Warning: a chapter as "lemon" and "fluffy" as it was possible in this dark fic.
CHAPTER 14 - IT TAKES A MONSTER TO KILL ANOTHER
I can't get enough of her. Maybe I'm really a monster, awakened by the ferric taste of her sweet blood. I want to devour her completely. I want her to be part of me as I want to be a part of her, so that no one can tell where one ends and the other begins.
I'm in the sensory frenzy she provoked just by being close to me, exactly where I want her and I think she should stay for the rest of her life. I do not know for sure how we get tangled up in pieces of cloths and stuffing, but there seems to be a rule that we'll always end up tangled on the floor.
I seek her body in despair. Any stretch of skin that I can reach under the clothes she is (still) wearing serves as a dubious balm, which simultaneously comforts me and makes me yearn for more. I can barely keep her clothes from joining the torn fabrics on the floor, and it is only because I dread to evoke the unpleasant memory that I control myself.
I am going to draw a clear and undisputed line between the violence she has suffered and what we are doing now. Even if I die trying, but she will not be able to say that I'm just like that bastard. She will not even be able to find a comparison between what he did and what I do.
I can feel how confuse and hesitant she is under my hands. I can hear the fear in her voice, but I also hear pleasure and desire. She wants me, but she fears wanting me. Above all, she fears that she is not in control of her own body. Yes, it is easy to understand, after all, she has learned to trust only in herself and now I demand that she give the reins to me. Of course, she is frightened.
She fights my hands in everything they do and tries to pull away from me, but she moans at every touch, every caress, every time I pull her back to me and put her back in touch with my body. She blushed when I took off my shirt and I can bet she does not know the excited expression she is doing now.
Every little message that her body language conveys attests to how much she is fighting her own desire. I admire her effort and I mentally congratulate her for trying, but the outcome will not be what she intended. Kyoko will not be a winner in this battle. She will lose, but she will like it.
Her body is so sensitive and responsive that I cannot resist the urge to smile. Whenever my mouth makes contact with her skin I hear a "no" or an "I don't like that", but they are always trembling and moaning denials, invariably accompanied by visible shivers. Every mark I leave on her body, small or large, light or dark, imbues me with primitive pride. I never felt so possessive, not even about my Clan.
She has her back against my chest, kneeling on the floor between my legs, panting and oblivious to the mess we are making in her sewing job. My hands rise from her hips to her belly and, shortly before reaching her breasts, they feel the differentiated texture of the scar.
I feel her stiff and hold her breath when I touch the scar, which tells me she bothers about it somehow. My hands do not interrupt the exploration and continue to rise toward the target, the two wonderful and delicate mounds that fit perfectly in my palms and that make her whine and arch her body when they are massaged.
She makes me a greedy man. It is not enough just to touch them: I need to see them. Therefore, I remove her shirt without paying any attention to her protest. After all, she complained when my hands left her body, complained when I removed her shirt and complained when my hands returned to her breasts. So, unless it's a coherent protest, I have no reason to listen to it.
She reacts to the direct contact with my skin as if my chest burns her back, which makes her press her breasts more firmly against my hands. I can only say that I'm fascinated by her body, which makes me take some time to realize that she's hiding the scar with one arm.
Oh no. I will not admit that she focuses on anything other than what I'm doing with her body!
I pinch her nipples and she gasps. I nibble at her neck, shoulder, and ear, and succeed in diverting her attention from my other hand, which descends toward a new target. When she notices my intention, it is too late to prevent my fingers from making contact with her damp curls. She arches her body, pressing her butt against my erection even more, which makes me grunt with pleasure. She moans and nails my arm and my thigh, any concern for the scar completely forgotten as my fingers, soaked with her arousal, glide freely through her clit.
She whimpers and writhes against me, rubbing her body in mine provocatively. I've never been so excited before, however, I know that her intention is not to seduce me. It is easy to deduce that the sensations are too strong for her to produce a coherent thought, let alone to act deliberately.
There is something brutally honest in lust and it is such honesty that I intend to explore.
My greed demands that I see her face contorted with pleasure. My greed requires me to stamp my face on the pleasure she is feeling, so that one always evoke the other. So that she will live the same torment that I have lived since she came into my life.
To do so, I carry her to bed and finish undressing her. She is so relaxed that she looks like a rag doll - a rag doll born of my erotic fantasies and whose sole purpose is to drive me insane, apparently. She is breathless, trembling, blushing, and slightly bewildered. I take my time to look at her for a few seconds, watching her deliciously naked and properly marked by me. Of course, there are still some immaculate skin extensions, but I intend to change this soon.
She seems to have come to herself, because her once unfocused eyes now look at me in amazement. I'm working with the hypothesis that she knows nothing about desire, excitement or pleasure; just violence and pain. However, I'm going to change that. I'll give her so much of the first, that she'll forget the second exists. I watch her shrink and try to hide all her intimate parts from my luscious eyes, including the scar, while I finish undressing myself. I let her see how excited I am as I slowly approach her in bed. She seems to want to merge with the headboard while she gives me a look that is terrified and restless, but also curious and excited, which makes me smile in anticipation.
