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Hurt Me

He didn’t take her softly. He took her with passion of the storm, hungry and wild. But she didn’t want kindness in bed. She stopped being soft long time ago. She long time ago undestood what she craves for. Beauty of dark possession, abandoning herself in it, hopelessly reaching into the core of the night.

He spilled inside her – so delicious to be able to – his eyes locked with hers, her heart beating like a drum in her chest. Her body pulsating, when the climax washed over her.

“Lorian…” she grunted, a low growl of pleasure. He took her chin up, his lips closed over hers, his tongue pushing inside. He tasted of frozen berries, the scent of violets overwhelming, when the passion disturbed his dark aura, allowing it to release the tentacles of shadows.

He laughed, lightly. His hand buried in her long tangles. His perfect features showing dark, still hungry amusement.

Why I can’t say no to this?

“I like when you tremble under me…” he huffed into her ear, his voice a whisper. A shiver again ran down her spine. When she became like this? Was it him? Or was she always like that?

The forbidden flowers, taming guilt, black as obsidian stone which opened –  shows crimson veins. They all bloomed wider in her. Spreading thorns, cruel but so beautiful.

Violets.

They bloomed with violets.

Hurt me then” she raised her face, bold challenge in her voice, her own eyes burning with darkness. Lust dripped off her, just between her legs.

She would not dare to say it months ago. Now… everything changed.

“Deliciously…” he bit her lower lip and kissed her again, slowly… taking his time. Tasting her, taking in the flavors.

“So much…” she murmured into his mouth. Frozen berries and melting snow, pure as fresh water in the stream.

Why I can’t say not to this…

His chuckle reached her ears, her legs dragging him even closer, she could feel him again pressing just in the right place. She wanted to urge him more, but then his shadows crept, tendrils of his power slowly seeping inside, fitting into her.

She still looked into his eyes with mute defiance, when he entered her, more, harder, deeper… and she felt it all, at once.

Pleasure… his pleasure, his very lust, pulsing inside her. And adding to it… something close to pain, a desireful pain, not exactly hurtful but tempting with its sensation. Not seering, not overwhelming, but present enough, to make her moan. To make her want more, to feel that she is alive, that it’s real and she can’t stop this, even if she wanted. Mixed with delight, it was like intoxicating drug, bad for mind… but too wickedly pleasant to allow it to stop.

Why you allow yourself on this.

You are not like that.

But of course you are.

You knew that when you were alone… and you imagined exactly this.

She embraced him with all she had; hands and legs, she latched to his skin, digging her fingers deep into his flesh. His black eyes gleamed with something dangerous, when he was sending more of his magic into her, pleasant with a hint of a forbidden…

Oh goddess…

She loved that.

More.

Just more.

You are lost.

She drowned in his gaze, pulling every drop of desire she saw in it.

His moves ceased.

His aura almost invisibly shivering.

His eyes became darker… and empty. Not black void anymore… filled with intelligence and cruel charm… but wells without end, flat lights. Death.

His power pulled her nerves, hard. She stiffled a protest.

She saw as his face tensed, his body became rigid, his muscles hard like stone.

His voice was like coming from the same bottomless well without end, flat… and barely pushing itself through his throat. An illligeble grunt, so unlike him.

But he still was in her, his shadows didn’t retract. His face showed no emotions now, a mask of marble statue, hiding rushing storm behind it.

She saw it then. His mind delved in hers, so deep, that she would scream in surprise, if she wasn’t used to opening before him.

Pain. Not her pain. Not one mixed with pleasure, not desireful pain. Safe one.

Agony.

His.

He projected the imagery of his torment just inside her, unwillingly, against himself.

She saw as he melted in heat, as his tendons splintered and filled with liquid death. He was decomposing inside, rotting alive, with his flesh spread by unknown force, feeding on his torment.

How often this had to happen to him? How… long?

She dragged him closer.

Her hands ran through his body. Clenched around his hips. And pulled. His hips instinctively moved and he slowly filled her again.

This was frightening. But she felt he wanted this. He wanted to awash his pain with her body. With passion. And she wanted to experience him like that.

She wanted to burn with him, even if what she felt was only a small particle of his own feelings.

His shadows closed around her, spread her and entered through her pores, binding him with her. She felt them in every part of her body. They amassed when his agony intensified.

And they lost in it.

His hips, dragging him against her walls… his tensed body, hard but filled with passion… the pain was drilling him, but she knew that he wants her even more, when it circled in his veins.

“Pour yourself into me” she whispered.

Maybe it was some sort of twisted perversion for her  – fucking with him when he suffered… but giving herself to him at the same time.  Making it easier for him to pass through it. She never felt so wrong but good at the same time.

It was him. Only him. Only he could make it work.

She wanted to understand him for so long. Now, she brushed deeper under his surface.

She felt and saw as his body changed into something unreal. Her fingers buried in his hair, now sank in pure shadows. His eyes – white glowing dots in the dark skin, his hands blackening, like touched with coals.

She allowed him to sink into her, become one with her, in this beautiful, frightening way. Finding in herself amounts of pure darkness, she never would admit to possess.

She was not a human anymore. Last bridge fell, leaving open void.

She drowned in him, allowing him to fill her in all ways.

It was dangerous, deadly possibly. But she desired it.

She didn’t know what caused his pain. She didn’t know how this happened, what stood behind his anguish.

But she wanted him.

Only this mattered now.

2 Comments on “Hurt Me”

  1. And I remember when you said you were rusty about writing this kind of scene. I really like how you write them…it’s so poetic.🖤
    I knew it was Leira. 😀 I wonder when Nymre will confront him.

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