A/n: Hi.
Uh, I've got nothin to say for myself, other than I didn't feel like working on this chapter. Sorry, I know you guys were waiting on it... Nonetheless, after 3 different drafts, I've finally cultivated the perfect chapter, 2357 words full of pure, unadulterated SMUT. Yes, the chapter you all deserve. Also, I say smut, but I should warn you that there is a lot of extremely dubious consent here—RAPE—, but like, what do you expect from Apollo idfk. I do hope you enjoy it regardless.
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He was so picturesque lying there, Melantriche couldn't believe her eyes as he stood from the place and started walking towards her. Every step seemed a glide, him coming at her so fast she shrieked with alarm. She shrunk against the wall, some candle wax spilling over her wrist. She squeezed tears from her eyes. In that moment it felt like she forgot what she was doing there and a fear of death overcame her. She tried to scramble away but in her foolish panic, she caught her toes on the hem of her dress and fell flat on her face. As she rubbed her wounded nose, laughter rang in her ears. She dared to look up, yes, there he was, laughing at her. The way his eyes raked over her body made him look like a cat ready to pounce. Shivering, she recalled the kiss. A tingling sensation washed over her, muddied by terror. Somehow she managed to find her voice again. "P-please wait..." she held up her hands as if in supplication. "I'm... not..."
Instead he hauled her up by her armpits like she was a child. Then he turned her around. She felt a bit of breeze reaching her thighs. Face pressed awkwardly against the wall, she struggled madly to see what he was doing. He was fiddling with her skirts!
"Cumbersome things." He said, mostly to himself it seemed, making a fist in the cloth. "Ugly, too." Melantriche flushed, feeling dizzy the more she looked at him. He was so pretty it hurt to look at him. So handsome—no, neither of those words fit very much. Magnificent, glorious? Maybe. There were probably no words in the Greek language invented to describe him. Cloth brushed against her face and darkness engulfed her. He was pulling her dress over her head.
"Ah, wait!" She shrieked, her involuntary response being to pull it back down, which in this awkward position was impossible to do. "No, no, no, no! What are you doing?!"
"Stripping you." Which had already been done. Cold air tingled against her bare skin, except for her backside, which tingled even more with the feeling of something large and warm there.
"W-what's that?" She angled her head again to see and immediately screamed. "You're naked!"
There was no escaping him, she realized. He was much, much bigger than herself. The arms that trapped her as she squirmed were tanned and packed with muscle. She could feel the hardness of his stomach on her back, her legs molded against the voluptuous curve of his thighs. She couldn't stop her violent shaking either, especially when she looked down and saw exactly what that strange hardness was, pressed against the mound in her thighs.
Her dizziness went all the way to her stomach to her toes. Before she knew it she was bawling as she struggled to form words. "Please don't," she pleaded, big salty tears dripping into her mouth. "I'm a virgin, I've never been with anyone before and if you do this I'll never be able to get married. I'm not that pretty at all really, and I definitely don't think I'm prettier than—," a hand clamped over her mouth and she began to cry muffled words.
"Stop babbling." He hissed in her ear. "You're talking my ear off. And I'm never going to allow you to get married, so don't even bother." She fell silent and felt compelled to nod quickly. She struggled to quell her sniffles and that's when he started doing it. She felt him bucking his hips into her and she saw the thick head of his member appear and retract. Even more, she felt it. A rod of flesh, rubbing off against her own. Her breaths were quick and uneven. She could hardly believe it, she was doing this intimate dirty thing with the god of the sun. She didn't know much about sex, only that a man puts his thing inside a woman on their wedding night. Did this happen too? Each stroke sent a shock that spiraled into her lower belly, a sensation she'd never felt, much less known of its existence. The thrusts became more agitated, more insistent, and she felt her womanhood swelling. There was wetness coming out of her, too. She moaned. In this crucial moment she couldn't bear the idea of peeing herself, but it was like he was trying to coax that exact reaction out of her. His grip on her mouth loosened. "Isn't that good?" He mumbled in her ear, nibbling at her lobe. "Isn't that nice?" She only nodded. His head rubbed excessively against the nub there. Her head fell back against his chest. It did feel nice. So, so nice.
Then he pulled away. Every inch of her skin felt as if it were searing. The absence of warmth on her back made her squirm. She whined in protest and he laughed again. He picked her up again and this time, walked across the room and deposited her straight on the bed, facedown. She struggled to sit up but he followed her onto the sheets and pushed a hand down onto her shoulder blade. "Don't get up." She didn't, but she fidgeted anxiously, the fear pouring back into her. She was doing this, really doing this. She craned her head. In the candlelight, looking at him, his hair glinted like gold jewelry.
"I'm not ready for this," she whimpered. She made timid finger signs, of what they had done. "The rubbing, let's just do that please..." he had a bored, half-lidded expression.
"Mm, no." He positioned himself over her, arm wrapped against her hips so that she wouldn't fuss again, and the other spreading her entrance open with purposeful fingers. The prodding made her shiver. As soon as he found it, he positioned their hips together and rammed into her.
The tentative pleasure was abruptly replaced by the feeling of being ripped into. She felt hot, sticky blood—smelled it, even—running down her legs, but it only seemed to make things easier for him as he pounded her. She screamed against the pillow, tears flowing out of her like a flood. She'd never imagined it would be this painful. She tried to scramble from him but he'd trapped her underneath him, scarcely able to breathe. "It hurts," she moaned. But if he heard then he ignored her. If anything, he got rougher. His arm was still wrapped tightly around her, maneuvering her so that she pushed up to meet him. Each thrust, still more painful than anything she'd experienced, was somehow less painful than the one before. There was nothing she could do but lie there, grit her teeth and allow him to use her. Her nails dug into her palms so that they bled. She tried hard to focus on the fact that if Apollo had been Belenis, then she would be doing what all women were supposed to do. Except it wasn't Belenis, and she...
