Two Households, Both Alike in Dignity (Findarato and Lemon)

The mattress was comfortable, its white sheets were fresh, and it supported his body, making him feel like he was drifting on off some clouds. His eyes were fluttering, he saw the shadow of his wife moving off towards the bathroom, whether to avoid him or wash herself, he did not care. He was satisfied and there was no reason to deal with her at the current moment.

He could not find sleep as the water was heard in the bathroom. There was the matter of the bed, Zlatan did not think that it would be worth sharing with her. In his culture the female was always the lesser of the two sexes, and in most marriages often the female did not share the bed with the male, until she proved her undying loyalty. Zlatan made a determination that this too, was how their relationship would be. She would have to renounce her vampire ways, and worship him, and only then would she be allowed to share the bed.

So he made the appropriate arrangements. Without consenting the old woman, he brought in a couch from the living room, and placed it against the wall of the room. Some sheets and blankets were thrown on top of it, but beyond that, he did not even make it look like a place for rest. Once he was finished, he fell on his stomach against the bed, cradling some pillows to his face and sighing. His head glanced out the window, looking at the dark night sky and trying to estimate what time it was. They had been married at around five, and the ride had taken some minutes over at hour, or at least that's what he thought. Time had seemed to remain still during their intercourse, and he wondered if they had actually gone anywhere, or if the driver had been instructed to drive around in circles whilst they got it on. No doubt he had heard them, and the way she ran out of the vehicle with her dress gathered in her arms was enough evidence.

The wonders of a hot shower were infinite, and Venessa was all too happy to revel in them. Having taken her time to clean herself from top to bottom, she wasn't surprised when she stepped out, that it was relatively quiet in the other room. In fact, from what she could see under the door, it was getting darker at quite a fast rate, too. She hadn't been keeping track of the time at all when they were being driven here, and in fact.. it had felt as if minutes didn't even exist when she had been consummating her marriage in abundance in the back of a limo. Something she was both admittedly ashamed of, and a bit relieved about.

If one time was all that was needed then.. it was all finished with, right?

Giving a sigh, she wiped at the condensation upon the large mirror in front of her, frowning when she was greeted with her reflection. She didn't want it to be finished, she knew that. Venessa had thoroughly enjoyed what had happened between them, up until they had finished. It was a dose of reality she didn't want to face.. their activities of furiously rutting against one another, seeming to be all a dream. It was almost.. too good to be true. They hated each other, so maybe that was why the sex was so good. After all, there was a very thin line between the two passionate emotions. Love and hate went together like strawberries and chocolate. It was something that was toxic, but enjoyable. She knew this now from her firsthand experience with it. Zlatan brought out the absolute worst, and best parts of her. Just thinking about it..

Gritting her teeth, she quickly pushed her towel against her long, wet hair, forcing it to grow damp before she searched the multiple drawers, for a brush. Her movements were abrupt, fueled by her annoyance for herself, her husband and this entire situation. It wasn't fair, and to know that her parents had willingly given her over like this.. it was an utter slap in the face. Venessa had successfully gotten herself into a very foul mood, which was heightened tenfold, when she stepped out into the bedroom. Donned in a towel, her eyes immediately befell onto the couch. The fuck was that? He actually thought.. that she was sleeping on.. that?

If this man actually believed she was going to adhere to his customs willingly, he had another thing coming. He was not the only one with traditions.

All she saw was red, forcing her to dash over towards the couch and collect the pitiful excuse for sheets and pillows, chucking them over towards the one sprawled onto the mattress. "You mutt," she screamed, "You actually think I'm going to sleep on a couch, on the night of my wedding?! Did your parents manage to drop you on your head when you were a little puppy, or are you truly that ignorant?!"

Zlatan had decided to take a nap. His reasoning was that Venessa seemed submissive to him, and seemed to carry a sense of defeat inside of her. She hadn't said anything to him since the car ride, and he had a feeling she wasn't going to say anything tonight. He could just fall asleep now, and when he woke up, she would be on the couch. He yawned into the pillow, smacking his lips together in content. This wasn't too bad. He'd have to make sure to let the how vampire population know that he was in complete control of of the prized daughter of their most powerful household, and was regularly defiling her body with his lycan cock every night. Zlatan hated to admit it, but so far, the marriage had been going well.

He couldn't have been anymore wrong with thinking she would keep her mouth shut, and do as he wanted.

