[ Not even a note of protest. Even without seeing the truth under her words, the tone of her voice couldn't be more transparent of a plea for more.
She'd said that the first time as well, hadn't she? She remembers. The pinch of his teeth at her throat, the shameful noises that'd come spilling out of her mouth with each bite. She remembers showering the next day - night - however long it'd taken them to exhaust each other, counting the bruises and bitemarks, huffing to herself that he was so inconsiderate... and feeling her heart stumble over each one even so. This proof, printed onto her skin, of how badly somebody had wanted her.
They called it mana transfer long past the point that either of them had even pretended to believe that's what they were still doing. Maybe once or twice, he's mockingly disarmed her by reminding her that it's just sex. Neither of them have ever been quite so foolish as to admit it's lovemaking.
But Ai knows the difference.
She's greedy. Dirty. Hateful and selfish. The worst kind of lying, faking human. Some days, she barely even feels like she deserves to be called a human full stop.
Maybe that's why she's never gotten any of it right. Maybe all this time, everything else has just been for practice.
Maybe all this time, she was waiting for him to find her. ]
Oberon.Vortigern. [ Whichever one. Either. Both. All of him. Just so long as it's him. ] Doitproperly.Touchme.Pleaseloveme.
[ i love you. i love you. i love you. i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you-
there's nothing he can say. no words, no ideas, no thoughts that will ever give her what she wants. (what he wants to give her.) what else can he do? so he steels his heart, and he closes his eyes, and he ignores every last one of those beautiful words tumbling through his ears and eyes and memories.
he's not sure when her shirt came off. a vague memory of tearing at it, ripping it away while she was on his lap; his own clothes have mostly been shed as well, her head resting against his shallow and sunken chest as he carries her to her room. how many marks has he left, by now? enough that she has no hope of covering them. enough that anyone could look at her and know.
maybe it's just a lie, the way he lays her on her own bed - shockingly gentle, with hands that tremble against her skin. or maybe it's a lie, the way he moves to pin her immediately, the way he bites and licks and invades her mouth like the swarm of miserable curses he is. maybe it's a lie, how his fingers drop down, make a show of preparing her even though they've been doing this for weeks now.
if he doesn't let himself think about it, maybe he doesn't have to know the truth. maybe one of them might be real, that way. ]
[ She won't be able to go back to work like this. She'll be lucky if she can so much as leave the house for another week until they fade. There's no way Ai of B-Komachi could be seen in a state like this without everyone knowing exactly what she really is. Part of her thinks that's just fine. Part of her wants to jealously guard every bruise, scratch and bite - because so long as no one else sees them, then just for once, something can finally be hers and hers alone.
Well. That's not quite right. Nothing about this is just hers anymore.
He's indelicate. He's never gentle or kind to her. He's never once been cruel. She's spent so much of her life trembling in fear of pain and she knows he could hurt her more deeply and more easily than anybody else. But it's been so long since Ai's been afraid of him that she's forgotten how it felt. ]
Mmn- kiss me again like that. Anywhere, all over- [ The only time she gives him commands like a proper Master and it's for something like this. She really is an intolerably filthy woman. ] I don't care how many bruises you leave. I just want to feel you. Please.
Don't make such filthy demands. [ beg him. command him. force him. ] Do you still think you're the one in control?
[ it's forced out, nearly panted, keeping himself just barely off her body with a single arm. two fingers slip in- three- he bites at her, sucks hard, drags beautiful stains of blue and purple and red on her neck and shoulders and breasts before he finally pulls his hand away.
except-
he doesn't stop. he keeps going, this time, leaving mark after mark after mark. her stomach. her hips. her thighs. each time, he feels more aggressive, more possessive, more hungry than ever before. an endless worm, only fit to eat and eat and eat. a reader kept in suspense for centuries, voraciously devouring every scrap put before him for his ending. each little cry, each little sound she makes is the proof he needs: he's hurt her, he's defiled her, he's made sure she can never, ever, ever escape his cruelty again.
he only moves to lap at her cunt when he's thoroughly satisfied. those dainty legs, covered from top to bottom in marks and hickeys and bruises and scratches. those beautiful eyes, filled with tears like stars reflecting on the water.
there's nothing precise about his technique now. gone are the days of him quickly, efficiently getting her where she needs to be. after all, this is for him, now, not her. ]
I can't help it... not when it's been this long, I missed you so much...
[ The words spill out of her, plaintive and needy and true. She feels so terribly lonely, so starved of touch and warmth even as she knows she has nobody to blame but herself. And even if she doesn't deserve it, even though needing it this badly makes her so unforgivably dirty - she doesn't care. All that matters right now is the sharp, bright sting of each mark blooming across her skin, the hot press of his mouth, the satisfaction of being marked all over, a proof of ownership that goes even deeper than a Command Seal.
Her voice rises sweetly with each new bite, each new bruise, each new scratch, sounding more and more blissfully helpless with each passing second. ]
Don't... don't tease me like that, don't make me wait, Oberon... ah, you're so mean, you're so...!
