‼️CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CONSENSUAL SEXUAL CONTENT‼️
"Would you like me to make you any food, my (Y/n)?" Chrollo asked faintly into my hair, pressing his lips to my head. "Are you hungry at all?"
I hummed lazily and shrugged—we were entangled together on the sofa in the living room now. His arms were wrapped around my midsection from where he held me between his legs, leaning back against the arm of the couch. My head lolled to the side against his bare chest—he'd changed into a loose, high-waisted pair of white pants, tied up securely with a satiny band, and remained shirtless, taunting me with every expansion of his exposed abdomen against my backside—and I played inattentively with his slender fingers, lacing ours together loosely and studying the way his hand covered mine.
"I already ate earlier," I amended. "Also, this is off topic, but you should wear rings more often."
I felt his chest tremble in a soft laugh, his breath mussing my hair slightly.
"According to the last time I counted, I believe I own thirty rings," he mused thoughtfully. "My favorite one is an ornate, gothic-style silver piece—the inverted cross is engraved on the front. It's an index ring."
My eyes widened, and I pulled my hand away from his—he relaxed his muscles and allowed me to examine his rough palm. I traced my thumb through every crease and line and up the length of each finger, marveling at the smooth porcelain of his skin and smiling contentedly when he carefully hooked his thumb with mine.
"You should let me go through your rings someday." I sighed deeply when his other hand brushed down to my thigh, drawing meaningless shapes with a feather-light touch. "Thirty sounds like a lot."
Slowly, his fingertips grazed upwards while he nodded distractedly, brazen as he ruffled the oversized tee and slid beneath it—my stomach fluttered, and I felt my breathing hitch at the sensation of his gentle fingertips against my bare abdomen. I thought I could feel him smirk into my hair, but I couldn't be sure.
"What made you think about wanting to see me wear rings?"
His touch was intentional, calculating and watchful of every reaction, though still remaining free of haste or urgency, always slow and drawing out the wisps of desire elicited from earlier. My toes curled inside the fluffy socks, my knees bending just slightly in response to his teasing fingertips, and I inhaled sharply, striving to focus intently on playing with his other hand.
"You have really pretty hands," I decided, absently sizing mine up to his. "Rings just look good on you."
"Mmm," he sighed softly—he kissed the back of my head again, and rested his chin on top. "Then I'll consider it for you, my love."
My eyes rolled exaggeratedly, and I leaned further back into his bare chest, stretching my legs out slightly and reaching a more tilted horizontal position, his legs mildly bent around me and his fingers still straying agonizingly over my midsection.
We were quiet for a few more moments, and eventually, after tracing the border of my shorts with slow strokes—keeping my breathing under control was a heavy task—his touch ghosted back down to my thighs, and then up to my neck. I leaned my head up a bit, allowing him easier access to that exposed skin, shivering against his body when he traced a gentle line up from the base of my throat, all the way to my jaw. Through all of this, his heartbeat remained steady, unperturbed, a low, muted rhythm behind me, which was entirely unfair when compared to the racing pace mine was picking up at each soft word, each salacious graze of skin.
"In so doing, you have surrendered to my revenge."
Chrollo's satiny voice reverberated in echoey sequences around in my mind, taunting me with its true meaning and his true intentions. I knew he fully intended to act out every last detail of what he spoke in the text message, but the suspense was, perhaps, what was leaving me so anxious and wanting by the edge—he kept his movements tentative and asking, pleading, and misleadingly so. He had every real intention for drawing out each sensation, each passion, each shudder and each whimper, in revenge against me for finding a way to keep him down, though it didn't last for more than one time.
That thought made me wonder again if he ever found another pair of Nen chains—as much as he always fought against them, I knew they were genuinely something he enjoyed.
But he did say I didn't need chains to keep him down, I reminded myself inwardly.
And even though that was true, I couldn't deny the part of me that appreciated seeing Chrollo tensed with restriction. My cheeks flushed slightly, and I laughed quietly to myself, stretching my head further back and peering up into his unreadable, melancholy eyes.
"I have a question," I stated, matter-of-fact.
Narrowing his gaze curiously, he covered my exposed throat loosely with his palm, running his thumb along the length of my jaw.
"Yes?"
