Nature 03

The Drule in him whispers in his ear. Scraps claws over his insides as it tries to escape the prison of Sabbath’s control. His hips falter a beat, the pleasant rhythm he has established suffering for the struggle within Sabbath. The Drule is not at all satisfied with this slow and gentle fuck, wanting more. It makes Sabbath grit his teeth, his hands shaking with the effort not to dig his nails into Romelle’s tender flesh.

The Drule wouldn’t mind leaving bruises, wouldn’t mind bleeding her. It wants to taste all of Romelle, her sweat, her tears, her blood. Sabbath can’t allow that, giving a furious whisper back, trying to remind the Drule that Romelle is a delicate human female, and not at all like the women of planet Doom.

The Drule in him wants it all, wants to possess everything that makes up Romelle. It wants to bury itself inside her, to sink inside not only it’s cock but it’s fangs as well. With any other woman, Sabbath might let it. But Romelle is different, special. Romelle is his, the other half to his soul, his perfect love. Together with the Drule side of him, Romelle has the power to destroy Sabbath. And all she need do is look at him with hurt and fear in her eyes.

Sabbath won’t willingly give the Drule the chance to cause Romelle to fear him. Won’t run the risk of doing anything that could make Romelle regret loving him. But every minute, every second he is with her, the Drule in him scrabbles for control. And as the days number into weeks, the weeks into months, it gets harder and harder to win against his Drule side.

He doesn’t ever want to hurt Romelle. And yet he fears it is coming. Feels the Drule growing stronger, screaming in his ear. Looking out his eyes, and dirtying Romelle with it’s leers. There are things it wants, things Sabbath can’t imagine asking from the woman that he loves. The Drule wants it rough and wild, to see Sabbath and Romelle come undone. It wants between her legs and in her mouth, wants to cover her breasts in come. The Drule wants to mark Romelle in the most primal of ways, make it so no one can forget just who she belongs to.

Sabbath is at war with himself, inwardly snarling at the Drule. Telling it how it can never have Romelle. That almost quiets the Drule, before a smug satisfaction fills him. The Drule is practically purring, reminding Sabbath that so long as he keeps the Drule at bay, Sabbath will never truly have Romelle either.

His jaw clenches at that, his expression strained. It is difficult to hold back, to not love Romelle fully. It makes him tense, Sabbath panting as he struggles to keep the love making from turning wild. To not let his mind slip into that insane place everyone goes to when the pleasure is too much.

The Drule is waiting, ever vigilant. Primed to take any opportunity Sabbath allows. If Sabbath’s control so much as slips even for a second, the Drule will come out. It taunts him with this knowledge, the Drule enjoying looking at Romelle. Sabbath closes his eyes, trying to deny the Drule even this much.

He can’t see Romelle, but he can feel her. Warm, wet flesh quivering around his cock. Squeezing tight and refusing to let go so easily as Sabbath thrusts in and out of Romelle. He actually voices a groan, but Sabbath is too tense to fully enjoy the experience. Too busy trying not to give in to the call of Romelle’s body, too busy fighting the Drule with every thing he has left in him.

Sabbath is so consumed with his own struggles, he almost misses it when Romelle begins to cry. She doesn’t want him to hear, his beloved burying her face against his chest. Clinging to him as tears wet his skin. She’s murmuring things in a broken voice, begging him to not hold back. Romelle doesn’t know what she asks, doesn’t realize the danger she’d face if Sabbath gave in.

His hips slow as Sabbath begins to push Romelle back. He’s not forcing her away, but he needs to see her. To hold her face in his hands, use his thumbs to brush back her tears. She sniffles but lets him, gazing up so sadly at him. His bright, beautiful girl is aware of the problem, knows of the struggle within him. It doesn’t scare her away, though she should be frightened. But instead Romelle wants to face the Drule, to beard the monster in it’s den.

Sabbath can’t give in, even for Romelle. He’s seen too much what happens when a Drule goes wild on a human lover. But he doesn’t want to think on that, doesn’t want to remember the bruises and the fear in his own fragile mother’s eyes.

The beads in his hair rattle loudly, Sabbath shaking his head no in an attempt to stave off the bad memories. He tries to concentrate on the here and now, to focus on Romelle’s beautiful eyes, the full lushness of her mouth, the pink flush on her cheeks. The throb of her out of control pulse beats in her neck, both Sabbath and the Drule’s attention drawn to it. The Drule screams in outrage when Sabbath jerks his gaze away, ignoring the dark impulse to sink his fangs into that tempting pulse.

