Audacity (Seraph)

His fingers are savage, his tongue a wicked instrument of the hellfire whose flames are licking at my very core. He is feasting upon me as he might feast upon capon or boar or partridge—ravenously. Unabashedly, with carnal, male noises that flood me with shame and heat until I do not know which way is north.

Even the way he has me arranged—pinned down and spread open like a butterfly—is all-consuming. It’s all for him—he has made that very clear—but in commanding me so fully he has turned my world upside down. If his words are true and I am never to experience this pleasure again, if this lordly, entitled way he’s overpowering me is never to be repeated, then I may as well die tonight.

The heat builds. My head spins. At my sides, my hands grapple uselessly against this fine fabric. My body is a whirlwind of confusion and delight, the sounds I seem to be making quite as mysterious as the sensations that prompt them.

I need more.

My brain doesn’t understand this, but my body does, and it pushes against his dangerous tongue and skilful fingers until he’s laughing cruelly and getting to his knees.

He’s a dark, lordly figure before me, his muscles lean and his hair black and his skin as sweat-slicked as a farmer’s is in a field, and he’s holding that huge thing that I took in my mouth, and it’s as angry and powerful as it was earlier. I watch with fascinated misgiving as he rolls something onto it and ranges his hulking form over me.

His body is the result of centuries of noble bloodlines, and it is a thing of great, masculine beauty and fearsome power. My mother warned me only that it would hurt the first time.

She did not tell me that a man would pin me like a butterfly and use his mouth on the most private, most sacred part of me and make me cry out.

She did not tell me about the heat. The need.

He braces above me on one elbow and lifts my leg over his shoulder, his muscles bunching beneath my calf. I feel swollen and achy where his mouth was; I feel half-crazy with some mysterious need. He’s pushing against my entrance now, pushing in, and the force of his blunt instrument as he breaches me is so intense and so shocking and so invasive that yes, I might die from the pleasure of it.

Every part of my body is screaming. I’m delirious with overwhelm as he stretches me and stretches me, huge and endless, until he pushes so deep inside my body with a grunt that I’m sure he will split me in two.

‘This is what it means to be with a man, Athena,’ he tells me, looking into my eyes. In this dim light in this canopied bed, his eyes are diabolical black pupils with the loveliest rings of purple-blue that recall dusk on a clear night. ‘This is what it means to give yourself to a man in every way, and I will be the first, and likely the last, man to watch you give every morsel of your flesh over to this pleasure. You will experience the miracle of heaven on earth, and I will be your only witness.’

He begins to move in great, greedy shunts. Every time he drags himself out of me, I want to die, and every time he pushes deep, so deep, inside me, that silent screaming inside me begins anew. With my leg over his shoulder, his body is rubbing at that same place that his mouth teased so mercilessly, and with every rub, the heat grows more insistent.

I do not think I can overpower it.

I do not think I can survive it.

‘That’s it,’ he croons, his mouth so close to mine, his breath hot on my face. It’s only when he says this that I understand how my sounds have turned from kitten-like mewls to full cries, and I am powerless to stop them. Trapped like this beneath him, impaled by his very body, they are the only outlet I have for this strange, animalistic need building inside me.

‘You can’t fight this,’ he grits out, and I understand that he is a mind reader, too. ‘You can’t outrun it. Surrender to it. Give it to me. It’s mine, do you understand? Every single piece of you is mine tonight, so give it to me.’

His thrusts grow more frenzied, and that friction of my flesh against his body grows more frenzied, too, and his own moans grow deeper, more pained. He grips my thigh to anchor me as he drives and drives and drives, and the strange, molten heat inside me builds so impossibly that it feels as though a cannon will explode inside my body.

All I can think is this and him and yes and more. This is a terrifying alchemy, my body its vessel.

The cannon is released. I am a ball of iron and metal, soaring through the air into realms so distant I could not have imagined them. My entire body is a furnace, wholly alight, its heat source this lord and the mystical acts he can perform with his body.

It seems my flames ignite his, because he goes rigid and curses before thrusting into me, over and over, with cries that would terrify me if I did not understand that they come from the same place as my cries.

He was correct.

I could not outrun it.

In surrendering everything to him, I set myself free to soar.