Nature 02

Romelle’s always been a friendly, easy going sort. The kind that smiles when she is pleased. Caring and considerate, she makes others want to see that smile, men and women both striving for that same goal. They do her favors, dance to her tune, hurrying to her beckoning call. They are rewarded time and time again, no matter the task, be it as simple as getting her flowers, or something harder yet, like repairing a damaged room.

Romelle’s whole being is lit up with the glow of that smile, and men can’t help but want to be warmed by her. Trying to please Romelle, they flatter the princess. They bring her things, even go as far as to flirt at her. They know she is taken, know that Romelle won’t leave her Drule lover any time soon. And yet they press on, all on the off chance that maybe they will be the one, the one different enough to steal her away.

Romelle is not oblivious to the attention she receives, though she never truly encourages it. Nor does she try to discourage the men, accepting their gifts and their flattery, their eager assistance. She finds it useful to have, things getting done a lot faster in her home by all too willing assistants. She’s grateful for what they do for her, Romelle finding life so much easier than it could have been.

Romelle smiles often through out the day, the woman happy and at ease. She’ll smile even now, thanking the young man who has just brought her a book. She’ll note his flushed face, the way he stammers out a few quick words before hurrying off. Romelle will go on smiling, right up to the point she becomes aware of Sabbath behind her back.

He’s not even fully pressed into her, and yet Romelle can feel the heat coming off his body. It almost burns through her clothes, Romelle closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of him near her. But when she speaks, her tone is almost chiding.

“That was rude.” She refers to the man he’s scared off, the one who had practically tripped over his own feet to get away.

“Don’t care.” A low sexy rasp in her ear, the voice a dark seduction that sends shudders through her at the promise it holds. Sabbath shifts behind her, his chest pressing against her shoulders, a hand landing on her hip, as another takes the book from her hands. The thumping of it on a nearby table nearly makes her jump, Romelle’s heart beat increasing a notch as she wonders if the promise is more threat than anything.

But she isn’t scared. Not of Sabbath. Never of him, or anything that he could do. Romelle trusts him. With her life and with her heart. She knows he would never do anything to jeopardize her, or the relationship that they have. And for all the smiles she shares with others, Romelle knows Sabbath won’t lose control like Lotor would over her cousin Allura.

Still he skirts the border, threathening without resorting to murder. Able to send most men running with just a look, the same kind of rugged menace that has most females swooning, Romelle included!

She’ll maintain her chiding tone, though it’s half hearted at best. Romelle doesn’t really care what she is saying, speaking more to maintain appearance sake in front of the household servants. “You’ll scare off the help if you keep glaring at them.”

“Now there’s an idea.” But he isn’t joking. Not now that his inner Drule has been roused. She knows it is there, knows how possessive a Drule is over the one he views as his mate. Even Sabbath is not immune to irrational jealousy, the need to stake a claim on what is his. And though he fights the Drule on most things, an overly attentive male is enough to get Sabbath gritting his teeth, his restraint spiraling closer to snapping.

“Sabbath!” Romelle exclaims in an admonishing tone when she really wants to giggle out loud. But she is aware of the watching maids, aware that anything they say will be reported back to the others in the castle. Romelle has to play disapproving in order to keep the peace among the servants in her employ.

“We could leave this place.” Sabbath says in reply. “We could get a home just big enough for the two of us.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself, without a staff of servants to take care of things for me.” Romelle answers, today not one of the days she is tempted by the thoughts of sharing a home only with her husband.

“At least then you wouldn’t have those shameless flirts around you.” Sabbath grumbles in her ear. She shivers, feeling the caress of his lips as he talks, Romelle wanting to turn and capture his lips in a kiss. But the hand on her hips holds her still, preventing her from turning. Still she won’t settle for being restricted so thoroughly, Romelle shifting enough to lean back. She makes sure to fit herself fully against Sabbath’s front, maintaining an innocent expression as she purposefully rubs her bottom over his groin.

A hiss in her ear, and for one second the fingers of the hand on her hip turned harsh. Digging in so hard she swears she will be bruised there. Romelle makes a sound, and then the fingers relax, the painful pressure leaving her. She feels disappointed but doesn’t know why, confused as to why that bit of pain could feel oddly good and have her heart racing in response.

