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Something Wicked [ Bear & Haruchai ]

H

HeyThereLittleBear

Guest
If there was absolutely nothing else good that could be said about Alexander Baker, it was that he was a good man. At the still-young age of twenty-eight, he was a man that had made a name for himself and a life as a man of his word and a pillar of any community he had joined. But even good men could be beaten down, and that was what Vivian saw when she looked at her husband. He was a strong man, no doubt, as even reaping the grass which had overgrown in their yard was an easy task, but strength could not be a match for what was after them.

Her eyes moved over his strong shoulders and down his arms, watching his muscles work as sweat beaded down his bare back and wet the edges of his trousers. He had the olive tone of a Spaniard, with the raven hair to match it and the most unique of eyes - eyes that had, in fact, been what she had come to love about him first. His hair - curly to the point of almost being kinky - was secured back with a simple piece of ribbon that held it at the nape of his neck, stray bits clinging to his face where it had come loose. As he finished the last of the row and turned back to face her, she could see the scars he had accrued over the years.

Just below his ribs was a scar from the blade of a Savage he’d encountered, and another that had nicked him just above the collarbone on his right side. All down towards his groin were pock marks that were from where hot coals had been tossed on him during a sparring match in his youth, one which he had lost only because his opponent had fought dirty. His scars told a story of a man that had lived an interesting life, certainly much more so than most of the men his age.

Prior to meeting his wife, he had worked in Charles Town as a sailor, wanting to break from the family business of baking breads, pies, and other treats. It was only when he came to port in Jamestown did he make acquaintance with the then Vivian Webb, a young seamstress to be. They ran away in the dead of the night to be wed in the Carolinas in the small town of Salem. Not long after they had become husband and wife, their lives welcomed the next member of whom they considered family - Alistair Crosner.

Crosner - or Cross, as he preferred - was a man that was far more mysterious than Alexander had ever been. The two men had formed a bond quickly and it had been Cross that had turned them to the truth of events. Things were not what they seemed in Salem. Strange events turned Vivian away from what they had believed to be their home, moving out further east towards the coast so that Alexander could make a living working the shipyards and so that Vivian could establish a business in what Alexander had run from all of his life.

The then trio had found what seemed to be a humble town, still getting on its feet - Roanoke. It was a beautiful place, carved out of the swamp lands to be a safe haven from the local Croatoans and from Mother Nature herself. But the Heaven there was even not what she had expected. They had only settled there for two years before Vivian watched a weight carry onto her husband’s shoulders and watched fear enter his eyes. She didn’t understand his nighttime work with Cross, didn’t pretend to understand their demonology and their transgressions against God himself, but she turned a blind eye.

Until a blind eye could no longer be turned.

Everything happened fast one night, when Alexander had come quite literally breaking the door to their cozy home in, his face covered in a fresh sheen of sweat and his skin as pale as a ghost. He’d tossed their belongings into trunks as quickly as he could and got their horses hitched to a wagon. It was less than an hour later that Cross was tossing his own belongings in, the same panic in his face as they ushered everything they owned away from the settlement.

From Roanoke they moved ever South, seeking out a new place in which they could call home. They found it in a settlement that was only just getting onto its feet, a new starting place for their lives that would be their new safe haven. The men were satisfied, and they settled into neighboring lands, building new homes on the spaces and settling into the place. And so they had come to live in Beaufort. The town had accepted them with open arms, taking in both Alex, Cross, and Vivian.

For the first time in a long while, she felt safe. She had started her business as a baker and Alex had started working on the docks, meanwhile they lived next door to Cross and continued their close relationship with him. He joined them for dinner each night and she could even swear that Alex still would slip from their bed in the dead of night to meet with Cross and discuss their ‘business,’ though she felt assured that they no longer needed to study the supernatural and ungodly anymore. Whatever happened in Roanoke had been a freak incident - and that was all she would let herself believe.

Vivian’s eyes moved from her husband to Cross’ door, though, as worry was still there in the pit of her belly. If there was anything for her to worry about, then Alex would never speak with her about it, would never even hint to her about it. He worried too much about her health and worried that her stress was what caused her womb to be barren. But Cross as another matter -- he would be more forthright with her, if she could speak with him privately. Vivian stepped down from her porch, offering Alex a tender wave and soft smile as she passed him, careful not to get grass clippings onto the hem of her light grey dress.

She crossed the yards to Cross’ door, knocking on it firmly. “Mister Cross!” She called out to him, so that he wouldn’t believe it to be the schoolchildren knocking on his door and fleeing before he could answer, “I’d like to speak with you, sir!” She followed up, glancing back at Alex to make sure that he had not followed her. No, he was too busy manicuring his yard to notice. It wasn’t unusual for Vivian to visit Cross, and Alex had the utmost faith in his friend to respect the boundaries of his marriage. After all, he had to trust the man with much more - his life.

“Mister Cross?”
 
There was just something about Alistair Crosner that seemed to set people on edge. He'd always been the sort to keep to himself, and though that did not mean anything in and of itself, his lack of contribution in some things led to suspicion. Cross, for that is what he went by, had immersed himself instead into more scholarly pursuits. The man was a dreamer, a thinker, and he often thought of giving grand lectures on various topics before audiences paying rapt attention to what he had to say. Accolades would follow and his reputation would soar, bringing him riches and adoration.

That was what Cross dreamed of.

Such things hardly ever come to pass however, and the man instead found himself in Salem. Though it was hard work, Cross had more luck with animals than people and had taken a job at one of the local stables. The animals didn't judge him when he snuck off to read this or that, and it allowed him to stay away from the social interactions that he dreaded so much.

It was during his time in Salem that he met Alexander and Vivian. With their opinion and outook of him untarnished, Cross put his best foot forward and was one of the first people to welcome them to Salem. Alexander was opposite of him in many ways; tall and strong, scarred from skirmishes, and a man that worked the fields and looked to the future with a family. Vivian was quite pretty, and kind. That was what Cross liked about her the most. The soft smile that seemed to welcome him no matter what. The adage that opposites attract seemed to be proven by the quick kinship formed between Cross and Alexander. Each found the other fascinating. Though Alexander would tell Cross stories of his battles, his triumphs and failures, Cross would regale the other man with the stories he'd read. Such fanciful tales could not prepare them for what was happening in Salem though, and Cross was an astute observer.

