the last great demented dynasty XIX
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a/n: throughout the chapters, certain songs will be mentioned at the beginning or after a partition. the music is chosen mostly for the vibes and the melody. if the lyrics align, yay. if not, play along. but i highly recommend listening to the songs on loop for its section if you're a 'take-your-time' reader. idk, the music just adds some oomf to it.
summary: you've managed to survive the games so far. but this one might just put you in the hospital for good. will you find a loophole? or will you run for your life?
warnings: sloppy sloppy make out, groping, mention of blood LOTS OF BLOOD again because what is RoN2 without blood? FERAL Y/N NGL BITCH BE CRAZY. mild animal abuse described (IRL, I DEEPLY CONDEMN THIS AND I'D NEVER EVER HURT AN ANIMAL), smut, piv, riding our man let's gooo, bloody sex, sucking blood, bathtub sex, subby whiny whimpery puppy titus, crèmepie, long chapter
ursula and you were lounging by the danforth pool, enjoying one of the rare afternoons of normalcy.
monsoon was on the last of its downpours, so the sky was still cloudy, the air humid. ursula occupied most of the pool itself, doing slow laps whenever the conversation bored her, only peeking out when something caught her interest.
you, meanwhile, sat on the edge with your feet in the water, absently kicking now and then and sloshing the water around your ankles. you had your ipad on your lap, a pdf with rules, terrain diagrams, and enough polo terminology to make you want to toss the device in water. go analogue.
she surfaced several feet away, slicking wet hair back.
"polo requires four players per team, right?"
you scrolled through the pdf. "where am i supposed to find four in my house? is my father supposed to play too?"
she barked out a bitter laugh. "hope not."
"i've no clue, y/n. leave it to the lawyer to explain the rules." and with that unhelpful contribution, she sank beneath the water again.
"i don't know how to play polo, ursula!" you shouted, hoping your complaint swam in with her.
"i'll teach you," the voice came from behind.
you almost fucking fell in the water. turning around, you found titus lowering himself onto the pool deck beside you, shirt-fucking-less.
a fact your brain unfortunately registered before anything else.
you'd never seen him shirtless in broad daylight before, or at least not when you weren't fucking each other against different surfaces.
"even if you do, i'm not exactly becoming a polo expert in a week."
titus reached over and took your ipad from you, shutting the case and placing it away from you.
"you're reading it wrong."
"there's a wrong way to read?" you asked.
"you need to understand how not to die."
you stared at him, then at ursula who fished herself out of the pool for a moment, swimming over to the edge and rested her arms atop the stone.
"blood polo isn't like normal polo."
"i... figured that much." you hadn't.
"so, stop 'studying' it," titus said next to you. "your notes aren't gonna help if you make a different draw."
"of cards," ursula answered for you.
"what roles? what is... just explain," you asked with a frown.
ursula sighed, flicking a bead of water off her finger. "before the games begin, every house draws a card. there are riders..."
the ones on the horse, you supposed.
"why would you run on foot in a game of polo?" you asked, genuinely confused.
ursula and titus shared a sinister smile. "what else would you hit?"
your jaw slacked as it dawned on you. "hold on." you pulled your legs out of the water, crossing them and turning to titus. "you're telling me there's a chance i spend the entire game on horseback... or i spend the entire game running and being 'chased' by the people on horseback?"
"pretty much," titus shrugged.
"that's blood polo for you."
"why blood? will 'the runner' actually get hit?" you asked.
"the mallets have pointed ends. silver tips. silcox special. they prick you to make you run towards the goal they want to win."
for several seconds, all that could be heard was the gentle slosh of water against the pool walls.
you didn't speak for several minutes, enough for ursula to take another lap.
you looked at titus. "so... i have to prepare for both, right? riding and running?"
"i'll never outrun a fucking horse, titus."
"i know. part of the game expects you as a runner to run towards one particular goal, making a team win. but the other team will block you, stab at you to run in the other direction."
you gawked. "how the fuck am i supposed to win then? aren't i just losing?"
"well, if you outlast it... manage to run and dodge and make sure neither team scores a goal, you win."
"i don't make the rules, baby," he raised his hands, then immediately placed the on your knee, thumb running over your skin. oh that felt good. a week's detox from titus danforth had you practically ovulating for the man.
"if you start making out, drown me," ursula's voice bubbled from a few feet away.
the danforth stables were huge, hell apartments were smaller than them. row after row of immaculate stalls stretched before you, polished wood gleaming beneath warm overhead lights. the scent of hay, leather, and horses lingered pleasantly in the air.
you turned slowly, taking it all in. "do all rich people have horses?"
titus scoffed at the generalisation. "we also have yachts."
he led you further inside, one hand casually tucked into his pockets. the stablehands working around stopped and bowed to him like he were some king.
