𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 - 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦 & 𝘤𝘺𝘹 | 𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒

[cyx.]

f a t h e r f i g u r e & c y x may include NSFW images or links. x o x​

 

[cyx.]

❝ "-goddamn, Maeve.. you gotta stop.. I'm gonna.. fuck-" Maeve felt her husband's hand tighten within her hair, and before she was able to retreat from his erection, he held her down to his base and unloaded inside of her, caking her throat with his seed. Seed that was meant to be inside of her, but not her throat. He groaned and gasped, pumping his hips a few times against her pretty little face before he finally withdrew, releasing her entirely. The blond sputtered and gagged as he withdrew, and she sat up from her all fours position over her husband, immediately glaring at him as she licked her lower lip of his cum. "I told you to stop.. you know I can't handle your mouth, babe.." he spoke through a lopsided grin, clearly pleased with himself as he reached for the towel he had on his bedside table, beginning to wipe himself dry. "How the fuck are we gonna conceive if you keep blowing your load into the back of my throat, Ryan?" she growled back, beyond annoyed at his lack of control - but more so her lack of satisfaction. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten a little too carried away with their foreplay, and she knew it most likely wouldn't be the last, either. An agitated sigh escaped the twenty eight year old's throat, still thick with the feel of her husband's spunk, and she slid off the bed. She could feel Ryan's eyes follow her as she grabbed an oversized tee shirt and slipped it on over her body, but she avoided his gaze as she disappeared into their en suite bathroom to brush her teeth and finish getting ready for bed. "Don't be mad, Maeve.. take it as a compliment!" Ryan called from the bedroom, and Maeve rolled her eyes before silently mocking his words under her breath, preparing her tooth brush. Usually she didn't mind the taste of cum, but paired with her growing frustration, she wanted nothing to do with the taste of her husband in her mouth, and started to eradicate it as soon as she could. The married woman took her time as she finished with her mouthwash, and skin care routine, hoping that when she slipped back into the bedroom, her lousy husband would already be snoring, content and satisfied with the load he'd released. Luckily, as she slid from the bathroom after flicking the light off, he was exactly as she anticipated; positioned on his stomach, face buried in his pillow, dead to the world. Her anger was still very in tact, but she knew better than to pick a fight with Ryan after he'd just climaxed - it was like talking to a brick wall, and she'd only end up getting more pissed off at her lack of satisfaction. She tiptoed to the bed, slipped underneath the expensive duvet her mother in law had gifted them for their last anniversary, and reached to turn off the lamp on her bedside table. As the darkness overtook the large master bedroom, she slowly sunk into her pillow, attempting to will herself to sleep despite the persistent pulse of arousal between her thighs. Eventually, through some form of luck, she was able to close her eyes and settle long enough for sleep to take her.. but it didn't feel like a lot of time had passed between when she finally managed to slip into sleep when a crash bolted her eyelids back open. It took a moment for her to register what she'd heard, and she turned to look towards her husband at her left. Still knocked out cold. Aggressively, she shook him awake, ignoring his groans of displeasure. "You didn't hear that? Something fell downstairs.." she hissed through the darkness, her heart elevating within her chest as the possibilities of what it could have been clouded her mind. "Probably your dumb cat again, Maeve, relax.. just go back to sleep.." Maeve's face pulled into a disappointed frown, and her eyes narrowed into a glare as she looked at the side profile of what she could see of Ryan's face. He was already drifting back to sleep. Slowly, she attempted to reassure herself that the noise had been her cat, Jynx, but something in her gut told her that wasn't the source of the noise.. It was nearly impossible to settle back down beside her husband - the husband that not only refused to get her off, but refused to get his lazy ass out of bed to investigate the safety of his own home.​

 

[Father Figure]

Hate was nothing new to him. Stephen Sullivan was the perfect example of wasted potential in modern day America. Born into a relatively affluent family, the second son to a well-educated and well-to-do couple, he should have excelled in life exactly like his brother, Ryan. The story of his life though was not a story of success. Something inside of Stephen was broken, some quintessential and extremely necessary part of the human soul, and that made Stephen an absolute tragedy. In his youth that tragedy was something for his mother to worry and fret over, and his father to sigh before returning to reading his newspaper. Problematic interactions with neighborhood kids which often led to parents demanding he be kept away, misbehavior in class and an inability to focus, low grades regardless of test scores, and the occasional tears of girls on the playground. Fast forward to high school and you find a troubled young man who needed guidance long before the counselors started trying to give it to him. Fist fights, misdemeanors, and finally boosting a car ensured Stephen found his way into juvenile detention. Which was exactly what he needed to straighten him out, at least until he was nineteen and he got hit with his first drug conviction. Stephen’s life was one wrong decision after another, and in the words of one judge Stephen was exactly what the criminal justice system and modern society produced. An absolute fuck up. It was not like the man did not have good intentions, there was still some merit of a person there, but good intentions never equated to much in the long term. Gambling, drug use, alcoholism, prostitutes. They all had their role in some part in the spiral that Stephen found himself on, and they all took money to have. Money that he borrowed from his parents until they disowned him, borrowed from his older brother that he took advantage of, and borrowed from friends until they stopped talking to him. And now he was in trouble again, having to pull together some money to pay off a loan shark and failing to do so. With only one person that would still ever show him a hint of compassion, Ryan. But earlier this week Stephen found out his brother was no longer an easy mark when a humiliating phone call led to Ryan telling him to never call again. That the well, and goodwill, had run dry. What a fucking bastard. And what was he supposed to do without any help? The answer to that question came with Stephen standing in the downstairs office of Ryan’s home, dressed in dark clothes and a ski mask, having crept in through the backdoor which he knew his dumbass brother habitually left unlocked. Rich people never fucking learned that no matter how good you were, other people just did not think like you do. Every victim of every crime was really just a naive adult who had not gotten the memo that the world was a horrible place to live, and there were monsters everywhere. The noises that Maeve had heard upstairs were of Stephen scouring the office, looking for money or anything at all he could sell. Credit card information, stock documentation, bonds, cashiers’ checks, even a checkbook. Something. That was when he found the safe that his brother undoubtedly stored such things in, a dumbfounded expression of uncertainty crossing his features. Maybe his brother was not so naive after all. Stephen stood there as he made his next bad decision, pulling the gun from his waistband, and moving upstairs to barrel through the door of the bedroom. He did not have to guess as to where the couple were sleeping, he knew exactly how to find them. “Don’t move! Don’t fucking move! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” The words left his mouth in a voice that was not quite his own as he held the gun on the couple, his eyes dangerously animalistic behind the ski mask that he wore. A tightness was already in his chest as he leveled the gun towards Ryan, the horrible urge to just pull the trigger and unalive his brother something he struggled with before his head snapped round on Maeve. There was a glitter there as a snarl found its way into his voice and he hissed. “You there, bitch, get your jewels. Come on, get the fuck up!” It was all so sudden, all so abrupt as the intruder rounded the bed to Maeve’s side and took her by the hair to jerk her out of the bed and onto the floor. “Come on, slut! Come on! Where’s it at!”​

 

[cyx.]

❝ Several moments had passed since Maeve had found herself jolting back awake, and the longer she laid beside her lousy husband, the more her brain began to settle. It most likely had been Jynx, getting into something he wasn't supposed to be in - there was no cause for alarm. Right? The blond's eyes had closed, and her breathing began to settle into a slow rhythm, sleep nearly taking her once more when the bedroom door suddenly burst open. This time, both occupants within the bed jolted; Maeve sat up right, and she immediately went to reach for the lamp beside her, but the intruder's words caused her to freeze before she could shed light on the situation. Ryan had quickly rolled to his back and then in a sitting position by the time he heard the command not to move and shut up, and he instinctively rose his hands at the realization that a gun was now pointed between him and his wife. His mouth was agape, as though there were words on the tip of his tongue, but he didn't dare let them slip from his lips. Fear turned Maeve's entire body into a stiff immovable object once the attention seemed set on her. Her hands rose as her chest rose and fell with purpose against the oversized shirt that clung to her breasts, her heartbeat so loud in her ears she almost didn't hear the masked man demand for her valuables as he approached. The moment his hand tangled within her hair, she winced and crumbled under his strength, painfully making contact with the floor at his feet. "Leave her alone!" could be heard from the bed as Ryan dared make a move to crawl towards Maeve's side to check on her, but Maeve was already gathering herself up onto her feet to silence his worries. "Shut up - just shut up. I'm fine. Do as he asks." She was shaky as she walked towards her dresser, barely able to take her eyes off the intruder as she did, but she knew the best way to get out of it unharmed was to listen. It wasn't like Ryan had his gun stashed anywhere accessible - the gun was in the closet, and the rounds were in his study. And from the lack of the alarm that sounded, it was obvious he hadn't even set the alarm before heading up to bed. Her husband was an idiot, officially. Trembling hands pulled her jewelry box from the first drawer, and she opened it. "There, just take whatever the fuck you want and get out." It pained her to say those words, staring right at the black pearls her grandmother had passed down to her before she died. But the keepsake wasn't worth getting her or her husband shot - no matter how annoyed she was at him. "That's all we have." she lied through gritted teeth, expecting the intruder to take her words at face value. Ryan had a collection of watches in the drawer of his nightstand, but she wasn't about to tell Mr. Ski Mask that. Instead, she stood with her hands slightly raised, palms towards him. The elevation of her arms caused the tee shirt to slightly rise, kissing along her upper thighs; and if her back had been turned, he'd have been able to see the soft curves of her ass cheeks poking out from the material.​