I pursed my lips and reached up with one hand to move a few stray locks of hair out of the way of his forehead.
"Did you ever..." I trailed off into a breathy chuckle when he departed from my neck and held my hand to his face, turning to place a kiss on my wrist. "Um, did you ever get another pair of chains like the last one?"
At this, his eyelids lowered minutely, making his already shadowed gaze appear hooded and dim.
"Perhaps I did," he murmured into my skin. "I'm well-connected to Nen marketplaces around the globe."
My grin turned up wider, and I tilted my head back down, pulling my hand away gently and draping my arm over his leg. Of course, this time, I'd need to be more vigilant about using them regularly, even if that just entailed acquainting them with my own Nen so they didn't weaken so quickly. I'd need to remember to ask Machi to resend her message about proper maintenance.
I still can't believe he deleted that message and then planned that very night a month in advance.
Chrollo exhaled pensively and lightly grabbed a hold of my chin, lifting my head up again to meet my eyes. An amused glint flickered in his dark gaze—I noticed more so than before how impressed the purple shadows beneath it were, how starkly they contrasted to his pale skin, a nearly ghostly comparison to his brownish-black hair. In the back of my mind, I wondered how much sleep he'd gotten in the time he was gone, hoping he hadn't fallen too deeply back into his previous pattern of pondering insomnia.
"I promise to remind you to use them on a regular basis if you forget," he whispered softly, his velvety voice full and carrying a seductive undertone. "But you are mine tonight, perfect, pretty (Y/n). This past week and a half without you has felt like far too long, and I intend on making up for it."
I blinked slowly, looking up through my lashes and feeling my spine tingle at his anticipatory words, at the shrouded enchantment beneath them.
I've really, really missed him.
I knew he planned on taking things at his own pace, but impatience was a great downfall of mine—and perhaps he was counting on that to be the source of his revenge, though it wasn't vindictive or spiteful. He was simply much better than I at enduring the suspense before a beautiful trip down the cliff side of passion, and he was playing that to his advantage now.
But although I was alight with urgency, I also saw the logic, the reason behind keeping things drawn out—I, myself, wanted to remain in this initial sensation of content, of peace at being held again in his arms, or staring into the abyss of his gray soul.
"It has felt long," I agreed through a small smile. "I even started reminding myself of early memories between the two of us, like when we first kissed or when you first told me you loved me—everything seemed so confusing and unsure at the time, but looking back now, I think most of it was in my head."
Chrollo's gaze softened, a reminiscing emotion far too complex and far too vast for words flitting back and forth in his wide amber-gray irises. I felt the pads of his fingers brush carefully over the base of my neck, and my eyes fluttered closed, my body shuddering in response.
"It took me quite a while to come to the conclusion that every act I'd committed, every purpose I'd assumed before you had led only to loving you," he murmured, gentle and far away. "It seems so odd now, that there was a time in which my identity seemed split between two worlds, when in reality, it had only belonged to you. But it has also continued to plague me into acceptance that your fate is autonomous from mine, and completely separate."
My brows furrowed wistfully, and I shifted in his hold, turning slightly to the side and snuggling closer to his heart, looping my arm around his waist and sighing deeply against his skin. His weighty paradox of slavery to fate hurt me, for his sake—it seemed to cause so much strife, and yet it was the pinnacle reason for his inner peace, why he could look risks so squarely in the face with only a sense of purpose, of predetermination. Did he find it so difficult to believe that my path was also intertwined with his?
It made sense now more than ever why his love language would be words of affirmation—he needed a tangible, physical validation to settle such turbulent confliction, a confliction he'd never experienced before me, something that perplexed and excited and also saddened him.
"I chose you with that autonomy, Chrollo," I promised quietly. "You're my favorite person in the whole, wide world."
An adoring chuckle escaped his lips, his arms wrapping securely around me and holding me tighter.
"I'm very glad to be with you again, my love."
I nodded, silent and feeling a smile tug at my expression. Everything always fell back into place with Chrollo; it all seemed so much easier.
I wondered if these were the kinds of things he thought of when he stayed awake all night, reading or painting or looking at the stars with a cigar between his fingers. But with that drifting reverie, I was brought back to something else he'd spent his sleepless nights on—that beautiful, flawless depiction of me, slumbering soundly in his bed. I bit my lip and contemplated asking him about it later, but I supposed now would've been as good of a time as ever.