Things in Salem were twisted and crooked, and strange visions plagued Cross' dreams. His pleas were heard by his newfound friends, and they had gathered their respective belongings and fled. Traveling south, they then settled in Roanoke. Yet something still tugged at Cross' consciousness. Something left over from the visions he'd had in Salem. He'd been touched, and he knew not by what, but he had carried it with him. Or it had followed him. All Cross knew for sure was that he was desperate to be rid of it, and he enlisted the help of Alexander to try and bereft himself of whatever had latched onto him.

During the night the two men would pore over the tomes that Cross had managed to procure, and some that he sent off for, borrowing from various institutions. Cross had thought that they would find some solution, find a way to rid him, them, of this encroaching darkness. But it was not to be, and in fact, this.... thing... seemed to be emboldened. Unsure if it would work, Cross suggested that they once more flee. Alexander was all too ready to agree and they moved hastily, soon leaving behind Roanoke as well.

Eventually the trio found their way to Beaufort, and the townsfolk accepted them readily enough, almost as if they had been expected. Vivian and Alexander fit in perfectly, but this did not sit well with Cross and yet he found a place here to delve into his books. A proper library as well as a decent school.

Though the nightmares and visions did subside, they never fully went away, and Cross felt as if he had not fully escaped whatever haunted him. However, he found himself thinking of such things less and less. It allowed his mind to rest and he felt more at ease, falling into an easy schedule. So when the sharp rap came at his door and he heard Vivian's voice outside, calling for him, he was not completely unprepared to see her. Fumbling a bit he put on his glasses and straightened his shirt a bit as he headed to the door.

Cracking open his door a little he could see Vivian, standing there in one of her dresses, and he cleared his throat as he opened the door. "Such a surpirse to see you today Vivian! I was not expecting company. I was just about to make some tea. Would you like to join me?" he asked, the falsehood coming easily, but charmingly enough, and he knew that he did have some tea in the cupboard that he could make for the two of them. Trying to give Vivian his best smile, Cross wondered what she was doing here.
 
The difference between the two men was never the more obvious than when she visited him privately, as his home was in such stark contrast to her own. While the Baker home was decorated well with items of their respective trades and the warmth of a marriage, Cross’ home was a dedication to his life’s work of education and borderline obsession. There was something that was cozy about his home in its own respects, though, as the smell of old books was always a pleasant welcome upon entering.

Vivian offered him a smile at his offer for tea, “Tea would be lovely, Cross.” She accepted, stepping into his home as the door was opened for her. From the look of the place she could tell he hadn’t been about to do anything besides turn another page and continue in his rigorous studies, but his lie was easily forgiven. He was an unusual man but he was by no means a bad one. It was a shame that he was viewed as such a queer fellow, as he was quite handsome and would have made any woman a good husband, save for his lacking in physical skill.

“You’ve been at it again, I see,” She nodded her head towards his work station, which was littered with his research, both of books and his own parchments covered in his handwriting. His quill and inkpot were still out, possibly having been abandoned only moments before, “You really should take a break now and again, you know. It doesn’t do well for your mind to fixate on such things.” Of course, they both knew what ‘such things’ she was referring to, as she didn’t often like to admit to the supernatural studies that the men did.

She cleared a spot for herself at his table and organised what bit of his work that she could without putting things too out of order, a habit of care that she had picked up over the years of almost living with him. Though they didn’t have a romantic relationship, she did care for the man a great deal and had to admit that there was quite a soft spot in her heart for him. It had done her husband good to make such a good friend and the two of them were nearly inseparable.

“I actually came for something more than tea, Cross,” She said after a moment, playing with a bit of material at the edges of her long sleeve, her eyes on her lap, “I was hoping that we could speak privately. I have some things to ask of you in confidence, if you would.”
 
Cross welcomed Vivian into his home with a smile, and one that came more easily to him around her than most people. She was the wife of his best friend. His only friend really, and his respect for her was something that he took very seriously. His study was where he had her sit, the walls lined with a variety of books on a plethora of subjects, though most would be considered unusual if not downright heretic if the local clergy knew of their contents.

That Vivian willingly went right along with his falsehood was part of the reason he admired her so. The lie was so easily caught, and in fact the tips of his fingers still bore the stains of ink. Yet she made no mention of it, nor tried to call him out on it. The small dwelling meant that he could hear her talk even as he put the cast-iron pot on the stove, the container half full of water. It would take a little time for it to heat, but this conversation she now mentioned sounded like it might take a bit of time.

"In confidence?" he asked, the tone of surprise unable to be kept from his voice. "Even from Alexander? Perhaps your question concerns him?" he asked, his keen mind already ferreting out her purpose here with the few vague clues she had given. Showing up without her husband, wanting to talk in confidence... what else might she mean?

By now he'd come back to the study, smiling softly at the now slightly more organized desk, and moving himself to take a seat close to the dying fire. It was late September and not truly cold, but evening was coming on and there was a chill in the air. Grabbing a poker he prodded at the logs, the embers throwing out a few sparks and he got up to throw another piece of wood on the fire. Turning back to Vivian he seemed in thought. "I will answer whatever you ask to the very best of my ability." he informed her and retook his seat, his deep brown eyes on hers, and his expression open and curious.
 
It was easier for her to think about what she had to say when he was in the other room, as she felt quite silly the moment that he came and sat back at the table with her. Truth be told, she had never put much stock into the things that her husband had come to believe in so firmly and there was an unspoken agreement that it wasn’t to be discussed with her unless she was in present danger. But her heart was heavy with the memories of what had been going on in Roanoke, even more so when she had heard the news of their disappearance.

The unfortunate part was that she hadn’t shared that information with either Cross or Alexander and had been watching them all carefully to make sure they didn’t find out from a stranger.

“I’m sure I will appreciate your candor.” She said, her eyes lifting from her sleeve as she offered him a nervous smile, “You know how I feel about you and Alexander’s research. I don’t believe that the Lord would like for us to know more of the devils than the devils themselves.” She shifted a bit, glancing at one of his books on demonology as if she were terrified that the devils were in the papers, “I have to confess a piece of knowledge to you.”