 

[Father Figure]

"Leave her alone?!" He said the words incredulously, like he was stunned that the other man had the gall to even speak up considering the circumstances. The thought that Ryan could even speak back to him was a non-starter, and the hatred that flooded Stephen's body caused him to literally see red. There was a step he took that nearly moved him towards the bed, once more the gun coming up like he felt some instinctual drive to rid himself of the nuisance that was his brother, and there was a sick satisfaction in seeing the other man quail before him in his very own bed. In his very own home. Like two animals vying in competition for survival, but one of them was predator and the other was most assuredly prey. Stephen's eyes widened as he inhaled, something taking over, and the gun stopped quivering and held steady. He was about to shoot the son of a bitch, but that was when Maeve spoke up and offered him her jewelry. Her voice was enough to jolt Stephen out of the murderous rage, enough to cause him to look away from the soon to be victim of homicide, aka his brother Ryan, and focus on the only one smart enough, and brave enough, to do the right fucking thing and maybe save both their lives tonight. A wolf's eyes are what met hers, something hungry and vibrantly alive. As if she were a morsel he intended to eat. In a sudden motion he reached out to grab her by the arm, jerking her back to the bed so that she faced Ryan, and he stood behind her, the gun coming up to press against her temple. She could feel his breathing, unrestrained and heavy, the cruel fingers digging bruising indentions into her skin as he turned his head against the side of hers. And the son of a bitch inhaled, he took a deep draw through his nose, as if smelling Maeve. Smelling her fear, smelling her sweat, and smelling the arousal from her rather unsatisfactory love making earlier in the night. His words for as much for her as they were for her husband. "Yeah, you want me to leave her the fuck alone? This piece of ass? After she told me I could take whatever the fuck I wanted," his voice trailed off as he let the implications sink in, a low growl as the tenor of his voice deepened. The positioning let him push closer to her, feeling the sweet swell of her ass conform to his wishes, and his free hand came down to do a little breaking and entering of its own. He let go of her arm, sliding down to give a good grip of her tight rear, curving up and along her side beneath her tee shirt so that he could cup one tit viciously hard. Whatever noise she made brought a smile to his face, as if her pain were a potent aphrodisiac to a man that thrived on power, and that hand continued its traversing to push up through the neckline and slip those fingertips across her throat. Almost like a caress, almost gentle, until he took hold of her and gave a small jerk. His whispered into her ear, barely heard, a menacing sound of promise. "I want you," he hissed. "To tell him. Tell this pathetic fuck what you really think of him. Look at your husband, go on. He doesn't deserve to touch you. He doesn't deserve to have this good a fucking body against him every night. Fucking tell him."​

 

[cyx.]

❝ The way the intruder snapped his gaze to Maeve had her confident demeanor slightly wavering in an instant. It was like she knew something was going to happen, and in a flash, her gut instinct screamed as she realized it had been right. The grip he sealed around her arm was fierce, and the small jerk she made in defiance did absolutely nothing to the way he pulled her back towards the bed, shoving her against the end of it like she was nothing more than a feather. Her free hand slammed against the mattress, the duvet puffing under the sudden pressure before it released the air caught between the material of the blanket, and her eyes were immediately glued to Ryan's. The gun made her confidence dwindle drastically, and a shaky breath escaped as she took in the feel of the muzzle against her. But it was nothing in comparison to the way she felt when she heard the masked man behind her bury his nose against her; she not only heard the way he inhaled, but she felt it, and her body trembled from the intimate sound. The married woman attempted to remain as calm as she could, but she felt herself losing that bit of edge she'd had moments ago when offering him the contents of her jewelry box. And when she heard his words? That edge diminished even more. "Don't you fucking dare!" Ryan's skintone was obscured from the darkly lit room, but Maeve could hear the way he was seething perfectly fine to guess that his face was red with anger. But it was obvious as her husband looked to the gun that he knew he was powerless to stop anything from unfolding in front of him, and his fists clenched against his head, making sure to keep his hands in sight so that he didn't instigate a premature fire of the weapon. Maeve grit her teeth as she felt the 'stranger' begin to explore her body, a near growl escaping once his hand made contact with her ass and continued as it saw fit. Her body attempted to inch away from his touch, but he had her pinned relatively good, and she didn't dare test his willingness to fire his weapon by attempting to jerk completely away from him. Instead, she clenched the bed with both hands now, furiously pulling at them when she felt the lack of care in the man's grip at her breast. Involuntarily, a hissed wince escaped her parted lips, and her eyelids partially closed in response. Those eyelids remained in that position until his hand slithered further up her shirt, and gripped against her throat. As his fingers dug into her pale skin, it was like something had ignited within her - Maeve's eyes slammed open, and it took all of her strength to bite back the pained groan that wanted to leave in response. Luckily, he was nuzzling into her ear, whispering.. bringing her attention away from the heat that was confusingly building between her thighs. Although her eyes did do as they were instructed, looking to Ryan once more, she wasn't as eager to follow along with the rest of what her instructions were. "Wha.. what the fuck.." she stammered, attempting to resist the way her hips wanted to grind back against her assailant. "What I really think of him?" she echoed one of the commands, and she shook her head against the pull around her throat, sliding the end of the gun against her temple to cause chills to explode down her spine. "I love him... That's what I think about him." That edge had surfaced to her voice once more, unwilling to admit to looking at her husband in a different light as of late - it wasn't like this intruder knew anything about them, or their marriage struggles.​

 

[Father Figure]

"Yeah, you love him? Yeah?" The question was spoken out of mockery, spoken like a man who just did not believe her, and the hand on her throat gave a harder squeeze as he pressed his body close, surprised even by his own standards with how rock fucking hard he was. It was overpowering, the sensation of being against Maeve, and he knew it had just as much to do with the fact that his brother was forced to watch the violating actions as it did with how amazing Maeve's tight little body happened to be. She was slim, slender, and stacked in all the right ways. The kind of body most men would die to touch, and yet his piece of shit brother was the man who happened to get the opportunity to do so. The thought brought back that incoherent fury, the gun leaving her temple and pointing towards Ryan as the hand on her throat grew increasingly cruel. Was he going to choke her to death right in front of her own husband? Was this Maeve's last night on earth and was it seriously going to be spent having sucked Ryan off, gone to bed without a single orgasm to call her own, and trying to save herself because her husband was an imbecile who could not do the basic functions required of a man? And she could feel that arousal against her amazing ass, growing thick and hard to push against her. Stephen wasted no time in grinding slowly, as if determining what exactly the course of the night was going to be for them all. There was something electric in the air between the two of them, and maybe that was projection on his part, but he swore that Maeve felt aroused just the same. Excited. Any other time in life, any other woman in his arms, he would have placed his bet at the physical cues she was giving off. The way her breathing hitched, the hiss that left her lips, how her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. And had her nipple hardened in the palm of his hand? The terrible urge to defile her, to force her over the bed and destroy her grew deep in his loins but not before he had something else. Not before he made damned sure that she told her brother the truth. One way or the other. The hand on her throat loosened, letting oxygen flood back to her brain. The coarse material of the ski mask brushed against her cheek again as he spoke, and she could hear it in his voice. A smile. This motherfucker was smiling at their suffering, smiling at the terror, getting off on how he made them feel. Savoring it. Like goddamned cuisine. "Not good enough. I don't give two shits if you lie to him, tell yourself you're fucking lying, but look at him. Doesn't he just look pathetic sitting there? A real man would have died for you, what's he fucking doing? Begging, like a dog? Tell him what a small dicked piece of shit he is." There was something going on here that could be picked up on, something personal that this man had against her husband. There were other houses on the block, why had he targeted them? What about this house, this place, had drawn the intruder into their home? No, maybe Ryan did not understand that they had been purposefully chosen, but certainly Maeve could pick it up. The intruder hated her husband and that gun remained nice and steady, and Stephen's thumb came up and caught the hammer, drawing it back with a click. There was no need for him to say the cliché villain phrase or else. But all three of them knew the insinuation. Or else.​

 

[cyx.]

