the impact, breathing between clenched teeth. "Maybe I like you at my mercy, Orphan."
"But they'll be safe?"
Pausing, he glances over her face, takes in the dark lining of her eyelashes. She's frantic, exhausted, tired from the chase. How often had he thought of her like this, climbing into his waiting grasp? He wants her to cry, to give up, to let him finally, finally win.
"You won't be."
"That doesn't matter."
"You're playing a dangerous game, Orphan."
"Please." Her eyes close as he draws his face much too close to her own.
"Beg me," he growls the words, the familiar terror heavy in her gut. "Beg me for your life."
"Please," she says again, trying not to cry. "Please don't hurt them. I'll do whatever you want, I'll-"
"Typical-you're all such martyrs. Serves you right," muttering the last part, he takes a slow breath in, as if smelling her hair. She doesn't open her eyes to find out.
"You won't hurt them?"
"Perhaps… Oh, but I've so been so looking forward to destroying you and your brat siblings. Sometimes," he whispers so soft, she can feel his lips on her ear, "I lay awake, imagining it; the look on that pretty face when I kill you."
"Please," she hates how the word breaks as a whimper.
"Anything I want?"
"Anything," the word shakes as his free hand begins to push up along her side.
"Well," he draws the word out slowly, "there is quite a lot that I want."
"Just don't hurt them."
"I'll settle for not killing them. For now." Slowly, working the moment, he presses his tongue to the hollow beneath her jaw, against her racing pulse. She wishes herself away, out of this body. He snarls, "Is that a deal then, Brat?"
"You won't hurt them." Her voice trembles as one of his hands covers her breast.
"You're not in a position to tell me what to do. We'll see, though. They are a nice currency, aren't they, Orphan?"
Turning her face away, she wills back the tears, "Whatever you want, but you leave them alone. That's the deal "
"What I want," losing all pretense, he moves his hand up to cover her throat, "is to destroy you." She does cry then, silent tears that fall down her cheeks, jaw clenched so tight it feels like the bone might crack.
"I don't play nice, Brat." Teasing for the sake of teasing, he rolls his fingers, feels the terrified rhythm of her pulse. Leaning in, savoring the stutter of her breath against his face, he kisses her cheek, licking the salt from his lips. "Still giving up?"
"Do we have a deal?" She spits the words harshly, brave despite the terror. He smiles.
"For now." Slow, he runs his thumb over her breast, enjoys the promising warmth. "Tell me, Violet- have you ever let a man touch you before?" She opens her eyes then, looking at him in silent steely hatred. "Whatever I want; that's what you said. Now tell me," painfully slowly, he begins to unbutton her dress, "am I first? Second? Third?" Cocking his eyebrow, he smirks.
"Does it matter?" The words positively vibrate on her tongue.
"For your own sake? Yes." Stepping into her space, he lopes an arm behind her, pulling her tight to his chest.
"I'm not telling you that."
"Spoken like a true virgin," still smiling, he pulls the fabric from her shoulders, enjoying the way she tucks her arms against herself at the cold air. "Don't worry, Orphan. I'm not in the habit of breaking my playthings before I've had my fun."
"You're despicable," true to her word, she only clenches her teeth, makes no attempt to escape as he palms her over the white cotton of her bra.
"Yes, you're welcome for that." Dragging his fingers along her bare skin, he lets the neglected dress pool around her waist before pressing his cold hands to her abdomen. She feels every part of her tense up, the horror of it all seeping beneath her skin. But then he is leaning down, pressing kisses to her neck, and she has to hold her breath to keep the smell of him from staining her insides. He smells like salt and burned earth and some sort of over-ripe fruit. In her head, she pictures a fruit basket, left out for a month too long and shudders.
"So tense," he whispers the words against her skin. "Do I scare you, Violet?" From the tone of his voice, she knows he knows the answer, and so she doesn't respond. But then his fingers are inching up her stomach, and before she can tell what he's doing, his tongue is sliding over her breast. Reflexively, she shoves him back, but he only laughs, catching her waist. "I thought you said you wouldn't fight, little liar."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She is crying then, openly and exhaustedly. Again, he laughs.
"What's wrong, Brat? Changed your mind? A bit late for that, isn't it?" Running his thumbs beneath the straps of her bra, he tugs the white fabric down until she is stripped from the waist up. "But if you'd prefer to renegotiate…"
"The deal stands!" She interrupts him, hurried.
