"Indeed, it's wrong to keep you near me;
One could call me cruel and deceiving.
But in your sacred air, I am full of light.
Your loving arms are the true delight
To which I am lost."
"Persephone" - Tamino
‼️CONTENT WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONSENSUAL SEXUAL CONTENT‼️
Chrollo's POV
Training (Y/n) had gone well as the week passed, in more ways than one. Her mind was sharp and agile, and I found that her learning style had much more to do with observation rather than being thrown into hand-to-hand combat; her mind was analytical, and she seemed to find ways around a confronting problem in something leaning more toward a mathematical procedure. It was endlessly intriguing to me, watching her wide eyes zero in on me as I explained and demonstrated concise and effective uses of Zetsu, feeling her attention span elongate when I narrowed in on the science behind a precise use of the perfect millisecond.
I, myself, have never leaped at the opportunity to train another—I couldn't seem to wrap my mind around the thought that there were those who simply did not understand strategic progression, and I'd never carried with me a specific method to which I follow closely. But she continued to satisfy me, and to fascinate me. It was as if, in the many months that we'd spent together, she'd always been watching me, and silently duplicating my abilities, my intellect. Perhaps it was subconscious, another curiosity to lend itself to my theory that soul ties acted as a magnet—she picked up on my actions, and I, her, and it was a never-ceasing instinct to do so.
I'd allowed her to study the floor plan while I skimmed through the few boxes of original manuscripts and sheet music left over from our heist at the music museum. On Tuesday and Wednesday, I'd been gone for the majority of the sunlight hours to pawn off what I decided had lost its luster, and lacked interest. The inked scrawl on the disintegrating parchment no longer held much value to me—I'd already studied the lot of them. In an effort to sell them quickly, I lowered the usual price for such coveted originals and met with a few well-known collectors in quiet, hooded towns not much more than a few hours from York New. In the end, I'd finally cleared my music room of the clutter, and packed together a sum of around seventy billion jenny.
Within the two days that I'd been away, I'd also engaged in a few bouts of minor theft to obtain more accessories to give to (Y/n)—petty crime was a familiar place to me, and it often soothed my thoughts to do so alone. It brought me back to a time when such was all I'd ever accomplished, and I enjoyed dedicating the items I stole to my lover. I'd taken a twenty carat diamond necklace, and a pair of diamond earrings, both of the sets being embellished with sapphires and emeralds in the crevices and links. I easily pictured the delicate additions to her elegant form, and ultimately decided, inwardly, upon being the one to do her hair. I wanted it pulled up—it would better reveal the graceful arch of her neck and allow the dangling earrings to compliment her smooth skin.
But I carried my reasons for choosing to do these things in solitude. It successfully aided in my efforts to repress the threatening emotions I seemed to feel so much more deeply around her, the emotions concerning the death of Shalnark and Kortopi. Their relentless tug and pull upon my memories, their unremitting tendency to bring back those pointless sensations of loss and heartache, seemed to subside as I spent time alone and shut off the chatter of my mind—succumbing to the most primal of these instincts, I believe I'd once told (Y/n).
Pointless, because the Spider lives on; pointless, because I, nor any other human in the universe, hold the ability to travel back and change the way fate had played out. And still, those pointless sensations lived on remotely, while at the same time churning and festering unforgivingly, agonizingly.
"We'll accept anything you leave here, but do not ever attempt to take from us."
Perhaps such was what drove some inherent desire within my mind, some unchangeable piece of my humanistic soul, into believing that I might be satisfied if I were to release those emotions on the perpetrator of my loss.
It was Friday evening now—(Y/n) had thoroughly calculated a foolproof plan for the short mission with me, and we were expecting the arrival of Machi and Feitan sometime before noon the next morning. I'd purchased plane tickets for the two of them, separate from the plane tickets for me and (Y/n), but I'd also been coaxed by Machi to purchase a fifth ticket. Someone had caught her inquisitive eye, I was sure—if, whoever this was, happened not to be of my liking, I held no issue in allowing them the pleasure of embarking on the mission, merely to kill them afterward. It would be a waste of skill and time to refuse their admission for the evening. But I trusted Machi's instincts; in the very least, I was intrigued by this new arrival.
When I finished dusting the last shelf of my ground floor library, I felt at ease, peacefully complacent. (Y/n) was surely waiting for me—I'd become carried away with my endeavors to find for her a suitable fantastical fiction. I peered down at the book in my hand, my sight tracing over the mildly worn binding and slightly warped hardcover as I remembered the countless times I'd read this story. Before departing from the room, I glanced around it one last time, wondering when, or if, I would ever become dissatisfied by this stationary location and leave it to rot away.