❝ An uncharacteristic gasp escaped the moment she felt the gun leave her temple and it raised once more towards Ryan; and for a moment, she thought that the man behind her might actually pull the trigger. It was nothing like the gasp that had started to release from her throat before she was cut off of her airways as the intruder's hand tightened, causing her eyes to flutter slightly and roll into the back of her head. It took a lot of strength to resist lifting her dominant hand to grab the man's wrist, to try and pry his hand away, but she didn't dare make any sudden movements with that gun pointed towards her husband. Instead, she focused on the way her heartbeat began to grow louder and louder within her ears as it slowed. It was almost a blessing that she had a hand clamped around her throat, rendering the moan that would have escaped from feeling such a hard specimen ground into her ass not even make it past her throat. It was impossible to stop her hips from slightly anchoring against the grind, however, slightly arching her back into the motion before she could stop herself. It sent shivers up her spine, and she hoped that neither of the men in that bedroom with her noticed the small movement. Regardless if they did or didn't, the heat that was beginning to grow between her legs was undeniable, and Maeve felt a pang of twisted disgust at how she could be getting turned on while a gun was aimed directly at her other half.. while a masked man dragged his incredibly rock hard erection against her ass. The moment she felt the hand around her throat ease off, Maeve gasped softly, and her head fell slightly forward for a moment as the air burned her throat going back down. His voice caused her body to stiffen against him, and her eyes came to focus better on her husband within the dim lighting. The intruder's words were like knives, cutting into her with each syllable that made it to her ear; how did he know? was circling her mind, wondering if her displeasure with the man she called her husband was really that obvious. So obvious that a complete 'stranger' could sense the complications within their marriage. But that was impossible - from a few moments of being with them, there was absolutely no way it was obvious.. even with the small slip ups of her hips, the small hisses of slight arousal that had surfaced very quietly.. Regardless if it was an educated guess or something more, Maeve knew from the click she heard erupt from the gun that he was serious about his demand. She was going to have to make a choice. Become a little truthful about her displeasure towards Ryan, or risk watching him be shot almost point blank in the middle of their bed. "O-okay! Just.. don't shoot him, okay.." she pleaded, thickly swallowing the lump that had been growing within her throat afterwards. "He.. he's got a point, Ryan.." she finally pushed out, closing her eyes so she didn't have to look at her husband as she voiced these words. Instantly she could hear the scoff that escaped the man before her, like he was going to start arguing against her already. Before he had a chance to, her eyes opened, rendering him silent with the seriousness to her expression. "You didn't even turn the alarm on, you asshole! Do you really think we'd be in this situation right now if you stopped leaving that fucking door open? I told you something fell, I told you!" her anger was increasing with every word as she finally let her husband have a small piece of her mind. "Dammit, Ryan, sometimes I think you do this shit on purpose. You do it to push my buttons every fucking chance you can. And now look where it's gotten us.. you've got a fucking gun pointed at your head, and some asshole has his dick shoved against my ass. How hard would it have been just to set the alarm.." It was so easy to get angry at him, to blame him for everything that was unfolding right now. But she knew that it wasn't entirely fair to pin it on him - Ryan wasn't in control of the prick behind her. A lot of her anger was also misdirected.. as awful as it seemed, she was still pissed about going to bed without cumming, while he had already slipped off in a post-orgasm deep sleep. "Babe.. okay, look, I'm sorry! I didn't know this was going to happen! You can't really blame me for this - I didn't tell this fuck up to break in, to bring a gun and wave it around!" Ryan was quickly on the defense, and his eyes whipped from Maeve to the masked intruder behind him, his arms wavering as they grew tired from remaining in a raised position. "Look, man, whatever you want, okay.. we got cash in our wallets, I got a safe downstairs.. my watches.. just take it and go. We wont even call the cops. Just leave my wife alone.." his voice nearly cracked as he started to plead. The man's eyes shifted to his wife, mouthing another 'I'm sorry' in her direction. This time it was Maeve's turn to scoff, and her back arched ever so slightly against Stephen, almost wishing he'd shut Ryan up before he talked them into a worse scenario. Ryan wasn't small in any sense, he was average size in the dick compartment.. but she could feel a noticeable difference between the man behind her to the one she'd been ready to ride into oblivion a couple hours prior.​

 

[Father Figure]

Stephen was actually disgusted by his brother, and at first it was hard to pin down the why but then he realized how much of what Maeve had said was a simple truth. How much of what was happening was because Ryan had failed her as a husband, as a man. More telling though was how angry Maeve was getting with every clipped word slung from her lips, how telling the truth was like cutting a wound open inside of her and letting the poison out, and Ryan’s defensiveness just added to the pathetic nature of the situation. Adding to it all was the final statement that fell from her lips, everything riding, quite literally, on the feeling between the masked man and Maeve. She could feel him, thick and hard, his hips pressing close so that he was flush between the cheeks of her pert ass, and he knew she wanted it. He swore she fucking did. He could feel the heat rising off of her body, like a blazing furnace, and the hand that had been on her throat crept down so that he could splay his fingers across her lower abdomen. The feeling of a woman, a real woman, was something no man could ever ignore. She smelled of danger, a fucking aphrodisiac, and it started to become stifling hot underneath his mask. The voice he spoke with had no resemblance to the man that was Stephen, this was someone else entirely, a true criminal. And what crimes would he perpetrate tonight? “I should just fucking kill you so she can get with a real man, you pathetic fuck. Look at her, she seems like she needs it.” The hand on her stomach pushed her back against him, forcing greater friction between their two bodies, and he practically moaned his approval of how good her cheeks felt sliding along the rock-hard shaft he had placed between them. What a perfect body, exactly what he wanted to have in a woman, so why did this limp dick motherfucker get to have her, and Stephen got the pathetic drug using dregs off the street? That anger suffused him again, a living vibrant thing, and his breathing grew heated as he sick desire began to mingle with that righteous fury, and he turned his head to catch Maeve’s ear lobe in his teeth, giving a tiny tug before flicking his tongue across her skin. Tasting her. “That’s right, you need a better man, don’t you, slut. Maybe I’ll give you a ride, show this little bitch how it’s done, would you like that? Huh?” His thumb caught the hammer, and he eased it off with a click, holding the gun with an idle consideration. As he did so, in the dark, his thumb caught the safety. He had no wish to blow Maeve’s head off, but he was not about to tell the two of them that as he brought the muzzle up to touch her cheek. The dangerous sensation of oblivion held at bay, being able to look right down that barrel. Was there the glint of a bullet somehow deep within, chambered and ready to be fired into her beautiful face? Or was that simply imagination? Stephen eased the gun slowly down, the hand on Maeve’s belly moving so he could wrap his arm around her waist when the inevitable flight or fight instinct took her, treating her like prey that he had ensnared. Slowly the metal moved, dragging along her skin, until it rested against her mouth. It rested against her mouth and the monster behind her, the monster who’s gargantuan cock pulsed between her ass cheeks, the monster who breathed with hungry need whispered into her ear. “Suck it off, show me. Show me how much you want cock.” ​

 

[cyx.]

❝ Ryan's face contorted into a look of desperation as he glanced from his wife, to the gun, and finally to the man hovering over her shoulder. It was hard to look him in the eye after her small tyrant of annoyance, but somehow Maeve had managed to meet her husband's eyes as he glanced her direction. She wanted to tell him to just shut up, that he was going to make things worse, and the words were on the tip of her tongue.. but then something entirely different slipped out from the back of her throat. Something she didn't anticipate. Maeve moaned. A brisk, sharp moan escaped when she was forced back by the man behind her, her hips arching ever so slightly into the pull, grinding into the taller man through his pants. It was nearly impossible to stifle the sound that wanted to surface as his head turned, and he caught her ear with his mouth; but he'd feel her body quiver in response, and maybe even feel the tight inhale she sucked in through her nose in order to try and keep herself silent. Her eyelids fluttered, closing briefly at the feel of his wet tongue gliding over her skin, and her fingers dug so hard into the duvet in front of her she swore she was going to rip holes into the material with her manicured nails. The amount of relief that overtook Maeve's body the moment she heard the hammer click once more was far greater than she thought it would be. Her chest lowered as she exhaled, a sigh of relief sounding momentarily into the room that was still thick with tension, even with the gun no longer being an immediate threat. That could still change any moment, she knew that, and so she wouldn't get too comfortable with the idea that their intruder was done toying with them. Almost as though the masked man had read her thoughts, she felt the tip of the gun brush her cheek, and her adrenaline began to kickstart once again. Her face slightly quivered as he maneuvered the gun's muzzle around, making its way to her lips at a painfully slow rate, and she had to resist the urge to jerk her head away from him, knowing it could be her last moment with her brains in tact if she pulled something that sudden and stupid. "You're fucking kidding me.." left her lips before she could stop the words from surfacing, and she scowled at the feel of the gun sliding against her lips as she spoke. Although her face showed disgust, her voice dripping with the same venomous tone, the way he whispered in her ear and the demand he called of her only further set her thighs on fire with untamed want. Maeve swallowed, knowing that he was serious - knowing what she had to do. Before he could chastise her for the slip up, she tilted her head and opened her lips, forcing her tongue to protrude against the gun's barrel, forcing the very tip of her tongue to ease into the opening before it moved on to the front sight of the weapon. The taste of the weapon was undesirable, leaving an aftertaste against her tongue she had to fight against. Her tongue trembled as it slid back down, slowly wrapping around the side of the gun to its slide before she pressed herself into the gun, taking it into her mouth like it was an expectant cock. Maeve closed her eyes once she took the gun into her mouth, ignoring the anxiety that pulsed through her body, reminding her that it could go off any second, and she'd be lucky to be dead after a point blank blow. Her saliva was beginning to build despite her fear, making it easier to slowly start to fuck her face with the length of the slide, dragging her lips slowly whenever she'd descend back down to the barrel's opening - taking her time, trying to appease the man behind her. The married woman had to eventually imagine that it was a cock, and at first Ryan's average appendage flashed behind her closed lids. Until her hips swayed back against Stephen, reminding her of the monster that was laying in wait for her, and the image shifted quickly in her minds eye. A small sense of enthusiasm sparked within her movements, and her lips began to glide more effortlessly over the girth of the gun. He couldn't see it, but her tongue eased over the sides, slicking it with her saliva, imagining how the cock between her ass cheeks would taste if she gave it the same treatment.​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ The bitch was into it. Stephen could feel the heat radiating off her body, like it was a palpable aura, and a hungry growl came from his lips as he watched Maeve suckling the muzzle of that gun like a woman desperate for cock. If she was doing it to only try to save the life of herself and her husband then she should have been a professional actress. The sheer enthusiasm was enough to drive any man wild, and just like Maeve, Stephen was imagining what it would have been like to have had that woman offering her throat up to him. Of course, considering the circumstances, he did not need her to offer anything. He could take it if he wanted, he could do anything he wanted, and the thrill of power he felt over the woman sent a shiver down his spine. Stephen had committed all sorts of crimes in his life, wallowed in drug use and petty larceny, but he had never threatened someone's life. Not like this. What had been a simple B&E had quickly turned into a life-threatening scenario that bordered on sexual assault. The only real question that mattered was whether he was going to bite the bullet, no pun intended, and give Maeve the ride of her life. There was no need to talk anymore, they all knew where this was going, this was just the foreplay. It was time, time to set all this aside and get to the crux of the matter. Stephen was breathing hard as the decision came upon him, and suddenly the gun was pulled away and then pressed against the back of Maeve's head. There was no verbal command that came with it, there was no need, as his other hand came up to take her by the back of her neck and slam her face first down onto the bed. It was violent, she was beautiful, and it was everything that he needed. A sharp snarl came from him as he pushed her down harder, a nonverbal reminder to not move or he would hurt her, but the press of the barrel against the back of her head was testament enough that Stephen meant what he said. His fingers traveled down her spine, traversing the distance to Maeve's panties, and with a jerk he bared her ass. In the dim light he could barely see her, but he knew exactly how she looked, having admired, and jerked off to the sight of her in bikinis at family gatherings they'd attended in the past. This, this was it, this was the fucking moment. And Stephen smiled. He had never been more aroused in his entire adult life. His eyes locked on Ryan, wanting to see the man's face as Stephen mounted up. Stephen's free hand gave Maeve's ass an appreciative squeeze before jerking down his sweatpants to free his monster cock, the heavy weight slapping up against her cheeks. The motion he made next was a practiced one by any man who had fucked a woman from behind, taking the thick shaft and bracing himself up against Maeve's sex. When the head of his cock found its way against her slick hole, he knew that she needed it, knew that she needed to be fucked and violated like the whore that she was. Once he found purchase, he took hold of her shoulder and jerked her back, forcing inches inside of her, uncaring about resistance, denial, or pain that he might be causing her. This was primal, a terrible act of domination, and as far as he was concerned Ryan was no longer in the room now. Again, he shoved, vicious, brutally stretching her deep to the core. How much more was there, would the penetration ever stop? The only answer was the heavy breathing of the monster that had started raping her, the cold metal of a gun, and the slap of his hips against her ass as he fully sheathed himself.​

