Chapter 15 Weight of Blood #8
“Yes, yes, yes—” Words tumbled from my mouth, each more desperate, more honest, than the last. “Please, Viktor, fuck me, ruin me, want it so bad, want you to fuck your cum into me, make me yours, make me feel it.”
The blunt head of his cock pressed against my slick, needy hole, threatening, promising. Viktor gripped my hips, thumbs digging bruises into bone, spreading me wider, lining himself up. My body shook with anticipation, knees digging into the sheets, back arched, ass high, ready to be split open.
A low, filthy curse slipped from his lips as he started to push in, slow at first, forcing my body to give, to surrender, to open around the thick, burning stretch. Every inch dragged a guttural moan from me, pleasure and pain blurring into something transcendent.
Viktor didn’t pause once he’d breached me, hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt in one long, devastating thrust. The force knocked the air from my lungs, left me gasping, mind blank except for the stretch, the fullness, the electric ache of being finally, completely taken.
“Fuck, you take me so well,” Viktor panted, voice barely more than a growl. “So fucking tight, so fucking hungry for it. You love this, don’t you? Love getting fucked, love being filled.”
A hand cracked down on my ass, sharp and claiming. “Answer me,” he commanded, hips rolling, cock grinding deep, pressing against my sweet spot until I saw stars.
“I love it, fuck, I love it, Viktor,” I gasped, tears streaking down my face, voice shaking with need. “No one’s ever fucked me like this. No one’s ever made me feel like this. Please, harder, more—need it—need you.”
Viktor grinned, savage and wild, and began to fuck me in earnest. Each thrust slammed into me, forcing helpless sounds from my throat, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the room.
His hand never stopped moving, alternating between stroking my cock, spanking my ass, gripping my hips, branding me with every touch.
“Want you ruined,” he snarled, thrusts getting rougher, deeper, cock splitting me open, stretching me until I didn’t know where he ended and I began.
“Want you fucked out, used up, dripping with my cum. Going to fill you so deep you leak for days, prince. Going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine. ”
My body arched into every spank, every thrust, each slap making my hole clench around him, making his cock throb deeper inside me. The heat, the sting, the shame and the pleasure—every part of it fed the hunger inside me, drove me higher.
“Fucking beg for it,” Viktor ordered, voice ragged, losing control. “Tell me how much you want it. Tell me you’re my perfect little whore.”
“I’m yours,” I sobbed, cock leaking onto the sheets, mind shattering beneath the force of his will. “Your whore, your prince, your everything. Want your cum, want it in me, want to feel it dripping out, want to be used, marked, owned—please, Viktor, give it to me, give me everything.”
His pace grew merciless, hips pistoning, cock battering my spot with every thrust, hand gripping my hair, pulling my head back so he could spit into my open mouth, claiming me, filling me everywhere at once.
Spit dripped down my chin, Viktor’s voice dark and reverent. “Take it. Take everything. I want to see you fall apart on my cock.”
My body rocked under every slam of his hips, thighs burning, knees going weak, skin on fire where his hands bruised and claimed.
Each thrust sent shockwaves through my core, cock pressed between my body and the ruined sheets, leaking, smearing every frantic movement with the slick evidence of my need.
Viktor’s voice was a constant growl in my ear, words tangled between praise and filth, each one driving me closer to the edge.
A fist in my hair dragged my head up, back arching, chest lifted off the sheets, my ass slamming back into his hips, every inch of me open and exposed for him.
My hands scrabbled for purchase, found the headboard, knuckles white with the effort of holding myself together.
Sweat and spit mixed down my spine, every nerve raw and ready to unravel.
Viktor’s other hand slid up my ribs, fingers pinching, twisting, dragging nails over my nipple before moving down to stroke my cock in time with his thrusts. Each pump of his fist had me gasping, body jerking, brain flickering out between pleasure and need.
“Need you on top,” Viktor grunted, voice tight with restraint and hunger. “Want to see you ride me. Want to watch you fuck yourself open, want to see those pretty eyes when you take me deep.”