Tossing the used dusting cloth into the trash, I meandered back through the halls and up the stairs. My footsteps were silent, a learned habit, as I approached our room and turned through the open door. Immediately, my eyes fell upon (Y/n), seated up against the elaborate headboard of our bed with her knees brought to her chest and another book propped up in her delicate hands. I felt my expression soften slightly as I stood still for only a moment and gazed at her features, a bit pinched from concentration, her forehead drawn taut as she dutifully scanned the words on the page. I could've continued to stare, if it weren't for my overwhelming curiosity concerning what it was she read—simply being beside her and observing what turned the interest in her lovely mind, what sparked her distaste, what held her undying devotion, was an action I wasn't sure I would ever possibly grow bored of.
As I advanced toward the bed, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked the time, noting that it was just past nine in the evening—truly, I'd gotten carried away. My brows furrowed loosely, a soft frown settling down upon my face as I absently set the book I'd brought on the foot of the mattress. With a short inhale, I tossed my phone down, as well, and tugged my shirt over my head, wincing slightly as it caught on my gages. Black locks of my own hair fell before my eyes, and I shook my head back and forth carelessly to clear my vision, draping the shirt over the bed with my phone.
The room had been dimmed in my absence, it seemed—(Y/n) had only left the smooth, warm gradient of the lamp turned to a medium setting on. It cast dreamy shadows across the dark, shrouded color palette of our sheets, and lent the ivory walls to a romantic sort of sheen.
I glanced over at the dress which hung neatly from the cherrywood armoire, placed back in its bag after I'd helped her try it on. The image of her before my enlarged body mirror, frozen as she stared at her ethereal reflection, briefly interrupted my mind—I forced a slow, drawn out exhale as I recalled the heavenly way it had cut her shape, though even as I closed my eyes to regain focus, I could still only perceive my very own angel clad in endless black silk and satin. I greatly anticipated the moment when I would dress her in those lovely fabrics again and decorate her body with diamonds and kisses.
Tearing my gaze from the intoxicating imagination, I looked instead upon her currently gentle appearance, and my features relaxed again as I held eye contact with her while unlatching my gages. The feathery lighting threw her endearing face into a haze, and it somehow made her innocent irises glint ever more beautifully. I couldn't form a coherent expression as I stared, absorbing all that I could from her—the soft flesh of her arms and legs were exposed in the black camisole and white sleep shorts she wore, and her hair was left untamed. I hardly realized I'd fully removed the turquoise earrings and placed them gingerly upon the bedside table in my daze, but the adoring way she appraised my body did not go unnoticed—her eyelids lowered as her line of sight lingered on my exposed torso.
My own little angel.
She hid a half-smile as I blinked and inwardly shook myself of my reverent thoughts. Climbing into the bed at her side, I glanced from the book to her profile, stroking back a few locks of her hair and subtly earning her attention. She twisted to peer up at me, her glistening eyes diaphanous and large. Observantly, I grazed my fingertips along the length of her jaw and brushed the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip, studying my own movement before meeting her gaze again.
"What?" she asked, tilting her head a bit, amused.
A breathy chuckle escaped in a huffed exhale as I shrugged nonchalantly, and my attention turned back to the book she held open on her knees—though, my hand stayed in place on her neck, and I felt her inquisitive stare on my face.
"Lucretius," I noted softly—I recognized his poetic voice and strangely religious, despite the atheistic projection, undertones from the words on the page immediately. "I meant to bring you your book sooner, but I was carried away with dusting the shelves. I apologize, my love."
Resting my palm on her cheek, I lifted her chin and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, always delicate in the way that I touched her. She giggled quietly and leaned into my hand, her eyes sliding back to the book as I pulled away.
"It's alright," she amended—I examined the unaffected bliss shining in her features as she spoke, silently lacing my fingers up into her hair from the back of her head, my thumb drawing gentle circles into her jugular. She shivered, much to my unspoken enjoyment, and brought her knees tighter to her chest. "I like this more than I thought I would. It's fascinating."
I kept my expression neutral as my sight glazed over her body once again, subconsciously filing away her minor reactions to my proximity. It always caught my interest; I reveled in coaxing those reactions from her, possibly too much. It was far too easy to become lost in her scent, in the sensation of her skin under my lips and fingertips, feeling her body radiate feathery heat and feeling her pulse quicken gradually. Perhaps it was something of a drug to me, a drug of choice—and I would continue to choose it, over and over and over again.
Intoxicating. That was the only word which came to mind in my pondering.
Such was the same in that moment. My soul was urging me closer to her, and the unexplainable desire to merely touch her was a siren to my only greatest weakness—lust, in all respects. I felt as though I had no choice but to give in.
"Ah," I sighed, slightly distracted, and situated my position, making room for her to crawl into my lap. I caught her gaze again and patted the empty space. "Would you mind reading aloud to me, then? I've read it before—you may start wherever you've left off, if you prefer."
