Page 29 of Welcome Home
I stop myself before I go to smooth it out, ignoring the unsettled feeling that pools in my gut at the prospect of her seeing me like this. She slips me out of her mouth with an audible pop. Urging a violent shudder of pleasure down my spine. Her delicate, sweet tongue exploring all the odd planes of my length. Staying still is a test of will, letting her taste and tease before I can’t anymore. Jerking her up off the stairs and wrapping her legs around my waist, she lets out a squeal, ending in laughter.
Fuck her laugh.
The sound slips over my soul, smoothing out any rough edges before bleeding into my heart. We’re in the bedroom at record speed, her face only slightly disturbed by the sudden burst of speed. Her hair casts a black crown around her head as I lay her back, wasting no time running my fingers over smooth, arousal coated flesh. Her back rises off the bed, both squirming away and edging closer as I tease her entrance. “Please Vosz.”
“I love the way my name sounds on your lips, but you aren’t ready yet, my love.” With that I slip my fingers in, three, and begin working her open, stretching her wide. Working her cunt until her little gasps of pain turn to writhing mewls of pleasure. Until she’s pushing back into me, begging for more. My shirt hits the floor. Her deceptively innocent eyes turned on me. I let myself wallow for only a second that it's him she’s looking at.
Because it’s me that’s about to spear her sweet little slit.
Her breath hitches as I crawl between her legs, my heavy cock resting on the small of her stomach, the sheets soaked through from her already. “Breathe sweetness.”
“Your vagina isn’t the one staring down the barrel of a cannon.”
Very ungentlemanly pride swells in my chest as I try my best not to smirk, pushing her legs as wide as they go, my hand collecting her arousal and coating myself in it. Each pass of my hand makes my engorged cock jerk and pulse painfully. Sex is never done with any fanfare between my kind, it’s a necessity for the continuation of our species. A business transaction before the women take the children born from the act and keep them in hiding before they can hold a skin. The moment they can hold a skin, the women part from their children. Some finding their ways back to their fathers, some not. Mating is only done every hundred or so years because of our long lives.
“Once I come, it’ll get easier.” I assure her.
“Once you come, it’ll be done!”
I can’t stop the laughter that follows such a ridiculous statement. Then again, as those pretty eyes nearly bug out of her skull. “Sweet, sweet Cora, this only stops when neither of us can stand to continue.” She whimpers as I position my tip into her entrance, pushing forward until her sex offers resistance. Her walls already gripping and choking my cock near death. “Fucking Goddess, help me.” I groan, fucking her with what I can fit, working her up to more. Each thrust is heaven and hell wrapped into one.
She hisses in pain as I push further, despite having only taken a little over the length of my hand. “It won’t fit.” The determination on her face makes me jerk inside her, my seed spilling a little.
“Relax my love.” I coo, my hands reaching up and playing with her nipples, rolling them the way she likes. Wishing it was my tongue lapping at them instead. She moans, bearing down on me as I rock into her, little gasps of frustration filling the air until the scent of copper mixes with it. My hand clamps down on her waist, stopping her from hurting herself. “Slow down sweet Cora, I’ve got you. Touch yourself for me, rub your clit.”
She does, because despite it all, my Cora is a good girl.
“There you are, my love. So perfect, so pretty, trying to take your monster's cock.”
She moans, struggling against my grip, trying to grind down further on me. Her body adjusting to take what I give, her sex already so slick my thighs are covered in her arousal. Something he always shamed her for, like being covered in the evidence of her arousal, isn’t an honor of the highest caliber. Good thing the fucker only experienced it a handful of times. My anger burns through me when again the bastard's memories of her underneath him come unbidden, his hands touching her, pinching and squeezing. Slapping her until her blue eyes wrenched closed in pain, tears soaking her pillow.
His hands, hurting her. His cock buried inside the woman none of us knew I owned yet.
Cora gasps as I wrench her up onto my lap abruptly, her sex fighting to keep me inside as I pull free. “Grab my shoulders.” I grit out, needing her.
