Chapter 29 #2
“Hello, Little Lamb,” Billy breathes, low, steady, a thundering rumble in his tone, a gentle curve to his pretty mouth.
I blink up at him, slow, drowsy. I am so very lost in my love for him.
Billy Blackwell.
An infection in my blood, a disease in my marrow, an ache in my chest cavity, lightning in my veins.
It is what the cause of demise shall read on my death certificate when he inevitably rips my soul from my bones.
Lovesick.
My heart thuds harder, for him, even though my entire being trembles, my half-clothed body sprawled out limply in the patchy wet grass.
Breasts uncomfortably pressed into the hard packed dirt, my legs twisted at painful angles, but I don’t have the energy to move.
I ache all over, after running through the labyrinths, being chased, and I did it for him just as everything else I have ever done throughout my life.
Billy consumes me in a way I can hardly understand.
There are no other words, no poems, no haunting tales.
There is only this.
His plump lips part, perfect white teeth pulling into a slow forming grin.
It's only that which makes me really look at him.
Shoving Balor's face into the earth, dirt filling his nose and mouth, lungs shrivelling with the lack of air and heavy inhales of muck.
But Billy only presses harder on the back of his skull, so hard I think he might break his neck before successfully suffocating him with consecrated ground, but if Billy wants someone to suffer, he will ensure he executes their death perfectly.
“I'm going to fuck you into our own grave, Little Lamb,” he says coldly, still smiling, those light blue eyes demonic in the quickening dark. “Our own tomb, Nellie. We are so very close to its entrance,” he bites his lip, dragging his gaze over my bloody face. “It’s got me so fucking hard, the memory of fucking you over the marble vault that will encase us together forever.”
His eyes seem to glow just that much brighter in the dark, with thoughts of our end, and I do not feel scared, I know he sees no life without death. Much in the way that I now do, too.
A whimper seems to cough its way up my throat, dirt on my tongue, earth in my nose, but there's wetness seeping between my thighs, despite the pain I feel, razor sharp and hot down my spine.
I love you, my beautiful Billy.
His smile only widens, as though he knows, hears my unspoken words, our bond giving him direct access to the inside of my skull, my thoughts.
“You want that, don't you, Little Lamb, my cum inside of you, my seed filling you up.”
It sends something ferocious through me, those words, what they mean, what he doesn’t yet know.
My fingers claw into the damp earth, dragging me closer to him, only inches between us, but it's too far, too much.
An inhuman sound wrenches its way up my throat as I do, but I don't stop.
It's the first physical sign Billy's shown of distress at finding me like this, a frown turning down his unevenly matched lips, the top thicker than the bottom, a pout most women would be envious of.
I want to suck on it.
I turn my head, the side of my face mashing into the dirt, and lift my gaze up, finding the moon.
It hangs above us in silent witness, pale light spilling over the world in soft silver. In the suddenly fallen darkness, its glow touches the bruised edges of the night turning them holy. Into something more, reminding me that even in the shade there is something that refuses to vanish.
“Billy,” I rasp, my throat tight, lungs both dry and wet in equal measures, like humidity trying to penetrate sun baked earth.
I lick my lips, cracked and split, blood coating them, it makes me smile, my cheeks aching, but I smile.
“Come to me,” I summon him, my voice no louder than a whisper.
“The moon is out and it is the eleventh night,” I don't know if he can even hear me now, my words feeling like they're swimming through thick fog as they attempt to leave my mouth, but I know he can put me back together again. “Billy.”
My eyes flutter closed, hiding him from my view, my heart a slow thud, spaced apart by too many seconds. I always knew he would be the death of me, I just didn't think it would be now.
But then his hand is wrapping around my wrist, his strength effortlessly dragging me closer, until I'm pressed up against the side of the man he's taking life from.
Billy's warmth is heating my spine, his bare, sticky chest clinging to my back as he comes over top of me. One knee in the dirt beside my hip, the other pinning down the man who hurt me.
Breath heavy on the nape of my neck, the top of my spine, earthy musk and sharp grapefruit fills my nose.
I form a smile, feel it pull at the split corner of my mouth, my body battered, but he is so careful when he wraps his long fingers of one hand around my thin thigh.
