The sounds of chatter and the melody of soft music silence and make way for the heavy breathing of Dorian. Suddenly, my back meets the soft cushion of a bed. I gaze up at him while he stands at the edge of the bed, seemingly trying to compose himself for a moment.
My eyes trail from his face to his hard-on that is just begging to be released. A smirk creeps onto my lips as I use my hand to silently beckon him to come to me. He clenches his jaw, then obediently lowers himself down on the bed so that he's hovering over me. His hot, choppy breath fans down my face.
"Please..." One raspy word comes from his parted lips that begin to pepper kisses down my neck while his hand travels up my leg, "...please, let me have you, Cyra."
Oh, now that definitely turns me on. Still, I entertain him with an innocent question as I watch him work his lips against my skin, "What about the guests?"
His head tilts up, allowing for his hungry, desperate eyes to bore into my own. He moves his face back up to me until his lips are just barely brushing against mine. Before he gives me the pleasure of tasting him again, he grins.
"Screw the guests."
What a childish, yet oh, so hot response. I moan into his mouth as his lips overwhelm mine in a passionate battle that I have already lost severely. Still, I continue to fight back, teasingly bucking my hips against his groin in a shameless attempt to show that I hold a shred of power, even if it is small.
However, I soon crumble into my defeat when his hand slides up my leg, only stopping when he's reached my sex. The burning desire within me is barely satiated when the tips of his fingers push past my lips. He enters me slowly and deliberately, all the while kissing me as I try to remain sane.
But, my sanity is lost when his careful entry is forgotten. His fingers plunge deep into me, almost to his knuckles. It causes me to tear my mouth away from his, crying out in pure pleasure. This cry only seems to encourage his relentless assault on me.
Each entry and exit is faster and harder than the last. It's building a pressure within me that I'm desperate to release. I dip my hand toward his thrusting fingers, weakly grabbing his wrist. He tips his head, pressing his forehead to mine with his golden eyes taking up the entirety of my view.
A high-pitched moan rips through my throat when he pushes his fingers into me again, this time, adding a third. "Keep on taking my fingers, just like that, Cyra."
I gather myself upward, whimpering at the feeling of his fingers going even deeper. My shaking arms wrap around his neck as I rest my head against his shoulder. With every thrust, I grow desperate for more. The small satisfaction of his fingers is not enough.
I want more, more, more...I want him. Not his fingers. I take one hand, winding it down his body until it is pressed against his hard-on. This makes him pause, though he does not remove his fingers from me.
"I...Dorian...I want–..."
I struggle to even form a coherent sentence as he starts to repeatedly bend and straighten his fingers inside of me, teasing me.Two can play that game, I squeeze his groin hard, silently begging him for more. This earns a deep, threatening chuckle that vibrates through his throat.
His free hand digs into my hair, forcibly but gently pulling me back. As I gaze at him, red-faced and struggling to catch my breath, he slips his thumb between my closed lips, carefully pulling my bottom lip down. The hand beneath my dress follows in suit with my lower lips as he tauntingly pushes them apart, no longer entering.
"Part those pretty lips of yours and tell me what it is that you want from me," He softly demands, desperation and lust painting his words.
"Fuck me properly, Dorian," The dirty words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I don't regret saying them, not one bit.
As soon as I say this, both of his hands go down to his pants. I watch with bated breath as he undoes his belt, discarding it to the side before he quickly lowers his pants. My breathing ceases to exist when he finally hooks his thumbs into his underwear, pulling it down so that the full length of his groin is now stretched out before him. I stare at it, almost dumbfounded.
Yeah, this, right here, is every woman's dream --- a thick, seemingly endless cock that can definitely hit all the good spots. And I can't believe I can say that I can have it all for myself.
He doesn't waste a moment's time in flipping my dress upward to give him proper access to my sex. His hand roughly grabs my hips, yanking me toward his throbbing cock that is already dripping with semen. I wait in anticipation for him to enter me, but he never does, rather he just gazes down at me, chest heaving and eyes focused on me.
I smile softly as I realize he's afraid. Afraid of hurting me again, and for once, I find myself hating him for that. For, I am destined to hurt him to the point of no return. Though, I want him to seek revenge on me before I can do such a cruel thing. My hand goes down to my sex. Two of my fingers spread my pink lips apart, all the while Dorian watches, adam's apple bobbing up and down.
"Ruin me," I breathlessly beg him, "Ruin me pleas–..."
My sentence is lost in a strangled gasp as he enters me. His cock practically threatens to rip me apart even when it's only halfway in. Despite this, I don't ask him to stop, instead, I continue pleading with him for more.
Ruin me, ruin me, ruin me. That is all I can think of as he pounds into me without even a bit of mercy as I arch my back off the bed, moaning through my strained throat. His head falls onto my shoulder, and soft grunts flow into my ears. Those soft grunts eventually turn into loud moans that almost overpower mine.
