Chapter 36
March 10th, 1944
Hope
The day of truth. In all honesty, I already feel different. Not great, per say, given that tonight is still a full moon. There’s always some restlessness, heightened senses and agitation, all of which are still present. Just in smaller doses, which feels…odd. Good, but odd nonetheless. Almost like when you mistake a pair of shoes for your own, the size and build might be more or less the same, but your feet know they’re in the wrong home.
“Wonderful! All the pots are looking lovely!” Professor Beery proclaims. She makes her way to the front of the greenhouse, taking off her gloves as she walks, “Ensure your workstations are cleaned and prepared for the next class. Once finished, be on your way.”
Lifting my gaze, I meet Mary’s, and we share a small smile. Our station is already clean, seeing as I want to be ready for a transition just in case. Now that my friends know about my predicament, they’ve taken it upon themselves to track the moon cycle, and assist with the various side effects that present early. Today, they haven’t had to stop me from biting anyone’s head off, though. Which is probably a weight off their shoulders.
“Do you think dinner will be good?” Mary asks while we gather our things. Loosely translated, she’s asking if I’m going to be at dinner.
Bobbing my head from side to side, I sigh before saying, “I don’t know, but I’m not ready yet. I need to check on something and make sure before I can head down.”
If anyone is eavesdropping, they will just think that I’m a Ravenclaw busybody. But Mary fully understands what I’m trying to say. One glance at Anthony and Taylor’s table, and I find the love birds playfully smearing dirt on each other and laughing. There’s no need to interrupt their fun, this is the last class of the day, after all.
“Do you want company?” Mary asks curiously, no hint of fear in sight. “I can bring you some food if it takes too long?”
Linking arms with her, I smile kindly as I shake my head, “No, that’s all right. If everything works out, it’ll be over soon. No need to worry about me.”
“You mean to say that you’ll already have company, and my presence might hinder your…progress,” she lilts with dancing eyebrows.
My blush is answer enough for her, but I still grumble, “Whatever.”
I walk her back to the castle, ensuring she’s safe inside the warm-ish halls before turning on my heel. There are a couple hours before the sun will officially set, but I still don’t want to be around so many students. Just like in my world, teenage boys stink— literally. The stench is noticeable on an average day, but even with Tom’s potion, my sense of smell is heightened. Today, the odor is more like a noxious gas, and I’m not keen on spending more time within it than necessary. It also makes me thankful that Anthony, Tom, and Abraxas all know how to shower and deodorize properly.
In no time at all, I’ve crossed the bridge to the Walled Garden and fed the cabbages their treats. They’re a bit afraid of me, I do have a tendency to growl when they try to take a bite out of me, and haven’t caused me problems in months. Honestly, Tom is the only person whose been dumb enough to follow me to the Shrieking Shack. Tonight, fingers crossed, will be the first time he hasn’t been in danger.
After the long, brisk walk that feels more refreshing than anything else, I bust open the hatch like I’m Super Mario. Just a little bit of fun that makes me smile before a torturous evening. Actually getting myself through the hole is another matter, but gymnastics was a part of my training growing up. Rebekah might not have had the combat training my Father and Uncles went through, but she was more than aware of many different fighting methods by the time I came around. She and the others trained me well for the life I’ve been given.
Once I’m through, I make my way over to a couch, and plop down. My robes feel like restraints, clinging to my skin, and making me want to tear it apart. Before my base instincts can ruin perfectly good fabric, I strip out of it, laying it across the back of a chair. The rest of my clothes irritate my sensitive nerves as well, but those are staying right where they are. Anxiety has started to pop up, and I fidget restlessly.
What if the potion actually makes the transition worse? That would be difficult, and I’d likely be a little impressed. But the possibility still sends a shiver down my spine. There’s also the likelihood that it helps for a less painful transition, which I could live with. In either of these cases, Tom will likely go back to the drawing board, trying to tweak his recipe until he gets it right.
Which is the last possibility, the one that I find myself hoping for despite how much pain it’ll cause if it isn’t the case. While the potion doesn’t taste great, it doesn’t have to. I’ve diligently taken it every night this week at the exact same time, and Tom has taken notes all along the way. He doesn’t mean to use me as a test subject, but it’s hard when I’m the only of my species in this world. Still, he does his best to sound more like a partner than a doctor.
