A/N: TW for blood. Also warning for rough sex, scratching and biting, and bruising, mentions of collaring.
This was previously posted as a part of my darkfic collection but I loved how it turned out and decided to post it as its own story instead.
His face was so close to hers, so adorable with the mixture of concentration and oblivion written on it as he thrust inside her. She'd let him on top, even gotten him over her, laying herself underneath him and allowing him the illusion of having any power, any control over her and her body. It was cute seeing him above her and working for her pleasure–and his, but just because she allowed it–sweat covering his body as he exerted his energy towards worshiping her and his hair slightly damp and sticking to his forehead as proof of his devotion. It could also be a response to the pain she was sending through him, though.
She had both hands on his back, running over it and her nails tearing into his skin, ripping out groans of agony from his struggling being–she loved forcing all the oxygen out of him this way before letting go for a bit and allowing him to gather his bearings and fill himself with breath again only to sink her claws into him once more and repeat–and spilling blood from the wounds she left in her wake. He seemed to love the pain as much as he loved the sex, or at least loved that it was coming from her, and only thrust harder so she didn't see a reason to let go or be more careful. He was hers to hurt and torture and he kept coming back so it seemed that he loved belonging to her, lost without anyone to hold the reins.
Her gaze stopped on his neck and the thought of putting a collar on him was tempting but she'd learned not to make decisions in a state of passionate haze. She'd agreed to let him move in with her when he'd had her on the cusp of ecstasy and while it had turned out to be for the better–he was all hers now and she didn't have to worry about him running off with someone else when the leash she held him on became too tight for his tastes–she'd hated the feeling of helplessness it had left in her when she'd had to go through with it, the hopeless romanticism burning in him threatening to finish her off if she broke it in pieces. It had felt like she hadn't had a choice and that she'd really hated. She'd never let it happen again no matter what that would cost her. It was a matter of life or death, and she couldn't lose now.
The image of leather all wrapped around his neck in a symbol of her ownership almost had her eyes rolling in the back of her head and she leaned in to leave her marks at the sensitive skin. She bit into his trachea hard enough to break it if she pleased but that wasn't her intention. She didn't want him unable to feel, she only wanted him to feel her. Her and nothing else. It was the perfect outcome for both of them.
Valtor moaned, the sound laced with pleasure rather than with pain and it made everything inside her quiver at his total surrender to her ministrations. It was so hot to have him bend to her will and let her mark him hers that she felt herself melting in his hands. There was nothing left, no thoughts of any burden, no worries, no things to mull over for the millionth time without being able to solve. Not even his skin between her teeth. It all fell away, leaving enough place in her being for the orgasm he was building in her and that swallowed her whole like it was a beast that she'd offered herself to. It was so intense and overwhelming that it took over her senses and she held on to it, to him and let it consume her fully. It was safe to do it, for he was right there to give his life while protecting her. And she couldn't get enough.
She whined when the feeling slipped through her fingers that were now clasping at Valtor's arms, leaving invisible bruises behind that would show their ugliness in a few days' time. But he didn't seem to mind. He never did, and she wasn't quite sure what he got out of it, just like she wasn't sure if he'd even finished himself. She'd been so enveloped in what he'd been making her feel that she couldn't have been bothered with what was happening to him.
Her gaze found his and he was once again looking at her with that unwavering adoration that was always there no matter how much she'd hurt him with her selfishness. He always did everything to please her and she rarely reciprocated so she didn't know what still kept the reverence in his gaze but she was curious to see how long it would take him to run out of patience and leave. Hopefully longer since she was getting used to the mind-blowing orgasms now and didn't want to part with them. It would be a shame but she'd understand. She expected his departure, just didn't know when it would come. It always did. Everyone always left. And she'd learned to live with it, survive the pain and move over to the next meaningless fling. It was how her life went.
"I love you," he said, his voice so quiet and she had to hate him for the cowardice instead of saying it like he meant it. And she did hate him. She hated him because he'd said it loud enough for her to hear and that had in no way been warranted. She was good without him. She didn't need him. He didn't have to make it more than it was. She was perfectly fine with sex. "You know that, right?" he asked and his voice was louder now that he was demanding something from her and wasn't putting his own life on the line. She had to hate him for that too. And she would. If she could just figure out how to do it.
"Don't ask me that," she forced the words out, choking on the pain of her vocal cords producing the sounds. It had her lungs stop and her heart could barely beat on its own which was too bad for her because there was no one she could entrust it to. Not even him. He'd leave like all the rest did. He'd turned out more tenacious but he was nothing compared to her. The darkness in her soul was so profound and persistent that nothing could beat it. Not him. And certainly not her. It chased everything good out of her reach and as far as possible.
"Can I ask for you to return the sentiment?" he looked at her with so much curiosity that reached into the depths of her soul and she had to be mad, she had to scream and throw him out because how did he dare? How did he dare treat her like an experiment? How did he dare study her? She had to rage but she couldn't. Because his eyes were so genuine, so sincere with that ice blue that was so incomprehensibly soft and she couldn't tell what kind of deception that was. He was never like that. He was hard as ice, harder even, and he ran through people, stepped all over their dreams and hearts and didn't care who he left for dead behind. How could he look at her so softly? How could he look at her like he treasured her, like she was the only thing that mattered in his life?
