decorator | tear away the gown that i'm wearing, this tiara was not meant for me

[ She knows even before his expression hardens that she's said the wrong thing. The face he makes even just for a moment is so gentle that she knows there's no way she'll be allowed to get away with seeing it. But she expects the dig of his claws, maybe even his teeth - all the softest, most vulnerable parts of her flesh as recompense for her presumption. But- ]

Aah-

[ Maybe it's just because it's been so long since anyone touched her. Or maybe it's because he's taken so unbearably long playing with his food over these weeks, months - however long it's been. Whatever it is, the friction shoots right up from her hips to her head and suddenly, she's dizzy. Her whole body clenches - not just her thighs around the invading length of his tail but her stomach, her chest, and she squirms at last - but of course, that only makes things worse. Her back bows hard enough to lift her off his chest but all that does is push her into his hands and- ]

W-wait, wait, wait - [ Even to her own ears her voice is suddenly plaintive and pathetic. ] I'm not- ah-!

[ Even she has no idea what she means to say. ]

[ He holds her fast. No matter how much she arches, how much she squirms, his tail tightens around her and prevents any chance of escape. Rationale quickly loses meaning. The Saintess needs punishment, she's needed it for a while now... and yet where he expects to feel rage and an uncontrollable urge to tear out her throat with his teeth... he feels nothing.

And instead, he does this. ]

Hm...? What's that?

[ He whispers huskily into her ear as his tail rubs up against her, his black scales smooth but like ridges against her skin. At the same time, his hands remain active as well... one gripping her thigh and preventing her from fully closing her legs... and the other on her chest, his claws gently dragging up to the nubs he'd delicately avoided before. ]

What's the matter, Saintess? I believe our agreement was that you wouldn't resist, no?

[ His tail recedes, rubbing against her in the opposite direction... and then it proceeds forward again, restarting the friction anew. ]

[ Oh. That's right. That had been her promise, hadn't it? That her body was forfeit, a sacrificial animal sent for him to gorge himself on in the hopes it might satisfy him for just a few extra days of safety for Fragaria. She had made that promise expecting pain, debasement, humiliation and shame and had accepted them as her due. She's the Saintess, after all. What use is there for her other than taking in everyone else's hurt?

But this-

This is-

Her mouth opens in a gasp and her head drops back. She doesn't have enough presence of mind to even think about biting back a moan - and so her voice rings out, low and breathy and not at all the kind of noise that belongs to a proper Saintess. It's embarrassing and even worse is that her body responds so eagerly. She's already hot and her face feels feverish and flushed - and she can tell even if he can't yet just how slick she already is. One of her hands scrabbles to grip the wrist of the hand holding her thigh down. Not to push him away but to hold herself in place, clinging on as her legs shake. ]

I'm not- I'm not, but- ah- it's not- I didn't think-

[ She'd prepared herself for just about anything except it feeling this good. ]

[ His grin becomes more genuine as a result of her reactions. As expected, tearing her walls down is truly satisfying. Perhaps more so after how long he's done the same thing over and over again. It was so easy... and now look at her, desperately grasping at him, grasping at anything to keep her steady as her body melts in his hands. ]

Hm? You didn't think? Think what, Saintess? You thought I wouldn't?

[ So he says, as if she hadn't been correct on some level. She had just failed to account for the possibility that she might tip him over an edge at her own expense.

His claw moves up from her breast to trail up to her collarbone, up her neck, up her chin... until the razor-sharp tip stops at her bottom lip. ]

Or is something else surprising you?

[ For a few moments, she can't speak at all. Every breath she tries to pull in ends up as a moan and every exhale is a gasp. She knows by now her face must be scarlet and whatever shameless expression she's wearing... well, she really doesn't want to know.

But even that hardly occupies any space in her head. All she can really think about is the pressure, the heat, and the unyielding friction between her thighs. She's dizzy and trembling and she can't even find the willpower to feel ashamed of herself. She's put up with his half -hearted teasing all this time. She'd been prepared to endure anything, hadn't she? Then surely she can endure this too, no matter how it makes her feel. But even she doesn't know if her shameless reactions, the way her hips are rolling against the insistent press of his tail is really enduring or not. ]

I thought... [ Even her words come out breathy and weak when she finally finds them. ] I thought it wouldn't... I thought it wouldn't be anything like this.

