Shall I let this out of the Vault?

©2021 Addison Cain

The Acolyte

The lightest brush of fingertips, warm… the gentle exhale of breath, hot on my face. The only heat I knew came from him.

I was always cold.

My eyes opened, his name spoken faintly as I wondered at the dream. Avick.”

The feeling of soft attention traced the arch of my brow. “Speak my name again.”

Air left my body in a death rattle, the word far less natural than my unbidden earlier expression, “Avick.”

A low hum, enriched by his baritone, passed from him to me. Above me, lounging—if such a term could be applied to a beast that did not know the concept of true rest—Avick watched. My lips were traced, parted and plump. He took pleasure in my mouth… because it was blue.

Or was it because it was soft and could be made willing.

“Again,” he commanded.

But my tongue had grown thick, and my eyes damp. Under something burdensome and weighty, I felt an ancient sorrow seep up and choke me. I could not make the words, inability there in my expression.

It seemed the outcome Avick expected, his calloused warrior’s fingertips moving from my face to skim a neck barred under his touch. By my next breath a breast was palmed, nails digging around the mound of flesh until my skin bumped.

I knew that touch.

It was expectant… as was my body.

Whatever cloud I lived in faded upon the feel of a hot mouth closing over the jutting cerulean of my nipple. The sweep of a tongue, just abrasive enough to make my breath hitch.

A nip of teeth, Avick devouring my reaction with his gaze. “Do I not give you pleasure?”

He knew I could not answer and chose to acquire sanction on his own. A practiced touch prodded between my legs. I was slippery. I was wet. My body wanted what it knew he could foster.

The only release I would ever be allowed.

My sigh should have shamed me, though why I could not say. He breeched with one delicious finger, knowing the ridges of my sex, where to press and stroke. Hips angling for more, my expression one of defeat and entreaty.

The Elion never smiled, but he did curve his mouth to demonstrate approval. His knees forced my legs wider. One hard thrust and he filled me, filled the emptiness of my existence. I clung to him in the savagery.

It would last for hours, Avick wringing climax after climax from my body as I sweat and moaned, fighting for power over my voice. His mass shifted, rolling so I might lie above him where I would ride the veiny thickness that sought entry to my womb. Leaning forward, braced on my hands so he might suck my nipples, I waited to feel the pinch, to know him grip my breasts until I ground down, the inner ridges of my sex stroking his shaft.

“Avick!” I had not meant to speak, yet language broke free.

My skull was in his hands, my lips parted as my body suffered pleasure. When my eyes found his, the jade demanded something full of rich, ripe fury. “Say my name again!”

That secret place where I was locked away… I could feel my soul scratching on the other side of the insurmountable wall.

A broken thing, a tone I had forgotten escaped, “You seized my life…”

“You never wanted to live! I took what you would have wasted.” He pulled my head down and smashed his mouth into mine as if he might suck more words from my throat and give me more negations. The probing tongue, the furor he wore, both seeped inside me, warming the chill.

In that moment, I wished for the cold again, instead I tasted.

I knew that flavor. A spice made from the bark of a tree… one I had once favored.

Or had I?

With a desperate, choking noise, I began to lose cognitive thought beyond the carnal interest my body relished.

My hair was pulled so the violent kiss grew impossible. He held me where he could watch my expression as what little I’d found slipped away.

Avick repeat himself, “You never wanted life.”

Then what had I wanted?

I was spun to my hands and knees, Avick fucking in from behind, forceful as he breached but slow with each—so I might know every last inch of possession. I came again, my face pressed to the markings carved into the floor, my ass high, presented, and gripped by hands that clutched and bruised.

There were hours more, and when at last he was done, he cupped my cheek and pressed me smoothly lower so I might take him in my mouth and suck his turgid cock clean.

The noises he made the times I did that… I enjoyed them.