"Good," bending down, he takes her breast back into his mouth, feels the hardness of her pert nipple between his teeth. Again, she shrinks back, but she does not shove him away this time. "That's better- You're learning." Ever amused, he cups her neglected breast, trailing his thumb back as he pinches at her. Her own hands clutch at her skirt as she turns her face up, whimpering.
"No," taking her hand, he presses it to the back of his head, "like this." Fumbling, she follows his directive, holding him loosely. "Tighter. Like this," wrapping an arm behind her again, he tugs her forward roughly, causing her to arch against him. Silently, she complies with some hesitation. "Good," still smiling, he runs his tongue along the underside of her breast, glad when she gasps at his touch. He feels her flinch, but she doesn't move away, even when he flicks his tongue over her. Still tense, still frightened, she keeps her shoulders high, craned up by her neck. Standing slowly, he pretends not to watch her face, still distracted by her enchantingly bare chest.
"So, Violet," not meeting her eyes, he brushes his hands over her naked breasts again, "are you playing to win? Are you just going to sit there and let me have you?"
"If that's what it takes," she cannot hide the tremble from her voice.
"If that's what it takes," he repeats her words back to her, almost giddy. "Well then. Whatever I want, you said?"
"Yes," she fights the urge to cross her arms defensively.
"Go on and kiss me, Violet." Leaning in, he leaves barely an inch between their faces.
Swallowing hard, she steels herself, feels all of her joints groan in strained anticipation as unhappily, she leans in.
The kiss is brief, her lips tight as she moves so quickly he almost doesn't register it. Almost.
"You can do better than that. Come on, kiss me as if your brat siblings' lives depended upon it."
Furrowing her brow in deep, disgruntled pain, she leans forward again, only to be intercepted by his own kiss. Digging his fingers into her hair, he holds her face tight to his, every part of him sighing in relief as his teeth hit hers.
Pulling back, she coughs, tries to get some air as he cranes her neck, kisses indentations into her skin.
"Very good, much better," he lauds her, smiling at the gasp she gives when he bruises her collarbone. Her hands stay on his shoulders, evidently too terrified to move without permission. He kisses her again, feels the soft give of her lips, the all-consuming warmth of her. Pushing her back into the wall, he groans, letting a leg snake between her thighs. Gasping again, she breaks the kiss, shivering.
"What?" opening his eyes wide, he poorly feigns curiosity. "Are you cold?"
"No," she lies, certain it wouldn't make a difference if she told the truth.
"As luck would have it, there is just enough space left in my bed for a cold little Brat to squeeze in. Not much space, I'm afraid, but you could fit quite nicely beneath me if you'd let me between those pretty little legs. Why don't you let me warm you up?"
"I'm fine," she looks away from his face.
"Come now, Orphan. I'm trying to be a gentleman. Or would you rather your first time involve me fucking you against a wall?"
"I- The bed is fine."
"Good girl." Picking her up, he pivots before tossing her onto the springy mattress. There is barely enough time for her to figure her placement before he is looming over her, looking down with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "Now," waiting for her to sit up, he watches her catch her breath, "open your mouth for me."
"I don't-"
"Open," he cocks his eyebrow in such a way that she readily obeys. Slowly, parting his own lips, he slides a finger onto her tongue, pressing it down lightly. "You will do exactly as I say. There will be no crying, no whining, no complaining. Understand?"
Unable to speak, she nods silently, gravelly. He smiles.
"Good. This can be a very nice treat for you, Orphan, but you must know that you belong to me. Understand that?"
Again, she nods once, and he slides another finger between her lips.
"You're going to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"
The terror building, she nods again.
"When I am through with you," placing a knee on the bed, he leans in, whispering the words cooly, "you will be ruined. You will be mine, and you will remember as much. Understand?"
For the last time, she nods, and contented, he draws his fingers from her mouth.
"Good girl." Straightening up, he begins to tug her dress down over her hips. "Now. Let's see what you've been hiding, shall we?"
The dress is followed by her shoes and socks, until she is left sitting very cold and very naked in just her underwear. Tucking his fingers beneath the hem, he begins to pull those off too.
Startled, she leans back, "Aren't you going to take off your clothes too?"
"In a minute," stopping, he smirks, "we have some work to do first."
"Work?" She furrows her brow anxiously.
"Of course," climbing onto the bed, he leans in close to her face. "I don't want you able to say you didn't enjoy it, do I? No, that would make things too easy for you."
