Submitted (and I can't believe I wrote it) for Eva Galana's Impossible challenge at Cheeky Monkeys! Don't ask. Rated M – for kink...and everything else, I think.
L Cailan
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Want
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Anora rolled over in the bed groaning just a bit – the muscles in her arms were sore and her thighs- she felt her cheeks flush at the thought and for a moment she was telling herself that she was ashamed of everything that had transpired in this room from the day she had been brought here. She almost believed herself.
Almost.
A fragment of her –the tiniest part – was shamed, yes. But that part was overridden fiercely by the rest of her which simply wanted.
Wanted.
Maker forgive me!
She reached across the wide space next to her longing for the warm heat of flesh, of his body for a split second before she realized she was alone. Where was he? She turned her head on the silken pillow towards the window. It was small and she could only see a slight illumination now, most likely from the waning moon in the sky.
Have I only been asleep for such a short time? Where is he?
She sat up, hair disheveled around her shoulders – hair she normally wore pinned to the nape of her slender neck. It was strange this – this being here now, everything about it was strange and disjointed, like a dream she was having.
Anora stood, and walked through the darkness, gripping a white sheet tightly around her nakedness, the pale moonlight illuminating her face and the thin body she saw in the looking glass. Translucent skin marked by his touch, his mouth, his teeth…his veracious appetite painted along the skin that had never seen such deviance before.
There is not word to describe how awful he really is. I knew it from the beginning – from the moment father introduced me. I knew it.
Yet – still she wanted.
Was it a nightmare perhaps? A dark, twisted dream of the most wicked imaginings? Nothing felt normal, after all. Pleasure ran together with pain in the same river of lust she felt each time he deemed touch her with that roughened hand. When he wasn't there, everything they had done together overwhelmed her – and she believed that it was just a dream.
But – the marks on her flesh told a different tale – marks that told of his perversion and the impossible truth. That she wanted him.
It's not real.
Again she told herself the lie. When he was with her, she didn't have to think – but when she was alone this way, there was nothing for her to do but force the lie. She heard the door and then held her breath, waiting.
Anora felt his presence, though she hadn't heard footsteps along the carpeted floor. Heat – she felt heat behind her – and then without thought leaned back to press against his waiting heat, the hardness of his body. It was not there this time and she whimpered with a dark impatience. Now that he was here, she would no longer think. Now, she would just want.
"Where were you?"
Her voice was a breath in the silence.
"It brings me great joy to hear how you miss me," was his reply, silky and snake like all at the same time – the voice of evil. Of evil and desire. Finally his hands, rough and hot like worn leather on the flesh of her arms – and Anora felt a jolt rush through her raising every hair on her body deliciously.
She mewed with sudden surprise as he yanked her already sore arms up above her head and tore away the sheet that hid her body from his view, and there she stood helpless to hide herself from the lecherous gaze of those reptilian eyes.
Touch me. Touch me and make me forget who you are and who I am, and what we are doing.
His kiss was as always demanding – for he controlled everything and everyone around him. She responded helplessly feeling herself melt into a dark oblivion. He had her the way he had her father – the way he had inadvertently controlled even Bryce Cousland and his family. Here was a man who commanded without words – though she would never know what it was about him which made it so easy for her to yield to him this way.
She whimpered once more, leaning back for another kiss, for the first hadn't been enough.
"Ren-"
He cut off the utterance of his name on her lips.
"No. No, if you want me to continue you will not same my name. Remember, my lovely one? Names are unnecessary. Here, it is just you and me. My name does not matter any more than yours does."
She was silenced this time by the crushing of his mouth against hers almost violently – he dropped her arms, which had still been raised above her head painfully as his rough yet silky hands palmed her body, her breasts, and finally her rear. She arched towards him with growing desire, unable to hide her need from him. Not now – not after what he had started with her, what he had inflamed within her.
"I have something for you," he growled then, pressing his mouth to the sensitive flesh of her earlobe.
Anora managed to pull away only to feel the cool sensation of something small and smooth moving along her flat belly – and now – lower and lower.
A whip?