A hand gripped my waist, lifting and twisting, flipping my body without losing the connection, cock never slipping free. Viktor settled on his back, pulling me up, guiding me to straddle his hips, thighs spread wide, ass still aching and open, cock throbbing as I hovered over him.
The room spun, sweat dripping from my skin, as I let myself sink back down onto him, impaling myself slow, feeling every thick inch stretch me, fill me, claim me again.
Viktor’s hands settled on my hips, thumbs pressing bruises into flesh, holding me steady as I ground down, rolling my hips, loving the burn, the fullness, the pure animal need.
Gravity did half the work—every bounce, every grind, Viktor buried so deep inside I felt him in my gut.
My hands roamed my own chest, pinching and pulling my nipples, twisting the sensitive peaks until pain and pleasure blurred, every nerve alight.
My head tipped back, mouth falling open, moans spilling out, wanton and filthy.
“Fuck yourself on me,” Viktor demanded, voice pure gravel, hand sliding up to wrap around my cock, stroking in time with my frantic rhythm. “Show me how much you love it, how much you need to be ruined.”
My hips snapped, riding him with reckless abandon, cock slapping against his abs, leaking over his fist, my hands pinching both nipples at once, chasing sharper sensation, keening with every roll of my hips.
“Harder,” I begged, nails digging into my own chest, back arched, sweat running down my body in messy rivers. “Deeper, Viktor, please, fuck, don’t stop, never stop—”
His hips snapped up, fucking into me from below, thick cock splitting me wider, the slap of our bodies obscene, echoing through the room. One hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing just enough to claim, thumb caressing my pulse, while the other milked my cock with ruthless intent.
“Look at you,” Viktor murmured, pride and hunger sharpening every syllable. “So beautiful when you break for me. So fucking gorgeous with my cock inside you, begging to be filled, fucked, owned.”
Sweat-slick thighs gripped his hips, my whole body working in concert, chasing pleasure, surrendering to every order, every dirty promise.
I ground down, rolling my hips in tight circles, cock throbbing, nipples sore from my own attention, eyes rolling back as Viktor slammed up, hitting that spot that made me see stars.
“Play with yourself,” Viktor commanded, letting go of my cock to cup my balls, rolling them in his palm, squeezing, thumb pressing behind to milk more slick from the head. “I want to see you lose it. I want to see you come apart before I let you finish.”
Fingers never left my chest, twisting my nipples until I writhed, every muscle trembling.
Viktor’s hands gripped my ass, holding me wide, forcing me down, driving his cock deeper than I thought possible.
His hips met mine, every thrust harder, rougher, making me see white, making my nerves sing.
Sweat pooled where our bodies joined, my skin sticking to his, every desperate sound echoing between us.
A pulse started inside me, Viktor’s cock thickening, the head swelling where it pressed against that spot that made my vision blur, every inch of me tight around him, milked by the frantic clench of my body.
His voice caught, no longer words but a broken growl, teeth bared, eyes wild. “Going to come,” Viktor gasped, chest arching, hands almost bruising in their grip on my flesh. “Gonna fill you, prince, take it all—don’t you dare stop.”
My own voice cracked with relief, hunger, worship. “Want it. Fill me. Want to feel you pour inside. Need it, Viktor, please—”
Heat flooded my core, Viktor’s cock jerking inside me, his orgasm ripped from him, wild and helpless, thick streams of cum flooding my hole, leaking around the base, slicking the mess already dripping down my thighs.
Each pulse made me shudder, made me clench harder, wanting to milk every drop from him, to keep him buried as deep as he could go.
The sensation of him, throbbing, pulsing, marking me from the inside, pushed me over the edge.
My own climax built, unbearable, unstoppable, tension winding tighter until it snapped.
Pleasure detonated through me, blinding and hot, cock jerking in my fist, spurting thick streams over Viktor’s chest, his abs, splattering up across his throat and chin.
My vision went white, breath shattering in my lungs, body wracked with the force of release.
Each pulse sent more cum striping Viktor’s body, his hands never letting go, his hips still rocking, working every drop out of me.
My moans broke into sobs, my body collapsing forward, muscles quaking, still impaled on his cock, still stretched wide and open, stuffed full of him, filled inside and out.