"Why do-"
"Kiss me again," he smiles, waiting, until she leans forward timidly, kissing his lips. Giving her only a moment, he again tangles his fingers into her hair, pressing her mouth firmly to his. And then, there is the pressure as his tongue finds her teeth, and then again as it slides past them. He groans, and the sound rumbles in her throat. She lets out a squeak as his hand finds her breast again, pinching her. Mistaking her surprise as pleasure, he presses harder against her, massaging the tender skin. Again, his tongue slides into her mouth, his cold fingers drawing down her stomach until he is palming her over her panties.
Sighing, he breaks the kiss, letting go of her hair so that he can slide behind her, pressing his chest to her arched back.
"What are you doing?" She asks again, but he only shushes her, reaching around to cup her breast as the other resettles between her legs. Kissing along her throat, he begins to massage around her nipple with his fingers.
"Just relax into it. Go on and show me how good you can be." A whine builds between her teeth as his hand brushes between her legs, eager to slip beneath the white cotton. "Good. Let yourself enjoy it; you're only human."
Not bothering to reply, she tenses and untenses her fingers against the blankets. Again, he draws his hand away from her thighs, wrapping it about her waist as he pulls at her earlobe with his teeth. A groan wracks her body as he presses her firmly to his chest, still massaging the flushed skin of her breast. "Go ahead and touch me, Violet. I want to feel you." Slowly, her shaking hands reach back to his thighs, settled on either side of her hips. "Good girl," kissing along her throat, he cups both her breasts in his hands, delighted with the way she squirms at the touch, her knees pressing together. "Do you like the way I make you feel, Violet?" Instead of answering, she shivers, letting her long hair shield her face. "Do you like it when I take what I want? Thought I'd be rude, didn't you? No," sliding his tongue against her throat, he waited for her guilty whimper, "I know how to do it right. I know how to destroy you, nice and proper." Her fingers dig into his legs as he tightens his grip. "Do you like the way it feels, Brat? Being mine?"
Syrup-sweet, he moves his hand by inches, until he is again at her hips. Taking his time, he slips a finger beneath the elastic, elated when she gasps and bucks her hips back. Still smirking, he ventures further in, under the cloth, and then, moving down, he is tucking his fingers against soft hair and warm skin, and he is reminded that she is human.
"Very good girl," he coos in her ear as she whines, arching her back at his light touch. Still gentle, he begins to rub at her, vindicated in the sudden gasp she gives, hand coming up to clutch at him again. He kisses her throat, her cheek, his pace growing faster with her quickening breath. He feels her strained muscles, desperate grip as she fights it, fights it… Tweaking her nipple again, he shushes her whimpers, "Just give me what I want, little Brat. Go on and come for me."
To the credit of her own damnation, she does. His fingers move slick against her, thrumming out a perfect rhythm, too perfect, too perfect- And then she is gasping, eyes shut tight as he digs this out of her, forces it out of her body. She is electricity, she is elastic, she is… tired. She's tired. So very, very, tired.
Not giving her a moment, he begins to kiss her shoulders again, "Very good. See? Things are so much better when you let me have my way. Imagine- This entire time you could have been my Countess."
"I'm not sorry," she speaks softly.
"No, I'd suppose not." Ever amused, he keeps smiling that damn smile, moving beside her.
Again, he kisses her, but this time he lays her down, presses her back. She involuntarily shuts her legs, but he slides his hand between them again, rubbing at her once more. Groaning, she feels her teeth hit his, clumsy as he tries to balance just right, but then his tongue is pushing into her mouth again, and it's as if he never stopped.
Surprised, she arches up when she feels his finger try to press inside her, but he only shushes her, more slowly sliding it in.
"Nice and easy. There we go, good Brat," he speaks the words directly into her mouth, slowly pressing the thin finger inside her. She whimpers, but doesn't try to fight it, letting him. Shuddering, she grips his shoulders, digging her fingers into him, balling his shirt in her fists. "Very good. Relax for me." Gingerly, he begins to stroke at her in deep, long movements. Gasping, she arches down against him, into his touch. Despite it all, despite everything, she wants more depth, more touch… She wants the same blooming satisfaction, she wants- Just as unpredictably gently, he begins to slide a second finger in. A groan builds up from somewhere deep behind her spine, somewhere warm and wanting. His pace is steady, fervent as he continues to thrust into her, and then the groan is breaking into a moan, and she can feel him smile against her lips. "Go ahead, let me hear you."
