Instead, even as the aftershocks are still shaking her, he guides himself in, feeling her tight walls trembling, stretching to take him as her shins press against his chest and the muscles of her body twitch and fight. He is almost surprised that she can, virgin as he expects she is, but her body is still at its softest and as the last of her climax shudders out she seems to constrict around him, moulding them together, and her eyes open in horror as she realises it.
He smiles, slow and venomous, as he begins to thrust into her. With one hand he braces himself against the bed, the other holding her legs in place, and pinned down she cannot move. She could look away, of course, but her gaze never leaves his, furious and still, still full of fire and unbroken. Next time she will know what is coming, and she will fight, and that he will enjoy far more, but still he takes pleasure as she fits perfectly around him, like he is moulding her body for him and him alone. Hot flesh envelopes him as he thrusts deep, tight and made tighter still by the position of her legs, her own fluids easing his cock’s passage into her. Despite his desires he begins slowly, savouring the feel of her as she stretches, the way that she tries to draw away against his grip, how her body accepts him as her mind rebels.
Of course, he cannot long bear to remain slow, and his pace builds within her, faster and harder, until he pants and she bucks with each thrust and each slamming together of their bodies, and again her eyes close as pain stabs through her, and even if she does not look at her bruises the next day she will feel this ache deep inside her. With this she will become his; it is that knowledge as much as the feel of her that tips him over the edge, pinning their bodies together as he comes deep inside her, mingling them until they cannot be divided.
She does not say a word as he rises, wipes himself off, and retrieves his clothes. He returns her legs to their stretched-out position, though not before he sees the seeping fluids on her thighs and knows that she will not sleep tonight for the feel of them, the reminder of what he has done. What they have done.
“I will kill you,” she says, just as he is about to leave. “Soon, I will kill you.”
Though she cannot see it, he smiles wolfishly. If there was anyone in this land who could have killed him, it would have been her. “We shall see, my Khatun. Kill me or grant me immortality from your womb, or perhaps even both.” Even from where he stands, he can see the shudder that runs through her at the thought of bearing his child, and though he said the words on a whim he has to admit that any child sired upon her would be a fine one indeed. “Either way, your destiny is now with me.”
He smiles, slow and venomous, as he begins to thrust into her. With one hand he braces himself against the bed, the other holding her legs in place, and pinned down she cannot move. She could look away, of course, but her gaze never leaves his, furious and still, still full of fire and unbroken. Next time she will know what is coming, and she will fight, and that he will enjoy far more, but still he takes pleasure as she fits perfectly around him, like he is moulding her body for him and him alone. Hot flesh envelopes him as he thrusts deep, tight and made tighter still by the position of her legs, her own fluids easing his cock’s passage into her. Despite his desires he begins slowly, savouring the feel of her as she stretches, the way that she tries to draw away against his grip, how her body accepts him as her mind rebels.
Of course, he cannot long bear to remain slow, and his pace builds within her, faster and harder, until he pants and she bucks with each thrust and each slamming together of their bodies, and again her eyes close as pain stabs through her, and even if she does not look at her bruises the next day she will feel this ache deep inside her. With this she will become his; it is that knowledge as much as the feel of her that tips him over the edge, pinning their bodies together as he comes deep inside her, mingling them until they cannot be divided.
She does not say a word as he rises, wipes himself off, and retrieves his clothes. He returns her legs to their stretched-out position, though not before he sees the seeping fluids on her thighs and knows that she will not sleep tonight for the feel of them, the reminder of what he has done. What they have done.
“I will kill you,” she says, just as he is about to leave. “Soon, I will kill you.”
Though she cannot see it, he smiles wolfishly. If there was anyone in this land who could have killed him, it would have been her. “We shall see, my Khatun. Kill me or grant me immortality from your womb, or perhaps even both.” Even from where he stands, he can see the shudder that runs through her at the thought of bearing his child, and though he said the words on a whim he has to admit that any child sired upon her would be a fine one indeed. “Either way, your destiny is now with me.”
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