"Chrollo?"
"Yes, little angel?"
I exhaled unsteadily when I felt his fingers trail softly beneath the t-shirt again, running back and forth over the side of my abdomen and sending goosebumps down my arms.
"I'm curious," I hedged, studying the thick bands of muscle under the smooth skin of his arm intently, willing the heat to depart from my cheeks. "I grabbed one of the sketchbooks earlier to draw, because I needed another way to distract myself, and I found... um, a drawing of me. When did you...?"
Again, his chest trembled with airy laughter, his touch traveling to my stomach and the area below my breasts, which were uncovered by any bra—I inhaled suddenly, my heart fluttering and my hands tensing just barely.
Damn tease.
"I finished that quite a while ago," he admitted, his tone slightly huskier. "I actually started it some time in mid-December, but I only originally planned on it being of your face. I studied your expressions while you slept for long time, and just roughly sketched out your individual features—all of those sketches began in early December. But I gave up, telling myself it was unhealthy to dream so intimately of someone who wasn't mine to begin with."
My breathing became a bit heavier when his wandering fingertips grazed once more by the waistline of my shorts, drifting back down my thigh, and I could hear my heartbeat mutedly in my ears. Tentatively, I shifted between his legs, sitting up gradually and turning to face him, an admiring smile on my lips.
"Continue," I urged, interested and driven by a heavier desire within my soul.
In his gaze, I could decipher the same glittering darkness. Chrollo released a long, contented sigh, carefully gripping onto the back of my thighs and guiding me over to straddle his lap, his firm grasp pressing me gently to his bare abdomen.
"As much as I wished I could cease the endless torrent of thoughts about the pretty little angel sleeping in my bed every night," he whispered, reaching up to cup my flushed cheek and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, "it was impossible, and I found myself staring with wistful intent at the unfinished piece whenever I was alone. I kept that particular sketchbook hidden beneath my others so that you wouldn't find it—I didn't want to frighten you, or cause you to think ill of me, that I would ever disrespect you or treat you like less than one who deserves everything beautiful in the world. And so, as a result, for the next few weeks that followed, leading into the end of December, I was at war between keeping myself away from you, wary of tarnishing your perfection with the touch of Lucifer, as well as the trust I'd earned, and indulging in one last touch, one last fleeting delusion that you might belong to me by holding you in my arms."
I held his ever-darkening gaze, my chest rising and falling only a bit more ruggedly than before. Without my own awareness, I realized I'd leaned closer—I could feel the breath in his words on my lips—and placed my palms hesitantly against his exposed collarbones. Lowering his hand, Chrollo opened his mouth silently for a moment, maintaining eye contact for a split second longer before shifting to plant faint kisses along my jaw and down my neck, all the while keeping his grip tense at the backs of my thighs and bracing my body against his. I exhaled, uneven and weak, and tilted my chin up, feeling my fingers involuntarily curl into loose fists.
"But I tortured myself with the idea that after the Exorcism, I would no more be entitled to the privilege of gazing down upon that sleeping angel's face," he reminisced smoothly, his voice a velvety rumble into my skin, his lips grazing my throat every time he spoke and eliciting a light shiver from me. "So, the question became not only a matter of finishing that drawing so that I might have a token of remembrance from the only one who could make me feel so deeply, but a matter of truly discovering a way to keep you, as selfish as it sounds—I've always been selfish with the targets of my admiration, but this needed to be different. I needed to hear from you, an autonomous being, that you wanted me, as well. I was already aware, at this point, that I belonged to you; I wanted you, in turn, to belong to me. So, I waited, and waiting became a source of torment, simply because it was revealing itself as far too painful to imagine the possibility that your freedom of choice included the choice of not choosing me, of leaving me once again at a loss for purpose, and more so than before."
Truthfully, I'd had no idea that his conflicting emotions ran so infinitely, and it surprised me as well that his realizations had begun as early as the beginning of December, so much closer to when I'd begun to come to a sense of safety with him, a sense of belonging, than I'd originally thought. And I remember precisely those last few weeks of December, also—the restriction in his gaze, the moments when he would absolutely disregard any doubt and pull me deeper in love, but then return to his introspection and refuse to touch me more than what was absolutely necessary. It all fell into place now, that perplexing confusion I'd felt concerning his intentions, especially when paired with the knowledge of his deceptive tendencies, his identity as a bandit and the leader of an infamous Troupe of thieves.