Rubbing at her with his thumb, he presses his fingers inside her, groaning as she clutches at him, her tongue pressing up against his with her moan. She is so perfect undone, and he takes a moment to celebrate the victory. Perfect Violet, noble Violet, untouchable little Violet, climbing into his bed, into his arms. Breaking from the kiss, he pants against her mouth, kisses her neck, her shoulder, until he is catching her perfect breast between his lips again, feeling her press further into his touch, desperate, so close, so close, so-
And then she is whimpering as she pushes up against him, toes flexing as she gasps. He wants to kiss her open lips but instead flicks his tongue over her nipple, curious to see just how far he can push her. But then her fluttering hands are clinging to his hair, and he hasn't the self-control required to stay away. So he kisses her, kisses her open mouth, pressing her down further into the bed as she tries to swallow gasps of air. He pushes his tongue behind her teeth, wants to claim every inch of skin along her body, wants to make her irrefutable his. As she whines, he continues to thrust his fingers into her, wants her nice and docile for him, wants her to remember this as the time he managed to ruin her with his hands alone. It is only once he thinks she might suffocate that he finally pulls away, makes sure she is looking before popping the fingers into his mouth, making a show of slowly pulling them out again. Groaning tiredly, she turns her head away, sighing.
"Now, little Brat," leaning over her, he catches her jaw in his hand, forcing her eyes back to him, "don't get lazy on me."
"I don't-"
Sternly, he shushes her, taking her hands and forcing them to his chest, "Come on. Earn your keep."
Sitting up, she begins to unbutton his collar with shaking hands, taking her time as he leans back, content to watch her.
"I haven't-"
"Quiet."
Gingerly, she continues, hesitantly tugging the fabric out from his waist until it is all undone, revealing the stained white of his undershirt. His erection is prominently between them, tenting his pants uncomfortably, but he can wait. She looks at him, unsure, refusing to move forward unless expressly told to.
"Go on," stifling a smirk, he gestures towards his waist, almost groaning when her hands move over his belt, clicking it open. "Good. What a nice Brat," he clicks his tongue teasingly, watching as she sets her jaw in anger. But then his belt is open and there is not much time left at all. She looks at him again in a way that can only be described as terrified. "Are you going to leave my shoes on?" he asks cooly, trying not to be offended as she scrambles at the moment of relief. It doesn't last, however, no matter how hard she tries to drag it on, and it is only another moment before she is finished.
When she turns back to him, he is sitting up, ready to catch her thin neck in his hand. He doesn't hold her tight enough to hurt, just enough so that she knows he could. He feels her throat bob against his palm.
"Keep going," he nods curtly, and she complies, shaking hands tugging up his undershirt, exposing the bare skin of his chest. It is paler than she'd have thought, with a startling amount of scar tissue. Evidently he is not an easy man to kill. The hair on his chest is light, coarse, and she pretends not to notice as he switches hands long enough to tug his arms out. And then there is no prolonging it; there are the pants, and the stiffness she'd managed to avoid until now. She tries to look away, but finds she is quickly running out of things to look at, so instead she steels herself and undoes the top. He sighs at the relief of the zipper, rolling his fingers along her throat.
"Good. Now," he smiles, making sure she knows just how little of his patience is left. "Show me what you're good for."
Her fingers tuck beneath the waist nervously as she slowly begins to pull. He can't tell if she's more afraid of hurting him or not hurting him, but by the time she has the fabric around his knees, she won't look at him.
"There we go," tugging her close to himself, he practically purrs. "Lucky you, yes?"
"I don't-"
"Come on," tightening his grip, he kisses her lips, "no need to be shy. Take a look."
She more or less retreats into her shoulders before hesitantly looking down at his fully erect cock.
"Is- Is it supposed to-"
Before she can finish, he forces her down so that she is sitting as he kneels before her, "Lay down," there is no question in the demand, and he trails his palm to her sternum long enough to shove her backwards against the mattress. For an instant, tears began to stand on her eyes again, but she manages to hold them back. Taking his time, he leans over her, dragging his fingernails along her flushed skin. "And now, if there are no more questions-"
"Will it hurt?" The words come out before she can stop them, rushed, afraid.
Taken aback for just a moment, he pauses, but then smirking, leans down over her slowly until he is almost kissing her again, "It will ruin you in every way possible, but no; it will not hurt."
Gingerly, he begins to stroke between her legs again, easing them apart as he kisses her, glad to feel her surrender beneath him. In all his fantasies, he never dreamed it would be this easy.
As he sits up, he can see her fingers grip the blanket. "No," taking her wrists, he presses her hands into his hair again. "I get to own all of you, little Brat." She doesn't fight him, and carefully, he withdraws his touch, savoring the noise she makes in reply.