The trap door creeks and opens, announcing the arrival of the subject of my thoughts. With such long limbs, I’m impressed that he still manages to look graceful when climbing through the hole in the ground. Once he stands, he tosses his head in the way guys do to flip his hair, not caring that the curls fall back over his eyes.
“I think you need a haircut,” I say by way of greeting.
Tom scoffs, but walks to me with a smile. Taking one of my hands, he pulls me out of the seat and into his arms, “Why hello to you as well, my Darling Bride.”
“Hello, Groom,” I respond, mimicking his tone, and rolling my eyes with my face pressed against his chest. “I trust you are well this evening?”
That makes him chuckle, and I lean back to see the humor in his expression, “I’m alone with a goddess of a witch in an abandoned house. There are few places I would rather be.”
My features turn bemused, “Yes, the house gifted to me so I wouldn’t bother the student body with my screams or snarls.”
“Semantics,” he tells me with a boyish grin. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling tonight?”
Resting the back of his hand against my forehead, Tom checks my general temperature. While I always run a tad warmer than the average human, right now I’m damn near scalding. Not the best sign, but considering that’s the worst of my symptoms— I’ll consider myself lucky.
“Actually, pretty okay, all things considered. My symptoms are still there, just diluted. There’s still tonight’s dose, so who knows what’ll happen,” my easy shrug bothers him more than I’d like. But, this is the closest to a good patient I can be.
Quickly moving to his bag, he pulls out the tiny jar containing the last of that dreadful concoction. Since the person I’m in a relationship with made it, I do feel obligated to pretend to enjoy the taste of sawdust soaked in spoiled milk. Potions likely come with different social etiquette, but still— he made it just for me. Tom mutters the time spell, showing that there’s only a minute and a half until I need to take the daunting two sips.
“That’s good to hear. Are you ready?” Tom asks as he unscrews the top.
With a stilted smile, I hold my hand out for the glass, “As I’ll ever be.”
Taking the jar, I swirl the magenta potion, loosely wondering how it produces the blue steam that Tom was telling me about. With a shrug of defeat, I throw the whole thing back, and chug as fast I can. Not reacting to the taste is difficult, but I do my very best.
“There, now all we need to do is wait,” he says with an excited grin.
As soon as the liquid burns its way down my throat, a strange sensation rolls over me—not painful, not even uncomfortable, just… different. I move to the kitchen, wanting to both investigate the new feelings and to place the empty jar in the sink. Resting my hands on the edges, I look out the window situated above, watching the sun slowly setting over the horizon while I wait for something to happen. There will be time to clean it later, after I do or do not change form.
My lovely fiance follows me into the next room, unwilling to miss any side effects. In a matter of moments, my body temperature drops a few degrees. It’s such a relief, like a cooling breeze makes it’s way through my limbs, and my shoulders lose some tension. Tom notices, ever the scientist, tilting his head as he studies me with those dark, calculating eyes. He shifts forward slightly, like he’s expecting me to sprout fur and fangs any second now.
“Well?” he prompts, pulling me back to face him. Feeling my skin to check my temperature, before reaching for my wrist— pressing two fingers lightly against my pulse. “How do you feel?”
Gently moving my limbs, I breath in deeply while taking stock of the potion’s effects. The air feels thick in my lungs, almost like I just stepped off a plane in some tropical destination. Not necessarily a bad thing, just different.
“My skin feels a bit off, and the air—” my murmur is cut off by tingles suddenly wracking my system.
Like my blood is vibrating in my veins, each little cell doing a little dance on it’s journey through my body. This doesn’t typically happen, usually my temperature rises until bones start snapping. There’s no interlude, no testing the waters before jumping, just the feeling of overwhelming heat that treats my body with the same care that a fire uses on kindling.
Tom tightens his grip on my wrist, his thumb rubbing a slow circle over my pulse. “Interesting.”
When I meet his gaze with my confused one, I find his face far closer to mine than I feel is safe. My lips form a thin line, and I lean back from the curious expression on his handsome face.