Hearing from his perspective what had caused me such turmoil was a relief, to say the least, and a heady liquor to the soft violet of his lips, pressing repeatedly to the sensitive skin of my jugular, below my ears and down to what was exposed of my collarbones. With a warm exhale into the base of my throat, Chrollo trailed both hands beneath the shirt, ghosting over the sides of my breasts and smiling gently at the hitch in my breathing.
"I'd spent so long searching for acknowledgement from outside sources through my own actions that I didn't stop to think about how aloof it was making me seem in the eyes of the little angel I'd come to adore," he sighed, husky and muted, tracing the tip of his nose to the underside of my chin. "I vowed not to finish that rendition until you had professed to me what I so desperately wished to hear, if you would. But I couldn't delay the Exorcism forever, and I came to the conclusion that if you didn't profess before I planned on telling you that you were ready, I would tell you the truth. I would tell you how sincerely I loved you, how deeply the passions within me raced out of control, and I would risk your rejection. But on that very night, the evening in which I had already prepared myself to admit, and to reassure the doubt I was certain to receive upon the news that you were ready to perform the Exorcism, I had been practically pushed to a breaking point, and I'm not sure I would've been able to restrain myself from finally crushing your pretty lips to mine, had you not kissed me first."
Delicately, his tongue ran a line down the length of my throat, his thumbs stroking lightly over my nipples and drawing a quiet whimper from me. My eyes rolled and closed weakly, my fingers lacing into the hair at the back of his head, and then I felt his hands fall away again, ruffling the hem of the t-shirt.
"Can I remove this, (Y/n)?" he queried, breathy and low.
Yes. Please.
I released a jagged sigh, my brows furrowing impatiently, and yet I was entirely intoxicated by every word, every touch. His teeth came down roughly on my skin, sending a shuddering shock through my body, my hands clenching slightly.
"I need to hear you speak, little angel," Chrollo murmured encouragingly, his movements pausing. "What do you want me to do to you?"
My chest fell sharply as I drummed up the strength to form words—my mind felt shrouded in a thick, musky fog of desire.
"I want you to make me feel everything," I breathed, hoarse and faint. "Please—please, Chrollo."
A marveling smile turned up the edges of his lips against my throat.
"Would you like me to remove this, then?"
I nodded immediately, eagerly.
"Yes."
Letting out a relenting exhale through his nose, he pulled away from my neck and carefully pushed the shirt up, his dark, lustful gaze watching mine now and turning my legs to liquid already. With deft hands, he slid the material over my head and off of my arms, tossing it uselessly to the floor, leaving my chest and torso bare in front of him.
My heartbeat pounded furiously in my chest, and my face heated almost uncomfortably hot, but before I could truly find an anxious bundle of nerves, his intense stare released mine, and he moved down again, pressing passionate kisses to my chest and gripping my waist securely—I could feel him hard beneath me, his grasp bracing me once more over his lap and eliciting an unsteady tremble through my thighs.
"And so, to continue," he began, his lips traveling lower, "I had finally received a response on your part, but I couldn't be sure that it was exactly what I was looking for. Either way, I would admit my love to you; I would tell you, and ultimately surrender to you, hoping only for your surrender to me. In the midst of your clear panic, a panic I could hardly comprehend, I could see exactly how I'd led you on to believe that I felt nothing towards you, or how your own previous experience had deceived you into believing that I would so gravely manipulate the darling little angel who had unconsciously brought me to my knees. And I realized even stronger that this time, I couldn't expect you to run with your emotions and provide, for me, a validation which was so much more crucial to you. The sadness on my pretty angel's face was a stark indicator that you needed my word, that you had come to trust me with no receptive action in return, that I'd reverted to cold and hurtful unintentionally, abandoning you to your own speculations."
I remembered that night so clearly, the doubt in my mind paired with the sorrowful realization that I'd come to genuinely trust someone, and that it had become my greatest vulnerability. I'd been so afraid of trusting, but my fear was useless—I'd already given everything to him, and at the time, I was convinced he'd received none of it.