(Y/n) paused, doe-eyed and mildly surprised, before a hardly flustered smile brushed her tempting lips. It was often for me to read to her in the evenings—suddenly, I couldn't remember a time that I'd ever asked her to read to me, and I regretted it profusely. Hearing her speak about anything at all was tranquility and intrigue, in my mind, and I contemplated briefly over why I hadn't requested this of her sooner. I admired beauty simply for its beauty; her voice was of that illustrious category.
Shifting carefully, she moved to nestle between my legs and rested back to my bare chest, her knees still partially bent and the book propped up to where both she and I could see it. I skimmed my sight over her hair, absently snaking an arm around her midsection and pressing her more securely to my abdomen. I felt her upper body shake with another gentle laugh as I placed my chin on her shoulder and soon had both arms encircling her.
"I'll just start back at the beginning of this paragraph?"
She worded it as a question, craning her neck slightly to see my face, as if she were asking permission. The corners of my mouth twitched up loosely.
"Go ahead, pretty angel."
I stared back at the grainy page, my eyes tracing the faded black print as she settled against my chest once more. Constricting my hold a bit more, I angled my jaw into her neck, allowing my nose to graze her jugular and my lips to brush her smooth skin. I'd intended on following what she read by keeping my eyes on the words, but it could not be so as I was lulled again under her heavenly spell—my eyelids fluttered closed, and I inhaled slowly, quietly, before releasing the breath, while a part of me listened intently to her speaking the boundless philosophy.
"'Now I need your full attention here,'" she began softly, a nearly inaudible tremor in her tone. "'A revolutionary thing strives hard to reach your ear, a new side of the universe struggles to come to light—for no fact is so simple we believe it at first sight, and there is nothing that exists so great or marvelous that over time mankind does not admire it less and less.'"
Untrue, I'd come to realize, inwardly refuting the scholar's poetry—though, it was only untrue to one aspect of myself that I could coherently bring to mind. There was a time in my life, before it had been so gracefully disrupted by this calmly breathing goddess, that I would've consumed those words with no doubt left to contaminate their ring of absolute truth. Items, wonders, miracles, art—all of those things held such fictitious and ephemeral value to me. In the eyes of a lustful thief, they were merely playthings for transience, a fugitive diversion before another of much the same value became known. Those things submitted to the whip of entropy; those things faded, and rusted, and grew brassy in my ceaseless search for thrill and virtuous lure. In actual fact, perhaps Lucretius had been correct, on the assumption that those things were of the universe he dissected.
(Y/n) was not one of those things.
She was of some outside force, some bewitchery that I could not define, nor could I fathom. Her prestigious wings never lost their glow; her relentless enthrallment was ever-eternal. I could chase her and capture her and steal her heart away millions of times over, and I would still wish for one more opportunity to embark on that riveting heist. The reality that she was mine to keep never became a reality of boredom or normalcy—certainly, she was nothing of those things.
Even now, I was overpowered by my inherent weakness. As I lifted a hand to draw her hair away from her neck, allowing me full exposure to drift the edge of my nose along its elegant column, she paused—it was merely to take in a steadying breath—and I smiled lightly, ghosting my fingers across the bow of her shoulder, silently encouraging her to continue.
"'Behold the pure blue of the heavens, and all that they possess.'" She did just that, though I could more easily pick out the mild shake in her words now. She must have, as well—she cleared her throat, and proceeded more stably. "'The roving stars, the moon, the sun's light, brilliant and sublime—imagine if these were shown to men now for the first time, suddenly and with no warning. What could be declared more wondrous than these miracles no one before had dared believe could even exist? Nothing."
While she read, I trailed my touch down her soft arm, up, and then back down. My lips made their delicate rounds over her throat and out to her collarbones, simply brushing, as I breathed in and out—simply brushing, and internally being consumed by a mixture of desires. Her frame shivered mutedly with another inhale, and I watched complacently as goosebumps raised along her forearms, creeping up past her elbows and shoulders and to her jaw. How endearing, her sweet little reactions—I craved them, as well.
Again, she stopped reading, her body slumping gently against mine. My arm around her flexed gradually, keeping her held tight to my chest, and I lowered my free hand to her thighs. My eyes moved to follow the way her socks scrunched around her subconsciously curling toes, another little reaction I'd observed and quickly learned was caused by the kiss of my fingertips to the backs of her legs. I weightlessly skimmed the blunt of my nails up the length of her thigh, loosely creating a fist and stroking my thumb across that sensitive skin.
I noticed with a hidden smile that the book sagged lazily in her relaxed hands, and I felt her breathing hitch softly. I raised my lips to the shell of her ear, exhaling as I spoke her name.