 

[cyx.]

❝ As the gun was pulled from her mouth, Maeve's eyes opened, and she came to the realization that the small scene playing within her mind was far from the reality of her situation. As if looking to her husband wasn't enough of a reminder, the firm hand on the back of her neck was more than enough as it shoved her to the bed, and she released a groan from how rough the man behind her was. Her eyes narrowed as she attempted to look up to him from the corner of her eye, teeth obvious in the way they grit together, opting to ignore the pressure of the gun against the back of her head. She could hear Ryan's breathing amplify as the man behind her forced his hand against her once more, like a silent enforcement to get her to remain where he wanted her. Maeve's legs parted, ever so subtly, and her hands returned to a firm grip on the duvet her face was now pressed against. With the sudden jerk of her panties, it was impossible to withhold the soft gasp that escaped against the blanket, and Maeve's body stiffened at the feel of the large hand that cupped against her ass cheek. Ryan's breathing grew once more in tempo, and it was obvious he was struggling to remain where he'd been positioned on the bed, and the married woman could only imagine the look on her husband's face as he came to the realization that he was powerless to stop what was about to happen. The feel of the cock that suddenly appeared and brushed against her sent shivers up her spine, and Maeve's eyes slowly closed. There was no way for her to properly gauge how big he was yet, but just from the brush of his erection, she had a feeling he'd blow her husband out of the water if they were to compare, and that excited her. In a sick twist, she felt herself pulse with want; her mind filled with the leftover feelings of being unsatisfied, of the restless nights she'd been tempted to order a vibrator just to satisfy her need to feel something stretching her to her limits.. and it was impossible to deny that she wasn't growing more slick as the seconds ticked by. And the masked man behind her would feel that as he brushed the tip of his cock against her. As he pulled her back onto him, the jerk nearly emptied Maeve's lungs in one movement. Her closed eyes slammed open, and her fingers pulled at the duvet aggressively, looking for something to gain proper leverage on, instinctively attempting to escape the sudden penetration she hadn't been ready for. Even with the added juices that had started to coat her folds, his size was enough to make her squirm and attempt to buck away, and it was obvious from the look on her face that she hadn't been ready for Stephen. "Fuck!" escaped with the last of her breath, her feet raising to her tippy toes in an attempt to accommodate the length he was slamming inside of her with reckless abandon. Maeve could feel tears already starting to swell within her waterline from the sudden stretch, a stretch she was sure could have ripped her apart had he been any more rough. Her teeth bared down into a tight grit, and every breath she sucked into her mouth though her clamped together teeth took more effort than she'd ever experienced in her life. But, underneath the pain, there was a feeling she never anticipated to feel.. want. Need. Her body was molding to him, clenching to the cock he'd impaled her with, eager to feel him pound into her and make her quake. Her shapely hips swayed slightly back, ensuring that he was fully hilt inside of her, before her legs spread better. Maeve's back arched, raising her ass against him, giving him better access to defile her tight little cunt - all while her face grimaced and those tears threatened to stream down her cheeks.​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ There had never been anything as sweet in Stephen's life as the victorious glee he felt in fucking Maeve as Ryan watched him. Never before had there been a fantasy of cuckolding for the younger brother, and he was not necessarily sure this qualified, but that hardly mattered in comparison to the intense visceral sensation of pleasure that permeated his psyche. The emotions in the room were a mingling of horror, fear, and lust. What would Stephen become after this, after doing this to his own sister-in-law? What kind of person would he be after having raped his first woman? Would he become the kind of man who thrived on it? Would he become the kind of man who was willing to kill them both to hide what he had done? Or would he make the mistake of letting them live and maybe being captured by law-enforcement and sent to jail for his troubles? Currently those permutations were not at the forefront of his mind, because right now all he cared about was destroying this woman's hole. And beyond the admittedly sick spiritual stimulation coming from domination, there was also simple animalistic sensation of Maeve's cunt wrapping around his thick prick and squeezing him for everything he was worth. She was tight, though that hardly mattered considering the brutal force with which he was raping that beautiful hole. She was everything he might have hoped for, the silken smooth skin of her ass pressing against him, and he groaned as he found full depth inside of that little pussy. The sounds she made were wickedly pleasing and the next few minutes of fucking was designed to do nothing but elicit the most sickening noises he could possibly pull from this woman. The hand on her shoulder tightened as his hips began to pound her, pulling her back into each thrust. His hips surged forward with pure determination, rocking the bed frame with the hammering strokes, the sounds of him slapping up against her taut ass echoing in the room. And all the while his eyes were locked on his poor brother, aghast at what was happening to his wife. And the bitched raised her hips back so she could get more, what a fucking slut she was. Out of the corner of his eye Stephen saw movement in the bedroom mirror and he turned to see himself there, to see Maeve, and the hand on her shoulder moved to grip her gorgeous hair and he jerked her up so that he could see that face captured in pain and ecstasy. There they both were, in perfect encapsulation, the gun still pressed against the back of Maeve's head as he wrecked her. The sight spurred him on, turned those thrusts into bruising cruel impalements, no longer even concerned with his own pleasure as he was in the idea of punish fucking Maeve to the point that his would be the only cock she ever remembered. Though he figured the little whore had a long history, so he needed to be particularly ruthless. As he pounded away, he could see her tits swinging, see how her ass bounced every time he slapped home, and a feral grin filled his features. His eyes swiveled back to the other man on the bed, and his words hissed out like the devil's voice himself. They were inhuman, and all he wanted to see now were tears. "Watch her, motherfucker. Look at her. Do you see that, you see that look in her eyes? That's a woman who's never been fucked properly. Look how good it is, bitch is nearly crying, and she wants more. I'm fucking raping her and she's going to cream herself," he snarled.​

 

[cyx.]

