Chapter 7 #2
Dark eyebrows raise, like he’s expecting a challenge.
Tonight, I’m too tired to fight. If he knew the secret I was housing in my womb, he’d probably hold back.
Actually, who am I kidding? Commander Melek of the Halo keepers does not hold back.
He is all in 100 percent of the time, even, unfortunately, when it comes to his marriage.
The only thing he would’ve forgone would have been the drink.
I often wonder if he fucks around, but I doubt he would have the strength or the time in his day when he spends all of his precious seconds in meetings and training, followed by coming home to fuck me into submission each night. This man loves his routine. And I’m a part of it. Yay.
Zipping down his fly, I go for what I know is waiting for me beneath his pants.
I can already see the sizable bulge pushing against the material of his slacks.
Standard army wear. Black on black, with silver buttons, a snake in a circle eating its tail etched on each.
It’s supposed to represent eternal life or some nonsense.
The pure Haloians believe themselves as righteous as gods, which is why they kill the Fairy Lands creatures for their solence—that, and the magic the hollows steal from the colourful people.
Making contact with his hard, thick, velvety length, a familiar tingle shoots down to my toes.
Melek grunts at the contact. I cannot help the way my eyes dart up to his.
It’s now instinct for me to seek his approval in everything, even when he’s looking at me like prey.
All he has to do is give me a twitch of his hand, and I fucking fall like a leaf discarded on the breeze.
This is me falling. Falling into the arms of my oppressor.
What are my other options? Go back to the farming communities, or worse, be saddled with a husband who will actively force himself on me.
I may hate the commander, but he has never forced my hand.
Even this. Right now. To any unwitting observer, it looks like he’s compelling me, yet Melek has always kept one promise from the day we met; he’s never touched me unless I wanted him to.
It took exactly one year and three days for me to decide feeling something was better than feeling like a corpse of myself. If I couldn’t hurt him emotionally, maybe I could break his cock. Turns out, his cock, to my utmost chagrin, is indestructible.
I won’t lie. It didn’t hurt that my first experience with him was multi-orgasmic. It was the only time the sadness solidifying my marrow seemed to take a back seat, and I relished that feeling. Sex became my new obsession to chase away the chill.
Neither of us is perfect, and neither is this coupling.
But one thing is for certain…
I do not love him.
And he does not love me.
This, whatever it is, is purely transactional.
Over the years, I’ve learnt to channel my rage for this hollow man and the people I’m forced to cohabitate with into some good old-fashioned hate sex. It’s healing. Fucked up, yes, but medicinal nevertheless.
The worst part is it’s not Melek, per se, or that I hate his stupid handsome guts and his obscenely large cock. No, it’s his endurance. Over the last twelve years, Melek has learnt to play my body like a violin.
He makes it his personal mission some nights to make me come so goddamn much that I pass out.
I hate that he doesn’t need to rest.
I’m sure he can see the fire I’m shooting his way as I glare up at him, gripping his cock with both hands, squeezing hard down to the base, twisting as I go. I swear his eyes sparkle as I roughly yank him back and forth, stuck in each other’s tempest.
“Fuck, Alora, if you don’t put my cock in your mouth right now, I’ll shove it in there myself.
” An involuntary flinch pulls me out of the moment when he uses my Halo-given name.
Sticking out my tongue, I streak it along the prominent vein that travels the underside of his wide length, secretly wishing I could bite down.
I slide it from base to tip before finally enclosing my mouth around the leaking head so I can suck.
“God, wife, maybe for that, I’ll let you go into town tomorrow.” Another place I despise. Everything in Halo is fake. Fake smiles. Fake kindness. Fake care. They consume out of greed and power.
It makes me sick.
For a year and three days, I thought his cock inside me or his lips on my body would also repulse me. Being proven wrong has been a lowlight, and I’ve had many lows. Most of my life has been a series of dark graves.
Sucking on a hollow’s cock for pleasure fills me with utter loathing.
Maybe it’s me I hate. Fuck.
One thing the hollows got right was letting Melek have me.
In a lot of ways, this man is my match. Sometimes, I think that, in different circumstances, if he didn’t have the power of a whole army under him, if he wasn’t on the Halo Council, if he didn’t grow up in this cesspool of vitriol and destruction, maybe he could’ve been a better man.
