2. Roman
Roman
Christmas Day
I ’ve been standing here for who knows how long, watching through the window. The cold outside doesn’t phase me. I’m burning up inside. Xena’s bedroom is bathed in the warm glow of Christmas lights, casting a false sense of comfort that only fuels my rage. The sight before me fills me with rage.
She’s on the bed, moving beneath Steve, her body arching, hands gripping the sheets like she’s actually enjoying it. But I know it’s all an act. Just hours ago, she was on her knees with my dick in her mouth, not his. Yet watching her like this—giving herself to him—ignites a fury inside me so raw, I can barely contain it.
I want to kill him. Cover her in his blood and claim her. I want to fuck her so hard she’ll remember exactly who she belongs to—till my dick is the only one she’ll ever crave again.
My teeth grind as I force myself to stay silent, even though every fiber of me screams to burst in there and rip him off her. Steve’s fucking her with no rhythm, no passion—just mindless, soulless pounding. His hands roam all over her, touching what’s mine , and she’s letting him.
I clench my fist, knuckles cracking under the pressure, fighting the urge to snap.
Then, for a split second, her brown eyes lock with mine through the window. Her breath catches, eyes widening in shock. But instead of pushing him away, she moans louder. That sound—so sweet, so twisted—drives the knife deeper into me. My cock responds, hardening despite the fury burning in my veins.
Fucking little snake.
That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. With a deep, shuddering sigh, I turn toward the house and step inside. Today, she will learn what it truly means to be loved by me… to be claimed by a demon. I move silently through the house, my heart pounding in my ears, each step controlled, deliberate. The door creaks as I push it open, but they’re too slow to notice until I’m standing right behind them.
Steve glances back, confusion quickly morphing into terror when he sees the knife glinting in my hand.
"What the fuck, man?" he stammers, but I don’t answer. My gaze is fixed on him, on the way he’s still inside her, a sickening fury twisting in my chest. Right now I’m thankful that i’m taller bigger and without hesitation, I grab a fistful of his brown, tousled hair and yank his head back. The blade slices through his throat with sickening ease, blood spraying everywhere, spattering Xena’s bare back. She screams, a sharp, desperate sound, and tries to crawl away, but I shove Steve’s limp, lifeless body off her, his blood soaking into the white sheets beneath her.
I’m beyond reason now. My hands move without thought, driven by a primal urge to claim what's mine. I pull out my cock, still hard and throbbing, slick with precum. Blood pools around Steve’s neck, and I bend down, dipping my fingers into the warm, sticky liquid, coating my cock with it.
Xena’s eyes widen in horror as she realizes what I’m about to do, but I don’t give her a chance to protest.
"You wanted to play?" I hiss, pulling her toward me.
"Stop it, asshole!" she screams, but I’m past the point of listening.
"You like fucking him? Is that what you wanted?" I growl, forcing her onto all fours. "Is this how you like it? "
She tries to resist, but I’m stronger, fueled by something darker than she’s ever seen. I grip her hips, yanking her back toward me, and without warning, I thrust into her, hard. The blood from Steve acts as a lubricant, allowing me to slide in deeper, rougher, and she gasps, her body jolting from the force. But I don’t care. She hates me right now, but deep down, she knows the truth. She’s mine.
"You fucking slut," I spit, my voice dripping with venom. "Moaning for him like that. Moaning as if he could ever pleasure you like I can. Did you like it, little snake?"
"Stop!" she screams, her voice cracking, but I’m past caring. I slam into her again, harder, making her feel every inch of me. "I hate you," she sobs, but I hear the lie beneath her words.
"Hate me all you want," I growl, leaning over her, my breath hot against her ear. "You’re still so wet for me."
"Fuck you," she sobs, her fists clenching the sheets as I pound into her relentlessly her pussy pulsating as I continue to move inside her. "I’ll kill you, Roman. I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you."
I chuckle darkly, savoring the hatred in her voice. "You don’t have the balls, Xena. You love this. You love what I do to you."
She cries out as I dig my fingers into her hips, pulling her closer, forcing her to take every inch. "He couldn’t make you feel this, could he? Only I can."
"Shut up!" she yells, but her body betrays her with every thrust. She’s clenching around me, desperate for more, for everything I’m giving her.
"Look at you," I sneer, grabbing a fistful of her hair, black as night with hints of blue, and yanking her head back. "You’re nothing without me."