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask after a beat of silence. Feeling awkward to be looked at with the intensity of a microscope.
Tom absently breathes, “Your eyes.”
“What about them?” Despite the wonder that takes over his features, I’m still very hesitant. When I step backwards, my back meeting the sink, he matches my movements. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he prevents me from shifting again, all his attention on my eyes.
“They’re flickering,” he says, voice laced with fascination. “Not fully shifting—just… pulsing. Like your magic is debating something.”
My breath catches, and I concentrate on how I’m feeling again. The tingles are still there, sitting just below my skin. As they slowly calm, I notice my senses heightening even more. Not only can I all but taste Tom’s scent, but I can smell his blood. Can hear it rushing through his veins, along with his heartbeat. Counting, I find him far too relaxed for his situation.
This close to a werewolf on the night of a transition, and his body is calm, the rhythm of his heart steady and strong. Even as a human, my mouth waters at how prey-like my instincts find the man before me. Shaking my head, I try to rid myself of those beastly thoughts, but deep down, something inside me is pacing. Itching to break out, yet trying to stay beneath the surface. My senses continue to become more sensitive, and the tingles slow to a gentle hum.
I don’t know how long we stay there, watching and waiting for something to happen. But, the sun slowly sets, changing the shadows in the room. Seconds tick by, both of us too distracted to count, and then we’re surrounded by darkness. Not that it changes much for me, my vision as impeded as if I put on some lightly colored sunglasses.
“Well?” he prompts, flicking his wand to summon some floating lights. “How do you feel?”
With the full moon prominently situated in the sky, I’m all but shocked that I’m not in agony. My body isn’t dripping in sweat, my bones feel firmly in place, and my symptoms seem incredibly mundane compared to what I’m used to. All in all, I’m…fine.
“I—I don’t think anything is going to happen?” My statement comes out stilted, like I’m asking him if what I feel is true.
Then, like reality surged forward to slap me in the face, I start hyperventilating. I want to control my breathing, but my chest feels too tight, the room starting to spin all around me. For years, years, I’ve suffered through acute torture once a month. The Hollow wanted her tribe and their descendants to go through the worst pain imaginable, I remember having her inside of me. In those days, I could feel her jubilant joy at the success of her magic. How giddy she was with the fact that her curse lasted so long, reached as far as it did throughout the world. Her laughter at the idea of someone saving me, how even if she were to lose, her curse would still haunt me.
Beyond becoming a vampire, I never allowed myself to hope for relief from this inevitability. Sure, the last month has resulted in grasping for any semblance of it, the desire to not transition far greater than the want to not be let down. Yet, it isn’t happening, I’m free. Which sounds like a purely good thing, and in a lot of ways, it is. But, the absence of pain today just leaves room to remember what happened last month, the month before, and so on. My brave face dissolves in a matter of seconds, and my knees buckle under the weight of everything I’ve endured.
Arms catch me, slowing my dissent, and when I finally rest against the floor, I’m pulled into a warm chest. I only realize I’m crying when the sweater beneath my face becomes damp, but that only makes me shake harder. Nails dig into the fists I make, the small pricks of discomfort both grounding me and making me feel weightlessly numb. A hand smooths my hair, gently rubbing my back, my arms, but nothing can quell the storm that’s been unleashed. The only way out, is through.
After kissing the top of my head, Tom whispers, “Oh, my Darling. You’ve been through so much, you deserve so much more than this simple gift.” His arms tighten around me, voice soft but unyielding— iron wrapped in silk. “You know I protect what’s mine.”
***
It takes me some time to calm down, and even longer before Tom and I stand from the floor. Can you really blame me? No matter how someone deals with torture, it creates a powder keg of emotions that can drown you just as easily as the pain. Physical pain fucking sucks, emotional pain is right up there with it, but the psychological torment The Hollow put me through is what truly seems to last.
Sure, I can still hear my bones snapping, the whispers that I’m worthless and am a burden to those I love. But, in my worst nightmares nightmares I hear my ancestor telling me that she can do whatever she wants with me, and no one can stop her. The Hollow used me for a while as her human puppet, manipulating my words and actions to harm those close to me.