[ It's not a lie - not on purpose, anyway. But it's also not the entire truth. So no matter how much she struggles to say it with her own words, he'll see clear as day exactly what she really means.

"I didn't think it'd feel this good." ]

[ He grins wider... and the pace at which his tail grinds between her legs picks up. His scaled finger hooks into her mouth, a delicate level of control keeping his claw from breaking skin, but still making sure she can feel the sharp edge against the inside of her cheek. ]

Aww, such a cute and pure thought... perhaps you really are a Saintess.

[ With his face so close to her ear, he leans forward... and nips at her earlobe. ]

...Well, you certainly won't be able to call yourself one once I'm done with you.

[ Her voice comes out a little sharper when his claw pokes past her lips and she thinks of just how soft all the places in her mouth are for him to make a mess of. But the sensation only distracts her for a moment - and the sudden spike of alarm is almost instantly overridden by the pleasure when the friction between her legs quickens. She whimpers. The sound is pitiful and it makes her face burn, but she's helpless to stop herself.

She should be revolted, shouldn't she? She's a Saintess, a pure maiden held against her will by a vile beast. She'd offered her body in the understanding that letting him indulge himself in her would be a wretched, humiliating process. But her hips keep grinding against his tail and her breaths come out ragged and needy and when his teeth nip at her ear, the moan that leaves her throat is absolutely filthy. ]

I don't get it... I don't understand you at all...!

[ His words should sound like a threat. She knows that's exactly what they are - but when her belly is so stirred up with heat, when the slickness between her thighs is so noisy and shameless and that unbearable friction is driving her so mad, it sounds less like a warning and more like a promise. And she's alarmed by just how badly she thinks she might want him to follow through. ]

[ This is good. This is better. This is how it should be, actually. Isn't it far more torturous if he pushes her to the brink every night instead of just teasing her? She doesn't understand him, she shouldn't understand him. The fact that her eyes managed to see through him is something that should not be allowed, and if he must go to these lengths to keep it that way, then so be it. ]

That's right... you don't. All you need to understand is this...

[ He goes even harder, his tail nearly lifting her up as it mercilessly grinds against her slick entrance. He nips at her earlobe again, fully intending to push her to the absolute brink and leave her wanting, leave her with that shameful feeling of desiring more from him of all beings.

He can tell how close she is, it's all displayed on her face, told to him clearly by way of every moan that escapes from her mouth. He can already imagine it... imagine her face when he works her to the brink only to leave her cold and unsatisfied. Her leisurely days as a prisoner end here by her own hand as he— ]

...!!

[ For the briefest of moments, something presses against her lower back, something that isn't his tail... and in the instant it does, he's gone. His tail, his hands, his warm back, his teeth on her ear... just as he almost forces her to her peak, all of it leaves her with an inhuman, frantic speed...

But it's not that he vanishes. No, he's still on the bed... near the edge of it, actually. His breathing is fast, clawed hand clutching his chest as he looks away from her, eyes wide...

...and his face flush. ]

[ If she was ever fit to be called Saintess before, surely this is the end of it. She can't stop moaning, her voice rising in pitch and her volume only growing the harder and faster his tail scrapes against her. The heat of him behind her and the friction between her legs is unbearable. It feels good, so good, it's too much, and she doesn't want him to stop. Shamefully, unforgivably, she wants him to keep going, to go further and- ]

Ah...!

[ Suddenly, all at once, it's gone. The heat against her back, that delicious friction against her core. It leaves her all at once, and it's enough to make her dizzy. She's gasping for breath, shaking all over, and it takes her hazy eyes a few moments to find him on the bed.

She looks... There's no other word for it. Obscene. Even from where he's sat, its obvious - she's sweaty and flushed, hair sticking to her cheeks and her eyes glazed and dark. Her trembling thighs are sticky and slick with the mess he'd been stirring up and her shift has ridden up enough that there's not a hint of modesty left. Nobody would ever look at her in that sort of state and think she was a Saintess.

And her expression is... ]

N... No... wait...

[ She has to fist her hands into the sheets to stop herself reaching out to touch him. ]

... Why...?

