Kier
Hours pass. It could have been days. I can hardly tell as my waking moments blend together with my dreams. I don’t remember many things, and the things I do, I am unsure they are real, because of the absurdity of them.
I remember a tear that isn’t mine rolling down my cheek. I remember the cold, freezing bath. I remember soft hands washing my hair and an even softer voice singing me to sleep. I remember the tonics and herbs, I also recall puking. I remember my claws digging into my skin and shredding it. Not long after, ropes dig into my wrists and foot, tying them away from me.
For a time, I am in hell. I lord over it. It’s easier when those hands are on me. When lips press against my forehead and my neck. When that familiar warmth seeps into my skin as arms wrap around me. Those are the only moments I sleep.
There are times I am left alone. I roar, I cry, I retch. I can’t move and have to piss myself. And then she comes and changes the sheets. I have no sense of awareness to even feel embarrassed. I like to think of it all as a terrible dream I might one day wake from.
But there is one dream that does haunt me most.
In this dream, my fever has broken, and Jessamine is asleep on the chair across from me. She’s in a nightdress, and there’s a book covering her face with an obscene cover. In this dream, my hands and feet aren’t bound, and I can walk just fine without tripping on my vomit. I hover over Jessamine and pull the book back from her sleeping face.
Her brows furrow, but she only turns to the side, nuzzling deeper into the pillow. I cock my head at it. It must feel uncomfortable. My hand slips under her head and waist and my back hurts horribly as I lift her, my feet a little unsteady as I lay her back against the soft mattress.
She sighs, a soft, tired snore, escaping her parted lips.
I don’t know what comes over me. Perhaps, it is the fear that I might never be able to see her like this again, or touch her, if I awaken from this dream. I lower my head to hers and kiss her brows. I can’t seem to stop myself. My lips trail the outline of her face, hesitating on her cruel, perfect mouth. I pull back, deciding against it, but then, my heart slams against my ribcage when I see that her eyes are open and her cheeks her flushed.
She chews on her bottom lip nervously, and I don’t like that very much.
I kiss her. I kiss her softly and I kiss her hard, desperately, with everything I am, every broken and unbroken part of me that I have left to offer. In this dream, Jessamine pulls me closer, kissing me back with fervor, fear, and her lips taste like wine and tears as she tugs harder until I’m settled between her legs.
Her ankles tangle with mine and my hands slide up her thighs, pushing up the nightdress until it is well past her hip. Higher and higher until it slides up her waist, up her breasts and over her head.
I know I’m dreaming because she doesn’t push me away or attempt breaking my cock. She’s shrugging off my shirt and sucking my nipples between two sharp teeth. My hips buck and I grip the sheets to keep from spilling in my pants. It’s been too long. Every touch from her threatens to send me over the edge.
She moans a deep breath and hisses sharply between clenched teeth when I reach between our bodies and push her panties between her fold gently. She calls my name. She pleads with me. I don’t know if she wants me to stop. Her body tells me otherwise, and it is all I’m listening to.
This isn’t real, but I want it to last. I need it to. My hands trail up her toned torso and she presses her body into my hands appreciatively as I smoothed my hands over her lovely breasts. How I loved them, how I’ve thought about those pink, hard buds every fucking day.
I pinch them and she makes that sound that has my cock throbbing. I lick them, drag my teeth over them, defile them with my mouth. She tastes like fire. It burns and I enjoy it. My hand clamps over her neck and she groans, hips arching up to meet mine. I don’t let her get the friction she seeks. Not until her slick body spasms, her tiny waist shuddering and moving again with undulated lust.
Reluctantly, I let go of her nipples. Fuck, I could stare at them all day. They’re perfect. She’s perfect. I tell her so as I kiss every inch of her body, acquainting myself with every dip and curve like I’ve always wanted to. There are scars on her back. I kiss them too, running my hands over the slippery wetness of her as I do. She’s mine. She’ll always be mine. Somehow, even here, I need to show her that there could never be another woman for me.
She ruined me for them the moment she stepped into my life.
I splay my fingers against her back and she muffles softly against the pillow as she arches her back into my groin. I swallow, eyes shuttering at her divine scent of arousal. She wants me. I stare at her arched ass and the wetness pooling, staining her thighs. I drink from her and she screams, her hips bucking. My tongue parts her sweet, slippery folds and I know I’ll never have enough of her. She moves against my tongue, her fingers ripping the sheets. She growls as release ripples from her and my tongue is so deep in, I feel her inner walls quiver.
I savor the feel of her net panties on my hands, but I want them gone. I cut them and the single motion turns me on. My fingers glide over her and I don’t bother with the tease. She’s teased me enough to kill me already. Two fingers dip inside, and she wriggles, panting. I reach for a nipple, flicking it as I pull in and out, slowly, until I feel my fingers gaining more entrance. Her folds close around me and I growl as they refuse to let go.