Vivian let out a sigh because it was not like her to keep secrets from either of the gentlemen in her life, but it was a highly sensitive matter. “Before we settled here, I heard a bit of news that has weighed heavily on me. I know that we left our last residence… Rather abruptly…” She lifted her eyes from her sleeve to look him in the eyes, though she was nervous still, “Not long after we left, the entire colony went missing… Everyone. Without a trace.”

The words sounded more ominous when spoken by her own voice, her teeth biting into her lower lips. “And since we have settled here, Alexander has been… Troubled. Night terrors, visions. I’ve prayed with him but I think… I think perhaps the Lord is making him pay for fancying demons too long… I don’t know what to do, Cross.” Her voice broke, the truest sign that she was holding back tears, because it did trouble her terribly. Vivian loved her husband more than she could ever express, and it bothered her to know she couldn’t help him when he so desperately needed it.
 
Cross could tell that Vivian was upset and he did settle in to listen. She was one of the people that he actually cared about in this world, and if she was upset then he would do anything that he could to assuage her fears. So as she began to speak he paid rapt attention. It was the same sort of focused awareness he used when he was studying, and his eyes took in everything about her as she spoke. As she explained about Roanoke he gave a short nod. "I heard. A vexing conundrum, and yet a relief that we did not find ourselves party to that mystery." he commented quietly.

Yet Vivian continued and he knew he had been right in his guess as she spoke about Alexander. Absently Cross pulled a pipe from the top of the desk where it resided in its cradle, and popped the end into his mouth. He'd long ago given up the habit, though he still had those cravings, and instead simply sucked on the end and cupped the bowl of the pipe in his right hand as he thought.

"These night terrors you speak of... does Alexander ever speak during them? Does it seem as if he might be communicating with something? Or how about his visions? Does he ever speak of them? or try to interact with them?" Cross asked, curious and also concerned. Of course he did not want anything to happen to his friend, and yet there was a soft pang of jealousy that perhaps Alexander had attracted the attention of some otherworldly entity while Cross himself was left bereft of such an honor. His dark brown eyes settled on Vivian, noticing the strong structure of her face and thinking, not for the first time, of just what a handsome woman she was. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Cross tapped the bowl of the pipe with his index finger and waited to see what other insight she might be able to provide.
 
Cross didn’t seem in the least bit perturbed by her announcement of her husband’s ailments and she wasn’t sure if she should feel relieved or more concerned about him. If anyone knew about the supernatural enough to stop what was vexing Alexander then it would be Cross. He was well versed in just about all forms of demonology and he certainly had saved them before with the premonitions of the Roanoke mystery. Vivian had her notions of what was happening but Alexander had assured her that their family was safe enough that they could make a life for themselves.

“He doesn’t speak but he says that they tell him things… Things that are not possible for a man to know.” She said, her eyes falling from Cross’ face and looking at the table, a bit of blush coming to her lips as she struggled with what she had to say. “The nature of these visions is usually quite… Perverse.” She said, fighting to get the words out because it was not proper of a lady to speak of such things, much less for a man to speak of them to a lady. Alexander hadn’t told her about them, but she had read his dream log in which had become steadily more troubling.

“I found his dream journal, where he scribes all of his nightly adventures. They have always been very bland and typical. But as of a few weeks ago he started to dream of… A woman.” Vivian was fidgeting again, her eyes glancing up at Cross with apologetic and shy eyes, a first in their many years of being friends as Vivian was a rather outspoken woman, “He has been dreaming of laying with another woman as he does me but he speaks of… Unholy acts.”

By now her face had turned from a light pink to a darker color, but she was not shying away from telling him everything, “In his dreams when he gets her with child, he dreams that she has carried a beast to the earth. He describes the babe as having the feet of a goat and the tongue of a serpent, with the eyes of a cat… I know Alexander and these dreams are not him.”

She let out a shuddering breath, feeling a shiver run up her spine from even talking of the dreams of the damned, “The worst of his dreams is that when I wake him from them, he is… Not himself.” Her eyes moved to the door before she slid a piece of her dress to the side to expose her upper arm and shoulder, where a dark purple bruise in the shadow of a hand lay. “He did this two nights ago. I still have not told him what happened… This is not him.”
 
Cross was silent for a moment after she spoke, his mind trying to grasp all that she had said. His eyes had locked onto the wicked bruise and he nodded. "You are right. That is not him. Something has taken hold of your husband it seems. Something dark."

Without another word beyond that, Cross grabbed ink and quill and a piece of parchment. "When you say that he dreams of a woman, has he described her in any way? What sort of things does she tell him and what sort of perverse acts do they perform?"

There was no way to hide the curiosity that Cross felt, but he was also very studious and as he was already making notes, he seemed quite intent on helping her. "If you can tell me as much detail as possible, then I might be able to narrow down what sort of entity plagues your husband. My best friend." he said, adding the last part as assurance that he did wish to help her. And himself as well. What man would stand idly by while his best friend suffered at the hands of unknown forces? A number of hellish beings could be responsible for Alexander's strange dreams and actions, but the fact that they have manifested themselves enough to physically harm another, his wife, was a vexing and immediate problem. Most beings were grounded in temptation, urging their target to transgress against God, but this one had decided to take a particular interest in Vivian as well, not content to merely torture Alexander's mind.

That meant that this being was particularly dangerous and very wicked.

Cross raised his gaze to look at Vivian intensely, wondering how well she would be able to answer his questions. Hopefully she would be able to help since he doubted that Alexander would talk to him about such things. If he even remembered them at all. "I will talk to your husband myself, but I'll need you to tell me as much as you know. Once I get that information and then talk to him one on one, I might be able to tell you if your husband is being toyed with or has qactually been subsumed by this being.
 
Unfortunately, Cross wanted to know details that she was uncomfortable speaking of, her cheeks fully flush now as she forced herself to think of what she knew of his dreams, though they were not things that a woman of her type ought to speak of much less know about. “He says that she whispers to him while he is in bed with me and draws him outside of our home. She takes him to a space in the old orchards and,” She had to draw in a breath, finding that it was quite hot in his house suddenly, “She services him sexually with her mouth.”

Even that small admission made her feel shame, because she knew how much of a taboo it was to speak of sex with anyone besides your pastor or your husband and Cross was neither, though he could be close enough and had enough knowledge to certainly get the name of ‘Father’. She couldn’t meet his eyes as she continued on, feeling quite embarrassed as the images play in her mind like a force that cannot be stopped.