At first it is very very bad and it takes everything in her not to crawl away. He presses the tip inside her and the sheer terror of the moment sits on her chest so that she cannot breath. Not noticing nor caring, he continues on, pressing himself further in.
"Relax," he groans, and she realizes just how tightly she has been gripping him. With a deep breath, she tries to unclench her muscles, but then he is pressing further in, and she is crying out.
"Olaf- You can't- I can't-"
"Quiet," he shushes her again, "almost done."
As he thrusts the rest of the way inside, she whines, eyes closed as she arches her back up, away from the pressure. He hadn't lied, but he hadn't really told the truth either; it wasn't pain, but it was a very strange discomfort. She could feel him hard inside her, filling her, and all she could think about was how much the sensation didn't belong.
"See? Like I said," sitting up, he lifted her hips with him, pulling her down the mattress, "Easy." She meets his eyes, sees the glee in them, knows he does not care if she agrees, and so she nods.
And then, he begins rocking into her, penetrating her again and again in shallow thrusts. She gasps, trying to keep her balance, to keep him happy, but none of it makes a difference anyway. As the movements deepen, he moans, leaning over her again so that his wrist is beside her face. She closes her eyes, doesn't want to look at him, but then he thrusts hard within her and she whimpers a sound that isn't exactly a complaint, but still resonates as fear.
"Slow!" She manages to blurt the word out in a moment of panic, and he laughs.
"You want me to slow down, little Brat?" Despite the teasing, he complies, rolling his hips forward in deep strokes as she nods. Gasping then, she lets him press himself entirely inside her again, groaning as he does so. "There you are; good girl," He grits his teeth together, "You're fine." Nodding silently, as if to reassure herself, she listens to his labored breath as he moves inside her. Leaning in, he begins to kiss her throat. "So nice and wet for me, aren't you? You wanted this; you knew exactly what you were doing, little tease." Shuddering, she holds tight, focuses on the tired pain in her calves.
The stiffness of his arousal fills her, warm, unrelenting. She imagines it is not him, it is a person with no face who is kissing her neck, touching her chest. But when he groans, it is his voice, and again it is him between her legs, him fucking her gently. His fingers slide over her thighs, pulling her up, holding her to him.
"God, you're so wet," he whispers in her ear again, "Yes, nice girl Violet, always so nice, and, god, so tight." She squeezes her eyes shut. "You've been waiting, haven't you? Greedy Brat, teasing me until I had no choice. You wanted this." Humming, he slides his tongue over her skin, "Was it everything you dreamt? Do you like my cock, little Brat? You look so pretty taking it." When she doesn't answer, he brings his hand back to her throat, tightens his grip, "I asked you a question, Brat. Do you like it when I fuck you?"
"I don't know," she answers honestly, scared of the trouble the lies could get her into. Eyes still squeezed shut, tears form along her eyelashes.
"You don't know," he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "Well. We've plenty of time to make up your mind. Do you know why that is, Violet?" Silent, she waits for his answer. "I SAID, do you know WHY?"
"I don't! I don't know!" Crying openly now, she struggles to breathe.
"Because you are MINE." Snarling, he draws his mouth right next to her ear. Turning her face away from his, she continues to cry, terrified. "Come on, lucky little orphan. Show me a smile." Without waiting for her response, he kisses her neck again, drawing his fingers away as he does so. "Be a good brat and smile for me." Steadily, he speeds up until she is gasping, clinging to the bed as he thrusts into her. Again his fingers wander between her legs, and criminally easily, he manages to coax an orgasm towards the surface again. Still tear-stained, she arches up, letting him press himself to her. "Much better. See? You can be a good brat, can't you?"
Pointing her toes, she gives up, letting him hold her weight as she finishes against his fingers. Keeping the same quick pace, he digs his fingers into her, focused on his pleasure. It isn't long before he is groaning, spilling himself on the shirt beside her as he pants against her neck.
Too afraid to move, she just lies beneath him, waiting.
Groaning, he pushes himself up, looks over her very naked form. "Still cold, Brat?" he jokes, sighing as he lays on his back.
Self-conscious, she crosses her arm over herself, tucks her knees together, "I… I should go to my own room." She moves to stand, but then he catches her wrist, forcing her back down.
"Why bother? You're too pretty to go just yet. Besides, I might want a midnight snack." Pulling the covers back, he gestures to the bed.
There is a hesitation as she looks between him and the mattress, "I'm… going to take a shower first."
"Whatever you need, your majesty." Reclining, he stretches an arm behind his head, closing his eyes, unable to believe how spectacularly this day is going.