His half dozing state hadn't been awoken even after the sound of water was turned off, and the door opened. It was awoken when she screamed at him, after throwing the blankets he had picked out for her. Zlatan startled in surprise, rolling on his side to face her. His mother had told him to be sensitive with her, that vampire customs were different than his own, but this was ridiculous. His response was delayed. "Couch, bed, floor. It doesn't matter. You will sleep where I choose you to sleep! And I have chosen the couch. You're lucky I even brought it in for you!" His voice was rising to a high pitch, threatening to yell. "I should let you sleep on the floor, like the bitch you are!" He did not take kindly to being called a mutt, or a puppy, just like the nick name 'the golden dog' always got him riled with anger. "You are NOT going to sleep on the same bed as myself. You have not earned that right yet."

His feet swung and he sat up, his hands clenching at the sheets either side of him, before he reached for the blankets and sheets he had gathered for her, and promptly flung them straight at her toweled form.

She looked enraged, watching as he quickly came to his own defense. However, before she could help herself, she began to laugh. Looking wonderfully amused by what was coming out of his mouth. "I shall sleep where you choose?! Oh god, that is priceless," she exclaimed, "Please, Zlatan, you might think you are the most prized man to walk this goddamn Earth, but you are sorely mistaken. All I see is a pitiful excuse for a man, not a true one." Her hand was clutching upon her towel tightly, making certain that it did not fall whilst she stood in between the couch and the bed. "I am so honored that you brought me a pillow and blanket, my love, what shall I ever do without you," Venessa spat sarcastically, narrowing her eyes upon the other. If he truly thought he was going to walk all over her, he needed to prepare himself for a heady bout of reality.

"Just because you're used to having bitches flock to you like hungry mongrels, certainly doesn't make me one, husband. I find it amusing that you actually believe I want to sleep in the same bed as you, because I assure you.. I do not," she explained promptly, merely batting away the sheets towards the floor that he had tossed right back at her. "You need to realize that I am not going to let you control me, like the men of your species control your women. You are not the only one who has been accustomed to traditions. If you think I'm about to let you treat me like a piece of meat, you are completely fucking idiotic."

Seething, she felt her fangs dance across her tongue impatiently, slender shoulders rigid. "You claim it's a right to sleep with you? Heh.. my.. you are delusional," Venessa muttered, looking disgusted.

Zlatan was at a loss of words. No one had ever spoken to him his whole life, except perhaps his father. Of course there had been challenges in his life, mostly physical, but he had met them all. He truly felt like a prince, almost a demi god walking on the earth. She was laughing in his face openly. Zlatan himself felt rage boiling in his blood. "You are a fucking woman!" he blurted out suddenly. His whole body stood up, unable to stay seated in his fury. "The only thing you're good for is cooking, having babies, and.. " he faltered a moment, trying to think of something sexually degrading. All he saw in his mind were images of her crawling up to him and using her mouth to rile him up again, while in the limo. "And sucking cock!" Well, she had certainly been good at that.

"Fine! You fucking little bitch." Zlatan grumbled, moving forward, inching towards her. "You don't want to sleep on the couch, and you're sure as hell not sleeping on the bed." Zlatan would not stop until there was only a few inches of a gap between them. It was possible that she backed up into the wall to avoid his large figure. "You can go ask that old woman where else you can sleep, you ungrateful little piece of shit!"

He had gone out of his way to get the couch for her, and the blankets. While he hadn't made the couch into the bed, he brought all the means. This was entirely too confusing. Any other woman would have happily complied, yet his wife was upset about it. A strange sense of possessiveness overtook him suddenly. While he did not love Venessa, she was indeed his wife. She would probably choose to sleep in another room. While it was a custom not to have your wife sleep in the same bed until they earned it, having them in another room at night was laughable. If anyone learned, they would not take him seriously. A man needed to control his wife. His father taught him that.

His hand shot out, and suddenly snatched her wrist, throwing it back against the wall. "You're sleeping on the fucking couch, or the floor," he said in a low growl. If he had to stay up all night, tie her up and watch her sleep, he would. No one was going to defy him, and get away with it.

Another bout of laughter, her head tossing back to accentuate the action. "Cooking, having babies.. and sucking cock? Is that suppose to insult me, dear? What a pitiful attempt at trying to shove salt in the wound. Please, I could care less what you think of me, Zlatan," she mused, watching as he moved closer to her, their eyes practically stabbing at one another with rage. She had indeed backed up into the nearby wall, teeth bared and fangs elongated in the midst of her darkening mood. "You have given me nothing to be ungrateful for, fool," she spat, obviously not retreating from her position of challenging him.

