More beads fell, rolling across the tiles of the bathroom floor. Sabbath made no move towards them, instead running his fingers through his hair. The braids were slow to unravel, his hair so used to adhering to their shape. His reflection looked back at him, the glass surface of the mirror shattered in place where Sabbath’s fist had driven into it. The glass breaking under his hand hadn’t been able to compare to the pain Sabbath still felt, nor could it chase away the hurt and fear, the confused mess of his mind.
Nor could it cool the lustful fire waging war within him, his body still hopelessly aroused. Even as Sabbath fussed with his hair, his body was a tingle, coiled tight with tension, hunger and awareness coursing through him. His body wasn’t at all satisfied with the single climax it had taken from Romelle, hungering in a way that let Sabbath know as far as it was concerned, things were just getting started between the two lovers.
Not even the half an hour spent under the freezing waters of the shower, had been able to cool the raging inferno of lust inside him. Sabbath still wanted, still hungered, still longed for Romelle’s body. For what he could take from her, his body all but demanding it. Demanding her, Sabbath closing his eyes as a groan shuddered it’s way out of him. All his mixed feelings, his hurt and anger, his lust and confusion, was in that sound, frustration blooming within him. A frustration born of the knowledge that it could never happen, Sabbath could never again let go the way he had done so on this night.
It was a knowledge that hurt, Sabbath having been awakened to that which he had been denying himself. The feelings, the unbridle release of his desires. That time when he had been with Romelle thinking her nothing more than a fevered figment of his dreaming mind? He had been at ease in a way he had never been before during sex with her, his body and mind cast free of the restraints of his control. It had felt good not to worry, to not have to hold back and fear what his Drule impulses would make him do to his all too soft, all too human lover. Sabbath knew he would be forever tortured by that, by the memory of how it had felt not to hold back with Romelle.
Just as he would forever torture himself with the knowledge that he HAD hurt her. That he had brought tears to her eyes, had made her cry out in muffled discomfort. Even now as she called out to him, Romelle was suffering. He could hear the tears in her voice, but more than that Sabbath noted the hoarse quality to her words. Sabbath didn’t know what he felt worse about, that her throat was sore, or the fact that his refusal to face her only strengthened Romelle’s upset.
And yet he couldn’t bring himself to unlock the door just yet. Couldn’t stand the thought of facing her while his lusts tried to spiral out of control, the Drule in him hungering for another taste of Romelle. Sabbath would hate himself completely if he opened that door, and fell on Romelle with rapacious hunger, ignoring the tears and pain he had caused in her for his own twisted desires.
His hair now completely untangled from the braids, Sabbath glared down at his body. At the physical manifestation of all his lusts. His cock was unrepentant, hard and throbbing, mocking him in it’s refusal to calm down even after such a long shower. Acting as though the only way it would settle was when it found it’s place inside Romelle, Sabbath letting out a low growl, aggravated beyond belief.
Masturbating hadn’t been able to stop the lusts inside him. Not when thoughts of Romelle continued to torment him, Sabbath remembering everything that had happened from the first moment he had awakened to what he thought was a dream, to that horrified moment when he had realized it was not. Even as he had showered in cold waters, hand fisting his cock furiously, all Sabbath could do was wring out one unpleasant climax after another. Sick and full of disgust with himself, Sabbath replaying the memories of what had happened in his mind, fueling his lusts further with thoughts of how Romelle had looked in that flimsy garment. A garment that was downright indecent for a princess and free woman to have worn.
Sabbath groaned again, feeling a familiar pain stab through him. His cock wasn’t content to be ignored, and even as visions of Romelle in the blue lace tormented his mind, Sabbath was experiencing the aches and pains of blue balls. It was a terrible pain, and yet no less than he deserved, after what he had done, what he had tried to do to Romelle. And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it, thinking about how free he had felt, how wild and unrestrained, none of the familiar tension stealing his pleasure away. Sabbath had enjoyed what had been happening, what Romelle had been doing, what he had been doing in return. It had felt too damn good, and Sabbath was sure that sex with Romelle would never be the same. It couldn’t! Not when he knew how it felt now to not hold back. And yet that was the one thing he couldn’t do, the certainty of that knowledge tormenting him for in one night Romelle had shown him both heaven and hell, dooming their relationship with her foolish actions.
