The Pact

Her gasps, shudders, outcries, and the sudden exhalation of air from her lungs were all fuel Sephiran needed to continue this act of deflowerment. Their bodies were pressed against one another, his shoving hers against the earth and deeper into the snow, crushing her beneath his weight in hopes he would hear the crack of bone beneath the pressure. What’s the matter snaggletooth? He hated that fucking word. His jaws tightened out of reflex, a snarl escaping through the flesh in his mouth. Blood spilled onto his tongue, hot and sticky from a venous vessel. His fangs were undoubtedly close to puncturing through an artery, which would seal her fate if successful. But that wasn’t Sephiran’s intention- not yet at least.

He lifted her again, wanting to force her head back down to hit it against the ground and disorient her further. In sync, his jaws tightened again and he started sucking, as he intended to cut off her airway and drink the blood from her wound. Don’t disappoint me now. He waited until she was close to losing consciousness, wanted her to feel like the curtains of death were about to close around her. Because that’s when he would enter her. He positioned his hips to align them more accurately with hers, and with a single, barbaric thrust, Sephiran took what was his. He would continue this pattern of bringing her onto the brink of unconsciousness, before releasing the reigns just enough to force her to relive these moments of agony and despair.

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"Sephiran Saxe"