Venessa was hellbent on making him realize that he would not control her. Belittling her in any means, was not going to take place as long as she was conscious. If he believed that this was going to be the usual marriage of his kind, where she bent over backwards for him, put his needs before her own and did everything within her power to accomplish his wishes, he was horribly misinformed.

The quick action of grabbing, and pinning her wrist made her flinch, immediately hissing towards him threateningly. "Don't you dare fucking touch me," she ordered, shoving at his large frame with all of her might, "You will not order me around like a slave! You have no authority over me, you fucking coward. Trying to gain dominance over a woman barely half your size?! What does that say about you, hm? You have to stoop this low to make yourself feel powerful, is that it?!" Her chin was held high in the air and she gazed up towards him, unwavering beneath his towering form. "You do not own me, you mangy mutt."

While Zlatan was definitely ahead in the physical department, Venessa had an edge over him with words. He could only express his mood by baring his teeth to her, snarling and growling as she spoke. "You are my wife!" He shouted, directly in front of her face. Their argument could probably be heard through the entire cabin. His hand snatched her other wrist, and flung it against the wall, pressing her delicate skin into the wood uncomfortably. "I own you, you filthy little whore, just like how I fucked you in the limo!"

"I don't have to do a god damn thing to make myself feel powerful. I already am powerful! If you had been born a man, I would have taken your life years ago! You are lucky that was not the case." Her words were getting to him, despite whatever he said. His face was flushed red, and his hand let go of one of her wrists to grab at her face, suddenly shoving the back of her head against the wall as he held her chin. It wasn't too far of a distance for her any momentum to be built, so it wasn't entire painful. "I would tear your god damn throat out right this fucking instance if you weren't my wife..." he found himself looking at her lips for some reason, and he quickly lifted his gaze up to her face.

"Don't remind me," she snapped back in an instant, struggling against his hold upon her other wrist, which was soon forced into the wall as well. Frustrated, she struggled against him vividly, making an obvious attempt to get him away from her. She was like a cornered animal, willing to do just about anything to ensure her very own safety. "You own nothing! Stop feeding yourself lies," Venessa screamed, panting heavily as she pushed and pushed against him, trying to free herself from his clutches. She hated this man.. with all of her being. To think she was going to be his wife until she died... it sickened her. How could they let this happen?

Flashing her pale blue eyes towards him, she scoffed, "Lucky?! This is worse than any death I could have been dealt, a hundred times over!" She would have rather met the dismal reality of being killed, than having to deal with a life by Zlatan's side. It was one thing to be married to him.. but to be given the responsibility of having his child? She wanted to make a baby from love, not from duty. It wasn't right, not to them, and especially not to the future son or daughter they were to have, either. A sound of desperation bubbled up in her throat when she felt him force her head back by the chin, immediately keening in distaste to how easily he seemed to push her about. "Do it," Venessa daringly urged, voice strong.. "Rip my throat out and do us both a favor. Come on.. we both know you want to. Fucking do it, Zlatan! KILL ME!"

His whole body was seething with rage. His large chest rising up and down, occasionally brushing against her toweled form. When she pushed against him to free herself, once again he grunted, and shoved her back. "Yeah? You want me to kill you?" It was a delicious offer, to place his hand around her slender throat, and to squeeze. In a dreamy like state of mine, he realized he could do it, kill her and run off, without any consequences. He did not need his family anymore, and the struggles of the world were no concern of his. He could kill her, and run off. His fingers found themselves slipping around her throat, and squeezing to a certain extent. His eyes flashed with a different sort of lust in them, staring at her, growing silent. It would all be so easy. Gradually his fingers applied pressure, and she would feel her throat constrict.

"I should," he murmured softly. There was a moment of hesitation. His eyes dropped to her lips. They were so soft, even when she looked upset. Suddenly he recalled their sex, and the hesitation was lengthened, showing on his face. His hand dropped from her wrist and took her towel, pulling it down to leave her completely exposed and vulnerable in front of him. He inhaled deeply, his eyes surveying her body.

Though she visibly twitched under the hold on her neck, Venessa didn't seem to be frightened. Perhaps this would be for the best. She wouldn't have to give birth to a child who would be ultimately hated, just because he or she was of her loins. That world would be Hell incarnate, and while she could still get away.. in one way or another, she was willing to take the risk. Her family had ultimately agreed to sign over all of her rights. Truly, what did they believe would happen to her, when she was under Zlatan's care? If one could even call it that. He was hallowed from the inside out, and his heart was indefinitely cold. Ironic, considering she was the one with the dead organ lodged in her chest. This man might have been able to sway her physically.. but she was far too exhausted to endure this emotional abuse any longer. It had only been the first few hours, too.