The Drule side of him, that predatory voice whispered to him. It wanted more of Romelle, wanted to do more to her. It tried in reasonable tones to point out that the damage had been done, might as well go all the way and take everything Romelle had to offer. The Drule side of him, wasn’t at all repentant about what had happened. If anything, it was miffed that things hadn’t gone further. And that left Sabbath shaking with rage at himself for helping Romelle to open doors that should have always remain closed to them both.
It had been the Drule side of Sabbath that had enjoyed licking Romelle’s blood off his fingers. And like everything else about Romelle, her blood was just as sweet a taste that Sabbath could easily grow addicted to.
“Damn it!” grumbled Sabbath under his breath. His fingers curled around the edge of the sink, the color bleeding out of his knuckles from how tightly he held on. It wasn’t just himself he had to blame, Sabbath knowing what had happened had been a direct result of Romelle’s actions. Of her refusal to listen, to respect his authority on this matter. She hadn’t believed how badly things could have been, and Sabbath wondered if even now she realized how close she had skirted to the edge. But he didn’t think she had learned a lesson from all this. Not if she could still pound on the door with such desperate intent to see him. It was clear by the concern in her voice, that Romelle hadn’t yet been burned enough by the Drule to stay away from Sabbath.
If the sink had been made of a less solid material, it would have shattered under the force of Sabbath’s angry grip. As it was, in his state, Sabbath was very close to ripping the sink free of the wall. But throwing the sink around a trashed bathroom wouldn’t make him feel any better. And at the moment, Sabbath didn’t know what would.
The Drule in him whispered that sinking deep inside Romelle would soothe away all anger but Sabbath knew it for what it was. A temporary reprieve if and only if he allowed himself to go mindless with lust, and ending too soon as pleasure gave way to the disgust and the horror of what he had done. And Sabbath refused to continue to dig in deeper, to add more to the list of his sins against his wife.
Perhaps the worst sin was not explaining better to her what could have happened. What would have happened if Sabbath hadn’t come to his senses at the last moment. Perhaps if Romelle had better understood what she toyed with, then….he let out a snort, a harsh laugh at that. What then, he wondered. Would either one of them have remained content with sex that was ultimately unsatisfying? Sabbath knew he wouldn’t have been able to control himself forever, just as Romelle was suffering at being loved by a man that held back all the time. One or both of them would have snapped, and judging by the seductions Romelle had attempted this night, she had reached her breaking point just days before Sabbath had reached his.
He couldn’t fault her for that. Not when Romelle had been acting out of a need to save their marriage. He wondered when she’d stop banging on the door, stop being so damn concerned for him. Most of all, Sabbath wondered when Romelle would realize she didn’t want to be with a pervert like him. That last one sent pain stabbing through his heart, hurting him more than anything his neglected cock could do.
His marriage was on the verge of falling apart. He had realized and recognize this months ago, as the Drule desires got stronger, the fight to resist those dark impulses harder and harder. But Sabbath had hung on, taking whatever time he had left to enjoy being with Romelle. He hadn’t expected it to last for much longer, but never had Sabbath imagined Romelle herself would be the catalyst for the collapse of their marriage! It hurt, and it hurt even more to know Romelle hadn’t yet realized what she had done, or that she hadn’t yet realized that she would no longer want to be with Sabbath. And Sabbath was too selfish to do the self sacrificing thing, and walk away from her. Not so long as his wife clung stubbornly to the belief that she still wanted a future with him.
Splashing water on his face, and dousing a generous amount onto his cock, Sabbath then nodded at his reflection. For good or for bad, he would stay with Romelle. Stay with her until Romelle decided she had had enough. And once she sent him away from her, what else was there for Sabbath to do, but to die? By his own hand, or by withering away from a broken heart. It did not matter.
Sighing, and steeling himself to face Romelle, Sabbath pulled on the pants he had left discarded on the floor. The cotton material was soft against his skin, the fabric loose enough that it didn’t pull tight over his erection. His body stiff in more ways than one, Sabbath stalked over to the bathroom door. Romelle was still hitting her hands against it, though her voice had ceased her pleading.