Meanwhile, my mind was filled with her musings, everything she wanted to do in order to break my spirit, and knowing that she was too strong for my ultra-powerful family. Her meeting her end was not the satisfying conclusion I craved, and my Father was not worth the price of my life. All of that is a lot to process, especially when my new normal was so thoroughly disrupted.
“I have something else for you,” Tom murmurs, playing with my hair absently where we lay on the couch together.
Raising my head from his chest, I look into his serene expression with a raised eyebrow, “Really? But, I’m still enjoying the first one.”
His shoulders lightly shake as he laughs, and his free hand moves to cup my cheek, “Really, however this is something you already know is coming.”
That piques my curiosity, and I sit up in between his legs. Tonight, I’m profusely thanking my quick healing blood. After shedding every tear in my body, a normal witch would have a face all but swollen shut. Violent sobs will do that to a person, I remember multiple days where Lizzie Saltsman came to class with puffy eyes and cheeks despite not crying since the night before.
Who knows how long I should have looked like that— within minutes of my breakdown ending, I could feel my face going back to normal. A quick spell cleaned up Tom’s sweater, and we’ve been enjoying the quiet of this house while he waits for every piece of me to calm down.
Pulling himself into a seated position, Tom extends one hand and I hear something fly through the air before landing in his palm. Taking my left hand from where it rests on my knees, Tom kisses each of my knuckles before looking lovingly into my eyes.
“Hope, while you and I have both inherited so many things from our respective great families, I do not believe that everything we are should come from them. Using every Galleon I earned in my time at Hogwarts, I had this made and enchanted specifically for you,” opening the tiny box in his hand, something twinkling catches my eye. Nestled inside black satin sits a beautiful ring.
A round sapphire the size of my pinkie nail is surrounded by smaller emeralds, in a gold setting that has been designed to resemble leaves and a rounded stem. It’s a glimmering flower, and I can feel the magic surrounding the beautiful stones, “With this, my amazing Ravenclaw will always be protected by her dear Slytherin. As long as you wear this ring, you will be safe. It has been enchanted to redirect mortal curses back to the sender, and will allow me to find you anywhere in the world with a simple spell. Now, no one will be able to take you from me.”
My breath catches, and all I can do is stare at it for a few seconds. Such a simple piece of jewelry, holds more meaning than anything I’ve ever been given. He…he spent everything he has on commissioning my engagement ring, and had it enchanted to quell the worst of both our fears. Tom’s worst fear is death, and mine is losing those important to me. With this ring, no one can kill me, and no one can separate us. It…it means the world to me.
Blinking away the tears gathering in my eyes, I give him a wobbly smile, “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
The grin that comes over him makes my heart skip a beat, and he takes out the ring, placing it on my finger with so much excitement. Cool metal slides across my finger, and I feel magic prickling over my skin the second it’s in place. This moment feels so right, like how Cinderella must have felt when her foot perfectly fit into the glass slipper. If it was possible, I swear every cell in my body would be smiling right now.
We both stare at my hand for a while, but eventually Tom’s thumb brushes against my forefinger, “I suppose my next goal would be absorbing these. Ensuring that our soul bond is possible.”
Kissing the black stone, I take off the Gaunt Signet ring, placing it in his palm, “The sooner you do, the sooner we can get married.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” he tells me, only pausing to kiss my cheek. “I simply wanted to wait until your ring was ready. With my Horcrux on your finger, I can find you by following the call of my soul. Since that is no longer a necessity, I feel no qualms with doing what needs to be done.”
With a blush and a smile, I take a break from looking at my new ring in favor of my future husband, “How will you do it? I’m not even sure how to make one, let alone absorb one.”
“With great difficulty. Essentially, to make one; you must kill someone, then bring yourself nearly to the point of death to dislodge the piece of your soul. I’ll need to call the pieces of my soul back, forcing what has been separated to become one again,” he explains with a sigh.
I can’t imagine that will go well, and I chew on my lip while looking around the house, “Do you want to do it here? I don’t think the dungeons will be the best place to rest after that. It’s…it’s going to hurt a lot, won’t it?”
