Finn's POV
Lycidas didn't buy it. His clawed hand seized my hair, wrenching my head back so hard my neck screamed, and I gasped, the pretense slipping as pain flared.
"Fucking slut, is that all they'd taught you?!" he spat, raking his claws down my spine, tearing skin, spilling blood. I whimpered - half act, half truth—and he sneered, pressing his heat against me, his cock a brutal threat between my thighs. "You're a fucking disgrace. A whimpering slut who'd spread for any cock that paid."
I clenched my jaw, nodding like I hated it, but the words sank into me, heavy and hot. "Yes, Your Highness. But now, I am yours..." I choked out, still clinging to the lie of reluctance, but then he slammed me face-first into the hardwood floor, his hands pinning my neck, and the air left me. He thrust in, no warning, no mercy, and the pain - fuck, the familiar, thrilling pain - was a jagged blade splitting me open. I screamed, the sound raw and real, my mask shattering as he pounded into me, each stroke a punishment I couldn't dodge.
I intentionally cried out louder, so Cole would hear it. He did nothing wrong, but he was a fucking idiot trying to protect someone like me.
That fucking idiot. He deserved it.
"Take it, you greedy little bitch," he snarled, fangs sinking into my shoulder, blood blooming hot and wet. I clawed the carpet on the floor, tears burning my eyes, and something in me broke - snapped clean in two. I wasn't pretending anymore. I pushed back into him, desperate, needy, the pain twisting into a dark, pulsing pleasure I couldn't fight.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness. I'm such a shameless slut... Please punish me..." The words tore out of me, a flood I couldn't stop, and he laughed, vicious and low, driving harder, deeper, wrecking me with every thrust.
He yanked me up by the throat, forcing my back to bow against his chest, and I was gone - lost in the brutality of it, the way his claws dug into my hips, drawing more blood, the way he bit my ear and tore flesh.
"Scream for me," he hissed, and I did, my voice splitting the night as my body shook, torn apart by agony and ecstasy. I came undone, shuddering, sobbing, a wrecked mess of submission and shame, and he didn't stop - kept fucking me through it until I was nothing but a trembling, bleeding ruin. When he finally shoved me back into the dirt, I collapsed, curling into myself, blood and tears mixing with my body fluid.
"Disgusting," he muttered, wiping his hands in my hair, and I didn't move - just lay there, broken, used, my chest heaving with the sick satisfaction of knowing I'd pleased His Highness. He'd stripped me raw, torn through every layer of pretend, and left me wrecked - exactly where I belonged.
I was still gasping, chest heaving in pain, blood and sweat stinging my torn skin when Lycidas' shadow shifted over me.
"Your Highness..." I curled up. I thought he'd walk away - leave me to choke on the wreckage he'd made of me - but he didn't. His hands seized my hair again, yanking me up so fast my vision swam, and I barely got a breath before he snarled, "What the fuck are you doing? I'm not done with you, slut."
My heart lurched, a weak whimper slipping out as he dragged me onto my knees, his grip iron-tight, forcing my face level with his cock - still hard, slick with my ruin, and demanding more.
"Please, Your Highness... I can't..." I rasped, voice shredded, but he didn't care. His other hand clamped my jaw, fingers pricking my cheeks, and he pried my mouth open like I was nothing but a hole to use. "Shut the fuck up and take it," he growled, thrusting in deep, no warning, no mercy.
My throat burned as he filled it, the taste of him - salt and musk and my own blood - choking me, and I gagged, tears streaming down my face. He didn't let up, shoving deeper, his hips slamming forward with ruthless intent, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think—only feel the brutal stretch, the suffocating weight of him.
I tried to pull back, instinct kicking in, but his hand tightened in my hair, pinning me in place. "You don't get to fucking breathe 'til I say," he spat, his voice a low, feral rumble that vibrated through me. My hands scrabbled at his thighs, clawing weakly, but I was too broken to fight—just a trembling mess, drooling and choking as he fucked my throat raw. My lungs screamed, my vision blurred, and still he kept going, each thrust a punishment, a claim that I belonged to him.
"Look at you," he sneered, yanking my head back just enough to let me gasp - a ragged, desperate breath -before plunging back in, deeper than before. "A filthy little cocksucker, gagging for it. You were born for this, weren't you?"
I couldn't answer, couldn't do anything but take it, my throat spasming around him as he used me, relentless, unyielding. My body shook, wrecked all over again, and the humiliation - the sick, twisted heat of it - coiled tight in my gut.
He growled, low and guttural, and I felt him pulse, hot and thick, spilling down my throat as I choked and swallowed, no choice but to take every drop. When he finally pulled out, I collapsed forward, coughing, sobbing, spit and blood dripping from my swollen lips. He released my hair, letting me crumple into the dirt, and I heard his dark warning voice above me. "Next time you ghost on me again, I'll fucking fist you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Your Highness," I whispered.
"Worthless fucking piece of shit," he muttered, stepping back, leaving me there - used up, gasping, and utterly destroyed, my wrecked body trembling with the perverse ache of having given him everything.