Venessa narrowed her gaze upon him, wondering why in the world he was.. looking at her lips? They twisted into a snarl and before she could further react, the towel that had been tied about her, was suddenly pulled off. Falling to her bare feet, she gasped, immediately pushing against him. "Don't," she exclaimed, taking advantage of one of her hands being freed, and shoving violently at his chest, "Don't you dare look at me like that!"

Her soft hands pushing against his chest were hardly felt by him, it seemed. His head tilted down, blatantly looking at her body as if she was indeed a piece of meat, even if she claimed not to be. He could feel himself stiffen between the legs, and once he realized she was pushing him back with more force, he growled as he looked up to her. "I can look at you however the fuck I want!" he blurted out, snatching her wrists, pinning her struggling arms against the wall again. His body pressed flat against her, keeping her soft body compressed against the wall.

His head lifted, peering upon her face, his teeth once again exposed. He growled at her. His teeth suddenly snapped, nearly biting at her lips. Another low growl, his crotch pressing against her where she could feel his erection, his thighs keeping her legs secure against the wall. He squeezed at her wrists, harder and harder, trying to get the struggle in her to stop.

The physical attraction he felt towards her was undeniable. There was no way he could kill her, he realized now, considering what they had shared in the limo. It was hard for her to breathe against his firm body, pressing his muscles against her. He was very warm to touch against her nude body, and he only seemed to be warmer between his legs, where his black sweats clothed him. "I can look at you however I want," he said more softly, his growling ceasing as he whispered into her ear, his breath spraying across her neck, where he had marked her with his teeth just an hour or two before.

A sharp gasp was heard when he once more, arrested her wrists completely under his control, and forced her to remain pinned to the wall. Venessa was glaring, trying to express her feelings completely, without saying a word. It was obvious, but.. it did not sway her husband and his obvious train of thought. Honestly, when he looked at her like that.. wracking his hardened eyes across her bare, vulnerable figure, it was beyond arousing. It had her little clit jumping in excitement, her core already beginning to grow warm whilst she felt that familiar bout of arousal, want to take hold. Her body was so traitorous..

Keeping her stature rigid as best she could, even when he was snapping and growling at her, it was only when she felt him press his groin into her, his cock obviously twitching beneath the material of his pants, did she weaken. It was as if he had some untold power over her, breath hitching audibly within her delicate throat as he pushed himself down against her, keeping her pinned and troubling the act of breathing for the woman. With a quivering bottom lip, Venessa let a sweet, pitiful whimper push forth when his voice softly met the shell of her ear.. hot breath flowing out across the still sensitive holes he had left within her neck.

Naturally, her head fell back and she exposed her flesh to him, already wriggling between his towering form and the wall, eagerly. It was there.. she wanted him to touch her, to stroke the fire that was beginning to flicker to life inside of her. She hated it, but goodness, did it feel amazing when she finally let herself go. There was so much she wanted from him, so many things she wanted him to do to her.. Venessa could only hope that he at least obliged her needy, susceptible system and fulfill her demands. "What gives you the right to," she whispered back, spine curving to push her bare breasts further into his chest.

It hadn't been his intention to look at her, or be touching her in a remotely sexual way. It was impossible to refrain, however. Her touch was addicting, she looked delicious, and now that he had sex with her once before, his cock wanted more of her, as if he had been conditioned to enjoy her body already. His own struggle of not wanting to touch her was so intense. He growled, more at his predicament of wanting to fuck her despite hating her, rather than growling at her. He pushed back against she arched her back to let her breasts rub against him more fully, mistaking it for another struggle. His fingers tightened on her hips. His hips gave a sharp, jerky thrust, his defined cock rubbing at her inner jerk in a vulgar motion through his pants. "Because you're my little bitch of a wife," he whispered.

His mind did not want to, but his tongue poked out of his lips, and traced the bite marks on her neck, slowly. His hips stayed steady, but occasionally they jerked at her, trying to get much needed friction upon his cock.

They had already fucked once! Twice, actually. He felt enraged at himself for wanting her, for even being attracted to her. All those long years of committing his life to destroying her people, and now he was fucking her and trying to produce a child. It must be the potion. There was no other way he would be this aroused for her. But it felt different than when he was under the affects of the drink. Deep down, he knew that he wanted to fuck her, even had there been no drink involved.