Tight. She’s fucking tight. I don’t think she could take me. I need at three fingers in to get her ready. I don’t want to hurt her.
My breathing turns shallow. Harder. I pull out from her and she whimpers in protest. I flip her onto her back. It'll be easier this way. Gentler.
I feel fear. I wish to tear, rip, split apart, shatter and put every piece back in place after spelling my name on each. I want it all. I want to feel her stretch open on my cock and close around me. I want to take her in every way possible. I want to make love to her and I want to fuck her until she realises there'll only ever be me. But I do not want to break her.
I start over again. Slower this time, until she's a sweating, panting mess. Until her pleases mingle with her moans. Two fingers slide in this time without much effort and distraction. Her eyes widen when I push a third against her entrance.
She whispers my name and I hate the fear that leaps in her eyes. I kiss her until it's gone. "Don't fight me, love." I tell her, over and over again, kissing her earlobe, her neck, her lips. I suck her tongue, until she's quivering around my fingers. I push in the third and she snarls, gripping my shoulders tightly.
Slowly, it fits. I curl them inside her, searching for that spot from which she pours for me, and when I find it, I pull toward it. She cries out, a tear slipping from the corner of her eyes. She breathes my name. She moans it. It is everything I've dreamed of. I don't mind dying anymore.
In a breath, I tug down my free pants and my cock is free and in my hand. She reaches for me. She wants, and her tongue strokes over her bottom lip. I imagine that tongue elsewhere and I cuss as my tip moistens.
I rub my tip against her and I feel my control snap. It shouldn't feel this good. My eyes shut and my yearning rises by a million fold. If that is even enough to quantify it. She moans right away with sharp breaths. She's so wet, all I can think of is pushing into her. She's a feast; a deadly invitation: come in and be damned forever.
I'm already damned. "Jess," I whisper. "I need to--"
Small hands wrap around mine and her eyes are clear as day when she guides my hand with a push. I roar, my eyes rolling back. I snap my eyes open. I can't afford to lose track of her eyes. I don't want to hurt her. She writhes and gasps, a flash of silver brightening her gaze. It takes a moment of rolling my hips and teasing her nipples to get her saying those words again.
Please. Kiernan, please.
My mouth dries as I concentrate wholly on not bursting into her. "Part your legs." I order. "Wider."
She obeys. She fucking obeys me, her expression eager. Impatient. When I don't move immediately, she reaches down, between us. I catch her hands with a now free one and trap them over her head. Her back archs, bringing her nipples to my lips as if to distract me.
I suck hard on them as I push in, less gently. I gasp against her nipple. Tight. I can't fucking breathe or think when I'm inside her. My fingers tighten around hers as I push in again, until there are only a few inches left.
She clenches around me and I lose my mind. I slam into her with desperation, needing all of that warmth wrapped around every inch of me. It's a different kind of death. Losing yourself in the folds of one woman, knowing you were made to fit her and she you. No. Jessamine is heaven, and I have been given a privilege to experience her. I'd kill to ensure I got this chance again.
My fingers dig into her thigh and I feel Zephyr for the first time in days. He purrs, he growls. He roars. I pull out of her slowly and she only tightens around me, reluctant to lose even an inch.
Fuck. Me.
I pull her thighs into me and she moves with me. In tandem. She whispers my name like I'm the only man in this world. Her world. Her claws dig into my skin and it only urges my hips to slam into hers harder. The sounds we make are sinful. The wood rattles and bounces. There are claw marks on the bed, ripping past the sheets into the bed material itself. Jessamine grips for the bedstand. It cracks under her touch.
I grapple for the post, it breaks.
Too fragile. I can't...I can't get enough of her. Not like this. I slide out of her, even if I don't want to. The dresser isn't strong enough either. The walls seem fine until she slams me into it and it cleaves under my back.
We settle for the floor. I fill her up and she pushes back against me, breathing my name as I trap her hands and ankles. She milks me, thrust after thrusts, clenching around me until I'm a stuttering mess. I tell her things I've never admitted to myself. I tell her she's my sanctuary. My sky. I speak words I have held in for too long and my eyes sting as I say them. I tell her I'll drown, burn, die if she wants me to. I tell her I'll fight to keep and deserve her. I tell her I'll fight until I deserve to mark her as mine.
I tell her I love her.
When release finds me, it's a fucking thunderbolt. The world dissolves into a kaleidoscope of touch, taste, sound, and we fall, not apart, but together. My sharp cry mingles with hers and I hold her just as tightly as she grips me, reluctant to let go.
I wake the next morning, the bed unnervingly cold. I turn my head slightly to the right and I smell...cum. I've never sat up so fast in my life. It is only then I realize I'm naked and smell of Jessamine.