She immediately fell against him the instant the door was open, Romelle winding her arms around his waist. Sabbath couldn’t stop himself from returning the embrace, savoring what might very well be the last of the times he would get to hold his beloved princess.
Romelle didn’t immediately speak, just keeping her face down as she held onto him. She shook badly, Sabbath realizing she was crying softly. When she finally raised her face towards his, he saw relief shimmering in those wet eyes of hers. Relief that could not be completely swallowed up by her surprise, Romelle lifting a hand to finger a wavy tendril of inky black hair.
“Sabbath…” Her voice was still hoarse, making Sabbath inwardly cringe to hear it. “Your hair…”
He understood her surprise, Romelle never having seen him without the braids or the beads that had decorated the ends of them. But how could he explain, how could he ever make her understand he no longer felt worthy of the beads, or of Romelle herself?
Both were to be treasured, precious in their own ways. Where Romelle was his love, his wife and his soul mate, the beads had been remnants of a cheap necklace his mother had once owned. His mother was long dead, the colorful beads the only thing he had left of her. And yet he felt certain his mother would never have wanted him to wear them, not if she knew how low he had stooped in his treatment of Romelle.
Shame filled him then, but even that could not overwhelem the desire entirely. Not with Romelle so near, her body pressed against his. Sabbath could only be grateful Romelle had taken the time to put on a robe, covering the all too provocative sight of that skimpy nighty she had been wearing. But just knowing it was there, that that flimsy material might be clinging to her body underneath the robe? A surge of pure molten heat went through him, Sabbath’s fingers ready to tear off that robe. Somehow though, he managed to control himself that much, staring down at his beautiful wife.
She was reaching to finger more of the wavy tendrils, almost as though Romelle couldn’t believe what her eyes were showing. Sabbath gently caught her hand, stopping her from tangling fingers in his hair.
“Why?” Romelle asked, then frowned at what he had to say.
“We need to talk.”
“Talk…” echoed Romelle, and did a twisting motion with her hand so that she could grip him back. “I suppose we do…” Her gaze kept going to his hair, but she moved willingly enough to allow him to step into their bedroom. The lights were still off, save for a lamp in one corner, casting a pleasant glow on their surroundings. Sabbath’s eyes were drawn to the bed, to the rumpled sheets and overturned pillows, a memory coming to him. The pillows had been knocked to the floor when he had flipped Romelle onto her back. She had been startled, but quickly adapted, retaining her eager and aroused expression as he tore open the front of her nightie.
Remembering her heaving breasts, the way his hands had looked covering them, fondling them. It almost tore a moan from Sabbath, the Drule faltering mid step.
Romelle’s voice just barely brought him back to himself, Sabbath shaking his head no which only earned him another frown from her. But she didn’t ask, Romelle seeming to have an infinite amount of patience now that they were no longer separated by the bathroom door. The patience was good, a blessing he hadn’t realized he needed, Sabbath unsure of just what to say to her. Again he shook his head, fighting a frown. That last thought wasn’t entirely true, Sabbath trying to let go of Romelle’s hand. Only to find the princess gripping him harder, the woman not at all content to allow Sabbath to distance himself any further from her.
He couldn’t bring himself to return the squeeze, Sabbath turning away from the bed. Turning towards Romelle, barely able to meet her concerned gaze with his repentant own. His shoulders were surely drooping, Sabbath forcing himself to do no more than let Romelle hold onto his hand. Searching a blue gaze that still showed no real fear of him, Sabbath letting out an exhale of sound.
“I am sorry.”
He meant it with all his heart too, waiting for Romelle’s reaction. Waiting and ready to drop down to his knees and beg her forgiveness. Holding himself still as her other hand lifted, then flinching when that hand didn’t slap him but instead caressed over the side of his face.
“Sabbath…” His name was a sad sigh from her, Romelle stroking his cheek. “There’s nothing that needs to be forgiven.”
His skin was tingling wherever she touched him, Sabbath feeling the heat gathering in him. Urging him onwards, the Drule wanting to close the distance between them, to swoop down on Romelle and swallow her up from the mouth on down.
