Chapter 24 #2
There’s a growing heat between us, an intensity thickening the air.
But also a surprising tenderness. There is an intimacy in this dynamic only heightened by his current monstrous form.
Me, trusting him not to harm me even though we both know he could.
Him, willing to submit, trusting me to care for him.
As I lower myself onto his imposing length, I look down into his red eyes and I see him. See Cain, instead of the monster.
“Come back to me,” I whisper. I caress his face, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone as I have so many times before. He leans into my touch, just slightly. “Cain. My Cain.”
His eyes flutter open again, and he reaches up, one huge hand wrapping entirely around my waist. I lean my head back, relaxing as he grips me—firm but careful as he holds me.
It would be so easy for him to crush me. It would’ve been so easy for me to put a bullet in his head.
I rock atop him—slowly, slowly. Taking him inch by inch into my body. Cain groans, his clawed fingers tightening around me, but he remains otherwise still, letting me take him at my own pace.
Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as I gasp, stretched to my limit and then some. I’ve never felt full like this before. It is so much. Too much.
And yet through the stretch, the pressure, the twinge of pain, lies a hint of pleasure. An aching need.
He won’t fit entirely inside of me. It’s impossible.
But I get as close as I can. I pause, forcing myself to breathe deep and adjust to the stretch.
Then I start to roll my hips, gasping at the overwhelming fullness.
I can barely move, especially with Cain holding me.
I reach down to play with myself, rubbing slow circles against my clit, until the intermingled pain and pleasure starts to shift entirely into the latter.
I lift myself up, almost off his cock, and lower myself again.
It’s easier now, aided by the slickness of my arousal.
My thighs tremble as I lift myself onto my knees entirely every time just to lower myself back onto him.
But slowly, I begin to ride him. My back arches, head falling back, nails digging into his chest.
“God,” I whisper, and my lips twitch at the irony. “Cain. You feel fucking good.”
And it’s true. Now that I’m used to the overwhelming sensation, even the slightest rock of my hips sends pleasure jolting through my body. The fullness is unlike anything I’ve ever had before.
Even headier than the physical pleasure is looking down at this giant monster beneath me and realizing he is submitting to me.
Cain holds himself entirely still, the claws of his free hand dug into the earth beside us as if he needs to hold on for dear life.
His other hand is wrapped entirely around my waist. And his eyes—all of them—are locked on me, watching me bounce atop him, pupils darting from my heaving breasts to my face as I gasp and writhe and impale myself on his cock.
His mouth is open, tongue lolling and breath coming in short pants. His eyes roll in ecstasy.
A sense of power rushes through my veins, turning me on just as much as the stiff length I’m riding. My hips are moving faster, faster, as I brush sweaty hair out of my face and moan in unabashed pleasure. I’m louder than I was last night. Wilder.
Cain’s hips buck up beneath me, driving himself deeper. An automatic response, but I slap my hand flat against his chest, glowering at him. He growls low in his throat, but he flattens himself against the ground beneath me, surrendering control once more.
“Willow,” he says, and he sounds almost like himself, though his voice is strained. “Willow. Please.”
“What do you want, Cain?” I ask, as if I don’t know perfectly well. I slow the movement of my hips, grinding on him for my own pleasure. He groans, claws digging deeper into the dirt.
“Please, let me— Let me—”
“Let you what?” I roll my hips as soon as he tries to speak again, and he cuts off in an almost pained groan.
“Fuck you,” he says, all in a rush. “Let me fuck you. Let me cum. Please, Willow, please—”
The sound of this huge monster begging me—in a voice that sounds progressively more like Cain’s—undoes me, the knot of pleasure within me tightening until I can hardly bear it.
Maybe I will regret this. Maybe it will destroy me. But when he begs so sweetly, how can I not agree?
“Yes,” I say. The word is barely a breath.
But the response is immediate. Cain’s huge hand tightens around me, holding me entirely still above him as his hips buck up from beneath me.
My mouth falls open, head lolling. I try to squirm, but there’s no use.
I can’t move an inch within his gigantic fingers squeezing my waist. All I can do is hang limp as a rag doll as he thrusts up into me.
I thought I had gotten used to his huge size while riding him, but being fucked by him is an entirely new sensation. Each thrust is harder, deeper. I fucking love it. I barely recognize the sounds coming out of me—animalistic cries of pleasure, higher and higher as the knot within me winds tighter.
“I-I—” Each thrust knocks the wind out of me, forcing out hard exhales and jolting my entire body.
It’s hard to breathe, harder to speak. I can barely think.
My entire existence is consumed by this pleasure.
And Cain is thrusting harder and harder, his own moans rising in volume to meet my cries, our sounds intermingling into something feral.
“Yes,” I manage to say, clinging to his hand. “Don’t stop, don’t stop. I’m going to cum, I’m—”
The dam within me breaks, and pleasure surges forth.
My entire body convulses, every inch of me flooded with it, pulsing, clenching.
Cain fucks me through it, unrelenting, till tears stream down my face and I try to squirm away, but I can’t.
I can’t do anything but cling on for dear life as he fucks me to my very limit, wringing pleasure from my body.
With a low groan that I feel vibrate down into my bones, he finds his own release.
He pulses inside of me as he cums. I can feel it inside of me, a flood filling me to the brim, spilling out to drip down the sides of his cock.
By the time his choppy thrusts stop, I am entirely limp in his grip.
He pulls me off his cock, leaving behind a sudden ache of emptiness, and sets me down atop him.
I slump forward against his chest, panting and exhausted, sweaty hair sticking to my face. My body is wrung out and raw. He shifts beneath me, and even that is enough to send aftershocks crashing through my body. I whimper, pressing my face into him, unwilling to open my eyes or move.
“Willow?”
My breath hitches at my name in a familiar voice. I barely dare to hope.
I push myself up to a seated position, groaning softly. My body is sore and aching, the apex of my thighs still pulsing, and it takes effort to force my eyes open.
But when I do, I find myself looking down at Cain.
Not the monster, but him, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead and his lips pulled into a small, tired smile.
My eyes fix on blunt, normal-sized, human teeth before darting to his eyes.
His brown eyes. I reach out to smooth hair away from his forehead, as I so often do, and find only pale, unbroken skin.
He’s human-sized again. The third eye is gone. It takes me a moment to realize that his wings are gone, too. I trace my fingers down his chest, and his veins are blue through his pale skin, with no trace of darkness.
“You’re…” I place a careful hand on his face, hardly able to believe it until I can feel it for myself. My smile is tremulous, fragile. “Alive.”
That’s all that really matters. In the end, he is no more or less himself than he was when he was with wings and extra eyes, and I would not have loved him any differently.
What’s important is that he is no longer that out-of-control monster. And around us, the world is quiet. The earth is no longer shaking, and the sky is dark, but lit by stars. The red sun has set, and the silver of the moonlight is soft as it shines down on us.
“I’m alive,” he says, as if testing how it feels in his own mouth. He pushes hair off his face and looks around, half dazed. “And everything is… Everything is…?”
“It’s okay.” I take his chin in hand before his eyes can find the massacred cultists around us. “The world didn’t end, Cain. And we’re both still here.”