[ Or so she says, anyway. But it's transparently clear just how much she wants it. Everything from the tone of her pleading voice to the way her legs twitch and shake with each new mark - to how slick and needy she is and how eagerly her hips arch up into his mouth - betrays her and the noise that leaves her mouth, somewhere between a moan and a choked sob, is nothing short of obscene. ]
Mm...! Ah, like that, just like that, please, Oberon...
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no subject
[ Not even a note of protest. Even without seeing the truth under her words, the tone of her voice couldn't be more transparent of a plea for more.
She'd said that the first time as well, hadn't she? She remembers. The pinch of his teeth at her throat, the shameful noises that'd come spilling out of her mouth with each bite. She remembers showering the next day - night - however long it'd taken them to exhaust each other, counting the bruises and bitemarks, huffing to herself that he was so inconsiderate... and feeling her heart stumble over each one even so. This proof, printed onto her skin, of how badly somebody had wanted her.
They called it mana transfer long past the point that either of them had even pretended to believe that's what they were still doing. Maybe once or twice, he's mockingly disarmed her by reminding her that it's just sex. Neither of them have ever been quite so foolish as to admit it's lovemaking.
But Ai knows the difference.
She's greedy. Dirty. Hateful and selfish. The worst kind of lying, faking human. Some days, she barely even feels like she deserves to be called a human full stop.
Maybe that's why she's never gotten any of it right. Maybe all this time, everything else has just been for practice.
Maybe all this time, she was waiting for him to find her. ]
Oberon. Vortigern. [ Whichever one. Either. Both. All of him. Just so long as it's him. ] Do it properly. Touch me. Please love me.
no subject
there's nothing he can say. no words, no ideas, no thoughts that will ever give her what she wants. (what he wants to give her.) what else can he do? so he steels his heart, and he closes his eyes, and he ignores every last one of those beautiful words tumbling through his ears and eyes and memories.
he's not sure when her shirt came off. a vague memory of tearing at it, ripping it away while she was on his lap; his own clothes have mostly been shed as well, her head resting against his shallow and sunken chest as he carries her to her room. how many marks has he left, by now? enough that she has no hope of covering them. enough that anyone could look at her and know.
maybe it's just a lie, the way he lays her on her own bed - shockingly gentle, with hands that tremble against her skin. or maybe it's a lie, the way he moves to pin her immediately, the way he bites and licks and invades her mouth like the swarm of miserable curses he is. maybe it's a lie, how his fingers drop down, make a show of preparing her even though they've been doing this for weeks now.
if he doesn't let himself think about it, maybe he doesn't have to know the truth. maybe one of them might be real, that way. ]
no subject
Well. That's not quite right. Nothing about this is just hers anymore.
He's indelicate. He's never gentle or kind to her. He's never once been cruel. She's spent so much of her life trembling in fear of pain and she knows he could hurt her more deeply and more easily than anybody else. But it's been so long since Ai's been afraid of him that she's forgotten how it felt. ]
Mmn- kiss me again like that. Anywhere, all over- [ The only time she gives him commands like a proper Master and it's for something like this. She really is an intolerably filthy woman. ] I don't care how many bruises you leave. I just want to feel you. Please.
no subject
[ it's forced out, nearly panted, keeping himself just barely off her body with a single arm. two fingers slip in- three- he bites at her, sucks hard, drags beautiful stains of blue and purple and red on her neck and shoulders and breasts before he finally pulls his hand away.
except-
he doesn't stop. he keeps going, this time, leaving mark after mark after mark. her stomach. her hips. her thighs. each time, he feels more aggressive, more possessive, more hungry than ever before. an endless worm, only fit to eat and eat and eat. a reader kept in suspense for centuries, voraciously devouring every scrap put before him for his ending. each little cry, each little sound she makes is the proof he needs: he's hurt her, he's defiled her, he's made sure she can never, ever, ever escape his cruelty again.
he only moves to lap at her cunt when he's thoroughly satisfied. those dainty legs, covered from top to bottom in marks and hickeys and bruises and scratches. those beautiful eyes, filled with tears like stars reflecting on the water.
there's nothing precise about his technique now. gone are the days of him quickly, efficiently getting her where she needs to be. after all, this is for him, now, not her. ]
no subject
[ The words spill out of her, plaintive and needy and true. She feels so terribly lonely, so starved of touch and warmth even as she knows she has nobody to blame but herself. And even if she doesn't deserve it, even though needing it this badly makes her so unforgivably dirty - she doesn't care. All that matters right now is the sharp, bright sting of each mark blooming across her skin, the hot press of his mouth, the satisfaction of being marked all over, a proof of ownership that goes even deeper than a Command Seal.
Her voice rises sweetly with each new bite, each new bruise, each new scratch, sounding more and more blissfully helpless with each passing second. ]
Don't... don't tease me like that, don't make me wait, Oberon... ah, you're so mean, you're so...!
[ Or so she says, anyway. But it's transparently clear just how much she wants it. Everything from the tone of her pleading voice to the way her legs twitch and shake with each new mark - to how slick and needy she is and how eagerly her hips arch up into his mouth - betrays her and the noise that leaves her mouth, somewhere between a moan and a choked sob, is nothing short of obscene. ]
Mm...! Ah, like that, just like that, please, Oberon...