“It will, but I will be fine,” Tom assures me, nuzzling my neck with his nose. “Anything for you, my Darling. However, I would appreciate borrowing your space to do this. It would save me an issue or two.”
My expression softens and I place a hand on his chest, “That night, do you want to take some of my blood? Just to help heal quicker?”
That surprises him, making him sit straighter, but he keeps my hand in place. I feel his heart rate jump just as I hear it, the gentle beat makes me want to smile. But, I’m a little nervous about this. Mortals are fragile, and I’m not exactly sure how well the Resurrection Stone works. There are too many reasons that muscle in his chest could stop thumping; magical exertion, cardiac arrest from his soul changing so much, shock— just to name a few.
“If that will ease your worries, I could. However, I had not planned on asking for any,” he tells me honestly. Likely, my face is giving away my feelings, making it difficult for him to outright refuse.
“I appreciate you never asking me for or relying on the magic in my blood,” I say while pouring all my earnestness into my gaze. “But…this is the definition of extenuating circumstances. My only goal is for you to come out on the other side, as healthy as possible.”
With a dashing grin and a carefree tone, Tom takes my hand against his chest and kisses my wrist, “I suppose if my little wolf wishes, I could take a precautionary measure. Even if I don’t believe the fear is necessary to this situation.”
“How can you say that?” I question, hurt encroaching on my voice.
His toothy smile softens, and suddenly his arms are lifting me from the couch. Placing me directly on his lap, one arm wraps around my hip while the other hand splays out across my thigh. Effectively keeping me as close to him as possible with our eyes level, “Because I was meant to create seven Horcruxes. If my soul was able to sustain itself through all that, then surely I can manage through this.”
The logic in his statement hits, but doesn’t erase my anxiety. Making me wonder if it stems from the actual situation or my past sinking its claws into me. Is there a way to figure it out? To find the source of the blood rushing, adrenaline inducing cause of my thoughts and worries? Against my better judgment, I’ve allowed Tom free reign of my heart. After looking into his mind, there really wasn’t any other option— what I saw could sway even the most devout Voldemort haters.
While that day may have kicked the suspicions out of my head, fear seems to have taken its place. Right now, my fiance is roughly as killable as I am, but there will be time in between absorbing his Horcruxes and soul bonding with me. What if the universe does what it always does, kick me in the teeth the moment I’m not ready for it? He spent months trying to prove himself to me, and what if that was all one big build up just to make me fall further?
No matter how much Tom wants to stay by my side, there are plenty of instances that his opinion will not be taken into account. My Father didn’t want to leave my side, neither did my Mother, and they most definitely are no longer here. But at the same time, just because someone is vulnerable doesn’t automatically mean that they’ll die, just as being unkillable didn’t save Klaus Mikaelson. I guess only time will tell if my number has been called yet again, and I wish praying could save at least one of us from the cruelties of fate.
“Hope,” Tom says, pulling me out of my spiral. “Please don’t look at me like that— these are Horcruxes, not the plague. I promise, we’ll be married before anyone can even think about lifting a finger against me.”
A ghost of a smile plays at my lips, and I lean even more into his hold on me, “I know, I must sound completely irrational.”
“No, you sound like someone who is afraid. Which I understand,” his voice never wavers, without any exasperation or judgment. In a way, I get how silly this is, worrying over his mortality.
Which is one of his greatest fears, something he’s worked nearly his entire magical career to find a solution to, “We can be married within weeks, there is a break from classes coming up. Second week of April if I’m not mistaken, does that sound acceptable?”
All my teeth fight for his attention, and I feel my eyes crinkle with the force of my smile, “If anything, that’s perfect. Right in the middle of Aries season, exactly what a revolutionary like you needs.”
Next thing I know, I’m hoisted into the air as Tom stands, carrying me princess style, “Glad to have that taken care of. Allow me to handle the arrangements, I believe a spring wedding is something of a dream in high society. I’ll ensure you have a beautiful, intimate affair beyond your wildest dreams.”