He resisted, his heart hurting. “How can you say that?” Sabbath asked. “When I…I’ve done so much wrong tonight…”
“Wrong?” Now Romelle shook her head. “I don’t see anything that happened as wrong….” She tried to smile at him, but it was a nervous expression at best. “If anything, it was about time….”
“About time?” He repeated in a dull tone. She still wore that nervous smile, nodding at him. “Romelle, how can you even think that? When I…”
“You didn’t hurt me. Well…” She hastily corrected, a small flush blooming on her face. “Not really.”
“I used you.” Sabbath stated. “I forced you down, shoved myself into you with no care or concern for what you were feeling.”
Her eyes went a little wide at that, but Romelle didn’t stop touching him. “I…I don’t believe that. You were just a bit…overeager there.”
He snorted, but it was no laughing matter. “Eager or not, it doesn’t excuse what I did. How I treated you, how I hurt you.”
“It should have never gotten to that point.” Sabbath started to nod in agreement with Romelle’s statement, only to gape astounded at her next one. “If you hadn’t been holding back all these past months, you would never have reached such an intense state of need.”
“That need doesn’t make right what I did.” Sabbath retorted. Romelle nodded at that, but he got the feeling she wasn’t agreeing to the same exact thoughts he was having. “Nor can it be repeated.”
All traces of that smile vanished. “What are you saying?!” demanded Romelle. “You can’t possibly want to go back to how things were.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“And there in lays the root of our problems!” Romelle snapped. “Sabbath, you’re so focused on me, on what you think I want, on what I need. What about what you need?!”
“I don’t need that…I don’t need the Drule.”
“And yet in denying the Drule, you deny yourself. Not just a piece of what you are, but your sanity, your ability to enjoy us being together. Sabbath….You’re always so focused, so busy concentrating on doing the right thing, the HUMAN thing. But I didn’t marry a human, I married a Drule.”
“Sabbath….” Romelle has closed the distance between them pressing her body against his. He reacted immediately, trying not to moan as Romelle purposefully rubbed herself against his front. “I married you, knowing what you are…..wanting that, wanting the whole deal, the entirety of you. Let me have it, let me have the man I had tonight. The lover who didn’t hold back, who didn’t try to fight his desires, who didn’t think what he was feeling was wrong…:
He stepped back, but she followed. “But it was wrong.”
“How? How was it wrong?!”
“I used you.” Sabbath pointed out.
“If it’s you, than I am happy to be used.” Romelle told him. She was wrapping her arms around him, going up on tip toe for a kiss.
“Happy?” His cold tone of voice had Romelle freezing before she could claim that kiss from him. “My dick being shoved down you throat…that made you happy?”
A second’s hesitation from her, but it was enough. “Sabbath…..”
“I heard the sound you made….the look on your face, the tears in your eyes. I hurt you….”
Her arms loosened their hold, Romelle starting to step back. “You were, that was just…”
“Just what?!” Sabbath demanded, and didn’t give her a chance to answer. “You can’t possibly have been dreaming of THAT!”
“It might not have been exactly how I wanted you…” Romelle hesitantly admitted. “But I was finally seeing you…finally having you…the real you.”
Those last three words were like a slap in the face, the real you repeating in his mind. “That isn’t me!” He snapped back. “I’m not like that….” He saw the look on her face, Romelle realizing she had said the wrong thing.
“I didn’t mean it…I…what I mean is…I liked having a you that was no longer holding back. A Sabbath that was able to enjoy himself fully. A Sabbath that didn’t have to worry about hurting me…Sabbath, when you let your guard down, it was exciting. Exhilarating. It was intense, and fulfilling, not just for you, but for me! I want that, I want it again and again…..and I think you do too.”
Romelle wasn’t understanding anything, still didn’t know what she was truly asking for. Sabbath felt a flash of anger, stepping towards her in pure aggression. Reaching for her, with the intent to make her finally know just why she should fear the Drule unleashed, and almost not caring if it made her fear Sabbath as well. “You want that?” Her eyes were wide, Romelle backing up as Sabbath grabbed at her robe.