"(Y/n)."
She merely sighed, and it, too, was shaky. I struggled in continuing to hide my grin, far too heavily distracted by her. The unresponsiveness amused me, however—I knew how susceptible she was to my touch.
"(Y/n), you are quite distracted," I remarked, accusing her of what I, myself, was guilty of.
Carefully gripping a gentle hand to her thigh, I finally pressed my lips to her exposed shoulder, kissing her lightly at first and trailing a series of the same motions up to the curvature of her neck. The taste of her skin was wine and roses to me—it became difficult to keep myself from building the kiss, and so I did not refrain. My mouth was hot against her jugular, gradually working into the passions I hardly kept at bay, and I allowed my teeth to graze that silky flesh, just enough to earn a sudden inhale from her, but not enough to leave a mark.
Not yet, at least, my thoughts whispered darkly.
She was oblivious to those thoughts as she shuddered weakly, and I opened my eyes again to glance at the way she held more securely to the book while still proceeding in my sensual assault. Heavens above and hell below, she was a drug—one that I wished to take, and give myself over to freely.
"Oh," she breathed softly, and her legs bent a bit, a pleased response to the kneading I administered to her thighs. "Chrollo..."
My jaw clenched in restraint, in the way that it always did when she spoke my name so pleadingly. I tried to ignore the subtly simmering heat gathering in my core, and I let up on my kiss, maintaining a soothed demeanor as I raised to the base of her ear once again. My hand at her stomach absently disheveled the flimsy fabric of her camisole, and my fingers curled brazenly over the bare skin of her navel.
"Hmm?" I hummed, my voice sounding lower than before. "Something wrong, love?"
She trembled in my arms again, and I felt it, her pulse quickening beneath my lips, the flush of warmth rising up her neck and to her face. I smiled widely.
"I'll never be able to focus if you keep doing that," she complained breathlessly.
"Doing what?" I feigned innocence, tracing my fingers along the tempting plush of skin which bordered the waistline of her shorts—oh, how desperately I wanted to touch my lips there, to hold tightly to her sides and ghost my tongue along each rise and fall of her lovely shape. "Keep reading, my (Y/n)."
She released another heavy, quivering sigh, subconsciously tilting her head slightly to the side and giving me more access to her throat. Fluttering my palm up and down the back of her thigh, I allowed myself to become lost in her scent once more, her pretty body now limp and ever the seductive goddess. I worked a series of slow kisses everywhere I could reach—leaning back to find her shoulder blade, tucking my head forward to find her collar. And I endlessly delighted in the way I caused her voice to slip, to sound airier and hazier.
"'Nothing could be quite as remarkable as this,'" she quoted, her form unintentionally leaning in to the places that I touched, "'so wonderful would be the sight. Now, however..." She gasped quietly as I bit down gently, forcing her words to trail off momentarily. "'...people hardly bother to lift their eyes to the glittering heavens, they are so accustomed to the skies. That's why you should... mm—let go of any terror of the new. But don't spit out my reason. Weigh with care...'"
A second time, her words faded, and she inhaled shakily, leaning her head back against my shoulder as I swirled my tongue into the hollow beneath her ear. I didn't bother mentioning her distraction this time, as I was already too deep into my own desires—no, rather, I lifted my hand from her thigh and loosely clutched her throat, keeping her neck extended and tracing the line of her jaw with my thumb. My other hand slipped beneath her camisole, and I pressed my palm to her stomach, grinning softly as she whimpered.
The overwhelming urge to be closer to her drove me further—it consumed me in much the same way as a wildfire, ruthlessly and recklessly. I latched down to her jugular another time, sucking gently, massaging faint bruises into her skin, marking her subtly. Carefully grasping the book from her hold, I set it off to the side and wrapped my fingers around one of her forearms, bringing her wrist to my lips and detaching from my previous kiss to ghost more along the inside of her palm. Her breathing changed dramatically as I raised her arm higher, my mouth gradually reaching the crook of her elbow and the usually untouched area of her bicep.
Need raged through my abdomen and settled down in the pits of my being, fogging my judgement and strengthening that smokey film of lust in my mind. When she shifted against me, her lower body involuntarily grinding against my hardening length, I drew in through a hiss, releasing her arm to grip her thighs—that fleeting glimpse of ecstasy which rattled my composure was enough to earn my immediate response to the way she twisted in my hold. I guided her movements as she balanced with both palms on the headboard behind me, quickly planting both knees on either side of my hips, and she crushed her lips to mine, grabbing at fistfuls of my hair and tugging me in.
(Y/n) was pressed flush to my body and straddling my lap, and the minor rolling motion she exerted over my restrained erection as she twined her tongue to mine set my blood to flame. A low moan sounded from my own throat, yet it was raptured by her mouth—euphoric desperation crawled through my veins, and the sex-heavy desire to worship her and claim her as my own was among the only focus of my blurred thoughts.