The symphony of our pleasure mixes as we lose ourselves completely in each other. Our bodies continuously press together, never satisfied even when we are joined at our hips. It is a painful yearning, as it doesn't seem to leave either of us. All it seems to do is grow stronger.
The cock in me swells and pushes further into me than before. It hits a spot that makes me throw my head back as a scream of pleasure leaves me. He keeps teasing that one spot, and I helplessly continue switching between breathlessly whispering his name to yelling it out.
Only one more hard, merciless push is needed to release the pressure in me. It seems it's the same for Dorian as his cock pulsates inside of me. Unfortunately, the satisfication of climax is taken away from me when he suddenly takes his cock out until only the tip is touching my lips.
At that moment, his golden eyes find mine, then they close as he slams into me for the last time. It's painful, hard, and oh, so good. My body shakes with heated ecstasy. The pressure in me comes flowing out as Dorian releases inside of me.
"Cyra," He calls my name, head resting against my heaving chest, "You...you are beautiful, both inside and out. I want to feel you again, and again, and again..." Each repetition of the word 'again' is met with a gentle kiss against my lips. "Unfortunately...we have guests waiting for our return."
I brazenly grab his cock, and a warning glare is sent to me as his breath hitches. "Screw the guests," I mimic his words from before, earning a smile from him.
"Oh, how I'd love to just flip you over and fuck you until the next sunrise," He coos to me, softly brushing his hand over my cheek, "But I have an obligation to my people and so do you. Don't tell me you forgot about such an important thing just because of my cock."
His teasing makes me finally return to my senses. "No, of course not. Your little cock didn't make me forget anything."
My jab at him earns a hard bite to my neck that makes me whimper. His breath flows against my prickling skin as he whispers, "I'm sure you know by now that I'm in no way little, but if you insist on thinking otherwise, I'll just have to change your mind..." He gingerly kisses the throbbing bite mark on my neck and continues, "...later."
The last part of his sentence is practically dripping with disappointment, just like I am. I frown as he gives me a kiss, and then lifts off of me. My eyes follow his every movement while he dresses himself to perfection.
Once he's finished, he dips his hand into his pocket, taking out a small piece of cloth. The disappointment in me momentarily leaves as he wraps his free hand around my ankle, softly pulling my body toward him until my legs are dangling off the side of the bed.
My view of him disappears as he kneels down, one hand resting on my thigh, the other wiping away at the cum dripping from me. I involuntarily jolt at the feeling of the soft fabric brushing against my sensitive lips. My hands cover my mouth as I begin moaning despite my best efforts not to.
"Don't cum again or else this little piece of cloth won't suffice," He warns me, hand roughly gripping my thigh.
"Dorian," I whine, but he doesn't listen to my desperation.
All he does is place a soft kiss above my entrance before pulling my dress down and standing up. His arm extends outward, hand reaching toward me, just begging me to take it. I look from his hand, then to his face, reluctant to move from where I lay.
A long sigh escapes him as he shakes his head, then bends down, arms wrapping around me. He hauls my unwilling body upward and off the bed, carrying me bridal-style toward the door.
"I'd rather go back to bed," I whisper as I turn my head, biting his chest through the fabric of his shirt.
"Don't even try to tempt me. It'll only worsen your consequences when the wedding ends."
Little does he know, when the wedding ends, his life will end as well. That reminder brings a pang of pain to my chest. It stills me and snuffs out my desires.
Now I know why I was being so desperate. I had been pining after him in a selfish attempt to satisfy myself before he's gone. Though, no amount of kisses or sex will ever quell the desire I have for Dorian. That is the painful fact of the matter, one that makes me duck my head into his chest, vainly trying not to cry.
I clench my jaw as he carries me out into the hall. Soon, another pair of footsteps follow behind us, and a very tired voice fills the air.
"Please, at least try to quiet your voices next time. I beg of you," Callon pleads to a laughing Dorian.
"You're asking the impossible, dear Callon," Dorian says through his laughter.
Another laugh joins Dorian's but I know better than to think it's from happiness. Beneath that superficial sound is a broken melody that sings the song of a man who has officially lost the one he loves to another.
I force myself to peer over Dorian's shoulder to sneak a glance at Callon, but I regret doing so as soon as I see him. There are unmistakable glistening lines tracing from his pained eyes to his jaw. Despite this, laughter still flows from him. It's as if it's the only thing he can hope to do in this gut-wrenching situation. Only when his eyes meet mine, does he stop laughing.
I hide myself behind Dorian, unable to look at Callon any longer, especially not when I can see the deepness of his sorrow that is all caused by me.
When we finally enter through the doors of the feasting hall, the loud chatter silences. Although my face is pressed into Dorian's chest, I can practically feel the heavy gazes of the guests stinging me. I know it's not very strong of me to shy away from them but I can't help it.
A grumble of warning from Dorian makes all the guests turn their gazes elsewhere. I'm slightly thankful for this as Dorian gently lets me down to the ground. My hips ache, causing me to wince as I settle myself down into one of the many hard, unforgiving seats at the long table.