“They are not shameless flirts.” Romelle manages to protest. “They are sweet and helpful.” Sabbath mutters something in Drule, a sign that whatever he thinks is too vile for Romelle to hear. She hides a smile at that, almost teasing as she lists her admirers and their deeds. “Alec is always recommending good books for me to read. And Merwyn brings me fresh flowers every morning. Cook makes sure to flavor all my deserts with cinnamon.” There was more to be named, but Sabbath was letting out a low growl, the jealous Drule very much at the heart of it. If Romelle didn’t know better, she swore Sabbath would take her over the shoulder, carry her off with the intent to lock her away from all other men.

“They overstep bounds.” Sabbath’s fangs grazed along her ear, the Drule sounding furious. “They have no business doing such favors for a married woman.”

She barely heard the words, too busy delighting in the feel of his teeth’s caress. Wondering if he would bite her, waiting for it. Her breath held, Romelle rubbed up against Sabbath a second time, hearing the breath expell out of him and followed by a Drule curse. And then his hand left her hip, her arm being taken hold of. She turned in his direction, Sabbath pulling her along. The maids scattered in their wake, holding in their giggles and admiring sighs.

Sabbath appeared not to notice the maids’ reactions, too focused on Romelle and the feelings she aroused in him. Romelle’s body was focused on him, her breath coming out faster, her chest heaving with excitement. Her heart raced, her legs felt weak. Even her nipples were getting stiff under the fabric of her dress’ bodice, the flesh between her thighs dampening. She knew what was going to happen, knew her rubbing had pushed the jealous Drule closer to the edge.

But not over! Even as fired up and furious as Sabbath was, he still took care with her. Still took the time to gentle his actions, his handling of her. It was the only reason why Romelle wasn’t slammed against the wall of the first empty room they found, Sabbath keeping her close as he kicked the door shut behind him.

She was already tilting her head up in anticipation, Sabbath bringing his lips down onto hers. She could sense his need, knew Sabbath wanted to devour her from the mouth down. But as always, he held something back, kissing her slowly, savoring the taste of Romelle’s lips. She made an impatient sound in response, Romelle kissing and moving like a wanton. Trying to goad Sabbath into doing more, into taking what he so desperately denied himself.

He had too much control to be undone by a kiss, Sabbath’s arms going around Romelle. Holding her as close as possible without being buried inside her. His tongue parted her lips, and Romelle sucked teasingly on it. A growl was her warning, Romelle delighting in the feel of his erection beginning to bulge against the leather of his pants. She rubbed even more against it, encouraging his desire, trying to make him as wild as she felt.

“Romelle…” A harsh whisper of her name, Sabbath resting his forehead against hers. She stared up into his eyes, fascinated by what she saw. The Drule was in there, looking out at her. Hungry and waiting, desperate for Sabbath’s control to snap, for the man to stop pretending he was human and be the savage that he really was.

Romelle is anything but frightened at the thought of experiencing the Drule. She is intrigued by the idea, wanting to know every part of Sabbath, every facet. Even the part he considers too ugly to show her.

“Please.” She whispers, a hand reaching up to caress his cheek. Does he know what she is asking? Does he purposefully misunderstand her? He doesn’t answer her plea with words, kissing her instead. She loves his kisses, is addicted to them and to him. Romelle knows no matter what Sabbath does, or how the Drule might make him act, she will always love him. Always want and crave his touch.

Her caressing hand smoothes back from his cheek into his hair, the inky black strands woven into tight braids whose beads clatter together noisily. It is a familiar sound, a comforting sound, one she hears often when Sabbath is near. Romelle especially loves hearing the beads rattle as Sabbath moves over her, his cock buried deep inside her.

Sabbath’s hands are on her back, his nails sharp enough to be claws. He carefully drags them downwards, slicing open the restraining ribbons of her bodice. Her top loosens as the ribbons fall apart, Romelle shifting to help the dress ease on downwards. Her own hands are loathe to leave his braids alone, but Romelle wants Sabbath as naked as she is about to be. Somehow she gets his vest off, the leather that had been so tightly molded to his torso being flung without care to the floor.

They have to break the kissing for Romelle to get Sabbath’s pants off, her excitement making her fingers fumble with his belt and buttons. He could help her, but Sabbath is too busy worshipping her flesh with his hands, cupping her breasts then massaging them with his long fingers.

Romelle looks into his eyes as she finally frees his erect cock from the confinement of his pants. The Drule half of him seems to slither closer, Sabbath’s gold eyes turning darker. She shoves his pants to the floor, Romelle taking hold of his erection. Stroking him as Sabbath continues to massage her quivering breasts. By the time Romelle began massaging his heavy balls, Sabbath had bent over her, his gaze intent on her chest.

