Lament of the Traitor King (Complete)

Chapter 63 - Humbled

Netta, emboldened by the waves of his desire that she felt, finally did as she had so longed to do. She tasted his furred chin, his neck, thrilled at the electric sensation of her tongue and flesh, sensing where the illusion of a physical form stopped. Ash tasted of Earth and not unpleasantly of ozone, as though he were the leftovers of a clap of lightning, his chest hair rubbing raw over sensitized, cold skin.

She lowered her head, flicked her tongue over the puckering curves of one of his nipples, felt a thrill of joy at his surprised moan, then returned for another go before laving at its twin on his broad chest.

Gone was all thought of her supposedly impending deaths, all Netta could give thought to was the greed that he used to tease her for. Had he always been able to read her true desires, as though it had been written on her face, every time she had looked at him?

Netta did not know, but as Ash seemed to regain some measure of composure - at least, long enough to stop spasming, as though in a state of extended rapture, as Netta suckled and licked his skin wherever she could touch - he took hold of her and, with a brisk movement, laid her back on the bed.

Ash moved with speed the precluded him from the remotest possibility that he was a Human man.   As soon as Netta's back struck the smooth - satin? Silk? - of the sheet, Ash rolled his body against her, his hectic, wild breathing and the scorching feel of his naked flesh searing. She was so enraptured by the feel of his large, rough body sliding against hers that she only became aware of Ash's voice as he hoarsely babbled when she felt his shaking hands cupping her.

"Oh... sweet Witch, you're always so ready for me, is it possible, are you needing me now -"

Ash stopped talking as he moved a heavy, large hand, pushing her thighs apart, pushing long fingers inside of Netta.

She gasped, fell back on the bed, groaning. Netta's hips rose up from the bed as though the penetration had roused the lower half of her body into his thralldom, pushing those fingers deeper inside.

Even lost, she could hear Ash's strangled voice, sounding less and less Human, it seemed, the longer she could hear his familiar, rough voice. "So soft, wet, warm," when he spoke next, he sounded as though he could barely get the words out. "tight."

To be discovered to almost always be ready for his touch had embarrassed Netta the first time he had tested her readiness. Now, hungrily recalling the intimacy she felt was soon to come, like witnessing a storm building on the horizon, Netta was eager. Frustrated.

She thrust back up, a weak moan slipping out of her slack mouth.

Ash let out a loud, almost maddened groan. When Netta lowered her head from how she had arched her neck, she saw that Ash had thrown his own head back, his whole body taut, an entire mouth full of sharp teeth revealed in a strained grimace. He looked agonized, every muscle in his body standing out in harsh contrast.

Netta acted without thought, hungering for a connection to the tormented man who looked as though he were losing control of himself. She fell back on the bed, stretching up, grabbing for the hand that trembled against her hip, clutching it.

Ash gasped, when he looked down at her, the reds in his eyes seemed to grow, to take over even the whites surrounding his irises.

Netta moved as though possessed by another will, staring at his shocked face as she slid further down the bed, sliding herself free from the lush fullness that his fingers spread through her. She slipped her thighs around him, until they were pressed to either side of his strong hips, Ash's cock thrumming, full and overhot, against her already over sensitized flesh.

They stared at each other, and Netta thought that she could see the shock she felt reflected back in his features.

Even in light of all of Ash's earlier talk of truces, this moment felt as though it would most define whatever it was that they were.  And could be.