Author's note: I think I may have been remiss in my other chapters but I don't own Voltron or any of its characters.

Thanks to Emoz1205, Ebon_drake1, Anonymous Guest, Snyperlady, Carly chameleon, , & bigZ, as always I appreciate your reviews. A special thank you to Ebon_drake1 for giving the chapter a once over.

So this is the penultimate chapter (at least as of right now). I can say no one loses their head in this chapter (in fact no one dies in this chapter either). However, this chapter has sexual content. It has situations containing reluctance. If this is upsetting to you, don't read this chapter. Having said all that, this is the first time I've ever written anything of this nature, so bear that in mind when reading. I hope it's not too cringe worthy.

In case the previous warnings didn't imply it enough, this chapter is most definitely NOT SAFE FOR WORK!

Chapter 5 - Possession

When he entered their bed chambers, freshly showered and out of his blood stained attire, he scanned the room. There she sat, at the foot of the chaise, the warm light from the fire reflecting in the cascade of her unbound curls. But of course, she would be there, it was the piece of furniture furthest from their bed. He chuckled to himself, knowing her choice to be strategic. It didn't matter, though, she would wind up in the bed before the night's end.

Allura rose from the chaise, faced him, and frowned. Her eyes assessed him with all the feeling of an android.

"This day was always coming for you, my love" his voice echoed as he closed the distance between them. In truth, he was somewhat relieved. He expected to find her crying – were she a lesser woman perhaps she would have. He knew there were aspects of Drule culture that humans found … traumatic. He remembered what a trembling, sobbing mess Romelle was reduced to after one slightly sanguineous visit to the arenas (how could he have ever thought Romelle could replace Allura?). But there Allura was, her head held high and her eyes glowed with a defiance that just begged to be subdued. He smiled. And subdue it he would.

The king stepped slowly around her as if she were his prey, instead of his wife. The white silken night gown he had left for her caressed her curves. They screamed for him to run his hands over them. And how could he not? Her tiny waist, rounded bosom, and shapely backside were made to be reveled in by him. No one could deny that when the gods created her they had him in mind.

He came to stand in front of her and her eyes hardened. Something stirred in him, was she going to defy him on this? Pleased with his original assessment that she would not be an easy conquest, he tried to get a rise out of her and reminded her of the one thing he knew she hated hearing, "You were always going to be mine."

"No!" She backed away from him, shaking her head; frowning. For each retreated step, he made an advancing one - unbuttoning his shirt, slowly and deliberately, as he approached her.

"You think not?" he smirked, amused by her denials and naiveté. Amused by how brave and strong she was trying to be in the face of her wedding night. But that was all it really was, an attempt. The paradoxical blend of her fear and defiance was intoxicating. If he was a kinder man, her fear would have stayed his hand, but instead it aroused the predator in him. And she was ever the perfect prey. Diminutive. Beautiful. Defenseless. The fear she so desperately tried to hide left her with her back against the marble wall next to the fire place, with no other retreat, and the king looming over her.

"Perhaps not your heart tonight but I can live without it… for now. But in time even that will be mine," Lotor shrugged out of his shirt, letting it crumbled into a pile on the floor. It revealed his hard, muscular chest, riddled in scars. He planted each of his hands on either side of her head. The maddening thump of the princess' - no his queen's – heart, and her wide, bewildered blue eyes encouraged him on. Her breasts heaved as she endured his piercing gaze. No longer content to merely look, Lotor's hands settled on her ribs.

"Bitch!" he exclaimed when felt a searing pain on the side of his head and her tiny hands shoving him away. He could have stopped her as she ran out the door, with the fireplace poker still in hand (how cute!), but he didn't. He rubbed his temple, laughing, and felt a wet spot; blood. Well, the blood was never a part of the plan but her ability to surprise was one of the things he loved about her. A wicked smile swept his face. This was going to be fun. Drinking a flute of champagne, he delayed his pursuit, wanting to give her time to tire herself out.

When he finally began his chase, her scent was undeniable as he entered the hallway – sweet and flowery mingled with a tinge of fear. His heart raced as he ran through the halls of the emptied wing of the palace. Hoping to hunt her without the use of security feeds, he grumbled as her scent grew weak. But as he approached a service door, a bemused smile crept over his features. The fireplace poker lay abandoned right in front of service stairwell entrance. She really was making this too easy for him. When he entered the stairwell, he could hear the pattering of her bare feet. "Allura, where will you go?" his laugh echoed. "You can't hide from me in my own home!"