Then he’s swiftly walking out of the sitting room, heading towards the back of the house. My confusion only lasts a second, his destination is likely the large bedroom on the first floor. A four poster bed is prominently situated, covered in purples and grays, facing an intricately carved wooden fireplace. There’s a grand piano near large windows, looking out over the winding path back to Hogwarts.
Curtains cover most, spelled to keep the contents of this place hidden. When he plops on to the bed, laying me down next to him, a small part of me wonders if this is the bed that Severus Snape would have been flung into by Harry Potter. Just another person who I swear will have a better life, one that isn’t clouded by an evil madman spreading bigotry.
“However, right now?” Tom continues, leaning on an elbow to hover above me. “I believe it is my duty to set your mind at ease, change the topic swirling around in that beautiful brain of yours.”
I’d ask how he plans on doing so, but one of his hands starts circling around my ankle. Leaving a tantalizing trail of heat in his wake, and a smile tugs at my lips. A part of me wants to hold on to the pain and concern that has been so present this evening, but a larger part is ready to move on. My tears have more than dried, and he’s given me plenty of cuddles with whispered sweet nothings.
“Oh?” is all I’m able to manage, my voice sounding breathy already. Gladly letting excitement take the reigns, a welcome change in pace.
Lightly kissing my cheek, my jaw, my neck, Tom only briefly pauses to ask, “What are your safe words?”
“Peanut butter,” I respond, feeling my blood heat as his hands trail along my body. “and Basilisk.”
As soon as the last syllable leaves my mouth, his expression loses most of the softness, leaving only heat and hunger in it’s wake. Standing from the bed, Tom waves his hand, effectively flipping me onto my stomach without actually touching me. My chuckle quickly dries up, when next all my clothes disappear, and I can see small tendrils of steam coming off my bare skin.
A yelp escapes me when he tugs my legs to the side of the bed, bringing me much closer to him, and letting my toes brush against the floor. With the comfortable mattress, the position is only semi-awkward, but I’m thankful my hips are cushioned. Lifting my head, I give Tom a curious look, only to find him staring at my ass like he wants to take a big bite of me. When his gaze flicks to mine, a ravenous grin over takes his expression.
“Despite you being absolutely perfect,” he all but purrs, with a dangerous tone. “I find myself craving your screams.”
His words send a shiver down my spine, but the feeling of fabric pulls my attention forward. Just in time for my hands to snap out from my sides, the curtains around the bedding having wrapped around my wrists.
As if it had a mind of its own, the purple canopy holding my arms straight out in front of me, resting against the bedding. Gasping, I wonder if he enchanted this tonight or some other time. The moment only lasts a couple seconds, then I hear a slap before I feel it. Crying out, I can’t help the instinct to kick at the man that just spanked the hell out of my left cheek.
“Ah, ah, ah, we can’t have that. Now, can we?” I hear him chuckling behind me.
Then, my ankles are encircled by more fabric. Turning my head, I find more of the canopy stretching to hold me in place. My toes can barely skim the floor from my tip toes, but when I try to kick backwards again, I find the restraints surprisingly strong. An agitated grunt is my response, but being laid out like this, completely at his mercy…my blood practically starts boiling with the heat igniting my system.
“Let me hear that beautiful voice of yours, my Darling,” he commands, punctuating it with another slap.
My answering shout is more in surprise than pain, but the sting only stokes the fire within further. All I can do is squirm, but I’m not sure if I’m trying to get away, or closer. Moisture gathers between my legs, the cool air hitting my dampness, making me shiver in anticipation. Another smack rains down, again, again, and again, trading cheeks, and even roaming down to the very tops of my thighs.
Time becomes meaningless, there’s only the space between delicious stings. Eventually, spanking my thighs results in a wet sound, my arousal filling the room with more than just my scent. Whimpers and wails fall from my lips, but I become less and less aware of my cries. His strikes are so quick that I actually feel them compounding, my healing not managing to keep up with his speed.
My blood rushes to my back side, likely producing a bright red color, but there’s a second destination as well. Despite not touching it, my clit feels swollen and wanting. I’ve more than lost count of his slaps, and my mind finds that blank space again. Here, there’s no danger, no worries about losing more people, or memories of those already gone. The only occupant that fits is Tom and the pleasure he elicits.