Romelle’s touch on his face grounds him for an instant, but her words burn him alive. “Let go Sabbath, let go for me….”

She was killing him with her words, with the pleading look in her eyes. Willing to do just about anything for Romelle, Sabbath would have gladly surrendered if not for the fears he had. The fear of hurting her, and of losing her.

Sabbath made no audible reply, but Romelle knew he had refused her. Sabbath knew exactly when she realized he wasn’t giving in, for a half muted sob escaped her lips. He hated that he was the cause of her distress, damned his Drule half for causing them such anguish. The Drule was quiet in return, as though Romelle’s sob had cowed it into submission.

Sabbath hated that he had made her cry. That sadness colored her expression when Romelle should have been aglow with happiness and pleasure. Her grief affected him, Sabbath starting to draw back. Only to find Romelle grabbing at him, her voice almost desperate as she begged him not to stop.

His body flexed, Sabbath fisting some of Romelle’s sun streaked color hair. Using that grip to hold her steady for his kiss, his hips beginning to move much the way they had when Romelle and Sabbath first joined together.

Romelle’s lips were always soft, always inviting. While Sabbath’s own were like rough velvet, rasping over hers. He caressed over her mouth with his, feeling the sharp spikes of hunger, the need to consume her whole. Romelle whined as they kissed, noisily begging for more. He tortured them both with a slow caressing, lips rubbing whisper soft.

Romelle grabbed at his hair, the noise of his braids silenced as she pulled. She was demanding now, wanting more, trying to take it from him. His braids were almost pulled out before he gave it to her, lips, teeth and tongue working together. Nipping, licking, slanting in place over hers before plunging inside.

Her mouth was a drug to him. Hell, every part of her held a drugging influence on Sabbath! He could gladly feast at her lips, and forego the need for air. And from the way Romelle was clutching him to her, she felt the same way.

His body was cradled between her thighs, Sabbath still moving. Still striving to bring them over the edge of pleasure while not losing himself completely in that moment. When that happened, it became almost impossible to think, to do anything but feel. It was sheer heaven when Romelle tightened up, her body squeezing repeatedly in an attempt to wrest the climax from him. Sweet as that moment was, it was also sheer torture, Sabbath having to hold on to at least one strand of his sanity for her protection.

They screamed together, the sensations of his climax following tight on the heels of hers, driving them both wild. Romelle writhed in place beneath him, still greedily kissing him even as Sabbath flooded her insides with his come. The Drule in him lazily watches, hoping for an opportunity but knowing his chance has passed. At least for now.

When they finally pull apart, they don’t separate, Sabbath tucking Romelle under his arm. Her fingers trace circles on his bare chest, Romelle resting comfortably against him. Both are panting, trying to catch their breaths. It is made worse when they begin to laugh, neither one caring much that they are so breathless.

The silence that follows the laugh is comfortable, Romelle placing a kiss over one of Sabbath’s nipples. His cock gives the slightest twitch, already stirring with interest. A Drule, even a halfling like Sabbath, is not so easily exhausted from just one round of love making. Romelle knows this, actually smirking up at him, a challenging look in her eyes. Once, Sabbath would have risen to her challenge, but it’s too soon to wage yet another war with his Drule half.

The mischief in Romelle’s eyes gives way to something more serious. Sabbath braces himself for the question she’ll ask, even as he wishes Romelle wouldn’t.

“Why didn’t you stop?” He says nothing, to which Romelle sighs heavily. “You can’t go on fighting your nature.”

“I won’t hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Romelle insists, her words holding a certainty to them that Sabbath does not feel.

“I will if I give in and act the Drule.” He is just as insistent, not liking the way Romelle frowns at him.

“Would it be so bad?”

He takes in a shuddering breath, Sabbath almost letting out a harsh bark of laughter. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me.” Romelle implored.

How could he, when even just speaking the words turned his stomach. To lay bare before her, all his dark impulses, the desires his Drule side had? It was unthinkable!

“Sabbath?”

“Just trust me on this.” He says at last.

A frustrated sigh from her, Romelle shifting against him. He misses the warmth of her body when she sits up, Romelle purposefully putting distance between them. She is angry, her back stiff, her body tense. Sabbath knows Romelle doesn’t like it when he holds something back from her, but this is one part of him he can’t share, not even with words.