The frantic sound of fiddling with door knobs drifted up to him as he ran down the stairs. It was followed by her labored breathing as she descended another level. Until finally he could hear a whining squeak and then a door slamming.

At first the absence of alarms surprised Allura but she suspected Lotor wouldn't want it known that his wife of only a few hours fled him. What was I thinking? Allura berated herself, certain that the look in her eyes and the sweat on her brow betrayed her freneticism. She wasn't thinking and that was the problem. Her attack on Lotor was a reflex. It was the instinctual action of a cornered prey. But above all else, it was stupid. So very, very stupid. The thought of the consequences released a fresh wave of silent tears.

"You're only postponing the inevitable!" he called out, his voice calm and smooth. If circumstances were different, she might even have found the voice soothing.

Her head snapped behind her toward the sound of footsteps growing louder; closer. Allura scampered to a nearby door and jiggled the door knob. A shriek of frustration erupted from her as she banged on the unrelenting door. She stiffened as the sound of slow, deliberate steps echoed in the vacuous halls. The pounding of her heart almost drowned out the sound of his approach. All she needed was to find some place to sit for just a few minutes, so she could think; so this could be fixed without her people suffering. When he finally caught up with her she didn't want to be the trembling mess she was now. Suddenly she regretted not eating earlier.

"Why run from me? I'm all you have. I'm the only one here who cares about you. Come back to me, my love," his voice laced with, what she was sure was false, concern.

Her reprieve was granted when she finally came upon an unlocked door. Warm evening air hit her as she entered a long, rectangular grassy promenade with trees lining the inner perimeter. Otherwise the palace encapsulated it on all sides. Loud booms reverberated as the light of fireworks, celebrating their nuptials, lit the darkened courtyard. The only other light shone from glass luminaries that lined the white stone walkways. Assessing the layout of the courtyard, she ran towards a door on the far end of the space. Allura didn't even make it halfway across when her breath was knocked out of her as two powerful arms engulfed her, shielding her from the impact as they tumbled to the ground. Her face was on the ground and while she couldn't see who it was, there could be no doubt who tackled her. It was truly shocking that such a large man could move so quickly and quietly.

She tried to move but was pinned in place by Lotor's powerful build. She could feel every muscular bulge of his shirtless torso through the thin nightgown she wore; reminding her just how incredibly vulnerable she was. Stilling, she resigned herself to endure whatever he might mete out.

Lotor smiled as he buried his head in her hair, relishing its sweet scent. A childlike giddiness seeped into him – her golden tresses on his naked body would be the first thing he felt when he woke in the morning. And it would be the first thing he smelled.

Flipping her onto her back, the warmth of his mouth covered hers possessively. These lips would be the first thing he tasted. But since, for the moment, she was unresponsive to him, his mouth trailed from her mouth to the sweet spot behind her ear, then down her neck. Ah! And there it was – a soft shudder and an errant groan slipped out from her. His hands trailed down the side of her body, reveling in the undulations of her willowy body. Fumbling, at first, with the hem of her silken gown, his hands slipped under and progressed intently up her legs. For a moment he began to commit the feel of her flesh to memory. But the most glorious thought flourished: anytime he needed a reminder of how she felt he needed only touch her. He smirked, continuing his advance. The feel of her soft, warm skin put the silk she wore to shame. So why keep it? He mused not bothering to hide his wicked smile or laugh. Whimpering, her body arched up and crashed down to the hard ground as he pulled the nightgown over her head with no thought to gentleness.

He drew a ragged breath and his eyes widened as he looked down at her tawny body. A part of him still unable to believe it was Allura underneath him. His stubborn Arussian princess, who thwarted him at every turn, would surely have escaped yet again. A pit formed in his stomach fearing that this was just a part of some drunken stupor and when he recovered, she would be gone and his father still king.