My head leaned back in ecstasy, and one of my hands planted on the arm of couch beside his head, clenching tightly in response to his gentle kiss on the sensitive center of my breasts, his tongue sliding soothingly over my nipples and igniting an electric burn in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to tell him to keep going, to remove my shorts and his pants and to take me right there, but I couldn't form any sound apart from a high-pitched whine when one of his hands raised to steady my shivering body, his lips parting as he breathed out softly against the stimulated skin.
"But I wasn't going to hold back any longer," Chrollo whispered huskily, his abdomen flexing with each slow inhale and exhale beneath me. "It was apparent in your beautiful eyes how you felt, that you were afraid of being used, but I knew that you loved me before I even spoke the words. Still, the moment after I spoke them, and heard you breathe them back in the smallest voice, something clicked in my mind, in my soul—you were waiting for me. And hearing those words in your mouth was gasoline to the already-burning flame within me. I needed to hear them again, and again, and one thousand times before I was satisfied. But when you asked me to prove, without the shadow of a doubt, that I loved you, I could hardly believe it—you wanted me to uncover every passion I'd buried for so long, a pleading request from the seductress to Lucifer. I was entirely willing to finally show you how angelic you are, how perfect every curve of your soft body is, to learn each rise and fall of your intoxicating shape and to commit it to memory as my (Y/n)."
Again, he pressed his lips to my nipples, forcing a low moan from my throat—his hands both gripped my hips, his hard length applying pressure to the inside of my thighs through the thin layers of clothing. My heart stuttered and raced in my chest, and I couldn't be sure how much longer I could take his persistent teasing.
"Please, Chrollo," I whimpered.
"Mmm..." he hummed quietly, smiling into my skin and shifting beneath me. "You've surrendered to me tonight, my love. Allow me to take this at my own pace."
Carefully, he turned on the sofa, wrapping my legs securely around his waist before standing to his feet and capturing me in a slow kiss. My arms snaked desperately around his neck as I pressed my body flush against his, breathing in his musky, exhilarating scent—our tongues collided together roughly, and I couldn't pay attention to how far we were walking, or even notice when his steps steadily began elevating, ascending the enormous staircase. I could only feel his rugged heartbeat, his tense hands grasping tighter to my thighs, and the desire coursing through my every vein. For a moment, I even forgot what had brought him to this topic in the first place, his ethereal description of the turbulence of his emotions and passions.
Finally, we reached the top of the stairs, his commanding kiss hardly allowing me a proper inhale and further shadowing any train of thought with pure need. If this was only the beginning of the lustful revenge he intended on fulfilling, I was wary, and ultimately desperate, for what was to come.
Is this how he felt being chained down?
It was almost frustrating, but it was utterly incapacitating and succumbing to a weakness I had hardly tapped into before.
The sound of his door shutting and latching interrupted the sound of our heavy breathing, and with always tender hands, he loosened his hold and set me down on my feet in front of the foot of the bed. I raised my heavy head to look up into his fiery black eyes, dilated and lidded, and I felt his finger tilt my chin up slightly, his other palm finding my waist and walking me closer to the edge of the bed.
"Can I remove these, (Y/n)?" he inquired gently, grazing the silk shorts.
"Yes," I answered breathlessly, my arms still around his neck and my hands gripping handfuls of his loose, dark hair.
With a torturous smile, Chrollo slid his thumbs beneath the waistband and leaned in to plant feathery kisses down my throat, dropping the shorts and allowing them to pool at my feet. I felt a shudder crawl up the sides of my body as I stood, entirely exposed besides a pair of socks, before him. But he made no move to untie the white pants he wore—instead, he simply walked me closer, until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I lowered jaggedly, pulling him down with me, and then his weight hovered over mine, my legs hanging lazily over the edge.
Glittering promises sparked in his shrouded gaze, dim in the low light from the orangey lamp, which casted the shadows of his long lashes dramatically beneath his eyes. I worked to control my heightened breathing.