[ Upon hearing her voice, his eyes flick to look at her... an act that he immediately recognizes as a mistake. In a single instant, his eyes take in everything about her. The sheen of sweat on her body, every strand of unkempt hair, the way she's trembling, the shade of red that her cheeks have turned... and just how slick and wet she is down below.

It makes him especially aware of, then, just how slick a portion of his tail is as a result.

His head immediately snaps to look away. He can't look at her, he can't allow himself to do that. His reason evaporated so easily... he can't allow this feeling, no matter what. ]

I-I... I'm satisfied. That will be it for tonight.

[ His plan to grin condescendingly and firmly declare that there would be no more past that point... it's in tatters. There's no taunting, no jeer of how little she sounds like a Saintess now. His voice stutters despite his best efforts, but he can at least turn his body away from her and hide the proof of his... his arousal. ]

[ It should be a relief. She should... excuse herself, regain her composure, and clean herself up. And most importantly of all, forget that this ever happened.

But even just hearing him speak is enough to make her stomach clench. There's a hot, insistent throbbing between her legs and her whole body aches with unsatisfied desire. Her breaths are still uneven and shaky and her pulse is so loud in her ears. It's too much, it's unbearable, and before she can stop herself, her mouth opens to speak. ]

That's not fair.

[ She's still trembling. Her words sound weak and pitiful and her face is still burning. But she manages to push herself up a little on unsteady hands and slowly move towards him - her shift is in even more disarray now, but that's hardly important. She can't see his face, not with the way he's turned from her, but she can still tell. The tension in his shoulders, the way his breathing is a little too quick and shallow.

This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But even knowing that, she can't stop herself from reaching out and putting her hand on his back. ]

... Even if you're satisfied... [ and they both know he isn't ] ... I'm not.

...!

[ He flinches at her touch with genuine shock, and in the process, turns to face her just enough that she can see his face... the bright red of his cheeks contrasting with the rest of his pale skin.

For a brief moment, it feels as if their positions as predator and prey have been reversed. ]

Y-You...

[ Shit, he looked at her again... he can see so much of her now that her shift is in such disarray. What the hell kind of dragon is he, ogling her like this...? ]

T-That's... not my problem...

[ ...and yet if she bothers to look now that she's so close, the proof of his own unsatisfaction is clear to see. ]

[ ... ah.

For some reason - for all this time, it'd never even occured to her to notice. In all the nights he'd spent playing with her, taunting her, and teasing her, he's never once gotten so...

She swallows. Her mouth is dry and her heart is racing and her mind is reeling. Again, that thought - that she should be repulsed, that the Mors King having this sort of reaction to her is something that should sicken her to her very core. But there's no revulsion in her. She's still trembling, still hot, still needy, and somehow the thought that he might be just as desperate as she is right now makes it that much worse. ]

... This is the only time you've ever seemed to enjoy yourself. Even a little.

[ What is she even saying? She must be mad. It's not what the circumstances call for at all - not what a Saintess should say. But... ]

So why... should we both just be miserable?

[ He gulps… tries to look away, but his eyes keep drifting back to her. He can’t help but be keenly aware of how needy she is… hell, he’s still a dragon, he can smell her arousal and it’s driving him insane.

The only time he’s ever enjoyed himself… she’s not wrong. Even though he had her body in his hands, he’d never once actually gotten worked up. Pressed against her from behind, what just happened was completely new…

And as a result, the unpleasant feeling of guilt overwhelms him. Not for what he’s done to her, but… ]

Because… that’s how it must be.

[ He says, as if to convince… to reassure himself. ]

[ It's a little scary, just how open his face suddenly is. She's gotten so used to the usual gradient of boredom, irritation and scorn and everything else inbetween that this... soft, almost pained look is almost jarring. She'd been surprised by just how human he looked when she'd first come here but now it's even more pronounced. For the first time, the thought occurs to her that even the Mors King must be a creature with a heart.

Her hand slowly slides down the length of his spine. The motion of her fingers is light, experimental - a little shy, even and then don't still until she finds the small of his back, just above the root of his tail. She swallows thickly as well. ]

... What if... it doesn't have to be that way?