"this one belongs to ursula."
titus stopped before a grey mare. "solstice."
the horse raised her head proudly as though she knew she was being discussed. she was stunning. tall, elegant, silver-grey beneath the afternoon light filtering through the stable windows. her mane had been meticulously brushed and braided.
you stepped closer. "she's... gorgeous."
solstice blinked at you, maybe once, then immediately lost interest.
you let out a soft laugh. "ursula if she were a horse..."
"she judges everyone," titus murmured. "especially ursula."
that felt correct. you continued down the aisle. "where's yours?"
your question pleased him deeply as he smirked, giving you that particular expression men got whenever someone asked about something they were secretly proud of. he nodded towards another stall and you followed.
inside stood a sturdy golden-brown horse with a broad chest and a thick neck, happily occupied with eating.
"that..." titus paused dramatically. "is a fax machine"
you looked between the horse and him. "you named him that?"
applecore chewed enthusiastically, snorting a little before returning to his feed. titus stepped closer to the stall and ran a hand along the horse's neck. immediately, applecore leaned into the touch.
that softened something in your heart. ugh. it was strange to see titus be gentle with something and not kill it.
before you could decide whether touching him was a good idea, titus reached over and took your hand. guiding your palm forward, he placed it against applecore's neck.
the horse was calmer than you thought. and so so soft. your face lit up instantly as you rubbed its neck.
applecore huffed, content at the petting. "he's so soft!!!" you squealed softly.
titus watched you with poorly concealed amusement. jesus, it was like taking a child to the zoo.
"ohmygod ohmygod he's so cute. i love him"
he rolled his eyes, but smiled at your excitement. you continued petting the horse for another minute before reluctantly pulling away.
"one more," he said, his tone changed a little.
he led you further down the row until you reached a stall at the far end. inside stood the most beautiful horse you'd seen by far. a black mare. her coat was dark enough to look almost blue beneath the stable lights. scattered across her hide were small grey-white markings, uneven and delicate. she lifted her head as you approached and your breath caught.
titus shook his head. "no... yours."
titus shrugged. "does it matter?"
"titus," you looked at the horse, "you got me a horse?"
good lord, the casualness threw you off. he said it like he just brought you flowers or a glass of water.
"they don't usually come in halves," he murmured.
you bore your eyes into the man, then turned back towards the mare. your mare. carefully, you stepped closer and held out your hand. she sniffed at your fingers, wet nose bumping against your hand. you smiled before you could stop yourself. she made a grumbling sound as she leaned into your touch.
"hi," you said softly, stroking her.
"what's her name?" you asked him.
"you tell me, baby. she's yours to name," titus answered.
you gasped and shoved him. "shut the fuck up."
he didn't so much as budge, not a damn inch. just hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you back against his side.
"go on." his chin rested on your shoulder. "name her."
you looked back at the mare, at the darkness of her coat, the pale stars on her hide. she looked like a sky full of stars. gosh, she was indescribably beautiful.
you said softly, "andromeda."
"andromeda," titus repeated once, against your ear. "good name."
"right?" you beamed, your cheek touching his.
"we'll get it embossed on a tag."
you pet her once more and she nudged your forearm, making you laugh. titus watched the two of you together and felt something warm settle in his chest. because he'd spent millions of his money buying expensive things for women before. birkins, cars, trips to mykonos.
but none of them ever looked this happy about it.
and later, sometime in the evening, you stood on the grounds of the estate, boots over fitted pants, a typical polo shirt on you. you sat atop andromeda, still getting used to the sensation of being that high off the ground. it wasn't fear exactly, just some anticipatory awareness. horses weren't always zen creatures. they were large and powerful and every shift of their muscle under you reminded you that you only had half the control over them. your girl could absolutely rocket launch you into a bush.
but thankfully, she seemed to like you.
titus rode beside you on applecore, the reins in his hand worn out from frequent use. it irritated you slightly how good he looked doing literally anything. riding horses definitely fell into that category too.
the two of you had only just started down one of the estate trails, where he taught you how to mount yourself on a horse properly, when a familiar figure emerged from behind.
sebastian noticed that you'd noticed him. after the little stunt you'd pulled on him the night before, he approached you like one would a landmine.
you glanced over your shoulder and he jolted in place once.
sebastian cleared his throat. "you uh..." his eyes flicked between you and the horse. "you're riding."
he took half a step backward. his gaze darted toward titus.
"you know how to ride?" he asked eventually.
"a little." that answer seemed to surprise both men.