Something strange happened then. Although the sting was still there, she felt a small spiral in her stomach. The feeling of him pushing into her felt peculiar, as if he were stabbing the thing that evoked wetness in her before. Her whimpers of pain softened into meals as a semblance of pleasure began to wash over her again. She nearly went limp with relief, but she also couldn't believe it. When she looked down past her breasts and her stomach, she saw the action of him thrusting in and out, and also the other parts of his manliness that she'd missed before. Maybe that's what coaxed her back into heat. The sticky chafing turned into a much slicker sensation. She felt all the individual parts of his manhood spreading her, rubbing her insides and hitting that special spot. She was aching, but not in the way she was before. Spiral after spiral went straight into her stomach. Positively dripping, but she couldn't think to even care. And then finally, at the thrust where she was on the edge but not quite, she felt him explode inside of her. His movements where jerky and frantic, and he made low groaning noises that made her stomach roil. At al the sensations assaulting her she nearly came, if only he didn't roll of of her just then. She lay there, frozen and in pain. Now it was just the bereft sensation inside of her that was painful. The horrible swollen feeling in her breasts and her womanly parts was so strong it made her want to weep. She stared at him while he stared blankly at the ceiling. "Y-you're done?"
"Yes."
"But..." she licked her lips, salty from tears. The feeling had left her indignant. Her voice cracked. "I'm... I'm not... c-can we do it again, please? Just 1 more time?"
"Please, don't bother me anymore. I'm tired."
"B-but..." she sat there, but didn't dare push him further. She slowly lay back down, joining his silent interrogation of the ceiling. She waited, but the aching feeling didn't go away. She couldn't stop her eyes from watering or from holding back her sniffles. Try as she might, she was crying again like a pathetic child who didn't get the sweet she coveted. It was so unfair.
He rolled over suddenly and she flinched, terrified that he had become angry. He stared at her with annoyed eyes. "Get on top." She blinked through her tears.
"What?"
"I said, get on top. You're the one who wants it, so do the work." She sat up immediately. She had no idea what 'get on top' meant, but she was more than happy to have a chance to relieve herself. It probably was that he wanted her to sit on top of him... she blushed. Could women do that? Regardless, she wore a stupid grin as she hurried to straddle him. She worried where to look, or if she was too heavy, and also how she was going to fit his manliness inside her again. It was so much bigger than she realized. She'd never seen a man's thing before in her whole life until now, but she was sure they were at least 2 sizes smaller than what she beheld. With baby hands like hers, she could barely fit her fingers around it as she tentatively stroked him. It was still slick and hard again already. There was a thick vein pulsing alongside it and a bead of something milky on the mushroom-shaped tip. The sight of it made her stomach roil tightly. "My eyes are up here." She flushed. He still looked grumpy, but there was a twinkle in them that made her want to run away in embarrassment. This was such a sinful thing to be doing. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, feeling the slick thickness push into her, without hardly any difficulty at all, other than the totally arousing sensation of being over-filled. An enormous shudder wracked her body. This way she could feel almost everything, even the smallest movement causing it to rub against her inner walls. It was enough to set her off even then. She shifted a little bit.
"Ah," he glared at her.
"Get moving." She did, tentatively. It didn't take long for her to realize she had no idea what she was doing. Her movements were awkward and jerky, but even that felt nice so she kept jumping him, like a drummer who moved to her own beat. She didn't dare ask for his hands, so she settles on gripping the patches of sheet on both sides of his head. Eventually she found a—still somewhat awkward—pace that she could bear with some effort. She raised herself till just his tip was inside, then dropped back down. Raise, drop. Raise, drop. She was working up a sweat, wet moans dribbling carelessly out of her mouth as she rode his cock. It was so, so good. It hurt so much before but now it was so good she thought she would die. It shouldn't have felt so good. Wave after wave came over her, pushing her over the edge until she felt him ran against her special spot again, and she screamed, losing the pace and spasming on top of him. Then she went slack, feeling as if her spirit were coming out of her body over a mire of bliss that she couldn't escape from.
Oh, she thought in the back of her mind as saliva dropped over her chin. So that's what it feels like.
She felt hands holding her arms in a bruising grip, then remembered the thing in her was still hard as ever. She gazed up and saw the angry face of Apollo. "You are," he growled, whirling her onto the bed so that she faced him, "the worst person I have ever had sex with." Before she could recover and say sorry, he slammed into her again and she squealed. She felt so used and open, she didn't think she could react so quickly again but here she was, gyrating her hips uncontrollably to meet his thrusts. He was pulsing inside her so bad, she got that feeling again.
"Ah, ah!"
"You're going to cum again?" He groaned against her lips. She nodded wildly.
"Y-yeah! Coming, I, I'm gonna come!"
"Cum, then. Cum for me now." He gave a big thrust so powerful that the bed creaked and shifted, and she thrashed, screaming as she came. Then she lay limp for about a dozen seconds until he twitched and exploded again. She gave a weak cry at the hot stickiness.
By this time the candle faded and she was lightheaded. Apollo collapsed onto her and she could feel his heart racing against hers. His breath was a warm mist in her hair. She was still afraid to kiss him, so she wrapped her arms around him instead. She'd been filled with a lovely warmth and a cool breeze wafted through the room.
Then, abruptly, he sat up, picked up his clothes, and left.
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A/n: and yeah, that's pretty much it. If you were hoping for more than smut this chapter, sorry to disappoint you. No fluff, either. Lmao. However, in my next chapter there'll be a lot more plot. Let's pray Melantriche won't suffer a fate worse than death after sum brutal ass sex .