“He describes her as being very full in hips and having a bosom that would make a wet nurse jealous. When she… Finishes him with her mouth, she commands him and makes him pleasure her with his hands and his mouth. He says that it seems like they are together forever but the moon doesn’t move and the stars just sparkle their joy…” She shakes her head, feeling sick to her stomach because her husband dreamed of such awful deeds with another woman. His dreams had even seeped into their love life and made him a more forceful lover.

“When they finally lay with each other Biblically, he finishes inside of her and he says that he knows she is with child each time. Sometimes he says he sees her grow round with his child and birth a demon, but most often he says that she spreads her legs like a harlot to show him and tells him that…” She was choking on her words again, because the next part with a strike against a piece of her that was very sensitive, “That his seed has finally found fertile ground.”

They had struggled with an inability to conceive a child and it had eaten at her because a part of her deep down knew that her womb would be forever barren. She would never experience the love of a child that was her own and she was struggling with the knowledge. “Oh, Cross,” She broke down finally, her face falling into her hands as she sobbed, “I have lost my husband to the darkness, haven’t I?”
 
Cross' already ink-stained fingertips held the quill masterfully and it drew over the parchment in a sort of shorthand only known by Cross himself and of his own devising. Each detail that was told to him had a place in what he wrote, and Cross' brow furrowed as he concentrated, pondering. He seemed almost startled as Vivian began to cry, sobbing softly into her hands. Setting down the quill he stood and crossed the single step to her, wrapping his arms about her and trying to lend what comfort he could. They had shared a hug or two in the past, but this seemed different somehow.

"It will be alright. I will do what I can." Cross assured her and rubbed her back gently before he slowly let go of her and moved toward the shelves of books against the wall. "I will have to do a bit of research, but my first impression is that he is being preyed upon by a succubus." he told her, looking through the tomes and grabbing one, opening it as he came back to sit close to her.

"A succubus is a demonic entity that preys on men, tormenting them, tempting them, and slowly killing them as they feed on their souls. Here..." Cross said, having found what he wanted and setting the book down where she could see. "They will appear as beautiful women, tempting men with pleasures of the flesh, but this is their true visage." he informed her, tapping a picture in the tome.

"They could even look different from that, but rest assure, the face they present is misleading. They are evil, and will surely destroy your husband if she is not stopped." Cross said. He was not trying to scare Vivian, but he felt she deserved the truth. "As I said, I will need to do some research, for each of Hell's minions has a weakness. The Fallen often fear the clergy, but I am no such man, and will have to rely on more secular means."

Cross hoped that he'd instilled a little hope in her, and he reached out a hand to pat her arm gently. "WE'll bring him back. Together." he said with a little smile.
 
Though they were by no means as close as the two men were, there was no denying that she did draw a certain comfort from him wrapping his arms around her. There was always a comfort in being held by another human as one wept and she was weak enough to grasp his lapels gently as she sobbed in his chest, her cries muffled by the materials of his shirt. He was a good man, all in all, and there was a fondness for him that couldn’t be denied. There was even a small comfort in the smells of his clothing, a warm scent that was a mix of the fresh wood burning and dusty quills, which was not off putting in the least.

By the time that he pulled away from her, she had wept her cheeks into being on the splotchy side, her eyes rimmed with red. Even with these flaws she was still a lovely woman, and weeping had not taken much of that from her. She wiped her still wet eyes with a handkerchief as she gathered herself once again, attempting to be a woman of pride rather than seeming like a hysteric.

It was easier like that to listen to Cross as he described what was most likely plaguing her husband, a horror so foreign that she couldn’t suppress the sharp gasp when he showed he just an artist’s rendering of it. It would explain a vast deal of his odd behavior in the last few weeks and could even explain why it was so eager after him. After all, there was nothing more interesting to a beast than a good man.

Cross’ reassurances and promises that they would catch the beast and destory it did a lot ot ease her worried heart, her weeping gone now that the worst of the stress was away. Even with all of the powers of hell against them, she knew that Cross was without a doubt a man of his word and would keep it to the death of him, which had almost nearly come too soon. His hand patting hers brought a soft smile to her face, her own turning to grasp his gently.

“You are too good a man, Alistair Crosner.” She didn’t often use his full name, but when she did it always was used with affection, as if she were whispering a secret to a lover in the night. Vivian stood, crossing the table so that she could embrace him in her warm arms, “I can’t ever thank you enough for all that you do for us.” She murmured, leaning back to cup both sides of his face and gaze into his eyes, “Truly, you are too good.”

Vivian wasn’t sure then what possessed her, but she found herself leaning in, her lips pressing against his. She had kissed him before on only one occasion when she’d been offered a few glasses too many of wine to drink when in the company of the men and that had been a rather swift and chaste kiss on the cheek. This one was different, still soft and chaste, a thankful kiss of sorts, but she couldn’t deny that she felt… An odd stirring in her loins that she felt normally only in the privacy of her bedroom when she watched her husband disrobe himself.

Even more beguiling was the fact that she still felt drawn to him, the kiss seeming to linger and feel far more passionate than she had intended. When she finally drew back from him her cheeks had gone flush again, this time in embarrassment, her eyes immediately moving away from his, “I-” She stammered at first, feeling guilt weigh down in her belly, “I, uh, thank you… Sincerely.” She said after a moment, hoping that it would take away some of the spark that had been there, to mask it as if she had not just been passionate and almost… Lustful.
 
Too good? Hardly anyone every referred to Cross as 'good', much less 'too good', but Vivian's trust and how she seemed to rely on him made Cross feel... wanted. No,not wanted. Needed. Then she spoke his full name and had his undivided attention. It was always that way when she used his full name, and his eyes met hers. His gaze was soft, affectionate even, and there was no argument as she stood and closed the distance between them to embrace him. Then her hands were on his face and she was leaning into his, soft and warm against him as her lips met his own. The kiss was different than any they'd shared before, usually simple kisses on the cheek, almost like one would a sibling. This was different, and Cross slipped his arms around her as a jolt of arousal shot through him and lewd thoughts of his best friend's wife ran rampant through his mind. The kiss could not have lasted more than a few moments, but it felt like it stretched on for minutes, and by the time she pulled back Cross' face was a bit flushed. Other parts of him had reacted as well, and luckily it seemed that perhaps Vivian had not noticed.