She let out a lovely cry as I pulled her to me and covered her body with mine. I've delayed kissing her for too long, so I also cover her lips with mine. She holds her breath immediately, naive girl. I can tell she has never been kissed, but I'm far from caring about her inexperience.
I do not think she knows how hard I'm trying to be gentle and slow. Not that she doesn't evoke my protective side: it is only the matter of wanting to possess her completely that is testing my limits, taking me to the edge of madness. At least she rewarded me by relaxing a little more, parting her lips in a sigh, allowing my tongue's entrance.
She is shyly trying to copy my moves, so I must be the luckiest man ever to step on this planet.
She is slowly spreading her legs. Correction: now I'm the luckiest man who ever stepped on this planet.
I slide easily into her and I feel her shudder. Or was I who shuddered? Not for the salvation of humankind would I know, which is wonderful. Where she ends and I begin is irrelevant.
I pull away enough to look at her and I saw her with closed eyes and parted swollen lips. I've never seen anything more beautiful. I begin to move my hips and she proves me wrong as she bites her lower lip to stifle a moan and opens her golden eyes, glistening and misty with pleasure: now I am seeing the most beautiful thing ever.
As soon as she can focus on my face, however, I remember that I am fighting an invisible monster. Kyoko looks away and seems to approach the situation as her countenance automatically shifted to fear.
"Kyoko, do not do this. Focus on me!"
"No, no..."
"Sshhh, it's okay…"
"Is not!"
"Yes, it is. We're making love and-"
"No we are not! This is not..."
Shit, she did not react well to what I said. I did not think before saying it, I just went with the mood, but I do not regret it. For me, we really are making love. However, now she has tears running down her face. I move very slowly inside of her, from the base to the tip, hoping she can feel only me.
"Notice how your body is accepting mine… It knows that there is nothing to fear…"
"N-No... I do not like this p-position!"
"The position?" Shit, the position! "Kyoko, look at me"
"I don't want to! Stop! Get off me!"
"Kyoko, do not let your mind drag you to another moment other than now!"
She squeezes her eyes shut and turns her face, and I have no choice but to keep talking. Maybe, if I create enough contradictions, I can force her mind to confront past and present. I'm not sure where my guess is coming from, I just know that I'm relying on the presentiment that my best bet is to indicate as many discrepancies as are necessary for her mind to admit that now the circumstances are different.
"You're not a defenseless girl anymore"
"..."
"You are a strong and brave woman"
"..."
"You're in Tsuruga territory"
"..."
"With me. With Ren"
"..."
"Kyoko, look at me"
"No!"
"Okay, so look what we're doing"
I move my body slightly and lift her head so she can see us.
"Look at us, see how our bodies unite"
She sees our bodies connected, but she also sees her scar, so I worry.
"You're so perfect that I could spend the whole night inside you"
The damn tears are still there, however, there is also curiosity and wonder in her face. My comment surprised her, it is written in her eyes. I watch her watch our bodies unite, accompany my penis in and out, moist with the excitement that her body produced to receive me. I see her shocked expression as I get more excited because she finally stopped crying and I understand that she is concentrating on the now, since she does not close her eyes anymore, not even when I kiss her.
She does not want to forget that I am the one doing that with her, which moves me almost to tears. I did not know I was still capable of crying. Her nerves are probably in tatters, but she is fighting beside me. It makes sense: from the beginning, I should have known that I would not defeat the monster alone.
She is wetter and tighter now. I see her squirm in pleasure, so close to orgasm that she can hardly keep her eyes open and focused on me. Even with little breath, I say everything that comes to my head so that she can at least cling to my voice as I hasten the thrusts. I say how beautiful, talented and special she is and how much her body drives me crazy. I am being corny, which should make my stomach churn, but I curiously do not care.
I vaguely remember Nick telling me that I would know that I'm in love the moment I realized that I became a pathetic person and did not give a shit about it.
I feel her flex her knees and push her hips against mine and I curse. "You're going to be the death of me, woman!" I hear her scream and I smile as her body convulses around mine. I feel her bite my neck almost painfully and I cum. My head is light and I finally believe in spirits, since mine has left the body behind and is floating content above us. When I regain some consciousness, I realize she is crying. I hug her and she tries to push me, but I do not let her go as I cradle her in my arms. I babble incoherently how much she made me happy and reaffirm that everything is okay, that she is safe and I am so fucking proud of her that I can barely breathe. She just shakes her head and continues to cry, but finally she embraces me as if her life depended on it.
We nest in each other for a few moments, until our breathing begins to normalize. That's when I realize that the final blow has not yet been given.
"Kyoko, say my name..."
"..."
"Say the name of the man who just made love to you"
"..."
"Say the name of the man who is still inside you"
"..."
"Say it"
"..."
"Please say it"
Her voice is just a whisper, but a whisper is enough.
"...Ren"