"To bring this back to the original point," he murmured heatedly, wrapping a hand calculatingly around my neck and constricting gradually, his lips brushing mine as he held me in place, "after that night, I could finally rest assured in the epiphany that you are mine, and that I am yours. So, I returned to that unfinished portrait of you, after the Exorcism in early January, to the few anatomy studies I had done, and every night that you laid asleep beside me, I added on to the drawing, learning the ebb and flow of your beautiful form, but only while you were sleeping, while my pretty little vixen laid bare with slumber, exhausted after succumbing to me for the evening.
"You're so peacefully unbothered while you sleep, so oblivious to the pain of the world and so protected from the dangers within it, but there are other reasons for why I chose to draw you under the influence of unconsciousness—it was in that form that I'd first met you, and in that form that I watched over you, and in that form that you entrusted yourself to me. I finished it not too long before we left to the Troupe meeting, when you met the Spiders for the first time, and I left it in that drawer for you to find, my perfect, lovely (Y/n)."
My lips parted, and my brows slanted as I gazed up into his wide, honest irises, concealing nothing. His grasp on my neck loosened, falling away and ghosting over my breasts, further expanding the sensation of need balling tightly in the pit of my stomach.
"I love you," I expressed weakly, defeatedly. "I love you, Chrollo."
Blinking slowly, he chuckled softly and moved down the length of my body, pressing his lips in a trail towards my hips, sending impatient, heaving breaths to my lungs. My fingers gripped handfuls of the sheets under me, and my legs twitched slightly in response to his tongue grazing the skin below my belly button, a gasp escaping my throat.
"I know." His voice was rough and velvety, and suddenly, he was no longer on the bed—he knelt at the foot of the bed, his hands hooking gently around my calves. "I'll always love you, (Y/n). Now, tell me what you want."
I exhaled in shock when I felt him yank me closer, pushing my legs apart and holding them up in the air as he leaned over me, letting out a sigh over the place where I needed him most. My neck extended in restrained torment, my mouth open in a silent moan.
"I want you," I whined, listening to only the roaring in my ears and my own hefty gasping. "Please don't make me... wait any more, Chrollo—please."
Without warning, and without any further words, he crushed his lips against my clit, a sensuous fire racing through my abdomen at the pressure against that sensitive, swollen skin. I bit down unforgivingly on my bottom lip to suppress the loud whimper that would've surely escaped—my legs were already trembling. His tongue slid deftly over the same spot, shockwaves pulsing in my stomach and chest and arms, driving me mercilessly up a climb I'd been so denied that it was almost painful.
Chrollo's mouth opened and let up on the relentless pace for only a moment, allowing me a shuddering, faint breath, before flattening once again over my clit, his tongue flicking in exactly the right way, repeatedly thrusting me into a shivering, heaving mess. My back arched, and my inhales quickened—his hands gripped forcefully to my thighs to steady their perpetual convulsing, his lips latching down deeply and deftly working every kind of pleasure into my body.
"Fuck," I moaned, my abdomen rising and falling in jagged sequences. "Keep going—please..."
I could hardly register what I thought felt like a smile turn up the corners of his mouth; I was entirely thrown into the mercy of a violent, impending orgasm, building and growing and traveling up from my shivering stomach to my grasping hands and my flexing muscles. My mouth opened to release a heavy, heavy sigh, my eyelids squeezing shut as he kissed harder, as I climbed faster, so, so close to free falling.
But on the verge of that blissful trip, on the edge of that unabated exultation, right as I tilted in the direction of tumbling downwards, I was pulled rapidly back to reality—Chrollo stopped.
My gasping breaths eventually turned to slow, stunned expansions, impatience and frustration replacing what I'd just been given, what I hopelessly needed. I felt his lips press to the inside of my thigh, his hair brushing ticklishly against my skin, his touch gentle and drawn out again.
"God—" I let out an exasperated, almost angry groan. "Dammit."
He laughed mutedly, trailing his lips closer and closer.
"I want to hear you beg for your release," he whispered, excruciatingly dragging his tongue too close to my clit. "I want my name to be the only word you can speak, pretty little angel."
Fuck, this is going to be the death of me.
"Chrollo..." I pleaded desperately.
It felt so incredibly good when he latched down again, flicking in perfect motions over the one spot which could send those electric waves of pleasure throughout every vein in my body. Again, my back arched, and I was built up even faster than before, sending my hands into fists against the bedsheets as my hips bucked and rocked against his face.