"No, not this time," he murmured. He had waited so long for this moment. As he prepared for this evening, he feared that reality would not live up to the hype he created in his mind. In truth few women could be as beautiful as he imagined her unclothed body to be. But the king could now see his fears were completely unwarranted. She was perfection personified; a devastatingly beautiful goddess. As her most ardent devotee, how could he not thoroughly worship her? His eyes darkened and his breath grew heavy. It took every ounce of self-control to not just ravish her then.

He glanced toward her face briefly. A crimson blush swept her face and her sapphire eyes averted his gaze as she chewed on her lower lip. Her embarrassment pleased him as it confirmed that few, if any, had ever seen her like this. Ignoring for now the tears streaming down her face, his gaze fell upon her pert breasts and immediately his mouth descended like a man starved. How long had he imagined what her flesh would feel like under his command? Reality for once proved more pleasing than fantasy.

At first, her body remained taut. Then his hand cupped her other breast and he teased her little by little until he heard her sigh. Almost imperceptibly her tension ebbed until her body arched to his mouth. Enthralled to his excitement, his mouth moved from her breast to her shoulder. His tongue traced her collarbone. The low moan emanating from her was replaced by a scream as his teeth sank into the fleshy part of her shoulder; lapping up the trickle of blood that seemed to sing his name.

"What the…? Why would you…?" her breathing hitched and her breasts heaved. "Are you angry?"

"I'm going to spend my night buried in you. So no, Allura, I'm not angry," he lifted his mouth, he felt himself lengthening by the mere thought. Panting in deep breaths he struggled to contain his need. Just a little longer. His hand slid down from her bosom over her flat belly. His fingers danced over her hips before lingering over her pubis. Her body tensed and trembled as his fingers slid to the warm softness between her legs. His fingers sought the peak that hid in her folds and began caressing it. Her entire body quivered and she let out a shrieking moan. "I anticipated your flight and I allowed you to have your little run. Of course, controlling it nearly at every turn."

Controlling it at every turn? His arrogance should be infuriating her but she couldn't summon her righteous anger at the moment. At first her only response was her muffled cries. "Wh…Why?" When they finally came, her words were a breathless squeak. Her voice sounded distance, strained.

"Because it's just stupid to fight the inevitable," his breath strained, listening to her licentious cries, "any trapped animal would have done the same. So I just made a game out of it." Not a small amount of satisfaction welled in him as his finger penetrated her and was engulfed by her warm wetness. Her hips began to mirror the rhythm of his incursions and he could no longer endure his restricting pants. He felt clumsy as he fought, one handed, with his zipper.

"But I wanted you to know that you can run but you will always wind up back here with me," he paused his ministrations and he thought he heard a frustrated groan before he seized her chin. "This can never happen again. Do you understand? You are mine!"

She nodded in acknowledgement but in that moment she would have agreed to anything. He withdrew his hands and grabbed hers, pinning them on either side of her head. Her eyes widened as she felt something hard line up with her opening. His mouth covered hers again before he looked down at her. "Now all will be forgiven because I really did enjoy our little game. But I want to hear you say you're mine."

His mouth descended again, nibbling on her erect nipple. She groaned and she ground against him. A shockwave ripped through her as a confusing pressure built in her tummy.

"Go on, say it," he demanded, lifting his hungry mouth from her chest. "Two little words and there will be no consequences for your little act of defiance."

Glimmers of reality snuck into her dizzying haze of bliss and her sense came crashing back. Her eyes assessed him trying to determine the sincerity of his words. But really what could she do if he was lying?

"I promise. I lost no face because of it. No harm, no foul… this once," his voice hoarse, his face seemed pained. He propped himself over her so their faces aligned, her arms still pinned. "If you are obedient, you will never have reason to fear me. I won't mistreat you or your people."

Her brow furrowed - they were only two words. The validity of them wouldn't be undermined by her refusal to say them. It certainly was never her hope in life to be bound to him but it was now her reality. She was his. It was only her pride that prevented her from saying it aloud. Or was it lingering loyalty to her dead friends? Her breath caught in her throat thinking of her friends and she felt tears spill down her face. Her friends were her past and as much as she hated it, Lotor was her future. Her loyalty had to be to the living. Her people were now at his mercy and if two words would keep them safe, then so be it.