When it all gets too much and he has me pinned to his chest each night, keeping me so close I cannot escape, I like to imagine he’s the Melek who is kind and gracious. The Melek who wouldn’t hurt a worm. The Melek who is a lightning farmer. A man Nix would’ve been happy for me to partner with.
My thoughts get the better of me as I bob up and down, sucking and spinning my hands to please the consuming commander before me.
Gripping my hair, he lifts my head up. I clench my jaw at the pain. “Hmmm,” he grumbles as he brings his face down to mine. “What’s going on in there?”
His mouth is inches from mine. I can smell the alcohol on his lips, along with the soft spice and woodsy scent he carries after working up a sweat. My thighs instinctively clench, a slight leaking from my core—traitorous whore.
“I’m thinking how best to please you, sir.”
That undoes him. His belly begins to rumble, and he laughs obnoxiously. “Fuck, wife, you always know how to get me going. Get on the bed. I’ll give you something to think about.”
He pulls me up by the hair. An ache travels up my scalp that feels deserved for wanting what comes next. Unclasping my hair, he throws me onto the bed. The softness of our dark comforter braces my fall.
Standing over me with one hand on his cock, lazily stroking, his eyes blown black, he shoots out another demand. “Take off your clothes, slut.”
Oh, here we go.
When Melek loses himself, he will often let go of using wife. Joke’s on him. It was never a term of endearment. Just a prison.
I try to make quick work of the simple slip.
A stark contrast to the harshness of the man standing before me and the room we are within.
Monochrome greys, blacks, and brass—Halo colours—contrast our sleeping quarters.
Two golden wall sconces highlight my body from our bedhead.
Releasing the buttons, I slip my arms out and let the material pool down my front, lifting my bottom to wiggle out of the rest of the dress.
With no bra underneath, my breasts spill forth, nipples peaked, and I sit back down, removing my underwear.
Panties now firmly in hand, Melek’s burning desire heats every corner of the large room. Leaning a knee on the bed, he comes straight for me.
Thickly veined biceps leading into strong, capable hands pin me down on either side, his lower body holding me firmly in place, muscles so stocky I want to bite.
The weight of him is an aphrodisiac to my sickened mind.
He grinds his cock over my pussy—once, twice, and on the third time, I cannot help but moan loudly.
I’m greeted with the cockiest grin I’ve ever seen.
“My little whore,” Melek growls, and takes my underwear out of my hand, placing them against his nose and inhaling deeply.
Eyes the colour of burgeoning rain clouds ready to combust look down at me. The longer we hold contact like this, the more I feel like we are clashing without touching. The weight of our heaviness is about to explode.
It’s only a matter of time.
Leaning in, the whisper of his lips glides against my jaw, roughened stubble prickling my skin. His mouth lulls me into a false sense of security before his expansive palm grasps my wrists together in a vice.
I let out a pent-up inhale, sinking into the mattress further as his face comes back into view of mine, hovering overhead, watching. A monster in disguise, chiselled cheeks honed by immorality.
Melek’s eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated and fixed.
With his free hand, he pockets the simple cotton underwear.
Ducking his head back down, he finds my earlobe and nips, sending my body into a spasm.
I hold tight, my muscles gripping, keeping me steady.
In any other life, he would be the perfect specimen, which is a problem unto itself.
This dance we play each night is a battle of wills.
Who will fall first? Who will give in to the other?
As far as he knows, he has me. I bowed, caving to his touch, after all.
Melek still discerns he doesn’t have my heart, and that plays on his mind.
He is the conqueror. My husband is not happy until he’s fully plundered and destroyed every inch of territory.
Unfortunately, I’m unable to give it to him.
The fucker didn’t know what he was doing when he took me as his wife.
He saw a challenge, a young slut to fuck in his spare time, and I saw everything I wanted to destroy wrapped into a pretty package and delivered right at my feet.
It may have taken me a year and three days to come to grips with my new life, but I eventually saw the prize I was handed through the thick haze of grief and self-loathing.
“I can already smell how wet you are for me. Don’t deny it.” He tugs with teeth. I squirm. The dance continues.
“Why would I deny it when I know your cock is just as desperate?”