Unfortunately for them, something else had.

----------​

It stirred. The emotion in the room bringing it to a certain consciousness. It had resided in the man for a number of months now. Biding its time. Waiting. For a moment such as this. It saw the woman through the human's eyes. She was... delectable. Oh yes. Her husband, tormented by something. Something like it, maybe. On the other hand, nothing else was quite like it. Her anguish was exquisite and it stirred more as she touched the human, coming more awake. The flush of her cheeks and the beat of her heart were palpable, and it had felt something stir in her as well. Desire. Lust.

It knew such things. Was born of such things.

A plan began to form.

----------​

Cross felt her pull away and he didn't want her to. He wanted to draw her back, to pull her to his bed and... He smiled gently at her thanks. "You're very welcome Vivian. You should get home. Give no reason for Alexander to think we're up to something." he said, teasing, but also truthful. "I will see what I can come up with and get back with you in another day or so?" he told her, hoping that would suffice
 
Vivian could hardly concentrate after she pulled away from the kiss, her mind full of thoughts that weren’t like her and her body almost thrumming with her barely contained desires. She could feel that her sex had grown wet between her legs and her body craved to be touched. She wanted nothing more than to explore her sexuality, though the Lord forbid for a woman to lay with another man that was not their husband. She tucked away all of her urges and mentally offered up a prayer in hopes that she would be forgiven for her moment of weakness, her eyes unable to meet Cross now.


“My thanks, Cross.” She murmured, sneaking herself one last glance at him before she left his home, feeling sexually unsatisfied and laughing silently at the fact that neither of them had so much as touched the tea. The day had turned towards late afternoon in what seemed like the short time she had been in his home, both yards empty of Alexander and his yard tools, the grass cut down to a level that was pleasing to the eye and brushed into a pile towards the dirt road that they were on.


She was hardly aware of things as she ventured home to find the house empty, a lone candle burning on their dining room table. Most of Alexander’s clothes lay draped over one of the dining chairs, though she noticed that his small clothes were missing from them. Evidence told her that he would be washing himself off in the small brook that was within walking distance of their house and provided them all with clean water to cook and bathe.


Vivian was in the process of gathering his clothes up to sort when she heard the front door close, spooking her into jumping. “Ale--” She’d hardly started to get his name out of her mouth to admonish him for scaring her when she felt his hands on her, slamming her forward onto the table before his hands wrapped around towards her front, ripping at her corsets as if he were a wild beast.


Even through the layers of her dress she could feel his erection, his body hard against her as his lips trailed up and down the sides of her neck. As one hand was tearing open the front of her dress the other hand was wrapping around her throat, covering up her soft sounds of pain just barely muffled by his skin. He’d gotten through the layers of her dress to expose her breasts, his hand grasping them hard enough to make her cry out into his palm, hot tears springing from her eyes to roll down over his hand. Beneath the hand she was sobbing, the violation delving deeper than just being grasped roughly.


The hand started forcing her dress down past her hips, ripping her small clothes off easier than he could the heavier cloth of her layered and corseted dresses. She could hear him groan behind her as his hand moved down her body, slipping between her legs to find her still wet from her encounter with Cross. Alexander used one of his knees to force her legs apart, shoving her harder against the table to bend her over it completely, grasping some of his soiled clothes that were now forgotten to shove his shirt into her mouth.


She grasped the table as he grabbed her hips, taking only a moment to position his cock against her opening before he rammed himself into her. He was relentless as he thrust into her, one hand moving from her hips to grasp her hair in a fist and keep her head shoved against the table as the other pulled her hips back to meet his. He was rough with her, his cock going in deeper than was comfortable and hurting her. The shirt muffled her cries enough that it would almost sound like passionate lovemaking, though she could feel herself growing sore beneath his rough attentions.


He was making noises that were borderline feral, his teeth bared as he let out grunts and soft growls through his teeth, every noise having a hiss to it as he forced himself into her again and again. Any arousal that had come from Cross was long gone, her body becoming dry as the friction from his cock dried her out, causing the sex to not only be painful but completely unpleasurable. Her face was wet with tears as she finally quit fighting and lay still onto the table, weeping quietly because there really was no other option for her now.


The moments seem to drag on for a lifetime and still he hadn’t finished, but the moment came when he pulled out of her again, dragging her limp body from the table and forcing her down onto her knees. He was emotionless as he pulled the dirty shirt out of her mouth, careless to her coughing and gasping as he hooked his thumb into her lower teeth to hold her mouth open. “Bite me and I’ll break your jaw.” He spoke for hte first time, his voice… Different from normal.


There was no time to agree, no time to accept, no time for anything as he shoved his cock into her mouth, grasping her hair again as he shoved her down further onto his shaft until he could feel his tip entering her throat. She was fighting again, grabbing desperately at his hips as she gagged on him, coughing and attempting to get away. He was relentless in the way he forced himself in and out of her, forcing her to gag each time his head pushed past her mouth and into her throat.


She could taste her own sex on his cock, a taste unlike any other and mixed with the salty flavor of his sweat. His body smelled of hers and still dripped with water from being in the brook, having washed most of his stench away. There was no way she could have ever enjoyed this, his movements too rough on her and everything lacking… Alexander’s touch.


And it was only when he had sufficiently degraded her and caused her throat to ache with a dull throb that he finally shoved her deep down onto him again, his cock pulsing in her mouth as he came, his hand loosening up on her hair as he permitted her to pull away from him. She fell to the floor in a heap, curling up as she coughed and struggled to swallow his load, wiping tears and saliva from her face as she cried not so quietly. Alexander was blind to her tears and deaf to her cries, walking past her as if she had been nothing. He left their kitchen and disappeared into their bedroom without another sound.


Vivian didn’t know how long she lay on the floor sobbing, time having no meaning as she tried her best to gather herself once again into a dignified woman. When she did gather herself, she did her best to gather up their clothing and toss it all into the fireplace. A quick glance out their thin window told her that night had fallen fully on their town. Her reflection in the mirror was not someone that she recognized, bruises already forming along her jaw from how he’d held her face and her eyes finding more on her breasts, hips, and thighs.