❝ No matter the sick sense of enjoyment that she felt deep down, there was no way in hell that Maeve would ever admit to the way she grew wetter by the second as Stephen plowed inside of her like a wild animal. Even if Ryan could see past the tears that started to sting down her cheeks to the pleasure beneath, she'd deny it - all of it. But it was there, and it was pure lust. To finally feel a cock worthy of her stretching her to the brim, overwriting every other encounter she'd had in her entire life with not only his size, but how he wielded his instrument inside of her, over and over.. Combine that with the continuous weeks of not receiving the kind of passion and sexual release a woman like her needed from her husband, and it was no wonder she was practically dripping as the man behind her took her for a brutal ride. The way he gripped her hair had her wincing out a moan, and her eyes didn't even bother to look in the direction of her husband at first as she arched further from the hold. Instead, her eyelids clamped closed, allowing her to focus on the sensations rippling through her with every thrust - even the sick noises of his cock impaling into her began to echo within her ears, and she quivered violently underneath Stephen's body weight as he drilled into her. Maeve had missed the sound of a man crashing into her so goddamn much it hurt - hurt her more than the way Stephen's cock had nearly ripped her in half. Her hands bore down against the duvet more, but no longer in an attempt to inch away from the intense slamming behind her. Instead, she was looking for leverage to keep her upper body more still, if not work against him, to ensure she was adding to the impact of the fit body behind her. At the man's words directed to her husband, Maeve finally opened her eyes and caught Ryan's with her own. She held his gaze like a bitch in heat, her eyelids hooded and her orbs nearly glazed over as her body gave into the vile torment that was happening to her. A whimper escaped the man being forced to watch, and his own eyes were wet with desperate tears, shaking his head in denial to what the masked intruder had proclaimed. It was impossible for Ryan to think about his wife literally cumming from such a deranged act; and it was obvious he wasn't seeing the way her body coiled and arched to Stephen's impressive cock, the way she anchored her forearms against the bed to rock back into the 'stranger', even the look of depraved lust cemented on her features. All he could see were the tears that streaked down her face, and he clung to the idea that his wife was only as compliant as she was because of the gun that was still pressed to the back of her head. Even as she released a feverish moan, the look on Ryan's face didn't falter from horror and denial. "Stop.." he breathed out in a shaky, pathetic whimper, his hands momentarily raising to rub aggressively at his eyes as they stung from his tears. "Goddammit, stop!" roared as his hands left his face, and he buried his fingers into his hairline, clenching the strands in distress. It was clear he wanted to act, to rush forward and put an end to the sight before him, but he didn't dare move a proper muscle towards the duo in fear of his wife's life. Instead, he was made to sit there, hands nearly ripping his hair out from his scalp as he was forced to watch his wife receive the best plowing she'd ever remember. And the more Stephen coaxed needy little moans from his wife only made his eyes blur even more with tears; he hated hearing those cock-pulsing moans escape her mouth with another man positioned behind her.​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ Normally Stephen prided himself on his ability to last in bed, to please a woman, to satisfy her completely. But the current scenario was not one that lent itself to taking his time in properly fucking, and frankly it was far more arousing than anything that had ever come before in his life. The sick intoxication of threatening Maeve, of wanting to hurt them, of wanting to make them pay for some unknown crime was an aphrodisiac that he could not ignore. What drug could compare to the sight of Maeve trembling in front of him, her fingers digging into the covers, her body a coiled shuddering mass as she creamed on every inch of his shaft? What lustful nightmare could ever manifest that equaled the sensation of being so powerful, of being so absolutely in charge of another human being in their body? Nothing ever could, nothing, and as he continued to ride the incredible woman, he knew that he would never accept another substitution. He wanted more, had to have more, and the sheer need that thrummed throughout his large physique just enhanced the cruelty of the vicious fucking the poor woman was subjected to. He heard Ryan peripherally and frankly he no longer cared about the other man in the slightest. The world had narrowed down to just him and Maeve. The way she curved her back so that her ass raised to give more access, the supple feel of her body as he pounded into her, and each thrust was designed to elicit the noises whimpering sounds spilling from Maeve's throat. He wanted her to suffer, he wanted her to cry, he wanted to rearrange her fucking guts. The hand in her hair left the tangled locks, coming up and underneath to violently rip her shirt open so that he could grip hold of one perfect breast, feeling how hard her nipple was in the palm of his hand. The bitch loved it, he knew she did, fucking loved it like all cock addicted sluts. A snarl of pure hunger left his lips as the tempo of his hips picked up, a staccato slapping against her backside as he hammed her relentlessly. Suddenly he came and it felt like absolute buckets. What kind of madness was this that had spurred him on to destroy a woman who had been nothing but kind to him, to purposefully hurt a brother who had decided to show him compassion. Did it even matter what it meant to be so disgusting when it led to a woman like his sister-in-law being bent over, his cock buried so deep inside of her that if it were not anatomically impossible, he would have thought himself up inside of her stomach. Slowly he ground out those last few thrusts, keeping himself as deep as he could, making Maeve milk every inch of that shaft. The gun against her head was a constant reminder that this pleasure came with a threat, but Stepehen had no intention of harming her now. Not with how fucking good she was. The hand on her tit gave one final vicious squeeze as he whispered out a soft. "Fuuuuccckkkkk…," before letting go of her and pushing her off his prick. Stepehen slipped out of her, and when he did cum poured free to spatter down Maeve's thighs and he could not help but grin at how dripping wet she was. He wished he had recorded this, but maybe next time, because for him there would be a next time. Those dangerous eyes rose, demented and deadly as he looked at the strange tableau he had created from people he would have said that he had loved just last week. Ryan nearly bursting with tears as he struggled with the emotions of having seen his wife ravaged in front of him, Maeve trembling and fucked raw, splayed out on the bed, and Stepehen standing there with his dick out. His voice was shaky, not from uncertainty but from adrenaline as he breathlessly levied his threat. "Don't you fucking dare call the cops, they won't save you two fucks. Soon as I'm out, soon as I make bail, I'll come find you, and I'll make you suffer before I kill you. You get me." The intensity in his voice left no doubt as to the truth of those words, and there was an undercurrent to them, because something else was already set in stone. He would be back regardless. And with that the intruder left.​

 

[cyx.]

TWO LONG MONTHS PASSED..​ Something had awakened in Maeve the night of their home invasion - something she didn't know was lying dormant within her. It was nearly impossible to sleep at night as it kept her up, tossing and turning, remembering the way she'd sucked off that weapon like it was an eager cock in her mouth; the feel of Stephen's desperate grip as he manhandled her; the way his cock nearly split her in half as he forced it inside of her without hesitation.. Every little sound that echoed within the house made her jump, her mind instantly assuming - hoping - that masked man was returning to take her by the throat again and show her who owned her. That day never came, though. Days turned to weeks, and eventually, two months had passed since that night. Ryan had been vigilant in trying to find the man responsible, calling the police station, offering money, favours, anything he had at his disposal to ensure that the man that defiled his wife was caught and punished. By the time Maeve complied with the idea, it had been days, and the rape kit they conducted on her came up with no results. Ryan was devastated, and he took off the first month after the home invasion to keep an eye on his wife. He was beside himself that the police didn't have any leads; no fingerprints, no DNA, not even a small hint towards a suspect.. the cameras in the lower part of the home were useless, as the man had never shown his face, and it was impossible to pinpoint a criminal with only his approximate height. At first, Maeve felt nearly disgusted with herself. The married woman didn't want the man to be found, because she didn't want to face him again - not after dreaming about his cock, the way he took her so forcibly, the way she felt complete while her husband watched her be ravaged from behind. The entire month Ryan was home, she attempted to make it up to him - cooking his favourite meals, allowing him to dote upon her when he felt the need, spending quality time that didn't involve his dick in her mouth.. But as time passed, as days to weeks, and weeks to months.. Maeve couldn't get that masked man out of her mind. Disgust turned into yearning.. a yearning for a man she thought she'd never come across again. After Ryan started going back to work, Maeve was presented with something that nearly shocked her for days. She was pregnant. Ryan didn't see a difference in his wife when he came home, assuming she was still going through the stages of emotion after being raped. She hid the information from him, unsure how he'd take the news - especially since they hadn't properly conceived in at least a month before the break in. There was no doubt in her mind that the child within her womb belonged to that man, the one that forced a gun to the back of her head while he bent her over. And if Ryan found out, he'd want her to terminate the pregnancy. The woman felt like she had an impossible task ahead of her.. somehow figuring out how to keep the child in her womb, while also eventually breaking the news to Ryan. If she waited long enough, he wouldn't be able to force her into an abortion, and she hoped that her body gave her the chance to hold off from having to disclose that information for as long as possible. Luckily, Ryan had a business trip to pull him from the state for a week, which gave Maeve some peace of mind. It was easier to hide something from her husband if he wasn't there, constantly hanging off her every word. For the first time in two months, she had woken without feeling the dread of the day hanging over her. It felt nice to go at her own pace as she took care of her usual morning routine; cleaning up from the night before, throwing their laundry in the wash, and then deciding what the rest of her day would look like. With her employer putting her on a mandatory mental health leave until he was sure she was fit for work again, her days had been rather lackluster for tasks beyond the list of house chores or errands, and it had been hell trying to keep her mind from floating back to that mysterious man. In some kind of twisted joke from the gods above, the man she couldn't get out of her mind soon interrupted her morning, ringing her doorbell. The oblivious woman didn't mind the interruption, but as she opened the door, she did look more than surprised to see her brother in law standing there, a tray of coffee in his hands, and a brown paper bag in the other. "Stephen.." she greeted him, eyeing him suspiciously at first before she glanced around, almost like she was anticipating Ryan to come swinging around the entryway. It didn't ease her slightly skeptical look, but Maeve relaxed against the open door, offering to let him slip inside past her. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked as she slipped off the door, closing it behind them. A part of her was sure that Ryan had sent him - to check up on her, make sure she was doing okay. But the blond wasn't about to come right out and accuse him of that. Maeve took the lead, guiding him into the kitchen. As they entered the minimalist room, she allowed the sweater she'd been wearing to slide off of her shoulders, exposing her tattooed skin before she took a seat at the island bar. Her eyes grazed over her brother in law, biting the inside of her cheek discreetly before her gaze lifted to his face. She had no idea what he knew about their break in - whether Ryan had gotten in touch with him to go over the events, or if he'd been careful about what to confide in his brother about. "Ryan didn't put you up to this, did he?" she asked him, her voice confident and right to the point. "Or did you just happen to swing by my favourite coffee shop on a whim?" She gestured towards the coffee, having recognized the logo almost immediately as her eyes skimmed them at the door.​