His body stepped back, giving her space to breathe as his eyes surveyed her, in his hardened gaze, his eyes looking at her lustfully. His cock had formed a bulge in his sweats, and his hands went down to take his pants off. He did it slowly, still fighting with himself, but ultimately knowing that his cock would be in here by the end of the night, whether or not she wanted it. His waistband lowered over the base of his thick, shaven cock. Already she could see its veins, pressing out eagerly as if he had not been touched in a week down there. The head of his cock caught on the waistband of his pants, and slowly he dragged it downwards, inch by inch, letting more of it come into view. Eventually it sprang out, and he gripped it, giving it several much needed strokes.

His body stepped forward, taking her purposefully by the chin and cheek, tilting her head back to make her look up at him, his eyes watching hers as his lips hovered less than an inch past her own, his slow, heavy breathing was felt against her soft skin.

Both his motions, and his words made her groan.. feeling herself being torn practically in half, by her conflicting emotions. It was a war waged solely between her body and mind, unable to distinguish between them successfully, at this very moment. All Venessa could think about, was how his cock was now rutting against her inner thigh, forcing her to endure the overall effect of something so brash.

The second his tongue made contact with the marks upon her neck, her lashes fluttered and she knew she wouldn't be able to fight him. Their argument, which had been thoroughly heated, and something that could have ended quite badly for one.. or both parties, had now managed to dwindle down into a bout of lust. It had gotten the better of them, and within this very moment, Venessa didn't mind. In fact.. she enjoyed it, feeling him pull from her.. to give her the pleasure of watching him tug down his sweatpants. Zlatan was visibly hesitant, trying to ward off these urges, but they were triumphant and soon enough that smoldering, thick cock was freed from its confines. Her breath hitched yet again, and her thighs pushed together.. obviously weak in the knees by such a sight. Gods, she loved the way he was made. Large, and indomitable.

The thick veins which ran along his shaft were beginning to protrude, that swelling tip becoming a lighter shade of red.. wanting attention. She could barely contain herself as she stood there, helpless against his presence. It was no surprise that when he grabbed her by the chin, Venessa looked up towards him obediently, curiously watching his eyes. He was so close to her.. and from her peripheral vision, just barely, she could make out the constant motions of his arm. He was stroking himself.. and to know that he was doing such an act, whilst meeting her line of sight, it made her heat up for some very strange reasons.

"What," she whispered out towards him in question, wondering what he wanted.. what he was thinking about.

The shifting of his arm was constant, steadily bringing himself pleasure, but not over doing it. His breathing became more strained, blowing against her lips. "Huh," he asked in return, not even remembering what they had been going on about. Gently he released his cock, and stepped closer, letting her feel the throb of his erection, the pulse against her thigh.

He wanted it, he wanted it more than he wanted air, despite the fact he hated her, wanted her dead, he wanted to fuck her brains out until she couldn't move properly. His hand let go of his erection, suddenly placing his hands on her hips. She found herself hoisted up, her back sliding against the wall, before she felt the sensation of falling. His hands adjusted, catching her by the back of her legs, holding her up steadily using the friction of his crotch against her own, the wall and his hands. His cock had lined up against her slit, trapped between her body and his own. His face openly grunted in her own, his eyes searching hers, wanting to know why he felt this way about her. The underside of his thick, warm erection brushed up and down along her opening, growing more and more aggressive with his movements. Try as he might, his cock could not fit in her at this angle.

"Are you going to put it in you or what you fucking bat?" he growled at her angrily. This was her fault, after all. She made him want to fuck her, by some spell or potion. It had all been arranged. He wasn't going to do it pleasantly, the firm gyrations of his hips against her body, making her body hit against the wall was enough to already let her know that this wasn't an act of love or affection but sheer, mad lust.

A little voice in the back of her head couldn't help but coo out the factual statement of, despite popular belief, opposites did have the tendency to attract. This undeniable lust they felt for one another, was as strong.. if not stronger, than their actual hatred. It was a startling, and very frightening revelation.. but one that Venessa was quickly becoming attuned to. It all made sense. Their madness was only fueling their constant need of having each other. Expressing their distaste for all of this, through passionate trysts. So be it.. if all of their arguments led to this.. then perhaps she wouldn't be as miserable as she had thought.