"Couldn't continue reading, hm?" I asked as I moved down to her jaw, and my voice sounded raw and husky. "What am I to do with you when your attention is lost so easily?"
She laughed weakly, though her body trembled as I squeezed her thighs lightly, dragging her across my lap. This elicited another high-pitched whine from her lips—her head fell back in relent to my passionate kisses down her neck, and I could feel the aching pulse between her legs through the thin fabric of her shorts. Her automatic reactions to me caused that flame to burn brighter; everything about her caused that flame to burn brighter. She drove me entirely mad—I didn't ever see myself as an impulsive man before I'd felt her for the first time, and now...
"Chrollo," she pleaded softly. "I—"
Damn the sound of my name in that sultry, calling tone of her reciprocated need and desire. I wanted to hear her speak it a thousand times more. I braced her down against my length, intentionally allowing her the friction I knew she wanted, yet had failed to ask for, consequently cutting off whatever it was she'd been about to say and earning another one of those heady moans. I exhaled into her jaw, my eyelids closing under the weight of that fog in my mind and the reverberating pleasure of her body grinding against me.
She dug her fingers into my shoulders and buried her soft panting in my hair, and I felt her hand travel down in the minimal space provided to my exposed abdomen. The limited proximity she'd created sent a stronger rush of blood to my erection, and I groaned faintly, involuntarily rutting my hips gently against hers.
"What is it, little vixen?" I prompted ruggedly, the corners of my lips lifting into a breathless smile. "I need to hear your words."
(Y/n) shivered, and her hand became a fist against my stomach. I felt the warmth of her cheeks brush the side of my neck before she paused, her movements ceasing torturously, and the only sound was her shuddering inhales and exhales, breezing so sweetly against my skin. For a long moment, she remained silent, and it was enough to clear my mind just slightly from its quickly descending daze.
In an encouraging effort, I pulled away and tilted her chin up, gazing upon the beauty of her own glazed irises, the soft swell of her lips, the way her brows pushed together just barely—all of it, cast into feathery shadow by the dim illumination of our bedroom. Seeing her in such a state was entirely unmatched. I tightened my grip on her thigh possessively.
"I want you," she finally expressed shakily, nervously lacing her fingers into my hair and speaking into my mouth. "I love you. Don't make me wait... please."
There were reasons behind why I needed to hear her make known what it was that she desired, and not all of those reasons were based solely on the necessity of undoubtedly being allowed and ensuring the entirety of her consent. They ranged, though the largest of these was certainly of the prior spoken consent. But I, myself, wanted to hear her verbally display her want for me—the idea of being readily given her body and soul was so sensually alluring to me, so beautiful in every aspect. Perhaps it was ever more arousing to hear. And just the same, I wanted her to find confidence in communicating what it was that she needed from me—she was stepping into that security more and more, to the peace of my mind.
Yet, now that I'd earned her profession, I could proceed in any drawn out manner that I wished—teasing her was so very entertaining, and it stoked those flames in my core to listen to her become so overpowered by her lusts that every touch was another whimper, another shiver, another plea. I looked into her glistening eyes, and leaned closer, my breathing uneven and my body restrained under the pleasurable weight of her hips on my arousal. Softly grazing my fingertips under her jaw, I held her gaze and sighed into her mouth, reveling in the tightening of her fists in my hair.
"I love you," I reminded her, always sounding more vulnerable than I ever intend with such a surrender. "But I'm already here, sweet little vixen. How am I to know where else you want me if you don't tell me?"
I watched heatedly as her eyes rolled closed in defeat, and my hand traveled slightly higher up her thigh, disrupting the hem of her shorts. She whined in something like protest to my taunting, and her body shifted over mine again, forcing me to maintain an unaffected composure as she mutedly worked to ride my lap. I pressed a feathery kiss to the corner of her mouth and set both hands at her waist, messing absently with the fabric of her camisole.
"I want..." I felt her skin heat up under mine as she stammered over a response, her fingers trembling nervously. "I-I want you closer."
I felt sedated by the lust swimming through me as I questioningly lifted her thin shirt, still smiling softly against her cheek—having her needy body on mine was tormenting bliss.
"So flustered," I taunted gently, humming lowly as I drew my nose down to the base of her throat and exhaled there. She shuddered. "Did you mean like this, my love?"
I tugged lightly on the fabric and felt her nod eagerly, to which I chuckled huskily and didn't waste time in obliging. She raised her arms over her head as I quickly disposed of the camisole, far too pleased by the fact that she wore no bra underneath. It felt automatic, my draw to the seductive shape of her breasts—my hands ghosted over her bare sides, and her frame quivered in anticipation as I dotted her chest with weightless kisses.