 

[Father Figure]

TWO LONG MONTHS PASSED…​ Stephen had never forgotten that night, and how could he? Every day that went by after the fact was a day that he expected someone to show up and arrest him. Sometimes at night he would lie in bed, hearing a siren in the distance, wondering if they were about to show up but that day never came. Often, he would fall asleep, and dreams provided no respite from the stress, nightmarish ideas of being in court and having Maeve point directly at him and proclaim him the bastard that had hurt her. When he woke, he never felt guilt, not really, but he certainly felt fear. Fear is what kept him from doing anything with the set of pearls that had belonged to Maeve’s grandmother, stashing them away up under his bathroom sink. He used what little money he could get hawking some inconsequential things, the small chump change he had stolen from his brother’s wallet to help get by and make ends meet, but he never touched those pearls. Instinctually Stephen knew that was what would land him in prison, and once there he knew it would be a long time before he ever hit the streets again. And the gun used in the commission of the crime? That was long gone, thrown in the river on the way home. Not that anyone should have sympathy for him. He was a criminal, a thief, and a rapist. If there was anyone unworthy of compassion or love, it was Stephen Sullivan. Because he would also wrap his hand around that thick piece of cock and jack off in the shower, his hand pressing against the wall as water poured down his body, and he dreamt of Maeve. Dreamt of how good she had felt, how warm and tight, but more that she had seemed to like it. Liked being violated, wanted more. And when he came, his face scrunched up in a furious snarl, Stephen always came thinking of her. It was more than just remembering, it was being haunted, and he grew obsessive about the woman. After the realization set in that there would be no repercussions for the events that he had been party to, Stephen began to follow Maeve on social media, staying up late at night to look at her Facebook profiles, to check out her Instagram, to try to see when she would post again and perusing old photographs and remembering the smell of her soft skin. A month later he would find himself trailing after her, checking to find what restaurants she frequented. He never tried to run into her, but he would often order the same meal, or sit at the same table, daydreaming about that sick night when he had his way with her. It was how he knew the right order to bring with him when he rung her doorbell. Ryan had certainly informed him he would be out of town. It was not that his brother had any love for him, far from it after all the mistakes he had made, but when the chips were down there were very few people you could rely on other than family. Ryan needed a strong man, he needed a man who was capable of violence, he needed someone who would protect his wife. He did not confide in Stephen, there was too much shame in that, but asking his brother to drop by to check on his wife while he was gone was not a strange thing for anyone to do. Stephen had feigned uncertainty, like he was surprised to be asked, but Ryan had been adamant that he do so. It was a sick thrill to recognize the wool that was pulled over his brother’s eyes, which meant Maeve had no idea either. It gave him leave to act with impunity, with an air of confidence that there would be no suspicion cast upon him. And it let him interact with Maeve under a reasonable pretense. He smiled when she opened the door, but once she turned away to walk into the kitchen his eyes were already thirstily drinking in every inch of her. What a gorgeous specimen, what a fucking woman. And he was nearly caught immediately when she turned around, nearly caught taking in an eyeful of her swaying hips. Luck was with him though and he gave a lopsided smile, knowing exactly how he looked. Unshaven, hair shaggy and needing a cut, clothes still threadbare, but at least he was there, right? Food went on the table as he answered her. “Nah, whim has nothing to do with it. Ryan did want me to check in on you, seemed worried to be leaving you alone. I said you’d be fine, and see, you’re fine. I won’t take up too much of your time, I dig if you don’t do small talk.” There, it was in her court. Let her think, let her decide, let her want him to stay. God, fucking, damn it. Let me stay.​

 

[cyx.]

❝ A small sensation of triumph coursed through Maeve's veins as Stephen told her that her suspicion was true - a part of her wanted to shake her head at the confirmation, but she knew her anger had no business being directed towards her brother in law. In fact, his words seemed to mirror almost word for word at what she had told her husband before he had left. That she would be fine. It made a small smile twitch at the left corner of her lips, feeling a small connection to Stephen in their echoed stance on her well-being, but she tried not to give the smile too much real estate on her face. Instead, she rolled her eyes, leaning forward to grab the take out cup of coffee from the cardboard tray it was held within, and set it in front of her on the island counter. "You should know by now I don't do small talk.." her words came out too casual, with too much tease to them, for a woman that had been violated only two months prior. But they sounded so effortless as she spoke them, arching an eyebrow in the man's direction. A man that she had always found herself stealing safe glances at when her husband wasn't looking - a man she had wondered to herself how things would have been different if she had met Stephen first. By some twist of fate, she ended up with his brother instead.. the only 'good' man she'd ever given a chance in a relationship. And look where that got her.. a nice home, sure, but she was unsatisfied. Ryan didn't quite meet up to the expectations of a wild harlot like Maeve, no matter how many times she lied to herself and tried to think, 'I just need to settle down, grow up - Ryan's good for me.' Looking to the man at her right, she felt that devil on her shoulder prod her ear, as though it were whispering to her; you don't want good. You want bad. "I wouldn't mind the company, though.. it's been a while." Her tone was no longer teasing as she eased the mouth piece to her cup open, and the lifted the coffee into her hand to take a small, tentative sip. As the liquid hit her tongue, she realized it was her second coffee of the day - something she'd have to start keeping track of if she intended on letting her pregnancy come to full term. The cup lowered, and she slid it back in front of her on the counter, turning her body towards him. Maeve leaned her elbow on the counter, and she let her head fall into her open palm, doing her best to keep her eyes focused on Stephen's unkempt hair. The urge to run her fingers into the strands caught her off guard, but she stuffed it aside as her lips parted. "How are things with you? Ryan goes on and on about you, sometimes, but I never get a genuine answer about how you are. And it's not like I can just.. call you myself, not unless I want Princess Ryan getting his panties in a bunch." A genuine tone of slight concern was wrapped around her words, and she reached towards him without thinking with her right hand, gripping his bicep. "You kicking ass and taking names?"​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ Was she into him? Holy fucking hell, she was, he thought. The idea was not overly surprising, considering the carnal knowledge he already had of her, but what was surprising was that it was directed towards him personally. Maybe it was simply the fact that he had thought of her, had decided to show up on her doorstep with a treat and it showed that he cared to do the trivial things that most men failed to do. Or was there something else underneath it all, something that Maeve was missing, and she recognized on an instinctual level that Stephen could give her. Before this she might have questioned her life, but never really pondered the possibilities that existed beyond her husband. But after the intruder, after having been violently violated, and after sickeningly having enjoyed it…well, maybe Maeve had a better understanding of what she craved in a man. And Stephen was everything that it might be, and of course that made the most sense did it not? That she saw in him the rugged, rough, brutal monster that had already hurt her? As she began to sip her coffee he gave a small smile, as if he were pleased that she found some comfort in it, but then she inexplicably sat it down and almost seemed disappointed. If Stephen had been any other man, he would have considered the idea that he had done something wrong, but the strange dynamic between the two of them continued as Maeve leaned close and inquired as to how he was doing. Goddamn, why was that so touching with everything that had happened between them? Why did it matter to him in the slightest that Maeve worried about him and wanted the best for him? Was there even the smallest twinge of guilt at what he had done to her, what he had put her through, when she seemed to be honestly concerned? And he was entranced by her, and always had been. Jealous of his brother, jealous of the life he led, jealous of the woman he was with. As she spoke, he leaned in as well, his eyes narrowing just the tiniest of bits as he replied with what was surely the most nonchalant and masculine statement he could have made. "Always." Stephen spoke that one word like he was dropping a weight on the ground, ego and confidence oozing from his pores, and why would that not be the case? But there was something else here, a chance to worm his way into Maeve's psyche, and after dropping her a wink he dropped the act so that she could see the "true" him. That was after all what all women really wanted, what they all claimed to need out of a man. They wanted him to drop the bullshit and be himself. They wanted to be the one who could tame the bad boy. And maybe, maybe he wanted her to caress him just as badly as she did. "You know us, Maeve. We don't talk, not really. Ryan and I just never saw eye to eye, and I get that, I really do. He's got his hands full in life, right? Work, bills, you. The whole enchilada," he paused, realizing that there was a bit of ire coming out towards the end of those words. A bit of anger that nearly changed the tone of the conversation. And of his voice, a tone quite reminiscent of the one that had fucked Maeve into a blithering state of ecstasy. His own hand came to touch hers on his bicep, a hand rough from hard labor. Stephen had never had it easy like Ryan. Maeve's husband had soft hands, gentle, immaculate. Stephen's had callouses, they were the hands of someone who had worked hard for a living. His fingers were strong though, so damned strong, and they curled around Maeve's own to lift hers off his arm and he gave it a small squeeze. Was he worried that what he was doing was inappropriate? No, because he did not let her hand go. Instead, his thumb moved slowly along her knuckles. And he prodded, prompted, finally pushed. "What about you, hon? Are you okay?"​

 

[cyx.]

