The night is dark and moonless; the air heavy and stale. The pitch black blanket envelops all. Its the kind of night perfect for keeping secrets.
Two figures surrounded by sumptuous velvet bedding take full advantage of such a night.
The young lady gasps for air, breasts heaving, lungs struggling to fully inflate against the suffocating anticipation of soon to be melding mingling bodies.
The dark gentleman seems to hardly breath at all, he is as always self assured and composed about what's to come.
She is blind in the obsidian darkness, not even a candle's flicker illuminates the unholy act she so willingly partakes in.
He can see her perfectly of course, he feasts his eyes upon her. She is lovely, he has always appreciated her complexity. She's always been about layers and doesn't he just love getting to her very center. Burning his way in, leaving jagged black scars on what's left of her broken little heart.
She is ravenous with need, tearing at buttons, strings, and fasteners his and hers alike. She needs the blazing satisfaction he has to offer, and offer he does.
Too soft lips place tickling calculated kisses across her collarbones. He is thrilled to see she has worn a cross. Beautiful ornate pewter, elegantly crafted. With eyes burning crimson he thinks the cross is just like her. The hellion smiles a fanged monsters grin, with pointed tongue he ever so slowly licks around the T shape. Taking delight in watching the hallowed relic dissolve between her pert delicate breasts.
She is on fire, she doesn't care that she is vision less wholeheartedly believing the senses of touch, taste, and smell to be far superior. He seems to be everywhere his masculine musk overwhelms her. Smooth ebony locks brush across her nose as the creature draws ever closer. Long ago glazed over eyes roll back as hungry kisses are stolen from once innocent lips.
He is between her long creamy legs now, dragging his lips, tongue, and teeth down her quivering thigh. He takes a bite just a little, just enough to leave a mark. Eagerly lapping at the drops of sweet red nectar his nibbling has produced. He always likes to leave a mark. Sadly for his bed mate it won't matter as nobody will notice, certainly not the one who truly should.
She unashamedly begs him to give her what she needs, to make her forget. Submerge her with so much physical sensation that her mind becomes numb to the pain she carries. She clamps down on her rose painted lower lip as she moves in passionate time with her shadowy paramour. The one she affectionately refers to as the beautiful nightmare. He is the ultimate liar, she knows this. However she can't seem to care that much, her whole life has been a series of lies anyway.
He gazed down with a single minded lust filled smirk. She was thinking again and he can't have that. He increases the power of his thrust and bears witness to her thoughts fading away as her moans ever escalate. She writhes under him running her dainty hands against the curve of her tempting bosom. Reaches up kissing him hard, pushing her own tongue deep with in. There's meaning in that kiss, though he isn't sure if she is trying to fill him up or empty him out. Her expression is wild and carnal. The creature thinks the best part is that she came to him. At first he assumed she was just testing, flirting with her feminine wiles, practicing for another. Perhaps she was but its of no consequence now. It is him who has a high born lady unraveling in the most intimate of ways beneath a mere servant.
"Yes please more more" she chants like a mantra, her hands have been captured in his strong grip. She doesn't like that she wants her hands free to roam her lovers body. He's alabaster strong, beautiful, and always with a high price. Sometimes she hates him but not when they're like this. Now he is a drug, shes a moth to the brightest of blistering flames. She brakes from his grip and wraps petite arms around his utterly well sculpted shoulders. She lifts up and slides her tongue across his muscled chest. This gives her what she wants, a gravely moan escapes his tight lips. Though she can surely taste salt on his skin beyond that his taste is unknown there simply isn't anything like it. She decided long ago it's to her liking and so continues to taste. Working her way up to the demons jaw and then ear. She pulls fist fulls of pure ebony silk, clearly to his pleasure. Her lips pull into a mischievous smirk as his cold skin finally starts to heat above her. She is most certain that his breath has begun to have the slight hint of hitch to it.
The butler plunges them further and further into the depths of rapturous sin. He cant help but caress her fragile cheek bones and to smooth the damp curls that have hidden her eyes. He wants to see those emerald eyes, to watch his very own reflection in them. His mistress wanted to be filled up to the brim. So he obliged; affection, lust, distraction. He did so for many reason, mainly because he simply could. It fed his vanity for he truly was narcissistic underneath all the pretense. It also provided him with a reprieve from the monotony of it all. It helped to state his hunger even just for a little while, and possibly something more. Awww his lady was beginning to whisper his name repeatedly it was time to make haste with wild abandon. The way she liked it, the way they both liked it.
Elizabeth began to shudder and quake uttering half choked out words of adoration."seb... sebast...Sebastian my savior."
Sebastian himself felt his passions surge, he questioned his lady relentlessly."Can you feel me fill you up?" "Are you full now Elizabeth?" "Have I given you what you wanted?" "You know it's only I that can do so" "Can you think of anything but me?" The last word expressed with an feral growl.
"Oh yes only you Sebastian only you." Replied Elizabeth over and over as both were rocked beyond the edge of deafening blinding gratification.
All the while this devious scene unfolds a empty young man sits in a high back stiff leather chair, sipping on Darjeeling tea. Pondering his next great move in his never ending game of revenge. Listening to the chime of the grandfather clock announce the late hour. Simply none the wiser.