"Please, Chrollo, please," I whimpered, shuddering and trembling beneath the effect of his touch.
His movements didn't cease—his tongue targeted my swollen clit with determined lust, his hands holding reassuringly to my unsteady legs, his fingers brushing tantalizingly at the backs of my thighs.
"Don't stop..." I suppressed a moan at the sensation building and climbing again, reaching that teetering edge. "Chrollo, don't stop-"
And again, he pulled away, leaving my shivering body unsatisfied and exhausted. It was certainly torment at this point—the need to find that beautiful cliff side was inherent in every fiber of my being, and Chrollo was keeping me from it.
God fucking dammit.
"I know, my love," he murmured gently. "You're so ethereal this way, flushed and sensitive to every brush of my body against yours—but you know what you must say to earn your release, my (Y/n)."
I huffed petulantly, but it turned into a surprised groan ripping from my throat when he pressed his lips to my clit once more, his tongue flattening between slick, glistening folds—reawakening that burning, agonizing desire, bringing me back up for the third time.
What is he talking about? I wondered helplessly, almost groggy from the intensity of each denied orgasm.
But even as I thought it, I knew there could only be one thing he wanted to hear, one thing he hadn't asked me to say since he first arrived home, our usual mutual confirmation. I strived and fought to bring words to my mouth, if only to put a stop to the draining rhythm he'd adopted, working me up to a writhing, gasping ball of need and then leaving me lacking. Chrollo dragged his pace endlessly, slowly wringing every last bit of sensation through me, and I found it nearly impossible to focus both on the returning orgasm and forming coherent words.
"Chrollo, I..." I breathed weakly, begging and surrendering now. "I belong—to you..."
As soon as the statement left my lips, I felt his hands depart from my thighs, leaving them trembling and wrapping loosely around his shoulders, my eyes closing as his salacious tongue continued its pattern, my abdomen twitching and fluttering and rising and coming so, so close to free falling.
And as soon as it came, he stopped again.
But before I could hardly release a whimpered cry of discontentment, through my hazy, half-open gaze, I saw him stand and toss his undone pants roughly to the ground, grabbing suddenly to my ankles and shoving my legs up to my head as he leaned over me. His smoldering irises locked mine in place as he mercilessly slammed inside me with a loud thrum of damp skin on skin. I released a sharp exhale, feeling my own eyes roll back into my temples as Chrollo unremittingly sustained a demanding rhythm.
I hardly had the energy to moan, to let out any sounds apart from weighty breaths and restricted, muted whines. One of my legs drifted lower and lazily looped around his waist, tugging him closer through his persistent thrusts, and he held the other up by my knee, his free hand planted over my throat and holding me in place as he railed into me.
"Say it again," he commanded huskily, leaning lower and pressing against the underside of my chin to tilt my head up. "Please, my love."
Forcing my eyes to open up into his dark, glittering stare, I reached with one hand to grasp his wrist faintly—the way he slammed in and out created friction against my clit, blossoming up in the pit of my stomach, but slower this time, more intense, and at his pace.
"I belong to you... Chrollo," I whimpered, prying my fingers away from his forearm to lace roughly into his almost black hair. "Always—yours."
His lips turned up triumphantly, and his grip on my throat loosened, planting instead by my head and allowing him leverage to capture me in an aggressive kiss. His punishing strokes came harder and faster, his own breathing unruly and uneven, and he released a low, hefty groan into my mouth—I could feel the sheets tighten at my head with his tense fist.
"As I am yours, pretty little angel," he whispered ruggedly. "Perfect (Y/n); lovely (Y/n)."
Finally, unperturbed and unfiltered and unthreatened by Chrollo, I felt the violence of a full, truly impending release wrack my muscles—I shook and shuddered beneath him, the force of his pounding hips causing even the bed to tremble and rattle up against the wall. His lips traveled gently to my jaw and throat, and my hands scratched and pulled and clenched on his shoulders, his spine, the back of his neck and hair.
"Show me what I do to you, (Y/n)," he breathed. "Say my name."