He smiled, seeing that the reality of her situation was sinking in. There was only so much resistance she could put up before it would be viewed as deliberate disobedience. Something her people would pay more dearly for than she would if that was the path she decided to go down. However, her wide eyed gaze, watching him cautiously, promised submission. She seemed so fragile at the moment. It would be so easy to break her right now. His heart pounded as he considered that prospect but ultimately dismissed it. Broken women were easy to obtain; resiliency was a more precious commodity.

"I'm yours," she sobbed, her previous pleasure faded. A very sudden inexplicable panic seized her. And the body that had betrayed her so egregiously by basking in his touch, betrayed her again by trembling in fear at what he was about to do.

"Good girl," he kissed her and as his tongue slipped past her lips, he plunged into her and she screamed into his mouth as he tore through her maiden barrier. The searing pain was more than she ever imagined. Her whole body tensed up and the color drained from her face. Her simpering cries were drowned out by his pleasured groans as he rocked back and forth in her. Allura struggled for breath as it seemed like the only thing in the universe at the moment was the horrible burning and ripping feeling. Her hips tried in vain to retreat from him as he pressed into her. It would be baffle her forever how any woman would agree to do this more than once. How any species survive is an enigma!

"It'll pass. It gets better," as if reading her mind, he groaned into her ear while keeping up his fierce, unrelenting pace. Now more than ever the king was convinced that the Gods thought of him when they created the girl writhing beneath him. Her soft, tight body was the perfect sheath for him. He found himself becoming overwhelmed by the excitement of it all. She was now so definitely his and this knowledge was proving his undoing. But wanting to prove his virility to her, he fought desperately to delay his final release. Yet, his muscles tensed and guttural growl escaped him as a shudder originating in his lower spine over took him.

He wanted to collapse on top of her but instead Lotor lifted himself to stand and zippered his pants. Walking toward where he had thrown her night gown, he scooped it up and walked back toward her. She now had her knees brought to her chest. Kneeling beside her, he ran his hand through her unbound, disheveled hair before returning her nightgown. "I meant what I said. If you are obedient, your life with me will be pleasant. But if not, you will be a very unhappy woman," he stood, towering over her. "Servants will be in a few minutes to attend you. We will continue our evening in our bed."

As she pulled her nightgown on, the servants he spoke of approached as he exited. Two of them helped her to stand. She looked down at the white stone and saw her blood smeared about. The servants looked at her approvingly. The queen rolled her eyes – as if she needed their approval! Did they think that she saved herself for him? Exhaling a loud huff, she allowed one of them to tidy her hair. Another helped her slip into a robe and slippers. The servants' readiness confirmed what Lotor boasted of earlier, he really had anticipated her response.

As they entered a lift, she wanted to cry; this was not the wedding night of her dreams. There was no gentle seductions or amorous words uttered. But she knew it could have been much worse, he truly could have hurt her if he was so inclined. Instead, her only discomfort was that of what most virgins felt, she supposed. But all and all, this was just an acknowledgement of his power over her.

While her head remained upright, hiding her inner turmoil, what she wanted more than anything was for Nanny to tell her everything would be okay. Her tears threatened to spill as she realized something else he said earlier was also true. He was, in his own twisted way, the only person on this planet who cared about her. Everyone else, including these servants, would only care about her because he told them to do so.

Her breathing grew shallow as she clenched her fists. The sounds around her diminished to distant echoes as the only sound she could hear was the panicked drumming of her heart. Deep down she always believed that right would subdue evil and the love would prevail. Those tenets, that faith, was so truly ingrained in the fiber of her being that without them she felt so blind. She felt without identity; no longer the chaste, hero princess; no longer the valiant freedom fighter. What was the point of her, then? Certainly there was something more to believe in. Because this couldn't be all there was, could it? The queen was sure if she relayed these feelings to Lotor (as laughable as that thought was), he would tell her to put her faith in him. She thought of Coran and what he would have told her in regards to her crumbling faith. Or more precisely what he did tell her time and time again. "We don't always get what want. But we should be happy if we get what we need. Sometimes, you'll need to learn to satisfy yourself with that."

As she entered their bedroom, feeling thoroughly conquered, she expected to find Lotor with that annoying gloating smile of his. Instead, his countenance remained neutral as he offered her a flute of champagne and motioned toward a plate of food.

"You need to replenish your energy," he whispered into her ear after she sat.