Being lifted up with ease, she couldn't help but cry out when he suddenly dropped her, only to catch her by the backs of the thighs. He had her in his clutches, quite literally, and Venessa knew all too well what was going to happen next. She could feel her body quivering in anticipation, feeling the underbelly of his throbbing, eager cock nudge up against her tender slit. She was still admittedly sore from before, but nothing would stop her from getting him inside. She wanted him to stuff her full, to take her like the dog he was and work her into a state of physical exhaustion. He brought out a very, very dangerous side to her.

"Shut up," she spat, returning the growl before her hand slipped down, clasping her delicate fingers about the thick, throbbing base of his shaft. She gave him a long, firm pump before she pushed the swollen mushroom tip to her hole, and wriggled down. A hiss slipped through clenched teeth and she thumped her head into the wall behind her, eyes rolling into the back of her head. "Mmpf yesss.." Licking at her lips, she grasped onto his broad shoulders and arched her spine, visibly giving herself over to the one who infuriated her so much. "Fuck me," Venessa cooed out, undulating her sharp little hips, "Give me your goddamn cock, Zlatan.."

Too focused and enjoying the sensation of his cock suddenly slipping into her, he gasped into her mouth, unable to respond. He rotated his pelvis forward, sharply as soon as she slipped him in, her lower back thumping against the wall as his long cock filled her up to the max. "You shut up," he grunted into her mouth before his own head pushed forward, resting his head against the wall. His hips wasted no time in finding an aggressive rhythm. His cock pummeled in and out of her, his powerful body keeping her pinned while held up. Repeated grunts filled the air with his mouth near her ear, not wanting to look at her as he took his pleasure using her body. His balls swung forward, hitting against her skin. "Take that fucking lycan cock you whore!" He nearly screamed, finding a sudden burst in speed as his cock manically and violently drove in and out of her, the room was filled the sound of her body getting shoved against the wall. It almost seemed like the whole room was having an earth quake.

Behind him, if she rolled her head down, she would be presented with a mirror. She could see the way her legs kicked out every time he threw his lower body at her. His large ass cheeks clenched together as he pushed forward, and relaxes as he pulled back. The sinewy muscles of his body moved greatly from the way he held her, his blonde hair swaying from the motions of his body despite the way his fore head rested against the wall directly next to her face.

Soon enough she was given what she wanted, feeling him begin to drill into her recklessly. Her body was helplessly forced into the wall behind her, thumping against it time and time again as he drove himself home, constantly filling her up at impressive speeds. With the natural sounds of their bodies slapping together filling the air, Venessa herself, was assisting with the obvious proof of what their fight had transpired into.

She was practically screaming in delight, shrieking adorably whenever his cock managed to drive just deep enough, to hit her cervix. One after the other, his thrusts never stopped, practically taking her breath away. All she could do was wrap her arms about him and hold on, nails digging into the golden flesh of his bare back, gazing forward, over his shoulder. Indeed, she did take notice of the mirror, mesmerized with watching their reflections play out. Her slender legs were like that belonging to a rag doll, swinging back and forth, up and down wildly. He was putting everything he had into his actions, and the woman was positive that she'd most likely be bruised after this was done. From the way her breath hitched violently whenever she was forced into the stained wood behind her, to the soft sounds of pain which naturally filtrated through her exclaims of pleasure, it was made true that Zlatan was taking her like an absolute madman. Venessa was loving every second of it too, her juices coasting down his length, and thickly covering his inches in sweetness.

It still wasn't enough to satisfy him. His grunts were barbaric in her ear, mixed in with hoarse breaths, pushing himself to the limits. His fingernails holding onto her thighs, dug into her skin. "Come on you god damn slut, show me how much you love my fucking cock!" His cock stretched out her depths, she could feel its throb and heat pulsing from within her. He did not care if it was pleasurable or painful for her, he merely violated her pussy, attacking her cervix with the head of his cock, intent to pleasure himself. She was forced to take it, the wood of the wall was not pleasant on her back, causing a burning sensation on her.

The whole household could hear what they were up to, and there was nothing they could do about it. In fact, if nothing of the sort was going on, they were probably told to make it happen somehow, probably with more of the drink, hidden and poisoned into their food. A picture frame on the wall was being mercilessly bounced around as were her body, until it could not take the vibrations of the wall, and fell face first onto the floor, the sound of glass shattering. Zlatan did not seem to notice, or care as he continued. He could not find his orgasm so quickly, his juices had been spent already, his cock sore from their previous fucks. It only made him fuck her all the more harder, the burning sensation seeming to sear through his cock. His only answer was to hold her against the wall, and force her to take it.