Needing to claim her, to wash every trace of him away from her delicate flesh. Flesh that should’ve been worshipped, not abused.
I bring him to the surface, the tiny note of consciousness from all of them that never truly fades. Surprise and confusion, fear and brilliant panic tickles into our shared chest as I lift her by her hips, settling her back down on my cock. The fear bleeds with anger, hatred so hot it threatens to raise me from the inside. Cora screams out my name, not his.
I’m yours, baby. All yours and he’s dead.
I let her find what she can take, working my own release closer and closer. She feels so good it hurts, when she comes violently her forehead braced on mine, our breath shared I follow her, spilling and filling her up to the brim until my seed leaks from her.
I don’t stop. I’m just getting started.
She’s panting, her skin flushed red as my tongue slips out, tasting the wonderful sweet and saltness of her flesh, committing it to memory. “Hold on to me, my love.” I groan.
Her hands are weak, but she obeys her gorgeous body languid in my arms, at my mercy. She screams as I force her down further, my seed being forced out as I stuff her with my cock. Her body adjusts quickly, just as quickly as her hisses and whimpers for mercy turn to moans of pleasure. I know the next time she tightens, her body resisting me. It's all she can take. She’s right, we won’t fit, not all the way without hurting her. Not yet at least, but she’s perfect just the way she is. More than enough, more than I’d ever dreamed of.
I use her and she’s happy to let me her small hands exploring the slit where my cock extruded, my true body made smaller to fit a human’s size. Whatever nightmarish thing within me that makes that possible. When her hand slips inside, a roar of pleasure and pain leaves my throat, my hands gripping her hips and fucking her up and down on my shaft her perfect breasts heaving with the weight of each thrust. Her lips part on a silent scream as she comes again, her sex gripping and clenching, milking me. My cock seated so deeply inside her it won’t be a long journey to her womb. This time when I come, the waves of pleasure send me bucking forward. My thrusts jerky and wild. Her soft, pliant body pressed against mine. Waves of pleasure unlike I’d ever known surge through me and she basks in all of it. Savoring the pleasure I’m giving her, but most importantly savoring and acceptingme. Soon her sweet whimpers and moans drift until they become long spaced-out breaths. Her sweat covered skin bubbling with goosebumps from the fan as she’s held against me. I’m pained by the thought of letting my love go, even for a moment. Oliver long forgotten and, in the background, again where he belongs. Her tangled black hair fans out over the pillow as I lower her, pink tinged arousal smearing her inner legs.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Thousands of lives, all of it… nothing has ever amounted to this. Nothing has ever come close.
Every step I put between us drives a knife in my gut, when I want nothing more than to shed the bastard and pull her onto my chest wrapping her in my arms and never letting her free. Even I, for all my delusions, can see that will never be our reality. No matter how accepting… my true form is repulsive compared to him. A creature that would more likely feed her nightmares than offer comforting dreams. I watch the warm water run over the pristine white rag, one of the few she spared from the black hair dye. My love hasn’t stirred when I return to her, parting her soft legs, tiny light-colored hairs covering her thighs. I love it; I love every part of her. After I clean between her legs, my heart thuds loudly in my chest, my face splits without my permission, allowing my tongue free to taste what I cleaned from her. Wishing I’d thought to do it with my tongue.
My eyes land on myself in the full-length mirror, something befitting an eldritch horror. I want to close the splits; return to the man she can stomach, but we can’t… I can’t. I can’t lie with her tonight. My eyes find her sleeping form in the mirror, her body now covered by a throw blanket, her favorite one. At least the one she always used in his memories. It’s old, tattered, a stain at the bottom where she’d spilled wine years ago. It’s hers. One of the few things that’s hers in the picturesque home. It smells of her, and something else, something deeper in the fibers. I assume her home before he whisked her away, before I insisted her new home was me. I commit that smell to memory too.
My feet feel heavy as I leave the room, reminding myself why I’m doing this. Why I have to leave. Forcing that sad look on her face earlier tonight to the forefront of my mind, allowing the anger back in. charting every reason why the longer I keep her here, the more I fail her. Suddenly, the steps away get easier.