She’s trembling now, her body teetering on the edge, and I can feel it. Despite everything, she’s so close, and it drives me wild. I slap her ass, my hand drifting toward her ribs, landing right on our matching tattoos. Anger fuels me as I flip her onto her back, needing to see her face, to lock eyes with her. I want her to look at me when she falls apart .
"Ro," she breathes my name like a prayer—or maybe a fucking curse. I gaze into her beautiful brown eyes, wide with a mix of fear and desire, her skin slick with sweat and blood. She’s mine—always has been—and I’m going to make sure she never forgets it.
"Merry." Thrust. "Fucking." Thrust. "Christmas." Thrust.
Each word punctuates the force of my hips, and her body responds, her pussy squeezing me as she nears her breaking point. I can feel her anger radiating off her in waves, but I keep going, circling her clit with cool determination. She shakes her head, refusing to give me the satisfaction, but it’s a lost cause. I know her too well.
Within seconds, I feel the pulse, her walls tightening around me as she cums. "Good girl," I say, as she moans my name, her voice a broken whisper.
I hold myself inside her as the orgasm ripples through her, her muscles pulling me deeper. My eyes lock onto hers, drinking in the forced submission on her tear-streaked face. She’s breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath me. And I keep going, harder, with more need, just as the door flies open.
My dad stands there, face pale, eyes wide in horror as he takes in the chaos before him. Behind him, Xena’s mom—my stepmom—looks like she’s about to pass out, her hands covering her mouth in disbelief. Their eyes flicker from the bloody body of Steve to where I’m still joined with Xena, her eyes forced shut as I continue to move within her. She wanted me to make it known… to claim her.
Well, here we are. MINE.
"Roman, what the hell have you done?" my dad whispers, his voice trembling. His hazel eyes sparkling with unshed tears reflecting a mix of fear and heartbreak.
But I won't stop. I just keep going, even as they stare, because this is what it took to claim what’s MINE.
"ROMAN!" My dad’s voice is a distant echo as I reach the point of no return. I push deep inside Xena, marking her as mine, my seed spilling into her, claiming her in every way. Blood is everywhere—on her, on me, soaking through the mattress. I can hear her mother trying to push past my dad, who just remains there frozen in horror watching as his monster of a son destroys all he’s ever loved.
I tried.
Xena’s eyes are wide, filled with hate, but also something else. Something that makes me smirk; once again, she clenches around my length. "That’s it. Look at me when you cum. You know who you belong to."
She trembles beneath me, her body betraying her with every pulse. And that’s all I need. The satisfaction of knowing she can't resist, that she has given in to what she truly wants.
Me.
I look down at her, my dick still inside her; those pouty lips quiver. Our eyes are fixed on each other. But just as I’m about to lose myself in the moment once again, reality crashes back in. My dad is still standing there, eyes locked on me like he’s staring at a monster. Maybe he is. I finally pull out and let go of Xena, turning to face him as I tuck in my cock.
"Roman, what the fuck have you done?" he repeats, with a shaking voice. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the span of a few seconds.
"I took what was mine," I say, my voice cold, detached. "She’s always been mine, Dad."
He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. Behind him, Xena’s mom is still frozen in place, staring at her daughter like she doesn’t even recognize her. The sight of Xena lying there, covered in blood and broken, seems to snap something in her. She lets out a guttural scream and collapses to the floor. Walking past them I walk outside, but not before hearing my stepmother call the cops. My eyes remain fixed on my hands staring at the crimson that stained them. I let out a deep breath before staring into the sky. I don’t know how long I remain standing out in the cold staring at the sky, mind blank. All I can hear are the screams that come from inside the house.
The police arrived quickly after that. I don’t resist as they drag me out of the house, hands cuffed behind my back, still slick with crimson. "Ro," I hear Xena call, but I don’t look back as they shove me into the squad car. What’s done is done.
The days that follow blur into a haze of cold concrete walls and endless questions. They try to get me to talk, to explain why I did it, but I remain silent. There’s nothing to explain. Xena was mine, and I did what I had to do to ensure she knew it. A doctor said I was "mental"—to be exact, he claimed I snapped. He diagnosed me with several disorders, the most prominent being antisocial personality disorder. For days, I didn’t speak—until that night.
On New Year’s Eve, I got the news: my dad’s dead. Suicide. He hung himself in our shed. Apparently, he couldn’t handle the shame, the guilt. I’m not surprised. He was always weak like that—kind, but weak.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m locked up now, and all I have left are memories of that night. Memories of Xena’s body trembling beneath me. Memories of her wide, terrified eyes as I claimed her.
I’m sick. I’m obsessed.
And I’d do it all over again.