Everything was burning up, from her head, down to the tips of her toes. It ached fiercely, forcing her insides to tighten up all the more. Her muscles were wrapped about him like a clamp, held firm and forcing him to stay lodged within her as much as possible. Venessa could barely think anymore, all she could take notice of was the constant pain beginning to blossom through her back. Her hips were becoming bruised with his insistent rutting, skewering his cock within her sore, sensitive little hole without any sign of stopping. It had gotten to the point where he made it quite clear, that he was intent on getting his own orgasm out of this.

Helpless for now, she continued to cling to him, gasping out in ragged, forced breaths, trying to keep herself conscious. Everything that was happening, from the searing sensation of her wet walls being stretched to their limits, and the picture falling.. glass shattering about, to him ruthlessly working her up into an absolute oblivion. The vampire was in awe at the treatment she was enduring, taking it like a natural and letting him have his fill of her. She could feel her lower gut begin to tighten, eyes glossing over with tears, which she quickly forced away by shutting her lashes together. Biting down onto her bottom lip until blood began to bead at the surface, she whined, scratching her nails bluntly down the front of his chest. He seemed frustrated with his body for some reason, Zlatan taking it out on her as if she were the cause of all of this. That certainly wasn't true, given that it was equally his fault, for making her this susceptible to his raw charm. No matter how much she squirmed and cried out, there was nowhere to go. She had to accept this, no matter what.

Zlatan felt his legs growing weak. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore to him. Everything was a blur. His whole life had led up to this, holding a vampire and fucking the dear life out of her against the wall. His body was growing damp with sweat again, she could feel it as she claws at him. He merely pressed forward, making her elbows bend so constrict the movements of her hands, so she could no longer scratch him. The damage had been done, she could see the marks on his chest.

Suddenly his body rotated, holding her to him, his cock lodged in her without moving. He took a few steps back, turned his body, and threw her on the bed. His cock was drenched in their fluids, but she had little time to admire it as he grabbed her by the hips, and dragged her to the edge. His hands grabbed her ankles after he had adjusted them, holding them out wide. He realized his error, his cock was so aroused that it was pointing diagonally forward, up towards the ceiling. He let go of one of her ankles, and properly adjusted himself, using his thumb to point his erection towards, catching her lips with the head, and promptly sunk himself back in. His hands held her ankles, placing the back of her legs against his sweaty chest, her ankles near his shoulders.

He wasted no time in rolling his hips forward, she could feel the muscles of his body moving against her legs, his erection filling her up again fully, and pulling back, only to fill her up again. His upper body began to leaned downwards, making her legs bend backwards as he applied weight to them. Soon he was hunched over her, her body crunched under his own mercilessly, his torso applying pressure to her clit as he fucked her, growling directly in front of her face. His hands supported himself on either side of her as his body crushed her own.

It was only until she felt gravity force her down, did she open her eyes, gasping just before the soft bed met her abused back. It was a change that she would gladly accept, almost immediately sinking down into the sheets, enjoying the softness that they provided. Venessa looked to be in heaven at the moment, gazing up towards him whilst he grabbed at her, situating himself as he needed, before soon enough, that thick rod was slipped back inside. Naturally, she cooed in favor of the motion, feeling her juices leaking out of her whilst he bottomed into her cunt, stopping only when his balls were firmly placed against the under-curve of her ass.

Her toes curled as she felt him lean closer, bending over her and in turn, forcing her legs to be urged inward, ultimately cutting into her ability to breathe significantly. Her chest was heaving as her damp hair remained sprawled about her in a wild scene now, looking flushed and certainly feeling sweaty. Plastering a hand to his shoulder after a moment, and her other slipping up into those silken locks, she pushed back familiar blonde tresses so to openly admire his face which was inches from her own. Venessa could hear and most importantly, feel him growling towards her, the guttural expression making her even wetter.

For some reason.. she just couldn't get over the fact on how much she loved having him like this. So close to her, pushing and pulling his long prick rhythmically, producing some very raunchy, heady sounds from betwixt their forms. It was almost.. no, dare she say it? It was almost romantic in a way, her lips tenderly agape whilst she panted out, mixing their labored breaths. Goodness, she wanted him so badly.. to taste him, have his tongue dipping into her mouth and thoroughly ravaging her in any way possible. Venessa was on the urge of trying to swallow down her wants.. but suddenly, courage swelled and she forced the lycan down, until their mouths crushed each other. She kissed him as if her life depended on it, fluttering long lashes to a close and moaning against him. In some sick, strange way.. she needed him. More than ever.