She had to swallow before she could open her mouth but his finger pressed into her lips and she could smell the scent of her arousal all over his hand as he'd given his everything to hear her scream his name again. She'd done it once before and he'd been in awe all week, doing his best to repeat the experience ever since, selfish to take what she wasn't ready to give. She was loud enough as she was, spilling sighs and moans, and every other sound she could make at the skillful touch of his fingertips all over her and the heat of his skin on hers but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted her pleasure marked with the sound of his name to haunt her forever when he was no longer there. And she hoped he'd have some mercy at least this once and take back his words, take back what he'd asked of her and spare her.
"No lies," he said instead, taking away what he thought would be her means of escape but it only sealed his own fate. And hers but that was long done anyway. It'd been just a matter of time.
"No," she said, the truth painful no matter how true it was. Or probably because of that. She couldn't love. She'd never known how to. Everything she touched she destroyed, and his body was the perfect proof of that. Deep scratches that bled, bites that would leave scars, bruises from her fingers on his arms and all over. She knew how to hurt. But love was not for her.
Valtor gave a smile that she would've taken as an offense if it hadn't been for the sadness laced in it.
"No lies, Griffin," he repeated, making her breath stop and her lungs burn, forcing her heart into a panic as it was trapped between them and would burn too. His eyes were seeing into her, seeing everything that was happening inside her, taking in her weakness and he didn't move to attack her or run away from it, scared by its ugliness. He only cupped her cheek and let some of his weight fall on top of her as if to ground her and help her come to her senses and she couldn't be grateful no matter how much she wanted to, for it only took her attention off of herself and the war in her head and placed it on him. But not on his shoulders or on his back to burden him. His gaze was pinning hers in place and she was drowning very willingly.
She had to look away but she couldn't. Maybe it was the sound of her name as he'd said it that kept her trusting him with the vulnerability in her gaze. It had come out so gentle, so... loving. Even after she'd gone for the worst blow she was capable of. It was killing her and filling her with life and she didn't understand how any of that was possible but heavens if she didn't want to have it for the rest of her life.
"This can't be love," she shook her head, the tears spilling down her temples and getting lost into her hair instead of washing away the feelings in her heart. She'd hoped that would help, hoped it would save her, for she couldn't let them touch the fragile organ. It would break, and then she'd have nothing left. Not even herself. She'd already sacrificed everything else because of who she was. She couldn't let herself go, too. It was too much to ask of her. The universe was being so unfair, and there was nothing she could do. It was all already inside her, leaving her no way to escape. So she'd tried to delude herself.
"Yes, it is," Valtor said, again with that softness, as if he was talking to a wounded animal. And in any case he was. She was probably even worse than that. She was always so bad. "You carve the pleasure I bring you in my skin," he said and she could remember him hissing when her nails dug into his back but it wasn't a sound of pain. "You bite your love into my body," he said and she couldn't keep the memories of his blissful expression as he came time and time again just as she bit into his flesh out of her head. "You hold on so tightly with the desire for me to stay," he said and she found herself back in those moments when he'd been holding on to her just as badly before she'd kick him out of bed. "You're scared so your love is filled with pain," he said, "for everyone involved." He'd reached the conclusion she'd known he would. "But I'm not scared of pain." His gaze was drawing more tears from her with the security he was forcing inside her that would only hurt that much more when it was ripped out. "I understand," he said, admitting to her what she'd thought he couldn't admit to himself, "and I love you, too."
She shook her head, looking to get away from him, for it didn't hurt at all but it would. It would. There was no other option. It always did. So much that she couldn't hope it would ever be any different. There was nothing better for her than constant misery. And any seeming happiness was just the next step on her road of thorns.
She cried out like she'd cut herself, "You can't-"
"I do," he said, holding her in place as he cupped her face and she knew she was in big trouble, for she didn't feel trapped at all. She felt safe. "I do. And I'll keep loving you, no matter what," he said, the ice of his eyes so convincing when it was devoid of despair and she knew he wasn't holding on so hard because he was afraid of being alone. He was holding on so hard because he wanted to. And that was something she wanted to learn how to do, too. "I'll keep saying it to you until you believe it," Valtor said, his lips so close to hers that the words fell directly inside her system. There was no going back. She was his now, letting him fill her until she overflowed and she could only hope he wouldn't leave her empty. It wouldn't be any different from what she was facing currently but it would hurt much more when she'd paved the way for the pain with foolish hope. "Even if you can never say it back. Just so long as you keep leaving your love on my skin, I'll know how you feel. And I'd love you still. Even if you didn't. But I really hope you will."
She pulled him into a kiss now that she knew they were together in this. They had both surrendered to hope that seemed different now. It wasn't a fire-breathing dragon anymore or a beastly griffin. It was a little dove that seemed so fragile and they had to protect because it was them that could hurt it rather than the other way around. They had to look after it and not cage it, and she didn't know how to do that–the only thing she'd ever been good with were plants–but she was willing to learn if he was there to hold her hand and keep loving her.