Viktor’s eyes drank it in, wild with pride and need, mouth parted, tongue flicking out to taste the mess I’d made. “That’s it,” he panted, voice almost broken, hands guiding me through every aftershock, every shudder, every last desperate spasm.
Sweat dripped from my forehead onto his chest, mingling with the stripes of come painting his skin. My hands shook as I gathered the slick from his throat and chest, bringing it to my mouth, licking and sucking every drop, savoring the taste, the proof that I belonged to him and he to me.
“Want all of it,” I whispered, voice rough with awe, dragging my tongue up the line of his jaw, licking the cum from his chin, his lips, my own taste and his sweat mixing on my tongue.
Viktor pulled me in, kissing me hard, spit and seed shared between us, filthy and beautiful, the taste of us everywhere.
“Clean me up,” Viktor ordered, voice low and dangerous, hand fisting in my hair, guiding my mouth to his chest, his abs, his throat.
I lapped up every drop, licking him clean, moaning into his skin, tracing every bruise, every mark, every scar.
My tongue found his nipple, swirling around it, nipping and sucking, mouth worshipping the place where my cum had landed.
Viktor’s hands never stopped moving, stroking my back, tracing the sweat on my spine, pulling me tighter against him. “Such a good boy,” he murmured, voice half-praise, half-possession. “You take everything I give. You give me everything I want. Fuck, Sebastian, you’re perfect.”
His cock softened inside me, but I kept grinding down, loving the feeling of him, of being so full, so messy, so completely claimed. Cum dripped from my hole, pooling beneath us, leaking down my thighs. Viktor watched, transfixed, hunger still burning in his gaze.
Grinding down onto Viktor’s spent cock, I drew out the fullness for as long as I could, body trembling with every little shift, the ache of being stretched and used a raw, golden burn through my core.
Every motion pressed out more of his cum, slicking my thighs, marking me as his in the mess and heat of the sheets.
Viktor’s arms circled my waist, pulling me tight, hands gliding up and down my back, gentle after the storm.
I stayed straddling him, refusing to let him slip out, greedily savoring every last throb, every aftershock of pleasure and pain, as if keeping him inside might keep the world at bay.
My ass clenched, holding him in, loving the way his softening cock twitched and throbbed with each heartbeat.
Every little movement made him sigh, made me gasp, the possessive weight of his hands never leaving my hips.
“Stay,” I murmured, barely more than a breath. “Want you inside me all night.”
A low, broken sound escaped him—a sound that meant surrender, devotion, need.
Viktor rolled us gently, careful not to break the connection, and drew me down into his arms, chest to chest, cock still buried in my ass.
Our bodies tangled, sweat and spit and cum cooling between us, the scent of sex thick in the dark.
His hand threaded into my hair, thumb stroking the side of my face, worshipful even in the aftermath. His heartbeat thundered beneath my palm, a slow, heavy rhythm that steadied me more than anything ever had.
Time stilled in the hush of the room. The frantic ache was gone, replaced by something softer and more dangerous—peace, belonging, a sense of finally, finally being seen.
“This changes everything,” he said quietly, voice barely a rumble against my hair.
“I know.”
“I cannot protect you properly if I am compromised.”
“You’re already compromised. Have been since the workshop.”
A tired huff, half laughter, half grief. “I know.” His arm tightened around me. “This is problem.”
“Or it’s the first honest thing either of us has done in years.”
Silence stretched, heavy with truth and possibility.
He let it hang, then said, “I am still coming with you. When you hunt. This is not negotiable.”
“I know.” My face pressed into his chest, drinking in the scent of us, of him, the comfort as necessary as air. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me. I am not doing this for you. I am doing this because I cannot watch you die.”
“Same thing.”
“No. Is not.” But his voice gentled. “Is selfish. Is me choosing my own peace over your independence.”
“I’ll take it.” I squeezed tighter, the last of my resistance dissolving into the heat between us.
We lay there in the silence as dawn started to pale the windows. Neither of us sleeping. Both of us knowing that everything had changed. That we’d crossed a line we couldn’t uncross.