[ 'What are you thinking?' the last scraps of her common sense howl at her. But she's not really thinking - not right now. Right now, all she can really hear is the blood pounding in her ears and the soft, airy noises of their ragged breaths coming in tandem. ]

The only one saying it is... is you. ... will you look at me properly?

[ He flinches yet again as her hand slides down his spine… a shiver as it reaches the base of his tail, and an outright shudder that runs along the entire scaly length. ]

Y… you…

[ He hesitates… ]

You… really aren’t quite sane, are you…?

[ He turns to look at her. Shit, calling her a Saintess really is a joke. She’s practically the embodiment of temptation right now. His expression is a grimace, fighting that temptation…

But his tail unconsciously moves to wrap around her waist again. ]

[ She huffs out a thin noise through her nose and her mouth twists into something that looks almost... bitter. It's not an expression the Saintess has ever worn in front of him before. She's always kept her eyes soft and her voice gentle and though this is new... somehow, it suits her. ]

That makes two of us, wouldn't you say?

[ She inches in just a little closer. Not enough for them to touch but more than enough for her proximity to be just as much of a promise as his has always been a threat. She's never touched him without his permission, knew it was foolish to push the boundaries placed for her but now she reaches up and pushes some of his hair back from his face. ]

And since we've both lost our minds... I might as well tell you a secret. Even before I came here, I was never fit to be Saintess anyway.

[ She doesn't give him any time to answer or protest. As soon as the words leave her mouth, she leans in, closes enough of the space between them to press her lips against his. ]

…!

[ ”Well, that much was obvious” he thinks to say, but she silences him before his snark reply escapes his tongue.

She truly isn’t sane. She’s kissing him. It should be the other way around, with him forcing himself onto her and claiming her lips with no regard to her… and yet here she is, claiming his lips first.

For a second, he’s stiff. His lips don’t mesh against hers, it’s just hers pressed against his mouth… but inexplicably, as he still reels from the development… his body does as it pleases, softening into the act of intimacy as his tail starts to wrap around her waist once more.

Ahh, shit… he really is broken, isn’t he? When they finally separate, he sucks in a breath, and… ]

…fine, I’ll satisfy you then, you dirty Saintess…

[ Why? He asks himself “why” as his tail starts to snack back between her legs, only this time he’s facing her instead of keeping her back to his chest. Why can he not resist her?

…it occurs to him that this isn’t the first time he’s asked this in regards to a woman in his bed. ]

[ The breath that she pulls in is sharp enough to sound almost pained, but then it comes out again as a long, shuddering sigh of relief and the last of the tension melts from her shoulders. Her hands move up to steady herself against his chest and her thighs close, tight and trembling, around his tail. Somehow, it's even better like this - maybe it's because there was that horrible moment of denial, the sudden emptiness between her legs, the ache that was left behind, or maybe it's simply because now he's looking right at her. ]

D-don't... call me that...

[ The word Saintess - she hates it. More than anything. She can't even bear to think of herself as that right now, can't remember the reason she ever wanted to be. Not when he's looking at her, when his tail strokes the aching wetness between her thighs, not when her voice is coming out like that, so breathy and desperate and wanton. Just for once, for the first time in however long, instead of worrying about being the Saintess, she wants to be- ]

... Ai. E-even if it's just for tonight... call me Ai.

[ He's silent for a moment, the tip of his tail reaching that spot between her legs and prodding at it, the scaled surface moving back and forth against her slick entrance. Ai she says... ah, that's right, names... to think they've gone this long without even bothering to learn that much. ]

Very well... Ai...

[ And with her name leaving his tongue, his tail moves past her entrance and starts to grind against her just like before, starting slow and working her back up from what she'd lost by how abruptly he had stopped. His tail continues to wrap around her, like a prehensile limb that snakes up her shift and hitches it up so as to destroy any hint of decency she might've still had.

...It briefly occurs to him, that while he now knows her name, she has yet to learn of one for him.

...but he doesn't give her one. Instead, he leans forward to nip at her earlobe again, his arms wrapping around and pulling her in against his chest while his tail rubs against her. ]

[ How long has it been since anyone's called her by that name? It feels like years - long enough that she's almost forgotten what it sounds like in someone else's mouth. And the Mors King saying it like that, low and rough and heated... it's almost more than she can bear.

