Cracks in the Facade

Whatever words she attempted to say to him as she questioned him and tried to understand his anger fell on deaf, ringing ears. His own drunkenness and anger blinded him, leaving just his base needs and lusts sitting on the surface, a desire for revenge that even he didn't fully comprehend boiling under his skin. Somewhere in the back of his muddled, foggy mind he knew that this wasn't her fault. He knew she wasn't conspiring against him or ganging up on him like Manea had done. Still, with nothing else in his life that he could control she became the outlet for his rage and the personification of the imbalance he had faced since his birth. This uphill climb as a Mendacium male that had been drowned out by chasing after highs and searching for relief in what was certainly all the wrong places came to a fever pitch. She wanted him to tell her what was wrong, but he wasn't sure he could put it into words even if he tried and he doubted even more highly that she'd understand.

His movements were relentless, riding the high of this futile grasp at power, until the strangled whine and her plea for some kind of mercy hit him in the gut. That sound cut through the haze just enough for it to make him stutter and hesitate for just a second, a slight snarl of frustration pulling at his lips as his aqua gaze looked down at the pale woman beneath him, just seeing the back of her head under his massive paw and her dark ears pinned to her skull. The metallic tang of blood fresh on the air caught his nose, but his thoughts were too far gone to really connect what that meant. He panted heavily over her with his hips still held tightly to hers, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His bear-like paw started to tighten on the back of her head, squeezing down around her skull that felt so small and delicate in his grasp, and briefly it brushed through his mind just how easy it would be to end all of this before it even began. He could just cut his losses and disappear into the night before his sister even noticed and he could go back to fucking his whores and ignoring his family's responsibilities and values.

The thought only lasted a moment, a breath and then it was gone, and his paw released her head and instead clawed deep into the fur bedding near her head as he leaned down over her body. With one paw gripping the bedding and one paw wrapped almost painfully tight at her hip, he grabbed her scruff roughly between his teeth and held her steady as he picked up the pace with the hard rolls of his hips once more. That was the only small mercy he showed her as he continued on toward the height of his own pleasure, taking this woman that he had chosen to be his mate and claiming her entirely as his without regard over whether this was what she wanted or not. The pleasure he found was physically satisfying, sending trembling shivers through his massive form while he continued to drive himself into her, but once he had hit that zenith very little else felt resolved.

Deimos held himself there over her for a long moment when he was done, panting hard as he slowly began to come down from the high and the room spun around him slightly from the rush of it and the alcohol still doing a number on his body. Eventually he rolled to his side, his heavily muscled forelegs around her with one at her waist and another at her chest, pulling her smaller frame back into his own with her back against his chest and stomach. He refused to consider the bitter regret that threatened to eat away at this lofty pleasure he was reveling in while he pressed his face into the side of her neck and held her tightly to him. "You're mine..." he muttered softly in a drunken stupor against her skin with slurred words, holding her just a bit too tightly. "You're all I have... You're mine..." he managed, a hint of desperate emotion lingering on the edge of his voice. That's all he got out before unconsciousness pulled him under, still clinging to her with his head against her neck, his body curled around hers possessively.

"Deimos Medacium"