“Keep singing for me,” he all but growls from behind me, taking a break to kneed my aching bottom with both hands— resulting in his desired response. “Hmmm, did you enjoy that? And don’t even think about lying, I believe we’re passed needing to offer proof.”
Shame courses through me, only adding to my arousal. Against my wishes, my hips buck against the bed, yet not receiving an once of the friction they crave. I have to halt a pathetic keen to whine, “Yes, alright? I enjoyed it, now please make cum.”
“With that attitude?” his dark chuckle gives me another shiver, but also a bad feeling about my chances. “Clearly, I’ve spoiled you.”
“Oh, have you?” I hear my incredulous voice ask, and I clamp my mouth shut in regret. Sagging against my restraints, I tense when his laughter drops another octave, sounding nearly sadistic.
“I must have, to earn such sass,” he hisses, and I wish I could see his face. Even with the lethal tone, I swear I hear a smile in his voice.
A touch of fear is added to my shaking, but anticipation follows in it’s path, “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry Sir— my Lord?”
There’s no way to know if that will end up being a bride or the ticket to my doom, and I bite my lip while I wait for him to react. Silence rings in my ears as my heart hammers away anxiously craving anything he’ll give me at this point. He’s yet to touch me in any meaningful place, but if I complain about that, then I’ll be waiting forever. Switching to biting my tongue, I ensure no more slips happen in the mean time.
After what feels like an eternity, he tells me far too calmly, “I suppose I can show some mercy on you, my Darling.”
Finally, one hand travels to my drenched center, eliciting wet sounds as he circles my clit. Shrieking at the first contact, I throw my head back and close my eyes. My hips immediately start rocking into him, demanding this delicious friction continues. Hands fisting the fabric holding me captive, I use it to add some leverage to my antics. Switching to use his thumb to electrify my little bundle of nerves, Tom spears me with two fingers, and my back bows as I cry out in ecstasy.
“Yes, yes! Just like that,” I shout as I race towards a tremendous climax. I’m climbing, and climbing, and then— everything stops. Eyes flying open, I struggle to look at him as I shriek, “Why did you stop?!”
Queue more evil laughter, but I only catch glimpses of his sides. Nothing definitive, which is beyond annoying. My angry harrumph doesn’t even seem to register when he eventually deigns to respond, “Have you ever heard of edging?”
My groan is answer enough, prompting him to continue, “Good, I’m glad none of this will be a surprise then. The pay off will be interesting, I’m curious what your magic will do.”
“So, this is an experiment?” I gasp out, wiggling my hips in a misguided attempt at relief.
“No, this is for my amusement,” he says before starting his ministrations again, running his fingers through my wet folds, only brushing against my clit. Even with the frustration of an unrealized climax still apparent, I can’t keep the happy mewling internal. “Like music to my ears, if I could live off your body’s need for me, I gladly would. Do you hear how wet you are, just begging for my attentions?”
A pained moan is my answer, along with lifting my hips toward him. Riddle keeps lightly brushing my sensitive nub, making my body jerk with each pass. If my arms and legs weren’t secured to the bed, stretching me out, I’d save myself from this wonderful torture. Even if he watched, I wouldn’t care, my body craving release far too much for shame to stop me from masturbating in front of someone.
Not that I even have the option, realistically I understand I won’t be so lucky. After a small eternity, he spears three fingers inside me, and his thumb presses against my clit. The change is so sudden that I wail while chasing the renewed climax quickly gathering. I hear begging, and it takes longer than it should for me to realize where the sounds are coming from.
“Please, please, please, please” I chant, barely aware of my vocal cords working over time. “Please let me cum, my Lord!”
I feel his chuckles fan out against my slick back, making my skin pebble, and sending a shiver down my spin. While he may have been playing with me before, this is different. Like a man on a mission, he brings me higher, higher, higher. Tears gather in my eyes as I can feel my release approaching, reaching for it with both hands.
The pressure on my clit is almost painful, but I love it too much to say anything. Finally, I reach the precipice, about to fall over the edge— then his hand disappears again. My cries of happiness transform into wails of sadness saturated agony. Shaking my head against the bedding, I can’t say I’m surprised when it dampens from errant tears.
