Sin (Part I)
You give me the reason.
You give me control.
I gave you my Purity.
My Purity you stole.
Did you think I wouldn't recognize this compromise.
Am I just too stupid to realize.
Stale incense old sweat and lies lies lies
It comes down to this.
Your kiss.
Your fist.
And your strain.
It get's under my skin.
Within.
Take in the extent of my sin
Neliel had a reason. Of course she did. Nnoitora gave her the control she had. His rough ways, his anger at her power, his bestiality, it all made her powerful. She was drunk on the power; she was so drunk on it that she did not realize what she had given him in return for those things that she had taken from him, at least, not at first.
He had stolen her purity. She was no fool. She knew their compromise, as secret as they kept it. In return for her control, her reason, she gave him her purity. He stole it, but she gave it.
She let him get under her skin. She did not show it, she retained her control, but the way he attacked her with every chance he had got to her after a while. She had no reason to kill him, but he was working on giving her one. If he could give her the reason, she would kill him. She would, she really would.
If only he could kill her in return, she would kill him. He was a beast, not realizing that sometimes he could not just kill everything in sight. There may not be redemption for them, and their sin, but that did not mean that his killing was justified.
She still believed that perhaps she could be redeemed, though not so much once she had given her purity to him; once he had stolen her purity from her.
She refused to believe that there was no salvation, that her sin was so unforgivable.
She wanted redemption; she craved it above all things. She could not have it.
The sweat beading on her face, his hips thrusting into her…
She remembered it all too well, nothing like the way he remembered it, probably.
He probably remembered it as 'the best fuck ever.' She remembered it as sin, as nothing but pleasure gained through compromise.
He gave her control; she gave him purity.
Even if her body was impure, her mind retained that unstained state. She was sure that she was still Neliel Tu Oderschvank, and no one else. A night with Nnoitora did not change things.
No matter how good the sex had been, Neliel did not intend to let it happen again. There was no need for her to couple with Nnoitora. She was impure, but perhaps if she never touched him again, she could be redeemed. The thought of being damned never crossed Neliel's mind.
Of course, she knew that it was a constant thought in Nnoitora's mind, but she did not care.
No amount of lust could change her mind. Even though nights of dreaming about that one shameful night passed by too often, too many to count, she would not cave in.
Her purity was already lost. She did not understand the point of deprivation at times.
She knew that Nnoitora got his satisfaction, and she was sure the only voice in his head, the only face in his eyes belonged to her. All of his dreams, all of his thoughts were her.
She knew of his obsession. She could not say whether or not she cared.
She had a reason to end his killings, despite his delusion that he was being saved by her. She had no use for saving him. She could have let him destroy himself, but his killings simply had to end.
He would learn someday, she had faith in that hope.
His fist hurtled at her, but she blocked it with ease.
What she could not bear to block was his kiss; his kiss that settled upon her lips with such ease. She could not bear to turn it away, especially with her lust running so high. She could not remember how long it had been since he had stolen her purity; since she had given him her purity, but she knew she could not bear to turn him down.
She had to return the kiss; she had to give in. She could no longer deny her body's urges, its needs.
She wanted him within her, satisfying her sexual and masochistic needs, urges, everything.
She would have him. He could not resist her, either.
It came down to this every time.
His kiss, and his fist, and their sin, it was all of that, and more.
She would no longer resist those advances; at least, not this time.
She would enjoy his body as he enjoyed hers.
The ripping of her clothes, the long fingers curling and uncurling on her stomach, and eventually diving upward into her warm and almost willing sheath, all of it enticed her. She needed his body, his sex. She needed the sin.
The diving long fingers made her want to sin more than anything ever had, her undulating body made her harder to resist, her entrance slowly becoming wet for him as he teased her.
She would never admit to wanting this, not even to herself.
She knew he loved to hear her scream his name, which was why she did not. She knew he loved to make her come, which was why she pretended that she did not. Eventually, she had to give in; she had to let him know she needed him without words.
He denied his manhood to her if she did not. He told her he'd find someone else, even if he had to force the unfortunate victim.
Just this once, she would not deny him her body. She refused to let it happen for a third time, lest it happen for a fourth, a fifth…
She let him steal her purity in exchange for her control.
His hips driving deep within her were too much to pass up. Even if it never happened again, and she refused to let it, she would remember every feeling he had given to her. No one would take of her the way he had been allowed to. She only allowed him to because of the control he gave her without realizing.
Maybe she was a fool after all, for not realizing how much this compromise hurt her.
Her body wanted him. Her body was the only honest part of her being. It could not deny him; it could not lie.
Her hands fisted in the sand, her knees supported her weight as he gripped her hips and slammed into her from behind.
She had no thoughts except for her sin, and how much she enjoyed sinning. It was too good.
If she had to choose what she hated the most about it, it was their position.
The way he took her under him, and made her into an animal, made himself into an animal, degraded her, and she knew he wanted it that way.
She denied the bestial side of herself, or she tried to. She did not know how or why, but Nnoitora had discovered it.
He had never seen her resureccion. He had never seen her true form. He would never know that she was more of a beast than she considered him.
She refused to let him see that, even as she responded so willingly to his delicious motions. Secretly, it was her favorite position, the only one in which she could ever gain full pleasure. Secretly, she loved being degraded.
She was a masochist, after all.
His hard length pushing deep within her from behind drove her ever closer to that sought after orgasm.
His fingers clawing at her pale skin drew blood, but she did not mind. The short-lived sting and pain was overshadowed by the pleasure he gave her. Perhaps it heightened it.
She cried out her orgasm involuntarily. The cry pleased him, and she knew it. She knew it from the warm liquid she felt within her. She knew it from his muttered obscenities that strangely enough, sounded like endearing terms.
She knew it from the way he collapsed upon her, trying to squeeze the life from her in a crushing embrace.
She knew she had him. She knew it all.
She simply did not care any longer. She would deny her body's needs. She had to.
She had to overcome him and his bloodlust.