His thumb smoothing over the axe scar he put in my pale skin, a macabre caress, before he's hooking my leg open, folding my bent knee over the body he's suffocating.
He spreads my legs open wide, still holding the limp man down, Balor’s face down in the earth, Billy’s hand splayed over the back of Balor’s skull, crushing him, whilst in the moment, still giving me exactly what I need.
His hot, hard length slides inside of me like a silk coated pipe stretching me, punishing and pleasuring me all at once as he forces himself farther inside.
I jolt forward with the first hard thrust of him, my inner walls tightening around him, trying to keep him deep. He bites down on my lobe, grunting, the top of his nose in the shell of my ear.
“Fuck, I love you,” he breathes, sliding out of me, slow to thrust back in hard and deep.
He groans against me, my body trembling beneath the comforting weight of him, because I'm safe with him even when I'm not. But like this, I am all he sees and it is power.
“I'm gunna fill you with my cum, make your belly round with my baby.”
Billy's other hand is still pressing down on the dying man's skull, the clicking of the cartilage in Balor's nose making my teeth ache.
One of Billy's knees is still digging into the centre of his spine, holding him down, and he doesn't struggle anymore.
This strange rattle inside of him like an exhausted rasping exhale as his body slows his fight for life.
“Billy,” I breathe, tears in my eyes as I stare at the earth, the night cloaking us in darkness. “Billy.”
It's like a chant. Confusing, natural. A holy confession. To speak his name like he is a god, my god. The only one I'd ever worship.
“Billy.”
“That's right, Little Lamb, scream my name into the night.” His words are spoken enchantingly, commanding, directly into my ear, his tongue curling over the shell.
“Tell me you want me to put my baby in you.” He demands it, and I can hear the smirk in his voice when he bites down on the side of my neck.
“Say it,” he hisses, snarling with his teeth buried in the skin of my throat.
What he doesn't realise yet though, with every stroke of his thick, swollen cock thrusting inside of me with an untamed savageness, is that it's already happened. There’s already a little piece of him taking root inside of me, swelling my belly, engorging my breasts.
Billy Blackwell is already consuming me in every devouring way.
“I want you to put your baby inside of me, Billy,” I whisper it like a scorched confession lashed out of me by whippings, playing along, not telling him yet, my belly hidden in the earth.
“I want you to fill me up with your cum. Leave your mark on my insides the same way you do my outsides. I want to grow with your child. Our child.” I'm breathless, my heart thundering behind my ribcage, like a battering ram to the bones.
Billy goes completely still, holding his breath, and then his chest lifts off of my back, his crushing weight disappearing and making me feel cold all over.
Goosebumps spring up, pimpling little spots sparking to life all across my exposed skin like lightning struck me, causing every hair upon my flesh to stand to shocked attention.
“You mean that, Little Lamb?”
The leaves rustle in the strong gusting breeze, Billy's scent mixing with my blood and rushing around my head like it's very own tornado. The body beside me makes a tired croaking sound. All of his limbs having stilled minutes ago, much before Billy was hooking my leg over the dip of his spine.
“I do,” I whisper, watching Billy's long fingers flex over the back of Balor's skull, feel his dick twitching inside of me as he presses his knee harder into the body, driving his cock deeper inside me.
“You'll do that for me?” he asks with awe.
“I'll always do anything for you,” I breathe, wishing I could see his face, watch him realise the moment, this moment is real. “I love you, Billy,” I tell him again, something that, even when I feel like I hate him, is true. “I always have.”
He groans in my ear, grunting as he draws his hips back, sliding his cock almost all of the way out, nothing but the tip nestled inside of me.
Before slamming his way back inside, his crown attacking my cervix and his hand grabbing at Balor’s head, yanking his face out of the dirt and slamming it back down.
The man makes no sound as Billy continues to slam his head repeatedly into the earth, he's dead now, but Billy doesn't care, if he even notices. Slamming Balor's face down into the ground with every punch of his hips.
I let my eyes fall shut, relaxing into the dirt as Billy carves his home inside of me. Shaping me for him and only him. Erasing everyone who forced their way inside of me before he found me again. Before he came for me. And in his own twisted way, saved me.