“Sabbath!” She gasped out as he tore open the robe’s front. She was still wearing the nightie, it’s ribbon missing so that it couldn’t properly close. His body screamed with hunger, Sabbath practically sneering as he stared then found what he was looking for.
“This!” He said, grabbing at her. “Is this what you want?”! He demanded, tracing his nails over the still red claw marks on her hip. They weren’t light scratches, but deep enough to have bled. His anger mounted, Sabbath ignoring his impulse to trace his tongue over those marks.
“It didn’t really hurt…”
“Didn’t really hurt?!” He repeated with a snort.
“At the time…I was so excited, so into everything that was happening, that I barely felt it….” She tried to touch him, and he grabbed at her wrists. “Sabbath it’s fine, really. I don’t mind a little blood play as long as it’s you that does it. And you know why? Because I know you would never truly hurt me.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yes I can.”
“You can’t, when even I don’t know if that’s true or not!” Sabbath growled out in an anguished tone.
“Then search your heart…” Romelle insisted. “Search it and find what you need to let you know it’s okay. It’s okay to be the Drule, to be yourself with me…”
He was shaking his head no, denying it with both word and action. “It will NEVER be okay!”
A pained look in her eyes, Romelle cried out his name. “Sabbath!” But he refused to listen to her reassurances, or accept the comfort of her touch. Pain twisted her expression further, Romelle looking far more hurt by Sabbath’s rejection than anything his claws had done this night.
“Why won’t you trust me on this?” Romelle finally asked, her tone plaintive. “Why can’t you take a leap of faith and….”
“And what? Put you in danger?” Sabbath interrupted harshly. “I won’t risk you…I won’t hurt you anymore than I already have.”
“You’re hurting me more with your refusal to try to do anything, everything we can to save our marriage.”
Those words were like a dagger to the heart, Sabbath feeling as though the room was reeling. Those spoken words gave acknowledgement to the fraying threads that held their marriage together. And though Sabbath had long known their marriage was in danger, it still hurt all the same to have it confirmed that Romelle felt it too.
“Romelle.” He swallowed then, the rising bile burning his throat with it’s foulness.
“Please Sabbath…” Romelle had nerved herself to approach him once more. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I don’t want to lose you either…” He whispered in a hoarse tone of voice.
“Then fight for me, for us!” Romelle exclaimed, actually thumping a fist against his solid chest. He grabbed at it, examining the cuts and scrapes across her fists’ knuckles, knowing he was the cause of this as well. “Sabbath…?”
Pain brimming in his eyes, he raised her fist to his lips. Brushed his mouth over her abused knuckles, cherishing even this small touch, Romelle looked just a tad teary eyed, bringing her other hand to his face, brushing back the wavy tendrils of his unbound hair.
Unable to resist completely, Sabbath nuzzled lovingly that caressing hand of hers. He was unable to keep the amazed look out of his eyes, Sabbath marveling at the realization that Romelle had gotten a taste of his wild Drule side, and wasn’t yet turned off. But even as he felt grateful for that, Sabbath was just as certain Romelle would eventually leave him because of it. If not for what had happened tonight, then in the nights that followed, when the Drule side of him took more and more control of his desires.
“I am fighting for us.” He said out loud. “I war with myself day after day. Sometimes it’s all I can do to keep the Drule from devouring you…”
She was wise to shiver, Romelle trembling slightly. But that worry didn’t keep the intrigue look out of her eyes, Romelle giving him a quivering smile. “Maybe you should let him….” At Sabbath’s shocked look, Romelle was hastily trying to explain. “I mean….tonight wasn’t bad….you were wilder than normal, more aggressive and unrestrained with your demands and desires. But…” Her cheeks were turning pink, Sabbath still gaping at her. “I didn’t mind. And I’m ready to try again…..to experience all of the Drule.”
“No….you don’t know…”
“I do.” She hushed him, pressing her fingers against his lips. “I want to do this….for you and for me. For US.” She quickly replaced those fingers with her mouth, attempting to kiss away any protests Sabbath could voice.
Now it was Sabbath’s turn to tremble, but it wasn’t entirely fear that caused the shaking. Not when he was trying not to soften to Romelle’s wishes, to give her what she thought she wanted. Just as powerful, was the urge to grab her, to sink his nails into her tender arms and hold her trapped against him for a merciless kiss. But he remained in control, though barely. Holding back even from this simple but expressive act of loving her with his mouth.