It took a long time before she could enter their bedroom, where she found him in bed as if nothing had transpired. This had happened before, in a less violent form, but it had been no less passionate. He wasn’t himself when these spells hit him and he wouldn’t remember any of it, so there was no need in talking to him about it. She wept as she dressed herself in her nightgown, returning not to her bed to join her husband whom had become an unidentifiable monster, but leaving her home.


The darkness of the night hid her as she crossed her yard yet again, ignoring the rules of decorum and decency as she opened Cross’ door without knocking. She shut it as quietly as she could and leaned against it, hugging herself in as much comfort as she could give. “Cross,” She called out for him, her voice broken and on the verge of spiraling further, “We… We can’t wait days…” She choked out finally, sliding down his door to sit on her rump, falling forward to despair over her situation.
 
Having no idea what was happening just across the way, Cross had eaten a small bit and then retired to his room. The acts that followed were wicked, by every estimation of the church. Coveting another man's wife for starters. Though Vivian's name left his lips as his head lolled back, eyes rolling into his head as he imagined her atop him, sliding up and down him and impaling herself upon him over and over again. So it was that he didn't hear the front door open nor close, but the voice of the woman on his mind called out, called his name. That name on her lips, pleading, calling for him, only added to the illusion in his mind and he was so close, on the verge of his pleasure, when he was told that they could not wit days and he realized with a start that she was in his home.

"Here!" he called out softly to her, cursing under his breath as he stood from his bed to cover himself and stumble in the candlelight out to greet her. Cross found her just inside the door, in a shift of some sort and having fallen forward in her despair. "Vivian! Are you alright?" he asked, and crossed to her, barring the door - damn the consequences - and kneeling to wrap his arms about her shoulders. "What happened?" he asked, concern over her quite obvious in his voice.
 
Cross had come to her aide the moment she’d entered his home, his arms wrapping around her to comfort as she sobbed into his chest. Her hands grasped the front of his shirt as she tried to control herself even long enough to explain what happened, her eyes red-rimmed and still weepy when she could finally catch a breath that was longer than the hitched sobs she was trying to breathe through. “No, I’m not alright.” She gasped out as she tried to think about how to explain what was going on. Her hands were shaking as she let go of him, “The devil is in him.” She whispered, a new wave of sobs coming over her again.


Vivian was not normally so full of tears, her sadness usually reserved for the privacy of her room when she had been visited once again by the “red maiden” to signify that she had once again failed to further the family line. “He… He…” She tugged at the front of her nightgown and the buttons spilled loose, exposing her front to him, the bruises already ripening on her pale skin. “He did this.” She sobbed, the exposure mixing with the shame of what had happened, “He has never done this before.” Vivian choked out the words feeling the hurt so deep that she almost couldn’t bear it.
 
Picking her up a little he walked her to the table and chairs that they'd sat at earlier, just a few feet away, and by the candlelight he could see her red-rimmed eyed and ruddy cheeks. She'd not only been crying, but sobbing, and she confirmed that she was not at all alright. She let go and said that the devil was in her husband. It was a sobering moment and Cross was momentarily rendered speechless - which was only furthered as she bared herself to him in that manner, the bruising fresh on her skin. The bruises and her words did indeed cut to his core and yet Cross was inflamed by her as well, his thoughts only moments prior being made manifest before him, and he could feel his arousal, which had abated slightly, returning full force at the sight of the object of his desire.

What was he to say? To do? Go confront the man? He was her husband and taking one's wife by force was not punishable by law. I many cases it was encouraged. Vivian had yet to produce an heir and Alexander was sure to be frustrated over such a situation. It was no excuse, so that only left Cross with the option to comfort his friend. Cross bent and caught her in his arms, closing his eyes and trying to push away the rapacious desire he felt and hoping that she did not discover it as well. Though if she did...

"It will be alright." he told her softly, and kissed her cheek. His hands moved to bring her gown back up to cover her, though trembling fingers brushed over soft breasts as he did so, his breathing deep as his eyes drank her in. Down below his arousal raged and throbbed and he was sure that if nothing else she would feel the heat from it, burning as it was for her.

They had not partaken of the tea earlier and Cross said softly, "Let me get you something to help calm you." He did not immediately leave her side, waiting, maybe even hoping, that she forbade him to leave her at the moment.
 
It was wrong both by the morals of the time that they lived in and by the religion that they followed, but Vivian felt so much comfort from his arms around her body, an intimacy that her husband hadn’t provided for her in weeks. It was so terribly wrong for her to feel the way that she did and for her to harbor a soft spot as she did for him, but she couldn’t deny that it was beginning to happen. He wasn’t just a friend that was going to help her, he was a man that comforted her when she was at her weakest moment. It was very telling that when she was at her most vulnerable that she sought him out instead of turning to the pastor that could have provided her a more religious comfort.


She could feel that she wasn’t alone in the emotions that she was feeling because though he did afford her back her modesty by covering her chest again, he was also becoming aroused from her nakedness despite the injuries. Vivian could feel his length press against her as he held onto her and she was not… Opposed to it. Under ordinary circumstances she would have found it highly inappropriate for a man such as himself and a woman such as herself to be together like this, but these were most certainly not ordinary circumstances at all.


He moved to leave her side to gather something to soothe - tea, perhaps - but she grasped his arm. “Don’t?” It was a request, spoken from a place of weakness, “Don’t leave me alone.” She added to her request after a moment, her hand moving from his arm to move so that her arms wrapped around his body, holding him in an embrace that was strong and bordering on passionate. Her eyes shut as she buried her face into his chest, letting her body press against him gently.


She was not naive by any means in knowing what effect her body had on him, but she was at a point where she needed comfort in any way she could find it. It wasn’t her proudest moment, but she did desire him.
 
Cross loved how she felt in his arms, despite the fact that she would not be there were it not for her husband. That was not his fault though, and in many ways not his problem. He was not a religious man and that had already made him somewhat of a pariah to some in the town. Cross did not cling to such lofty notions as many, and what truly kept him from his desires with Vivian was only her and her husband, the bonds of friendship and trust and his own moral code. So then when she asked him not to leave her alone Cross did not hesitate to still himself and then it was Vivian herself that pressed into him, close to him. There was no denying how right she felt against him, how warm and soft and... pliant.