"Hm?" I urged her, desperate to hear her pretty voice.
"Yes," she whimpered. "But... Chrollo, please."
There it was—my name again, spoken as though I were the only one who could provide everything she chased so relentlessly. It heightened my senses further, and sent more of that addicting heat coursing to the betrayal of my aching cock. Another faint moan from my lips was muffled through the kiss I placed on her budded nipples, my hands returning to her thighs and kneading the plush skin as my tongue swirled delicately around the stimulated area. (Y/n)'s back arched just barely, leaning into the pleasurable sensations I provided so willingly and consequently shifting to a place over me where I could so clearly feel her warm arousal—somewhere within that thick, immovable fog, I wondered if she knew how much of her desires I really understood, how much of her body I could read.
Once more, I slipped my fingers under the hem of her shorts and gripped tightly, sensually grinding into her sweet spot and earning a shaky gasp from her. How difficult it so often became for me to restrain myself from fucking her so roughly that my name was the only name she could even think coherently.
"Ah, I see," I finally admitted quietly, though my voice sounded foreign and raspy to my ears. "You want me to take these off..." I lifted my mouth to her jaw again. "Yes?"
"Please," she begged through a frustrated whine. "Yes."
A ragged laugh shook my chest, and I straightened out to claim her mouth, biting down on her bottom lip and pulling slowly. As I kissed her, I grabbed at her beautiful body and coaxed her back, turning her off of my lap and pushing her down to the bed beneath me. Having her trapped under me, so defenseless and receptive to my tongue, my hands—it made my erection pulse heavily, and I didn't allow another second to go by before I carefully stripped her of her last few coverings.
Goosebumps grew along the surface of her skin again as the cool air brushed her now fully exposed body. I held onto our kiss, tasting her electrifying desire, and she rigidly wrapped her ankles around my waist, pulling me down until my still-restrained cock grazed her dampened clit. Whatever sound the friction elicited was buried by my mouth, and I nestled lower between her legs, rutting forward slowly and planting an elbow by her head for greater leverage. I reveled in feeling her thighs tremble around me.
"I love you," she moaned out.
My soul swelled as those words filled me. In my own haste to be inside her, I didn't stop her when she shakily, frantically grasped at the waistband of my joggers and boxers, awkwardly working to shove them down. I caught the fabric between my feet and kicked it down until it was sent back with the ruffled blankets.
"Beautiful (Y/n)." I departed lazily from her lips and pressed my thumb to the underside of her chin, tilting her head up to continue tenuously marking her neck. "I love you."
I aligned myself to her body, leaning more weight into my elbow as I latched down and gently pushed inside of her. I nearly doubled over as her seeping confines consumed me, so taut and so warm that I could not control the strangled gasp that arose from deep in my chest. (Y/n) exhaled in a sudden, sharp sequence, her legs tightening and quivering around me, her nails digging mutedly into my shoulders and the back of my neck as she breathed jaggedly. I felt her breasts graze my collar as I fit a forearm beneath her, pressing my palm between her shoulder blades and lifting her more flush to my body, holding her close as I stilled inside her out of utter reverence.
After holding her still for long enough to obtain a dissatisfied plea of incoherent words, I pulled back and thrust forward—my breaths were quiet huffs as those flames shot through me. I felt her head fall back as I administered another gentle stroke, my hips rolling through a gradual build-up of pace, and I hummed in pure physical gratification against the base of her neck as every facet of my rationality was slowly, but surely, subdued. All of my thoughts were quelled by the compulsion of how good she felt, to watch her mouth hang open and her body succumb to a writhing mess beneath me as I ruined her, this pretty little angel.
"Is this what you wanted?" I queried roughly, jagged and slave to my own pace. "You wanted to feel me here?"
My hips snapped forward in unison with the last word I spoke, forcing her arms to tighten so relentlessly around me that they convulsed unsteadily. It drew a whimpered groan from her panting lips, and I smiled widely, the part of me which lived solely to see her come undone in my grasp utterly rejoicing. I trailed hot, damp kisses up to her ear, and slid my arm out from underneath her, planting both elbows by her head for a better angle. My thrusts deepened and hardened, and the huff of my breaths quickened.
"Yes," she keened weakly. "G-god, yes, Chrollo..."
It was mind-numbing pleasure in and of itself to know that this ethereal soul gifted herself to me with every lurch of her frame as my hips slammed against hers. She gladly allowed me to ravish her body, to become of her nothing but a desperate whine. Steadily accelerating my rhythm, I lifted my head and sloppily kissed her lips once before pulling back just enough to see her face.