Zlatan was hell bent on getting his orgasm. His whole form seemed to be focused on getting as more pressure between her legs using his own body, to achieve his release. His growl to scare her off as they were so close, did not work. Zlatan did not like the intimate position.. it was having causing him strange feelings. Suddenly she bought their mouths to touch. His own lips were not responsive, grunting against her lips. The soft caress of her tongue made it easier for him, it was almost soothing compared to the burning need to fuck her with the sensations he felt in his cock. His lips clamped against her own, his tongue straining downwards to touch her mouth. His hips became more compacted in their motions as there wasn't as much to move, sharp, minimal thrusts that moved only a few inches, mostly his head ramming in her insides, rather than his entire erection.

While the whole purpose of the place had seemed to be made for them to fuck each other's brains out, the bed had been placed poorly. The wooden head board was positioned against a wall, and the steady smack of it against the wall, was louder than the noises they made as they began to kiss. The bed, which had looked so promising at first, was groaning under their combined weights, the springs of the mattress creaking unhappily. The legs that separated the bed frame, wobbled.

Zlatan hated to admit it, but the kiss was amazing. He pulled away, because he felt too much of a connection. His body stood up straight again, an arm wrapping around her legs to keep her body attached to him as she writhed and bounced from his efforts. His hips and thighs smacked against her body as he took her again, aggressively, trying to ruin whatever romantic feelings they had for each other by taking her like a madman.

His efforts went rewarded, but not in the way he expected. The bed suddenly dropped on one leg. losing its support. The bed tilted down towards that broken leg, their motions suddenly stopping. His cock pulled out of her as she fell down away from him. Zlatan stood there, heaving his chest up and down as his body hulk before her, staring at her naked form.

Why she enjoyed kissing him.. she wasn't quite sure. It was a very affectionate, loving action.. so, it made absolutely no sense at all. He was the very first man to have ever kissed her in such a way, and though Venessa was ashamed of her growing adoration for something that seemed completely out of the norm, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself. He was like a drug, almost as intoxicating as that drink had been.

She wasn't surprised to feel him move away before it became too much, merely dropping her hands on either side of herself, as to grip upon the sheets below. Having a firm grasp, she tipped her head back and reveled in the way he forced her lithe frame to jerk across the bed violently, once more finding that aggressive tempo. It was short-lived, however, their bed seeming to not be able to support their reckless pace. Venessa found herself rolling, squeaking out in surprise when the surface she had been splayed upon, was now awkwardly leveled. Laying there, she pushed herself up onto an elbow, curiously glancing down towards where the leg had ultimately broken. Slanted, she blinked a few times, silent.. seeming to be almost at a loss for words. Had they.. really just broken.. the bed, the first night they were here? This was.. no, it couldn't be..

Her eyes quickly turned towards the man standing before her, then back down towards the wrecked furniture. Before she could truly contain herself, a giggle slipped out, forcing her to smack a hand against her mouth. Another giggle, and she closed her eyes, falling back and letting herself snicker mischievously. Her luck, right? The mattress they had been fighting so adamantly over, was now thoroughly wrecked. How.. fitting.

The wooden leg had failed. They saw the splintered end of it, rolled off to the side of the bed, while she was still partially laid. Perhaps the bed had been old, and his motions too powerful. Zlatan stared at it in disbelief. He had been so close..he grew angry, cock blocked by a piece of incompetent furniture. His foot swung forward, and kicked it, letting it roll uselessly against the wall.

He heard a giggle, and another. His eyes shot to stare at her angrily. She was laughing about this? Zlatan stared at her in the same way he had looked at the broken wooden leg, in disbelief. It took him several long moments to realize what she was going on about. He saw it then, the irony of it. He chuckled himself, before he looked back at her, his eyes briefly softening their expression, before he bit his lower lip, and his eyes grew lustful for her.

"Come here," he whispered, grabbing her by the ankle, dragging her towards the edge. Once again she nearly felt like she was going to fall as the vertical nature of the bed became more steep the closer she got, but he leaned down and picked her up, his arms secure around her waist as he lifted her up. He carried her over towards the couch, made her sit down, before he pushed on her delicate shoulder, forcing her to lay down. He got on top of her, the small confines of the couch made it so he had to get on top of her to fit anywhere. He began to kiss her, slowly at first, then a little more heatedly. A hand reached down for a blanket, and he pulled it over them. His hand held her cheek, not letting her pull away as his tongue drove deep into her mouth. His cock had not softened, it steady pressed between her thighs.