"Chrollo..." My teeth snapped together as the orgasm expanded slowly, and then all at once. "Fuck—Chrollo-"
My fingers dug roughly into his skin, and I was, at last, driven towards the last note of the crescendo, plunging suddenly down a decrescendo of pure, utter ecstasy, my legs shivering and flexing repeatedly beneath him as he thrust quicker, choppier, biting down on my neck rigidly as his own hips shuddered through his release. It lasted for longer than I'd expected, intense waves rolling again and again from my core as my body seized up until his slowing strokes came to a final stop inside me, leaving me completely spent and nearly spinning in the heady silence.
I feel like I'm gonna pass out.
A drunken laugh escaped my lips at the thought, and I winced at the tenseness in my joints as I stretched out my fingers, letting go of his shoulders and flopping back with an indescribably bone-tired exhaustion yanking on my limbs. In response, I felt Chrollo's lips turn up into a soft smile against my neck, his palm gently sliding down the back of my thigh and lowering my leg as he pulled away. My head lolled to the side when he sighed and crawled closer to slide his forearms beneath my shoulders and the crooks of my knees, dragging me into his body and lifting me in a cradling position.
"Hey, I can walk," I protested half-heartedly, shoving with barely any real effort against his chest.
Chrollo looked down to me, his expression unreadable apart from the shining adoration in his reverent gaze.
"That's a lie," he pointed out, his velvety voice quiet and soothing—I think I noticed the wisp of a secret smirk playing at the edges of his lips. "Do you understand how much I love you, (Y/n)?"
Honestly, he was probably right—my legs were absolutely jelly. I couldn't even heave the strength to straighten them out, but the more I allowed them to stay bent and stiffen after probably the most intense sex I'd ever experienced with Chrollo, the more I felt my inner thighs tighten, my hamstrings cramping with what would probably feel like hell the next day when I actually made an attempt to walk. And, on top of that, every time I blinked, it seemed like my eyelids lowered even further, like my mind was traveling rapidly down a gentle slope of unconsciousness.
But his question made me peer closer at him, to the best of my ability, my line of sight straying to his wild, unkempt hair and forehead tattoo and shadowy eyes and alabaster skin, all of which held an enchanting, infinite sort of expression. I didn't reply at first, just simply pondered his words as he walked me around to the side of the bed and placed me down tenderly among the black velvet pillows. My gaze followed his movements when he bent to grab one of the fluffy red blankets from the floor, a ringing, comforting quiet between the two of us—I smiled widely up at him when he tucked the covers around my shoulders, climbing in beside me and resting a warm palm on my cheek.
"Yes, I do," I exhaled, my words even feeling like a massive pull of strength now. "Because I love you just the same."
Chrollo breathed in slowly, watching me for another silent moment with his wide, prying eyes, a flushed amber dancing with specks of melancholy gray. And then, he released it, nuzzling closer to me and tucking my head against his collarbones, wrapping his heavy arms around me. I let his smokey scent surround me, pulling me under into a barely aware state of mind, turning my limbs to lifeless sockets around his waist and entangled with his legs.
"Was I too rough with you, my love?" he inquired, mild worry taunting his soft tone.
I released a single breath of air, making an effort to chuckle but truly unable to.
Jesus, so this is what being fucked to sleep feels like.
"No, sweet Chrollo," I promised loosely. "That was... really, really good."
I just barely registered the sensation of his lips against my hair, and his arms constricting around me, pressing me closer to his chest. Behind my now-closed eyes, I could almost see darkness swirling and merging calmingly, fogging my consciousness.
"I'm glad to hear that." His fingers ran lightly through my hair, grazing against the tattoo at the back of my neck. "I made well on my word, that I would be receiving plenty of defeated whimpers from your pretty lips—your endearing little pleas were perhaps my favorite part."
Bad, bad Chrollo.
"I know they were," I breathed faintly, pressing a weak kiss to his smooth skin. "Um, I think I'm going to... pass out..."
My body felt as though it turned off before my brain fully slipped away, so I could feel the sudden tenseness in Chrollo's body at my probably startling words, but then I felt him relax again, his chest trembling in a low, muted laugh. I couldn't respond fully, or spend my thoughts on any other worry which might've invaded my mind at this exact moment of peace, when he spoke again, a soothing, velvety reverb into my hair which pushed away all fears, if only for the night—I released fully into a weighty, cosmic slumber.
"Sleep well, darling little angel," he whispered softly. "I'll be here when you awaken. I'm always yours—I love you."