The thought excited her – made every inch tingle – made her knees go weak so that he had to hold her more tightly, press her more closely against the growing heat of his body. He passed the thin tail along her sensitive flesh.
"Ohhh…what are you…"
There was a lash – and the sweet pleasure pain that followed which was so different and yet the same as his hand upon her flesh. His lips took hers once more, possessing her and obliterating any possibility of thought, of speech of everything but his presence.
Maker. Oh Maker.
The second lash came quickly, and the sensation ripped through her, awakening everything – her senses and lust began to pulsate from the tips of her toes to the heated core of her. She clung to him and he hoisted her up into his arms, possessively palming her tiny buttocks, tender from the lashes now. He walked across the room with purpose, falling back against the messy sheets of her bed, bringing her down with him so they fell together, still clinging to one another.
Anora straddled him, reaching with eager, needy fingers to remove his trousers just as another lash ran across her lower back and her already red backside and this time she whimpered in pain though it felt like paradise. He swallowed her whimpers with his mouth, taking her with more and more need now, their mouths clinging and pushing, shoving and nipping.
His fingers danced on the cool flesh of her back and belly and then against the burning skin of her rear and then dipped into her heat causing her to bite into his shoulder - hard – drawing his blood and a groan from deep within him.
"Naughty," he hissed and perhaps she let out a laugh –but Anora would never know – for he was too much and she couldn't think when they were like this. Trousers gone, he reached for her but Anora had something else in mind.
"Patience," she whispered and saw the dark look of – something in his eyes. "Wait," she added moving quickly from the bed on legs barely able to hold up her weight, and then returned a moment later, wearing a smile. A smile which was not fit for any of the moments she spent with him.
"Close your eyes."
For some reason he obeyed and the only sound in the room just then was his ragged breathing. Moving as quick as lighting Anora had his hands pinned up against the headboard of the bed – and a thick silver chain bound his thin wrists tightly enough that he was unable to escape. A groan issued from him as he tugged futilely.
"Evil woman," he muttered and there was a strange laugh as she climbed up on the bed once more, laughing at him as her hands took what they wanted now – running along his chest, his arms, and his thick thighs, hands enveloping the hardest part of him and toying with him just as he had with her many times before. Ironically she was aware that as evil as she was – she knew nothing of what he was capable of.
"What are you doing to me?" he groaned, the cold chains rubbing against his wrists as he fought against them and she only continued her feverish caresses along his skin, pressing and moving against his body giving him what he wanted – but not all of it.
"I want control," She breathed against his mouth, and took it, for now he was helpless. Then she sat up.
"Open your eyes," she demanded and he did – she stared at him, always mesmerized by their dark and tortured depths, for she could and would never understand them. As he watched, she turned the attentions on herself, allowing her hands to roam along her own body, making his eyes darken in desire.
"Anora," he rasped her name, thrusting forward – wanting her. She watched him an evil smile on her face.
"It is lucky, my dearest Arl, that saying my name will not make me stop," she whispered and with that, she lowered herself on his hardness, sliding down until her needy flesh met his in perfect yet unholy union. He groaned and she leaned down to take all the kisses from him that he would give, leaving him breathless and needing more.
She would never know what it was about him – if it was that he seemed incapable of emotion and that this was all they would have – or if it was defying her father – and defying everything she had never understood – but each time they came together this way she was blown away.
She wanted.
With one last terrible/wonderful thrust, she shuddered.
"Rendon."
The name escaped her lips in the throes of release, as she clutched him, her hands sweaty against his shoulder – and he let out a chuckle, still hard inside her.
"Remember – no names my darling – it ruins the fun."
She could see him struggling against his bonds and quickly released him, dizzy with release and guilt and confusion – and she succumbed to him as he pinned her to the bed with his frenzied desire for release.
No matter the man – the situation – the impossibility…this always felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like a part of her she had never known existed, and Anora wondered as he wrapped himself around her if she would ever be the same once it was over. Once she was home again – once life was normal once more.
He lay still, his heart hammering.
"Where is that whip?" he growled against her ear.
"I do not know," replied she just as he felt a lash against his rear.
~fin~