The Drule in him was restless, not liking this gentle but ardent attempt at kissing. Claws curled, Sabbath still too in control to let loose the side of himself he so demonized.
Sabbath could tell Romelle was turning frustrated, his wife all but climbing up his body in an attempt to arouse him. He didn’t want to, but his hands went to her behind, gripping her bottom carefully but firmly to support her as she wrapped legs around his torso. Her hands toyed with his hair and his clothing, Romelle wiggling even as he held onto her. The way she had positioned herself, it left her rubbing up against his erection, a low growl tearing from his throat at her persistent wriggling.
Always wanting her, always needing her, Sabbath still tried his best to resist. Tried to focus on something other than the way Romelle rubbed her groin over his cock, the way her tongue teased and curled around his. But never did he lose sight of the fact that all it would take was a little lowering of Romelle’s body, and she would end up firmly seated with his cock inside her.
A frustrated whine from Romelle, the woman suddenly pulling on his hair. “Let go.” She said fiercely, actually biting down on his lip. His whole body twitched in reaction, Sabbath growled Romelle’s name in warning. He almost lost himself when she began licking at the spot of blood on his lip, Sabbath stumbling backwards against some heavy piece of furniture.
The stumble put the tip of him right at the entrance to her body, his cock actually starting to slip inside. Romelle let out a throaty moan, even as Sabbath attempted to draw back. But the feel of her silk insides clinging to that little bit of him was too much, Sabbath growling as in one smooth stroke, he plunged in all the way to the hilt.
Romelle cried out in surprise, and Sabbath’s own cry wasn’t that far off from it either. Never had he entered in so fast and so deep right at the start, the man always preparing Romelle with slow penetration as to prepare her for his size. He didn’t think he could stop though, and Romelle’s hands clutches at his shoulders, her insides clenching tighter in an attempt to hold him to her.
“Don’t stop.” She begged, then turned threathening. “Don’t you dare stop!”
It was all but too late for him to even consider stopping, Sabbath shifting in Romelle’s grip. She moaned, her body continuing that vise like grip that made if difficult to withdraw enough to thrust properly. The Drule slithered closer to the surface, wanting to forcefully pound into Romelle, too impatient to wait for the woman to get used to having something that big inside her.
Romelle was impatient too, as evidenced by the hard bounce she performed. Sabbath hissed at her to be careful, but Romelle just pulled on his hair and growled against his lips.
“Shut up and fuck me!”
Shocked that she was capable of such language, Sabbath never the less strove to obey his wife at least part of the way. He was still fighting himself, still resisting the Drule’s wild impulses, even as Romelle’s robe and lace nightie were shredded under his claws movements. Before he was fully aware of what had happened, only tattered strips remained over her back. It left his hands free to roam over the smooth expanse of her back, and caress over to the clawed open skin of her hip.
Her hip wasn’t bleeding at the moment, but just the fact that at one point it had? It both thrilled him and sickened him, Romelle’s blood all too alluring. Drules liked blood, and they especially liked it in the heat of their passions, be it love making or in the midst of battle. His fangs hurt, and his claws curled, Sabbath knowing how easy it would be to slice open Romelle’s wounds. The temptation to taste, to gorge himself on her blood proved his undoing, Sabbath panicking. Romelle felt it in the way his strokes lost their speed and rhythm, the princess grabbing at Sabbath’s face.
“Look at me…focus only on me!” She ordered.
He fought her grip, shaking his head no. As good as it felt to be joined with her, Sabbath felt sick too. He couldn’t do this anymore, couldn’t hurt Romelle any further, at least not physically. Even as he forced her to let go of him, Sabbath pulling out of her body, he wondered though. Wondered if it wasn’t the hurt but also the disgust she might display if she had any inkling of what the Drule might make him do.
“I….” He couldn’t even touch her, not even to comfort her. Barely looking at her, but aware of Romelle with all his senses, Sabbath jerked his pants back into place. He didn’t even try to stuff himself inside them, just backing away from Romelle.