Her expression was contorted by the throes of passion, and her eyes were unfocused and half-lidded, her mouth parting and brushing mine as I trained my gaze on her. I wanted her to see me, and only me, as she experienced everything I did to her, as I owned her, as she felt the warmth of her own slick messily stick to her inner thighs and the friction of my cock repeatedly railing into her. A thin layer of perspiration was beginning to build on her forehead and at her collar, and each of her exhales was a soft cry for more—my exhales were already broken to raspy whines against her lips.
While I maintained eye contact, inherently pleased to see that she could not look away anymore than she could pry her hands from my hair, I lifted one arm and trailed my fingers ruggedly down the curve of her body, silently hungering for more of her weakness. My palm laid against her navel as my thumb found her swollen clit and slowly rolled overtop. I never broke my line of sight from hers as her features twisted helplessly, her brows slanting and pushing together and her parted lips unable to hide the shuddered moan which escaped. My nose nudged hers as I reminded her to keep her attention on me, and I began pushing even circles into that slick spot. Her muscles shook, and her entire form trembled at my touch.
"'If it seems true, what I am about to say, then throw your hands up in surrender,'" I whispered, deftly finishing the quote she had failed to complete. "'But if it should seem false, then arm yourself as truth's defender. The mind seeks explanation. Since the universe extends forever out beyond those ramparts at which our world ends, the mind forever yearns to peer into infinity, to project beyond and outside of itself, and there soar free.'"
My neck extended as I tilted my chin up to place an unsteady kiss on her forehead, and my jaw tightened as I felt that boiling sensation coil taut in my lower abdomen. My weight nearly stumbled over her, and I released a strained groan, my eyes squeezing shut—all I could see were small bursts of imaginary light. Sweat pooled across my skin and created a glistening film between the two of us; my thrusts sped up almost involuntarily, my hips and thighs shivering with the impending release.
"Mine," I purred breathily, in sequence with the way I buried myself inside her. "You are mine, (Y/n)."
"I'm... fuck," she shuddered out. "I'm yours, Chrollo, I'm yours—"
My arm was beginning to feel sore with the amount of strength I pushed into it, but I couldn't stop as I stretched my legs further apart, creating an easier leeway for my cock to dig into the area which caused uncontrollable convulsions through her torso.
"Good girl... so good."
I kept my thumb pressing rounds into her clit, not allowing her a single break from the consuming pleasure as her voice broke and she let out some inconceivable sound. Her legs stiffened and wrapped more securely around me, and I knew she was close. The thought made my lower body tense and shiver, and as I opened my bleary eyes to move down to her jaw and muffle my strangled moans, my vision had begun to blacken around the edges. It blurred and shifted, and all I could perceive were the intertwined sounds of our voices raising in pitch and volume.
"Christ." I clenched my teeth, praising her lovely skin with gentle bites and erratic kisses. "You always... ah—take me so well, little angel."
I slammed forward hard enough to hear the thrumming sound of flesh on flesh, and then I heard her desperate whimpers reach the straining point of her climax, and that was the end for me. My eyes rolled back—my trembling muscles loosened, and every limb of my body felt as though it were weightless as I gasped into her shoulder. The salacious tone of my thrusts became uneven and jagged, stuttering out while my abdomen flexed ruggedly, and as I felt her shatter underneath me and cry my name over and over, I held myself inside of her as I came, ensuring that she felt every facet of my release.
Several moments passed of panting and hot breaths against clammy skin. I was once again suspended within the afterglow of every beautiful thing she embodied, every perfect sensation and admission she gave to me. Drunken relaxation swirled through my physically exhausted form, the only time that I could ever truthfully confess to genuinely, and so violently, experiencing the urge to sleep being after we made love.
Passionate, reckless love.
(Y/n) took quite a while before she must've reminded herself of her death grip on my hair and around my waist, but I certainly didn't mind. A lazy smile curled the edges of my lips, my eyelids drooping tiredly, and she gradually unlaced her fingers from the back of my neck. Her palms slid around to my collarbones, and her still-shaking legs fell unstably from my body. Finally, I pulled out, shivering mutedly in the difference of temperature against my perspired skin, and raised myself enough to capture her lips with my own, kissing her slowly.
"I love you," I mumbled into her mouth, and again into her cheeks, the tip of her nose and her forehead, always symbolically scoring her with the mark of my inverted cross, showering her with every form of my affection I could possibly drum up.
"I love you," she responded weakly. I met her shining gaze and sweet smile as I withdrew, and my soul felt as though it were swelling again. "Pretty Chrollo."
A soft, endeared laugh breezed up from my chest. It still felt foreign to me, hearing those enchanting terms when applied to my name—I wasn't sure how to respond to them apart from holding her adoring eyes while she pushed hair from my forehead and ran her thumb along the shape of my tattoo. A thousand questions for what might be going through her mind bubbled to the surface of my thoughts, but I did not ask them—I merely wondered, silently studying her sex-exhausted expression and mutedly trembling body.