“So very needy,” Tom lilts with a smile on his face. “Why should I allow you to finish when you’re so entertaining on the edge?”
“Because I’m your fiancee, be—because I deserve it!” I shout back at him, still irritated that I can’t really see him.
“Do you?” he asks, and then the curtains begin moving me.
Bringing me forward a bit, the fabric brings my legs onto the bedding. Situating me so that my knees support my lifted bottom, but my arms are still pulled taut in front of me. My face continues to rest against the purple comforter, still damp from my tears. I’ve no idea what would or would not make me worthy of release, my mind too frayed and wanting. All I can do is blubber incoherently, my hips waggling in the air.
“Perhaps I’ll allow you,” his quiet voice so very close to my ear makes me struggle to look at him, but he’s already pulled back. “If you can make the ride worthwhile.”
The next thing I know, he’s thrust himself into me, stretching me with his impressive length. My shout is more in surprise than anything, but relief courses through my hips and trails up my spine. As more time goes on, the sounds coming from me become more and more animalistic, and my body heats up almost as much as it would if I were to transition.
Tom gathers my hair, pulling my head back before he begins to pound into me mercilessly. His other hand grips my hip in a bruising hold, pulling and pushing me with his motions. I’m far beyond a quiet coupling, meeting his thrusts with ample enthusiasm, and my mewls sound needy and wanton even to my ears.
“Is my Darling pleased to fucked so thoroughly?” he snarls, briefly releasing my hip to smack my ass again.
“Yes!” I cry out, the curtains holding my ankles being the only thing keeping me from sliding further onto the bed. “Yes, my Lord, thank you!”
Dark laughter can be heard over the slapping of skin, and he tugs on my hair to add more delicious pain to the experience, “You feel so perfect, gripping my cock like you never want me to leave.”
Barreling towards a climax, it feels bigger and more intense than any before. Like the jilted releases have compounded, making my limbs shake even harder. The beast within me delights in the pain, the sounds, the scent of our coupling. Even if my wolf didn’t get to come out and run around, the viciousness of Tom makes even the most base parts of me purr.
“Please, please let me cum!” I sob, shoving myself against him with all my restrained might.
A heavy sigh fans out along my back, but his hand on my hip migrates until he can reach my swollen clit. After I cry out, he roughly grunts, “Alright, but you better not disappoint.”
If I thought he was fucking me hard before, I had no idea what human-Tom could do. His hips snap against mine, the movements causing the most amazing friction against my clit. In no time, the monster climax is rushing towards me, burning through my nerves while hope flares bright within. This time he’ll let me, this time he won’t back away at the last second.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Screeching as I tumble over the edge, I swear the walls of the house shake.
I feel my entire body convulsing, catapulting my consciousness into space. With my eyes closed, I can’t be sure, but I hear tiny explosions over my hoarse voice. A strong breeze cycles through the room, like a miniature cyclone, and Tom starts manically chuckling. His efforts never pause or stop, continuing all his ministrations while my muscles convulse around him. Minutes later, while my climax is slowly starting to dissipate, he shouts above me. Three thrusts later, and I feel him spilling inside me.
Given the activity and my lack of transition, his cum almost feels cold within me, offering relief to my burning core. All at once, the canopy curtains let go, and I collapse against the bedding. My entire body jerks and spasms with after shocks, my breathing erratic, and the wind dies down eventually. With my skin feeling so sensitive, I’m happy that I’m not stuck in clothing to chafe against my nerves.
Tom ends up laying in the bed, rearranging my body until my head is resting against his chest with his arms wrapped around me. Gently, he smoothes his hands over my skin while lightly kissing the top of my head and my temples. Slowly, my system relaxes against him, exhaustion thankfully taking over.
Taking in the room, it seems my magic blew up any left over trinkets along with displacing the furniture around the room. A small smile plays on lips, making me realize just why Tom was laughing so hard. There’s no energy left to go over my previous worries, not even enough for my thoughts to betray me. Instead, sleep comes to take me, encasing me just as thoroughly as Tom’s arms. The last thing I hear before submitting to oblivion, is a whispered, “Mine.”