"I will not leave you." Cross told her, his lips pressed into her hair, against her scalp. Below his arousal throbbed and raged, needing appeased, and yet he could not wrench his thoughts away from the sight of her before him, her perfect breasts and soft alabaster skin marred by her husband. There was something about that....

----------​

The sight of the bruises on her body once again made It stir, and it felt a burning desire to do more, oh so much more. The warm flow of blood, the whimpers that plead for mercy. It could bring those things to Cross. Cross desired them, even though he would deny it. Perhaps It could seek out this woman's husband. It always felt better preying on those weaker than itself. Humans had their own weaknesses, to be sure, but they could be exploited and brought to fruition in other ways. A man like Alexander? That was a different story.

----------​

Cross felt his hands drop, just a little, though it was enough to cradle her bottom. A bold move, but one which he had been pleasuring himself to just mere moments before she had come into his home. The smell of her, the feel of her in his arms, all of this flooded his senses and he became inundated with desire, pulling her into him, not bothering to try to hide his own desire for her, hard and hot against her skin as it would be.
 
Even though his hands were meek, there was a hunger in him that was unspoken and not fully acted upon. Vivian could feel his length press against her in the most desirable of ways, her body reacting in a way that was completely unexpected but not unwanted in the least bit. Though her body was bruised and aching still, she could feel her own throb between her legs as the fire of passion was lit inside of her, her body pressing against him even more firmly than she had been. Her blouse was still loose enough that it did reveal her body, and god shame her but she did crave… A gentler touch than Alexander had given her in weeks.


The pastor had often described the path to heaven as climbing a mountain. It was so difficult to find the right path that would get you to the peak safely, and you were bound to slip here and there. It was so much easier to descend the mountain, even more so to slide or run down it. And here she felt herself slipping down the mountain, her loose foothold on her self-control failing.


“Cross,” She was so bold as to get his attention before she captured his lips with her own, her eyes closing as she pressed her torso against him, her soft breasts against his chest as her arms pulled him as close as they could without coming to know each other biblically. His erection was a pleasurable mound that she let herself rub upon, feeling him through the thin clothes that she wore and his own night clothes. She was letting her body lead her rather than her mind, her desire apparent on her face.
 
It watched through the man's eyes as the woman practically threw herself at him, and a ripple of delight coursed through not only the man but what was inside of him as well. She was ripe, so ripe. Long hanging fruit that was begging to be plucked. Corrupted. Devoured.

It was easy enough to stoke the foster the fires of lust that the man already felt for the woman. Pleasures of the flesh. Carnal delights. All of these things were weapons to be used, and so was the flesh between the man's legs. Engorged and needful, It reveled as she rubbed against the man and with just a little push, things were on their way.
----------​

Cross was momentarily taken aback by the actions of Vivian, though only momentarily as the desire for her overwhelmed him. Her lips were pressed to his, her brasts bared and softly pressed to his chest as down below... own below her damp feminine heat rubbed him in ways that he'd only ever dreamed about. Those once meek hands gained strength, found their purpose, as fingers crawled along her flesh, pulling her gown from her shoulders completely, and the only thing holding it up was the press of their bodies.

His lips met hers with abandon, and he dared to press his tongue along the seam of her mouth, not only begging entrance, but forcing it, taking it. Cross seemed wholly like another person as those hands that had freed her gown moved on their trek downward to her hips and then further down and back to grab her backside and pull her forcefully into him, his hips grinding his erect manhood between her legs in a way that left no doubt as to his intent.

There was no time for words, no time for pleasantries, and though Cross was more gentle than her husband, his movements were as sure and as needy. Letting go of her backside he took half a step back, breaking their kiss as well. His eyes were dark in his lust and desire, and his hands had begun to lift his nightclothes, revealing in short order the turgid throbbing cock between his legs, already wet upon the tip with his effluence - a sign of his readiness and eagerness.

In mere moments his clothing was tossed aside his fully nude form bared to her. Cross, for all his studies and introverted ways, was still quite masculine. Perhaps surprisingly so. He was well endowed, and stood tall and straight, his cock erect and proud. For her. Because of her.

Then he was upon her again, and though the hunger he displayed was like that of her husband, his manner of expression was entirely different, though he had let her gown fall when he'd stepped back. One hand sought out that secret spot between her legs, fingers finding her sex, rubbing, exploring. A new lover getting acquainted one might say, and her effluence soon coated his fingers. His touch was firm as he spread her nether lips with his fingers, an almost shameful act but one which he seemed to desire, and two fingers rubbed along her slick pink, her inner folds, before he brought them up to breathe deeply of her scent.
----------​

It smiled as Cross moved to follow his instinct, perhaps little more than an animal, as most men were. Smelling after her sex like a dog, wanting to mount her like one and rut like the hairless beast that he was.
 
Desire was such a devilish thing - it could make a man go mad and make a woman act as the beasts that they put up walls to keep out. She felt almost like a creature was leading her by the hand into the darkness she’d tried so hard to keep out with her weekly church visits and her twice a week confessions with the good father. But now, she was every bit a sinner as if she were nothing more than the common whore, influenced so much by her own weakness and selfish wants.


Even if she denied it to herself, she did want Cross. She did desire for him to touch her, to take her as she hadn’t been taken in weeks. Even before her husband had become ill with the demons she had cared for him… But now it was evolving, growing into a passion of its own.


The Vivian that had been was lost instead in a passion of the flesh, hands seeking out the warmth of skin and lips tasting him as if he were a most delectable peach. She should have been hesitating, should have held back, but there was total abandon in the way she took from him, her sex growing quite wet with arousal at the feeling of him grinding his erect cock against her mound. Her throat held back a soft groan, but her body was trembling with the want that was rising like the tides and turning steadily into a hot, throbbing need.


By the time that she did feel him pull away from her she was on the verge of being breathless, her eyes locked on his as he disrobed himself. They didn’t linger. Instead, they roamed hungry across his bare form, taking in the muscles that she had seen on very few occasions before, the gentle curves of his ribs down his sides and moving to his groin - his cock was larger than she had anticipated, erect and slick with his own arousal, the base surrounded by a healthy growth of masculine hair.


