Kiyotaka's POV
It had been a long time.
Five long years of nothing.
I had been a directionless white cloud, wondering, molded by the demands of the winds, all in hopes of holding water one day. All in hopes of immersing myself in the most glorious ocean blue pools known to mankind. Kei's eyes.
But the limitless orbs staring back at me were empty. The waters portrayed in them were steady and unchanging as though they held no life in them, or ever had.
A sensation close to frustration clung to me, clouding my vision.
I had always known Kei. Known her exactly how she was. Nothing more. Nothing less. I knew what could make her smile, laugh, yell or even cry. I knew her like she was a vintage painting on my bedroom wall, I had memorized all there was to see. All there was to touch. All there was to feel.
But now all those million details vanished into thin air, in its place remained a blinding white canvass, contrasting my own black.
I stopped right at the edge of the bed where she sat. Her eyes were plainly gazing down at the floor, as if she was waiting for something to spring out of the floor anytime now. Her previous smile was nowhere to be seen. Her hands were neatly placed upon her thighs, like she was in a formal setting. It made her welcoming greeting seem all the more scripted.
I reached out.
Gently caressing her right cheek, I slowly lifted her chin, forcing her to stare at me. And stare, she did. Unflinchingly.
She waited.
Waited for me to get on with whatever plans I had. As if it didn't concern her one bit. As if she wouldn't stop me.
That would need to change.
My thumb gravitated towards her bottom lip, uncontrollably like a bee attracted to the fragrance of a newborn flower. I began caressing softly across the length of her lip, observing her for any hint of discomfort. Alas, she gave away none, having mastered her poker face. That irked me.
I pressed down roughly; my nail threatening to pierce her delicate skin and leave behind another one of my marks.
She obediently stared back at me. Her head was still in the same position I fixed it to be, when I had lifted her chin. Her ocean blues still remained murky and lifeless. Her countenance, similar to a marble statue, stoic in nature.
In an uncalculated move, my nail penetrated, drawing blood. Blood that was so warm, soothing and brimming with life unlike, her stone-cold outside. It filled me with such satisfaction that I wished to bathe in her blood. Every pore of my body was demanding; thirsting to be drenched in her lovely blood.
A monstrous urge overtook me, shredding the binds of rationality I barely held together. A sadistic desire to make her shiver bloomed in my cold vessel of a heart.
Silence.
I didn't like this.
I wanted her to scream, moan and tremble beneath me. I wanted to see her fragile heart that only had enough space for me inside it. I wanted her to cry. Cry because all she could see was me, all she could hear was me, all she could feel was me. And then I would fill her with even more traces of me.
"Lick."
The command was hissed in a harsh whisper.
She obeyed immediately.
Her tongue lunged forward to lick off the blood in my thumb. She moved robotically, never hurrying but never slowing either, set in a predetermined pace. Her actions held no rhythm of their own. I trailed my other fingers down her neck, pressing down to hear her static pulse. It was a granite wall standing in my way, holding her defenses. That displeased me further.
Once all the blood in my thumb was cleaned, she promptly closed her mouth and returned to the same position, staring back at me like a dog looking at its master for the next order. But she did it with a level of apathy that dogs were incapable of showcasing.
My thumb, still lodged on her bottom lip, I ordered.
"Strip."
And she did. Methodically, she undid the buttons of the black shirt, unzipped and removed her skin-tight jeans, without a hint of hesitation. She was wearing no underwear, at all, much to my surprise.
Once again, she lifted her head to gaze back at me like I had made her before. She was as naked as the day she was born. Every inch of porcelain skin exposed to me, begging to be dashed with color, just like her soul.
A sigh escaped me.
She was glorious as she waited in baited breath for my next command. As though her entire existence depended on the slightest of my moods. As though all she ever was, was an extension of me but never a whole being alone.
It was everything I ever wanted but ...
"Kneel."
I growled out without a thought.
She immediately dropped to her knees without a sound of protest.
Oh, what an obedient little slave she was.
How indifferent she remained, when she should have screamed in my face, tried to push me and made a run for the door. Maybe she would have, had she known what deviant plans were being formulated in my head.
She thought she could withhold herself from me.
And that was her fatal mistake.
The last one I would ever allow her to make.
Author notes:
So late again. At this point you guys must be used to it. Lmao.
I know I promised a convo but I felt this silent war sort of tension might be better. I really wanted to write whatever is going to happen in Kei's POV.
I think I might be including mature and adult themes next chapter. Warning ahead. This is going to be very dubious.
This might go down an erotica route. No promises.