❝ "Always." The singular word made Maeve's lips twitch into a small, knowing smile. She liked his confidence, but she knew better than to take that word without a grain of salt. Stephen always had something going on - at least from what she overheard when it came to Ryan's complaining. Maeve didn't doubt he was kicking ass and taking names in the least, but she highly doubted that he was perfectly comfortable in life. The wink sent a shock pulsing from the arm that rested against his bicep, and instinctively, her fingers tightened in their grasp. There was a shift in the air around him as he began to let her in, and her head tilted ever so slightly as he spoke to her. Really spoke to her. The tone gradually shifted, and Maeve couldn't help but perceive a sense of frustration as Stephen spoke about Ryan. It was hard for the breath not to catch in the back of her throat as she found herself wondering if Stephen was jealous about his brother's relationship with her, and Maeve had to shift physically in her chair at the thought. The warmth that spread between her thighs only pulsed more prominently when his hand lifted and landed on her own. At first, she assumed he was going to pull it away, but instead his fingers wrapped around it, giving hers a gentle squeeze. The callouses on his hand were familiar somehow; she couldn't place them, but she had to resist closing her eyes as he began to drag his thumb over her knuckles, and the married woman had to swallow the saliva in her mouth in order to resist breathing out a sigh of appreciation for the contact. It was almost embarrassing that a simple touch of Stephen's hand could make her thighs clench together with need, while her husband could barely spark a source of heat between her thighs without Maeve taking it into her own hands. That just added to the many differences between the brothers, it seemed. The way he spun the question on her made her blink, having lost herself in the mesmerizing touch of his hand. Maeve's chest lifted within the cropped tank top as she inhaled, and her gave adverted from her brother in law to eye the coffee on the island before her. "I'm.. okay," she started, though her voice didn't necessary come off as confident. Confused, more like. "Things have been.. interesting these past two months." The look on her face as she looked back to the brute of a man at her side made it obvious that 'interesting' wasn't the proper word for her current predicament. Her eyes leveled with his own, and for a moment, she did nothing but try and read the expression on his face, her hand still lingering within his own. It was hard to gauge if he knew about the break in; Maeve sensed that if Ryan had mentioned it, he would've left out the part about being forced to watch his wife cum to some intruder's monster cock. She had to figure out a way to talk about it without just blurting everything for the man beside her. "We.. we had a break in, about two months ago. That's why Ryan was off work for a month. That's probably why Ryan asked you to swing by. This is the first time he's left me alone for more than eight hours. Thinks I need.. supervision - protection.. I honestly don't know." She shifted her head within her hand on the counter, rolling her eyes at the thought. "I've honestly never felt better in my entire life. For the first time in years.. it's like.. I can clearly see what I want. What I need." That voice in her head chimed in, echoing her earlier thoughts; you just need an aggressive cock, don't you? Her teeth gripped into her lower lip as the thought processed in her mind, and her hips swayed slightly in her chair - it was a subtle movement, however, and would've been easily missed if you weren't paying close attention. "I'm just trying to see where all the pieces fit now. It probably sounds awful, but it's easier to do that without Ryan hovering over my shoulder, trying to 'fix' everything that doesn't need to be fixed."​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ Just what the hell was happening here? Stephen's head tilted just slightly to the side as he listened, picking up the unspoken emotions that Maeve was hinting at in everything that she was doing. All her mannerisms, each particular word that she chose, every single glance that she gave him seemed as if Maeve was inscribing the words I need you across the space between them. As she stared into his eyes, he allowed himself the briefest fantasy of imagining that there could be a relationship between them, that he could whisk her away and show her what it was like to be loved by a man like him, but he knew that such a thought was folly. Pure foolishness. They were adults, and Stephen knew the truth. Maeve could fantasize, just like him, but she would never leave Ryan for him. There were reasons a woman like Maeve was with someone like his brother, and it always had to do with the material. Stephen did not blame her for that, not in the slightest, because money meant security and it was goddamn rational that a person wanted security in life. He saw nothing wrong with being a gold digger and why would he? Considering the kind of man he happened to be. So those kinds of fantasies could be set aside for a far more tangible truth. That he was a taker, and Maeve was a woman who needed to be taken. But not until she confided in him about what had truly happened. And there was the little fact that maybe she did not want Ryan around that gave him the real thrill, the fact that she needed space from her husband. And that kind of feeling allowed him to move in, like a predator stalking the unaware prey. He breathed deeply before he spoke, not because he needed to do so or because he was worried about what he was going to say. But simply to quell any excitement he might be feeling from reaching his voice. Because boy was he excited and thank god that the kitchen counter was in between them. Above the countertop they looked like two friends confiding in one another, showing a measure of connection, and his hand squeezed hers in companionship. Someone to confide in. But below, out of sight, Maeve was not the only one experiencing arousal. Stepehen was viciously erect, aching in his shorts, and thank god he had worn something loose because this was goddamned uncomfortable already. And his face gave nothing away as he spoke, not wanting to let Maeve intuit that he knew everything already. Because he had been there. "So, look, I know that the house got broken into. I'm sorry about that. It's the kind of shit that you hear about on the news, but you never think it's gonna happen to you, right?" His hand gave her another affectionate squeeze, before raising her hand up to kiss with his lips. Just the smallest brush over her knuckles before lowering it back to the countertop. A confidante. "I even offered to let Ryan buy a gun off me, I got a couple for a rainy day. But he said no. Said he didn't want a gun in the house." Those words came with a tinge of disapproval, as if he were looking down on the idea of someone being such a pussy they would not even keep a firearm. Especially considering what had happened to Maeve. His tongue came and he gave a small click against the roof of his mouth, tsking the silly decision, but not elaborating further. "But look, I don't need to speak ill about him. He's worried and want to make sure you were okay, right?"​

 

[cyx.]

❝ The way he raised her hand to kiss against her tattooed skin had a small smile etching over her lips, and Maeve glanced away much the same way a smitten schoolgirl might when her crush was giving her attention. She didn't realize it until after her eyes connected with her coffee cup, and she forced her gaze to meet his again. To focus on his words, and not his actions. Even as she concentrated on what he was saying, she could feel the lingering presence of where his lips had been, and she couldn't help but think of how they'd feel brushing her own lips - or maybe lower.. Maeve shifted once more in the chair she sat in, rolling her eyes at hearing Ryan turn the gun down. It didn't come off as a surprise, though. Ryan was like that. "I.. think he's a little more than worried.." she trailed off after exhaling deeply. Lifting her head from the cradled position of her free hand to the one he held, Maeve grabbed her coffee and took a small sip - not only was she buying herself time to gain the courage to admit her next tidbit of information, but she also needed to wet her throat as it began to dry with tension and anxiety. As the cup was set back down, her eyes lowered once more to its lid, unsure she could look Stephen in the eyes as she spoke. "The, guy.. he.. didn't just take some stuff. He - well. He made Ryan watch.. while he.. took advantage of me.." the words slowly escaped, tangling within the way she attempted to sound casual about the information she was releasing to her brother in law. The word 'rape' had been on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't find it in her to even utter it - had it been rape, really? With how wet she had gotten, with how her hips had bucked back against his massive cock, willing herself to take all of him? Maeve's eyes closed for a moment as flashes of that night echoed in her mind; how it felt repeating over and over, and she noticeably stirred this time within her chair. Holding her breath for a moment, the blond raised her eyes once more to gauge Stepehen's reaction. What she had to say next was much more important to her, in more ways than one. Instinctively, her hand released the cup before her and it pressed against her bare stomach, fingers tracing along the waistband of her sweat pants. "I found out, about a week ago.. that, uhm. I'm pregnant." The words came out more strangled than her precious admission, and it seemed as though she was more worried about his reaction to being pregnant than the fact that she had been sexually assaulted. "Ryan doesn't know. I.. don't know when I'll tell him. Probably not until after the third month." Maeve had full intentions on keeping the child, no matter what Stephen's brother wanted. But keeping it a secret until there was physically nothing to be done in order to terminate the pregnancy was her fail-safe to keeping the child without a tedious argument about abortion. "Don't.. don't tell him.. please. You're the first person who knows. About everything." Maeve's blue eyes lifted to Stephen's, and she narrowed her gaze slightly, showing him how serious she was about the request that he kept everything tightly lipped to himself.​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ "What the fuck did you just say?!" Stephen's hands jerked away from Maeve as if his skin had touched scalding water, trying to desperately escape being burned before it was too late. The sheer incredulity in the man's face was recognizable in more than the simple expression that crossed his features. It was in every fiber of his being, like what she had just said had been an unexpected hammer blow of monumental proportions. And of course, the news would be. Not just of the violation that had occurred but the consequences of that act. The kind of world-shattering revelation that would change the course of their entire lives. Yet his response was also most assuredly the worst thing a man could have ever done to a woman who had confessed to being sexually assaulted. It broke the empathetic connection that Stephen had been providing to her, it severed it cleanly and left poor Maeve adrift after being so open with the truth, and the way he looked at her was if she had been sullied. Changed in some critical way that forced Stephen to reevaluate everything he knew about Maeve and the events which had brought him to her home this day. Little did she know that the truth was far viler than the simple emotion of disgust. Disgust would have been a blessing. For Stephen it was a reordering of every thought he had been having, trying to sort through what he knew to be true. Obviously, the couple might have reported the break in to the police, but Maeve was keeping an even deeper secret. He had bred her, bred her right in front of her husband, and Maeve was keeping it completely quiet. The truth had to come out eventually, But there was something more to this emotion whose ugly head was rising up in Stepehen's mental landscape. This was his child, this was his doing, and in cumming inside of Maeve and forcing her to conceive he had done something far more than simply rape her. He had claimed her. In some primitive, sick, disgusting way he had laid his mark upon her, and she would never be the same. And the way she had acted, there had been no disguising the noticeable wiggling of her hips as she remembered the events of the past. Stephen had been certain while fucking her that she had been getting off to being plowed by him, but now he was certain of the truth. Was there any point in even bothering to try to manipulate Maeve any longer? When he knew that no matter what he did, she would keep the secret? His eyes locked on hers as the decision came on him, unbidden and uncontemplated, just acting on instinct as he stepped around the counter and grabbed Maeve by the hair. His eyes blazed as he leaned in, coming nose to nose with her as a snarl touched his face and he spoke to her. He spoke to her in a voice that she recognized, a voice that had haunted her dreams since the night an intruder had his way with her. "It was me, Maeve, it was fucking me. I'm the man who broke in." He stared at her wide frightening eyes, as if savoring the response he saw in her face, and once the realization hit her he jerked her out of the chair and to the floor. In lightning-fast fashion his clothing was jerked down enough that he could pull out that huge cock, practically slapping her in the face with it, semi-erect but still a monster, and he groaned as he continued talking, discarding all compassion. "Is this what you need, what you've been thinking about? Huh? I bet you just desperately need a good taste. Go on, Maeve, show me what you can do with that incredible fucking mouth."​