I shift uncomfortably at the pain in my bottom, desperately trying not to be too obvious. However, two sets of eyes have already settled on me, Dorian's, which are full of amusement, and Biast's, which are full of cold contempt. The only gaze that I meet is Dorian's, as I refuse to turn my head toward Biast, who is sitting next to me.
"Let the feast commence."
With that one declaration from Dorian, servants come pouring into the room. Platters of all-too-familiar foods are brought in. There is pizza, pancakes, fish tacos, and more piled high upon the silver platersr. I feel my cheeks beginning to rise as I look at Dorian, who's smiling proudly at me as if to say 'Yes, I did this all for you'.
As I stare at him, I begin to wonder how he could ever be considered a beast. To me, he's no beast, no ruthless man, or evil tyrant. Instead, he's something close to that of my own Prince Charming. Sure, he may have fangs and not act charming all the time but I have grown to love him for who he is.
I know I don't want to kill him, especially not when my heart beats in such a way for him, but...I have to. That thought is all it takes to wipe the smile off my face. In its place is a frown.
"What's troubling you, Cyra?" Dorian asks me, concern hanging heavy in his voice as he sets his fork down.
I swallow and force out an answer, "Don't worry, it's nothing important."
I force my depressing thoughts away to focus on the food laid out on the table. My sadness leaves me as I hungrily dig into the elaborate spread, not caring enough to pay attention to my table manners.
By the time my empty stomach is pressing against the tight fabric of my dress, I have already finished about four plates, and by no means am I finished. That fifth plate of food is just waiting to be made by me!
Before I can grab more food, a hand reaches in front of me, knuckles brushing against my lips. I'm surprised and repulsed to find that it was Biast who did this. Fortunately, Dorian is too busy chatting with a vampire next to him to take notice of Biast. If he does, I fear there may be a heart added to the spread on the table.
"That frown on your face sings the truth that you don't have the heart to say," Biast whispers this only to me as he purposefully lets his hand brush against my chest before he drops it to his lap. "I promise you won't be frowning for long. Soon enough, someone more suitable will be by your side."
My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. I almost open my mouth to entertain him with a question, but I quickly close it. There's no need to ask him anything to settle my ever-growing sense of dread. All I have to do is simply look into his eyes.
Those cool, calculating eyes are not trained on me but on the person sitting across from him.Dorian. He's watching him as if he's waiting for Dorian to fall right into a perfectly set trap.
I turn my head all too slowly to watch Dorian pick up a silver goblet.The goblet fit for a King. My eyes widen as realization spreads over me like wildfire. It burns my skin, searing into my limbs, as I shoot up from my seat.
My hand reaches for the goblet and everything begins to slow. Everything except for my thoughts. They run wildly through my head, but only one is louder than the rest.
I must save him, I must protect him, even if it kills me.
Suddenly, my thoughts go silent as I steal the silver goblet from Dorian's hand. There are many choices I can make in at moment. I can scream that Biast poisoned the drink. I can dump the drink on the ground. Or I can create my own twisted end, as I was never really a fan of those happy endings.
And that's exactly what I do. As Dorian stares at me wide-eyed and Biast's hand starts to advance toward me, I tilt my head back, pressing the cold rim firm to my parted lips. The liquid is strangely hot, faintly tasting of citrus. It stings my throat as I swallow every last drop.
My shaky hand releases the goblet, allowing it to clatter to the floor. I look at Dorian, a smile stretching across my lips.
As my vision blurs like a camera out of focus, I blindly fumble around the table with my hand. When something cold and hard grazes my fingertips, I grasp it desperately, and can only hope it's a knife. I turn my body to the left and raise my hand, knife pointed toward the large blob that can only be Biast, the true beast.
"Must kill...must..." I mumble feverishly before my voice is drowned out by a loud crash and a clang of metal.
My body aches strangely...I eventually realize that I have fallen to the ground, but I need to get to Biast. I need to kill him or else...or else...or else what? A sort of haze settles over my mind, leaving me to only be able to lay on the ground, helplessly grappling for answers as a loud commotion occurs around me.
"Get the healers! That drink was..." The voice booms through the horrified screams before it is replaced by a new one.
"Detain him at once, Callon!"
Suddenly, another, more familiar scream rips through the air. It claws at my ears and sinks into my stomach. Wetness laps at my cheek as I force myself to lift my head from the floor.
A warbled cry leaves me at the view of a red, still-beating chunk of meat before me. I cannot see clearly but I know what it is. It's a heart, though I do not know whose it is.
I try to yell out to Dorian, fearful that he may be the owner of the heart, but nothing comes from me. All I can do is slump against the floor. Coldness seeps into my once-burning limbs as a voice finds its way to me.
"Cyra," It says quietly and desperately. "Cyra!" It calls to me one last time before fading into oblivion.
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