“Not all Drule human relationships are doomed to disaster.” She finally says. “My cousin and her husband…”

“Lotor and Allura have a unique understanding.”

“And we don’t?” Demands Romelle with an arch of her brow.

Sensing he was about to tumble head first into a hole he himself had dug, Sabbath hesitated. “They’re different from us. Allura is…”

“Is what?”

He grasped for words, trying to say this without offending her. “Allura’s spirit is different from yours. She’s quicker to…to submit to Lotor’s whims.” Romelle’s lips had pursed together, but not for a kiss, her look disapproving. “Allura is….she doesn’t….challenge Lotor’s decisions.”

“You mean she’s obedient.”

“Well….yes.” He ran a hand through his bangs, trying to smooth them away from his eyes. Romelle looked away, but not before he saw her frown. She was thinking, but already knew she was nowhere near as calm and obedient as her cousin. She liked her freedom too much, liked making her own decisions. If Romelle had been mated to a Drule as controlling as Lotor, she would have gone mad at the restrictions he placed on her. Everything from her interactions with other people to the type of clothing she would wear to even the food that she ate.

“Do you want to control me?”

Yes, no, maybe. All leapt to his mind as a possible answer, all contradicting each other. Tuning it out, Sabbath placed a hand over Romelle’s. “I want you to be you.”

“Don’t you understand that is what I want for you as well?!” Romelle demanded.

“You wouldn’t want the Drule….”

“The Drule is a part of you!” She exclaimed. “Your Drule half is just as real as your human side!”

“But I don’t have to give it power over us!”

“Don’t you see?” Romelle asked, tone sad, face stricken. “You already have. You have been for months now. You give him more and more of you every time we’re together, every time we make love. You hold back so much fighting your Drule nature, do you even enjoy when you’re inside me?!”

Now it was Sabbath’s turn to show a stricken face. “Romelle no! How can you even think that?!”

“What else am I to think?” She demanded, trying to pull her hand out from under his. He held on, not wanting her to put any more distance between them. “I see the look on your face, the strain in you eyes. I’ve felt the struggle in your body, the way you hold back from moving the way you want to, from doing what you want to!”

“It’s for your own good! For OUR good!” Sabbath said.

“It’s not up to you alone to decide!”

“This is the one decision I won’t allow you to be part of!” Sabbath growled.

“Then you’re more like Lotor than you think!” Romelle snapped, managing to get her hand away. She scrambled to her feet, her discarded dress in her hands. Sabbath stood, but made no move towards his scattered clothing.

“How can you even think that?”

“What else am I suppose to think?” Romelle demanded. “You won’t even tell me enough to make an informed decision!” She was struggling into her dress, her eyes flashing with her ire.

“Why won’t you trust me on this?”

“I ask the same of you!” The laces of the bodice was ruined, leaving the dress to hang loosely on Romelle’s slim frame. One look at that damaged dress, and the disheveled hair, and everyone in the castle would know what she had been doing, and with who.

“Romelle…” He didn’t know what to say. Not with a realization jolting through him. He didn’t trust his Drule side with her, nor did Sabbath trust that Romelle wouldn’t leave him once she experienced his other side.

“There can be no true love without trust.” Romelle told him, her eyes watering with tears.

“Don’t say that! I love you!” Sabbath said, stepping towards her. “And you love me!”

“What good is that love if we can’t trust each other in all things?” Romelle asked, backing away from him.

“Allow me this one thing….” The Drule in him sneered at the very idea of Sabbath begging Romelle for anything. “Let me judge what is best for us both where my Drule half is concerned.”

“And watch you destroy yourself from the inside out?” Romelle shook her head. “It KILLS me to watch you tear yourself up inside. I can’t be happy this way…..and neither can you!”

She was already slipping out the door, running before he could grab her. Sabbath roared out her name, rushing out after her and stopped up short. Two wide eyed maids stared at him, the laundry in their arms forgotten as they ogled his naked body. Drules weren’t prone to embarrassment about their own body and nudity, but Sabbath wasn’t interested in giving these women free reign to look at him.

With a hostile glare that had no affect on women who weren’t even looking at his face, Sabbath slammed the door shut then promptly fell against the door. He was shaking again, angry with himself, with the Drule. Maybe even angry with Romelle for not understanding, for not trusting him to make the smart choice for them both. But more than that he was disgusted, fear and loathing filling him. And all because the Drule had never been closer to coming out than in those last moments with Romelle.


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