Will I ever fully learn you?
Out of instinct, I grasped her hand and twined my fingers with hers, gently gathering her body in my arms and cradling her head to my chest as I climbed from the bed with her. As much as she enjoyed harmlessly complaining about her own ability to walk, I derived some innate satisfaction from being the one to care for her, to provide her with love and pleading touches and endless rewards for, in its most crass form, enduring the ruthless way that I fucked her.
This time, however, she didn't protest as I brought her now-fragile frame to the bathroom and set her steadily on the sink. I couldn't stop myself from sending her the occasional curious glance as I threw down a fresh towel and turned the shower to a medium-high temperature. She seemed so oblivious, and so docile now, her eyes lazily following me as I helped her from the counter and guided her into the spacious chamber. I didn't bother shutting the glass door.
(Y/n) shivered instinctively under the steaming stream of water and tilted her head back, her eyes squeezing shut as she allowed it to saturate her hair. I observed her intoxicating shape while I applied wild lavender soap to a damp cloth, my gaze tracing the graceful bow of her shoulders, down past her waist and to the swell of her hips and thighs. As I approached her again and delicately sudsed the cloth down her arms and sides, I pulled her hair away and pressed my lips to the ink which permanently branded the back of her neck.
Mine.
No words were exchanged as I gradually cleaned her body of its post-sex sheen, reveling in merely wrapping an arm around her midsection and bringing her back to my chest. I left no surface of her skin untouched by the soap or by my hands. Gently tilting her jaw up, I peppered her throat with butterfly kisses and smiled a bit when she sighed deeply.
We weren't in the shower for too long before I, myself, was fully cleaned, and then I reached around her to shut off the relentless stream. With a palm to the small of her back, I steadied her while she stepped out onto the towel, those pretty little trembles still wracking her thighs—a testament to what I could do to her. I pulled away to dry myself off before collecting a new towel for her, ruffling her hair and listening to her quiet, sleepy giggles as I caught every remaining bead of water. When I was finished, I bent to lift her in my arms again and carry her back to the warmth of our bed.
That romantic orange hue still illuminated the room, and bounced off of her fresh skin in a manner that I dare not describe, for fear of doing its reality an injustice by the limitations of phrases and speech. My mind and heart felt at greater peace as I laid her down and watched her limbs collapse almost instantly—my eyes lingered on her exposed body before I tugged a downy blanket overtop of her and lowered to curl up beside her. And just as I'd come to expect, she shifted close enough to tangle our legs together and lay her head on my collar.
"What time will Machi and Feitan be here tomorrow?" she asked through a yawn which shook her drained shape.
I sighed restfully and propped my chin upon her head, looping my arms around her shoulders and trailing my fingertips up and down the bridge of her spine.
I'll have to find some way to cover the marks on her neck, I thought suddenly, a bit disappointed that it was considered hedonistic and improper for her to bear the kiss of her lover in public.
"Most likely closer to noon," I hedged absently.
She hummed shortly, and then fell into silence after that. I might've believed she'd already given herself to sleep if it weren't for the occasional shapes she drew on my abdomen. I hid the smile that threatened to show itself and kissed her head.
"Was that the end of Lucretius' poem?"
Her voice was slurred with exhaustion in her inquiry. My arms flexed loosely around her as I nodded, my own eyes drifting closed—I knew what she was referencing.
"Yes—it's very beautiful to me."
"I won't be able to remember it like you can," she murmured softly. "Even though I was busy being fucked senseless..." I couldn't repress the rolling, husky laughter which taunted my lips with a smirk at her choice of speech—she shoved half-heartedly at my chest, though I felt her give in to a smile, as well. "Bad Chrollo. But I thought it was pretty, too."
A low hum reverberated from my throat in a tired acknowledgement. I almost spoke again—there were words I wanted her to hear from me, words beyond our teasing exchange, but words I could not seem to muster. And just the same, in that moment, I was speechless as she nuzzled into my chest and draped her arm around my waist, whispering so quietly that she loved me, always and forever, before her breathing deepened and she fell asleep.
I was awake. I stared out into the misty shape of the furniture in our room, hardly lighted by the bedside lamp, inwardly frozen as I recalled the last few lines of Lucretius' poem.
"...the mind forever yearns to peer into infinity, to project beyond and outside of itself, and there soar free."
Perhaps it was better that she was suspended in the soothing grip of slumber as I finally spoke what I could not speak to her conscious mind—it allowed me to at least put a voice to what I yearned for her to understand.
"You are my freedom, (Y/n)," I breathed nearly inaudibly. "I love you, too, little angel."