There was no time to appreciate the beauty that was the form of a naked man because as swiftly as he had pulled away from her he was on her again, his fingers seeking out her most tender of places. Cross was in stark contrast to anything her husband had ever been, his spidery fingers adept at their ministrations between her legs, jolts of pleasure spiking up into her belly as he touched her. There was something very primal in the way he moved then, bringing his fingers wet with her fluids to his nose to sniff them, taking in the smell of her most intimate of places.


It had been too long since she had felt the touch of someone so intimately, so long since she had even felt desire in the way that she did now. She let her desire make her brazen, grasping his wrist to move his hand out of the way so that her mouth could seek out his, her tongue hungry to slip into his mouth and taste him again. Her free hand slid down his chest, enjoying the way his skin felt beneath her fingers as they danced down across his sternum then dipped past his navel and traveled ever lower to his cock.


This was the line that she hadn’t dared to cross with another man before, as she had been only ever touched Alexander before. There was some trepidation, but the steady ache of want between her legs pushed her past her personal point of no return, her fingers sliding around his cock slowly, stroking his slowly to arouse him and indulge her own selfish want to take of him as he had done her. Her lips broke away from his, though they didn’t move far, brushing them as she whispered her darkest secret, “I want you, Cross… Take me.”
 
Cross felt as if he was on fire and the only person that might quench that flame was Vivian. Her words seared into his mind far more than even her touch or her kiss, and the man feared he might lose all control. Her fingers trailed fire along his cock, and he groaned at her touch. This was a dream made reality and Cross never wanted to wake. Her tongue had caressed along his own and the taste of her still lingered there. His hand joined her own, gently gripping her fingers around his throbbing shaft, and he briefly looked down, sliding that swollen mushroom head along her cleft. Her soft warm lips gave way, parting and caressing that slick velvet skin as if inviting him inside.

His eyes soon met hers once more and he gently moved his shaft up and down, teasing along her sex, wanting to drive her mad. He could feel the hard little nub that was her clit and he smiled devilishly as he rubbed over that bundle of nerves again and again, that crown catching on the lip of her most sacred of entrances now and again, though Cross never quite allowed himself to enter her.

Still, he was not going to deny himself that pleasure, and eventually he settled at her tight hole and pressed his hips forward. He could feel her tightness start to stretch around his cock, and with a groan of pleasure he slid into her inch by inch. As he pushed in he lifted her onto the nearby table, holding her under her legs, keeping them spread. He could feel how hot and wet she was, and his slow penetration seemed to last forever until his balls rested against the curves of her bottom.
 
Even more than the guilt that was threatening to consume her was the desire that reared its ugly head in her body, pushing back the weight in her chest and replacing instead with a burning fire. She could feel the heat of his own want radiating from his skin and shining through his eyes enough that she had never felt more… Alive. There truly was no other way to put it, as she felt like she was experiencing everything again for the very first time. His hands were so unfamiliar to her that she couldn’t help but feel like a virgin once again, her body leaning up into his touch.


The gentle pressure of his cock’s head against her body made her already wet sex produce even more of her effluence, her body so ready to take him that the dull pain of the previous love making had been all but forgotten. The bruises were no less there, but the pain was so far from her mind that it may as well not even have happened.


Each time she felt him rub against her clit she let out a soft sigh, her inner thighs twitching as she struggled against the urge to clamp them around his hips and draw him in ever closer. It seemed like a lifetime that he hovered there with her on the precipice of a bad decision before they both fell over the edge, the head of his cock pressing past her entrance and into her body. Vivian was hardly aware of him lifting her and taking her to the table, only aware once she felt the security of it beneath her rump once again.


All of her attention was on the sensation between her legs of him slowly delving into her folds, his cock coming to rub the innermost reaches of her body as his balls rest against her cheeks. She let her arms wrap around his neck and draw him into her again, her lips soft and tender against his as her walls did quite the opposite around his cock, squeezing him as she rolled her hips up against his.
 
Yessss. This was what It wanted. The bending of the mind to follow the flesh. The heat of her damnable cunt as he gave himself over to lust, and her own rising desire as she felt him inside of her. It smiled, the weakness shown in them having been exploited and the mind of the one It was in having given way to the animal just beneath the surface. It was beautiful. The mind was weak, whereas the flesh was strong. Stronger than steel.

----------​

Cross was buried inside of Vivian, and yet that was not enough. It was like it was never enough. Her lips were an ambrosia, giving him life, and Cross did not plan on ever squandering that life again. His hips met hers in a rhythm as old as time, plumbing her depths with his cock as that velvet crown tapped at her cervix, having reached the end of its inward delve. A soft grown left him at the vice-like grip of her sex, and his hands came up to her face, cupping her cheeks as he thrust. His kiss was fiery and passionate, bordering on manic, and his hands slowly dropped, wrapping gently around her neck. Her breasts answered his thrusts, bouncing and swaying gently. They'd have been hypnotic were he looking, but instead his hands tightened, slowly cutting off her air.

It was if he was fully in tune with her, and as her air was deprived, he felt power. Her life was in his hands, and so was her pleasure. His thrusts grew more forceful, that thick length slamming deep into her, stretching her, filling her with himself as he broke the kiss and watched her face.
 
Though Cross was by far a more passionate lover than her husband while he was under one of his trances, there was also a very instinctive and animalistic side to him that she couldn’t deny. He was primal in his need of her body and the feelings were so very mutual. With every needful thrust into her body he was met with a soft gasp or sigh of desire, her body responding to him as if they had been made for each other. Even prior to his illness she had never connected with Alexander in this way, every inch of her body alive with sensation. Her skin tingled where he touched as if static electricity were coming from his fingers, her body wanting ever more from him though there was no more of him to give.


But there was more of herself to give - a total surrender to him in which she blossomed like the folded flower she had always been, her body easing into his grasping hand as it closed around her throat. She gave him total control, her eyes aflame with lust as he constricted her air, her breath coming in harsh through what little space it was given. Her lips still hungered for his when he’d pulled away, but her eyes met his with the fires of all the demons in hell that told her this was good. This moment was what she had wanted and it was like… Like an itch finally being scratched.


As his thrusts took on greater force she could feel herself coming closer to the nexus of her pleasure, her muscles jumping beneath her skin erratically as she fought back her own climax. She wanted to prolong the moment, to enjoy him for every moment that she could get, as there had been nothing like him before and she feared that this would be a one night affair to be hidden like the dirty secret it was.
 
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