All the warmth that had dissipated when he stopped is returning in full force. He's wrapped around her, close enough for her to feel the burning heat of his body and the rise and fall of his chest and she shudders, pressing her face into the side of his neck and letting her moans, the filthy sound of her pleading voice, muffle themselves in his skin. ]

Again... Please, keep saying it...

[ Her hips are moving to meet his every stroke, thighs tense and trembling, and she's so slick and sticky that even she can hear the lewd sound of it. She knows she should be embarrassed, ashamed, mortified at just how desperate she's being and how wanton and needy she is for the Mors King's touch.

And maybe she is, just a little. But not enough to stop. ]

[ It's addicting. The way she moans, the way she reacts... she shamelessly lewd and wet noise as his tail works back and forth against where she's most sensitive. He can't get enough of it, he wants more. ]

Ai...

[ He repeats her name... and inexplicably, he finds himself liking the feeling of it rolling off his tongue. His tail picks up the pace, his smooth yet ridged scales now coated in her slickness. His clawed hand rests on the small of her back, his large palm making it clear just how much smaller she is compared to him.

He can feel his own arousal growing... but in noticing that, he starts to move even faster, as if to overwhelm and prevent her from doing anything to him in return. ]

[ She's lost her mind. It's the only explanation. There has to be something dreadfully wrong with her for this to feel so good, for her to want this as much as she does, for her to beg for the Mors King's touch like a rabbit in heat. And if that's how it is, then that's fine. Even if the shame will come later, she'll gladly accept it as her due, the punishment she deserves for indulging like this.

The hands that had been braced against his chest curl in, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, and her voice breaks into a high, keening cry. Her whole body is wound so unbelievably tight, trembling like a bowstring and every punishing stroke just stirs her head up even more. She has the hazy, distant thought that she must be making such a mess of his tail and it hits her low and hard in her belly, pulling a whimper out of her throat. ]

Mm...! Like that, like that- please-

[ Even she isn't sure what she's begging for at this point. Her hips buck, rocking into the thrusts of his tail with no concern for anything but how good it feels - and she gives up on muffling her voice, tilting her face up towards his again and meeting him in another kiss. ]

[ He wonders how it is that he manages to keep moving his tail as she tilts her head up and kisses him again. A kiss... that's all it took to start this up again, isn't it? Her every movement, her every cry... all of it is so lewd that the idea that the woman before him was ever considered a Saintess—the epitome of purity—feels like a bad joke.

Though perhaps humanity's idea of a Saintess was a bad joke from the get-go... but that's neither here nor there anymore. As she bucks her hips into him, he pushes his tail even harder against her nethers. His tail is utterly soaked with her juices... he imagines that the scent of her arousal will remain on his tail just to drive him crazy even after tonight.

He picks up the pace... and he returns her kiss. She kisses the Mors King and he kisses back... truly, nothing makes sense anymore. They've both lost their minds. ]

...!

[ And if they've already lost their minds, then he may as well make it official. His clawed hand grips her shift, and suddenly the thin cloth is torn off... the weak material ripping oh so easily as he pulls it off and mindlessly discards it. Some of it remains... but what remains is so little it only serves to accentuate her fall from her supposed grace. ]

[ She pulls in a sharp gasp between their lips - whether it's the embarrassment of being disrobed so thoroughly or the way his tail is grinding into her or something else entirely is impossible to tell. Even she doesn't know. It's all bleeding together in her head, embarrassment and shamelessness, greed and satisfaction, all of it blurring at the edges until she can't tell where anything ends or begins.

But even as her thoughts scatter, there's one thing that stands out, clearer than any of the rest. ]

T-too... too much- I can't- ah-

[ Despite her words, it's not a protest - not in a voice like that and certainly not when she's still so greedily bucking her hips, chasing his touch. She's not sure how much longer she can hold on, greedy desire coiling tighter and tighter in her belly, hot and desperate and aching but she's not ready for this to be over. There's a little part of her that's terrified at the thought that once this ends, she might never get to have it again - and those tattered scraps of her dignity, common sense, everything else she's tossed aside remind her that should be a good thing. ]

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