Already excited beyond belief, she still felt a thrill go through her the instant Sabbath close his lips around one of her stiff nipples. Moans escape her, Romelle arching her back. Trying to thrust more of her breast into his mouth as her fingers clenched over his balls. If she wasn’t careful, the come would be squeezed out of him in no time.

Somehow, Romelle managed to relax her fingers. Somehow she forced herself to do no more than teasing touches, caressing her fingers along the length of him. She wants to do more, but she didn’t want to waste Sabbath’s pleasure, didn’t want him coming anywhere but inside her. Her eyes closed, Romelle began whimpering. Wanting badly for Sabbath to already be buried inside her.

It isn’t often, but once in a while she regrets the care Sabbath takes with her. He’s so careful not to hurt her, always intent on making sure she is as wet as possible. Romelle loves that he spoils her but sometimes she wishes he would give in to impatience. Wishes that Sabbath would just let go and think about his own fierce need. Sometimes, Romelle just wants him hard and fast, wanting to do away with the slow build up and tease. But Sabbath is stronger than her, his restraint something to both marvel at and be infuriated by.

“Please, please….” Romelle is repeating. She wants to pull him between her legs, drive herself onto his shaft. His hands trembling on her hips prevent that, Sabbath tormenting her by drawing things out. He was tasting her, having abandoned her breasts to lick elsewhere on her body. His tongue licked over her belly, Sabbath going to his knees. Nuzzling his cheek over the curls that cover her sex, helping Romelle to hook a leg over his shoulder.

She’s already wet, her panties soaked. Sabbath’s claws slice through the fabric, the Drule inhaling deeply of her scent. Her hands go to his hair, Romelle needing to hold on or else she will fall. When his tongue begins licking over the slick slit of her flesh, she nearly tears out his braids, clutching at them, pulling on them.

Aroused more than she can take, it’s sheer torture to feel his tongue moving over her wet flesh. Romelle is whimpering, begging, going half out of her mind with delirium. Her breath shudders out of her, Romelle feeling the way Sabbath’s tongue moves in the narrow slit, the way he circled around her clit, a whiplash of sensation going through her as he suckled at that tender bit.

It doesn’t take much to make Romelle come. Her whole body seems to convulse, tremors wracking through her from head to toe. It leaves her dazed, Romelle not aware when Sabbath lays her down on the floor. All she knows is one minute she was weakly standing, the next Sabbath is perched above her, gazing down at her with eyes that seem to glitter.

Wild and fierce, his eyes show a man barely hanging onto his control. That the Drule is looming ever closer to breaking free. Sabbath struggles to hold the Drule back, but it is not a battle he can win forever. Romelle wonders if this will be the time, the moment when the Drule side of him is unleashed. But she isn’t scared, caressing the back of her fingers over both his temples. She wants to meet the Drule, wants to experience that side of Sabbath. Romelle knows she belongs to the Drule as much as she does to the human half of Sabbath. But she doesn’t know how to make Sabbath understand that, how to make him realize it’s okay to embrace both sides of his nature.

Romelle knows she’s not as fragile as glass. That she won’t break from a little rough handling. But Sabbath seems to need more than voiced reassurances, struggling to protect her from a monster that needn’t be one.

Sabbath closes his eyes, the human half winning as he slowly thrusts into her. It feels good, and yet Romelle almost wants to cry, to weep over the fact that Sabbath continues to deny part of what he really is. And with that denial, he’s holding back from her, refusing to give himself over completely to their love making. It hurts him as well, Romelle can see the strain on Sabbath’s face. The way he fights to keep from going wild, to keep from loving her as hard as he can. Romelle wonders how anyone can truly enjoy themselves when they are fighting so hard to behave, to conform to some lofty standard that he himself has set. It breaks Romelle’s heart to see Sabbath do this, to see him continue to punish himself for what he was born as. She grabs at him, clutching at his shoulders, burying her face against his chest so that he doesn’t see the tears she’s holding back.

But she can’t keep quiet, Romelle voicing her pleas. Begging him to let go, to not hold anything back. Sabbath moves within her, but he never gets rough. Never does anything more betraying than to shake as he holds her. She wonders who hurts more in the moment, Sabbath for his restraint, or Romelle for the knowledge that he holds back for her sake.


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