 

[cyx.]

❝ The moment his tone changed, and he jerked his hand from hers, Maeve's face contorted into one of shock, and on the cusp of pain. The woman's eyebrows pinched together as she retracted her hand to her chest, balling it into a small fist against her cleavage. Instead of coming out with an answer, she stammered for a moment, before going silence and just blinking in his direction. It was like he had flipped a switch, and the man before her was someone else. His touch still lingered on her hand, but the man she was peering at held no resemblance to the one that had just comforted her. All she could do was try and steady her breathing, to try and figure out in her mind if she had just made a grave mistake telling him the truth about what had happened - about being pregnant. What happened next was too fast for her stunned mind to process at first, until it was already underway. She saw him disembark from around the counter, approach her, and then she felt his grip within her hair. A wild wince escaped, and immediately, Maeve's mind was thrown into overdrive as she attempted to pull from his grasp. Her hands instinctively gripped his wrist, attempting to pry his hands from her hair when his face came inches from her own, and then he spoke to her. Spoke in a voice she had been hearing almost every night when she closed her eyes. Realization began to set in as her eyes looked to Stephen's, as she noticed how dark and void of positive emotion they were. "No.." she whispered, her voice so hoarse she wasn't even sure he'd hear her over the thick dry coating her anxiety had sent down her throat. He jerked her from her seat like she weighed nothing; the counter chair tipped over as she struggled, but he was already forcing her to the floor by the time it came to rest against the linoleum. She began to struggle against his tight grip, her emotions flaring from excitement, to fear; from relief, to shock.. And then his pants were pulled down, and a gasp escaped the back of her throat in surprise. His words drilled into her ears like he was literally hammering them inside her head, and she tried to turn her head away as tears swelled within her waterline. "You prick.." she cussed underneath her breath, littering the tip of his cock with the warmth of her words from how close it swayed in front of her. She attempted to jerk back from his grip once more, but only ended up forcing herself on a better angle to face the cock that had defiled her in front of her husband. Blue orbs concentrated on his size, his girth.. it was clear he wasn't fully erect, and already he was a monster. She had that inside of her? She could barely fathom it. Her blurry eyes lifted to him, staring up at his hard expression as the tears that had began to form threatened to ease down her cheeks. "Please.." she began to plead, knowing that his demand was wrong - that she shouldn't give in, no matter how much heat she felt between her thighs. No matter what that voice inside of her mind was nearly screaming out at her. Lick it. Suck it. Devour it, you slut.. take a real cock in your mouth for once.. "Stephen, I.. I can't-" A sob escaped, interrupting her words. She knew he wasn't going to go anywhere; that he had the strength behind him to take whatever he wanted. If she didn't comply, he'd just make her, right? Maeve noticeably swallowed, attempting to wet her throat as her eyes fell back down to the cock in front of her. The taught grip he held of her hair was enough to make her scalp feel like it was burning, but she ignored it the best she could - it was adding little by little to the arousal beginning to soak her sweatpants, as it was. Tentatively, both of her hands released his wrist, and she dropped her grip to his shaft; her left was settled right at the base of his cock, while her right gripped right above that. Even with both her hands on him, there was a considerable amount left just waiting for attention, and her eyes nearly went from shock to awe as she soaked him in. It took her a moment to mentally remind herself that he wasn't even fully hard yet. Her pink tongue coated her lips in saliva before she leaned forward, pulling against his grip within her hair, in order to suck the head of his cock past her lips. His taste overwhelmed her almost instantly, and she couldn't stop the moan that vibrated against him from surfacing. Her tongue eased underneath his member, caressing and eagerly flicking his skin as she rocked forward on her knees, taking more inside her mouth's warm embrace. Maeve sucked against him, her hands beginning slow and deliberate strokes to meet where her lips took up space, beginning to stoke a fire into the blood that pumped within his shaft. She could feel it slowly beginning to harden to life underneath her ministrations, and it only encouraged her to take more into her mouth, eventually having to release her right hand to make more room for what she was stuffing inside.​

 

[Father Figure]

❝ There was something absolutely awe inspiring in how Maeve seemed to traverse the distance from shock, to disbelief, to grief, and then to obvious desperation. Desperation to feel complete, desperation to feel wanted, desperation to finally have what she always somehow needed but had never given voice to. And it had been Stephen who had made it all real for her. That was what had broken in Maeve, the illusion that she was just a normal woman who was leading a normal life, and that everything was going to be the American dream. Deep down she had always known that it was a lie, that she was a hungry little slut desperate for cock, and that thought was probably sickening to her, but Stephen could have told her the truth. The truth was that was practically every woman when you got down to it. All of them living the façade of a civilized life while hoping to be shattered and turned into nothing but a drenched wet hole. Maybe it was misogynistic, a stereotype, but in Stephen's eyes he was just calling it like the truth he saw it. Behind every closed bathroom door was a woman rubbing frantically at her clit while she dreamed of someone having their way with her. And for Maeve, pretty little Maeve, she was getting exactly what she always dreamt of. There was a split second where he wanted to humiliate her further, really demeaning her for being the cock whore she was, but when he gazed down at Maeve that was not the emotion that came to the forefront. No, not in the slightest. Instead, Stephen felt practically awe stricken, like he was on cloud fucking nine. His brother's wife was suckling away like she had been given the sweet treat, doing so right in their fucking kitchen, pregnant with Stephen's child, and she was goddamn more gorgeous than she had ever been. That rough hand reached out to touch her face, tilting her head upwards so he could look at the tears swelling In her eyes as she pumped his thick cock, and a smile touched his lips. No, not a smile, a smirk. That hand curved along her cheek, practically compassionate and kind, a gentleness to it that was stunning, and his thumb moved to smooth along the line of her jaw as he whispered. "That's right, Maeve, that's right. So, fucking beautiful, you are…so fucking…BEAUTIFUL." The last words were practically groaned as he hardened fully against her wriggling tongue. His next words moved towards something resembling encouragement, though they were hardly what most would have considered good positive reinforcement. "That's it, shhh, that's it Maeve, you can take it…go on, you can do it…" The hand in her hair tightened, giving her a small little jerk as if in reprimand, but it was more a reminder as to who exactly was in charge here. Stephen's eyes bore down into her face, wanting to see every expression he could memorize as he began to push with his hips. He pressed her until her lips met the edge of her own hand, and his free hand took her by the wrist to jerk that impediment out of the way. And Stephen began to face fuck her. It was ruthless, just as ruthless as he had been in her bedroom. There was no room to tell him no, no room to deny him what he wanted. He simply took it. Every so often he found her gag reflex, letting her spit, but he always pulled back just in time before she retched. And then again, as if he were teaching Maeve how to deepthroat that thick piece of meat. Any show of defiance was met with punitive action. Every time Maeve tried to pull away, he let her get just far enough that his cock was freed and then he slapped her with it. Any time she struggled to stand Stephen forced her back to her knees like the action alone was laughable, giving her head a hard shake to cause dizziness. It was practically methodical, until eventually the man accomplished the inevitable, and that cock was fully down Maeve's throat. Down into her goddamn belly like it was a fucking feeding tube.​