"yeah?" titus asked, turning toward you.
there was genuine curiosity in his voice. you fought the urge to smirk.
"yeah. my university had a derby last year. they organised an equestrian workshop."
you adjusted the reins slightly. "david... taught me."
ooooo the effect was spectacular. titus' entire face hardened like a steel crowbar. the ease he carried himself with dissipated into fists clenched around the reins, his jaw twitching and shoulders squared. the look he gave the distant horizon suggested david's life expectancy had just shortened considerably.
sebastian blinked between the two of you, trying his best to be relevant in the conversation.
"i... can teach you some basics of polo, if you'd like. it's not as hard asâ"
before he could finish, titus casually reached over and slapped applecore's butt and the horse reacted instantly, one of its hind legs kicking back and landing straight into sebastian's stomach.
"HCKâ" oh he folded in half. all the air left his lungs in one violent burst as he stumbled backwards clutching his stomach.
you bit the inside of your cheek trying not to burst out laughing. you reached over and grabbed titus' arm before he could somehow escalate things further.
"why don't you give me some lessons, hm?"
his attention snapped back at you like a dog hearing an order. he stared at you for another second before shaking his head and guiding applecore forward.
the two of you rode out on the grounds slowly. truth be told, you only knew how to not fall off the horse. you didn't know how to make it jump or gallop or run. so you really did need some lessons.
you rode on the horses till you reached the plains behind the estate, a terrain suitable for some high speed riding.
"she's already trained," he said, rerouting applecore to move closer to you.
"i'm the one who needs training, man."
he reached over and gave andromeda's neck an approving pat.
"the thing people get wrong about horses is thinking they're like cars. pull this, press that, get a ride."
you listened to him carefully.
"but they have different personalities and they respond differently to their riders.
his hand slid down the reins.
"applecore's stubborn. if he doesn't respect someone, he'll ignore them. solstice only listens to ursula and the stableboy. she hates everyone else. she'll charge at them if they try to pet her or click at her."
titus nodded at your horse. "andromeda's easier. if you treat her gently, she'll listen. if you're stern, she won't."
he guided his horse around slightly.
"so, start with turning."
for the next while he walked you through the basics properly. how pressure on one rein wasn't meant to yank the horse's head around but communicate direction. how shifting your weight helped.
when you kinda pulled too hard, andromeda stopped altogether and side-eyed you.
"sorry, sweetie," you cooed, stroking her neck.
after that came stopping, starting, changing pace, little things that made the horse more comfortable with you. but it ended up being you getting more comfortable with riding. this felt nice. and by the time the sun had sunk lower, you were feeling considerably more confident.
and well, all good things came to and end. titus decided to ruin your peace.
"nah, i'm good bruh," you chuckled nervously. before you could invent another excuse, he dismounted. he stepped beside andromeda and swung himself up behind you in one smooth motion. and now there was a really large titus danforth behind you.
your spine straightened immediately, his chest pressed lightly against your back and his legs settled on either side of yours.
"relax, baby." his arms slid around you, enough to embrace you, his hands covering yours. god, he was warm.
"i can't. i'm gonna fall."
you felt him chuckle against the side of your head. titus snapped his fingers and applecore started following beside you automatically, entirely unconcerned.
and then he snapped the reins.
andromeda surged forwards. the whole world suddenly sped around you and you felt your stomach drop. the grass on the ground became a blurry stroke of muddy green beneath pounding hooves. the force of acceleration shoved you backwards so hard your entire back slammed into titus' chest.
"oh my god, fuck... shit, titus."
the wind took bites out of your voice. your hands tightened around the reins and your heart launched itself out of your body. you were pretty sure it got left behind in the dirt back there.
the horse was moving impossibly fast, faster than any vehicle you'd been on. your mind conjured worst case scenarios as usual; that you would fall, you would die, get trampled. become one with the ground.
yet none of it happened. andromeda galloped smoothly, beautifully. and your panic turned just a bit into excitement.
the evening wind whipped through your hair and against your face. tears gathered in the corners of your eyes from the sheer force of it. the sky felt larger above you, stars twinkling in the night. the speed certainly made you feel alive and you found yourself laughing.
you leaned forward instinctively, moving with the horse instead of against her.
"holy shit, this is amazing!" you cried out.
beside you, applecore ran free, no reins directing his gait or speed. you could see the strings of muscle ripple beneath its golden hide. what a sight.
eventually, once your death grip on the reins loosened you became quantitatively less terrified, titus shifted his hands away from yours, letting them rest at your hips.
"turn a little to the right."
you swallowed. the horse was still moving considerably faster, but carefully, you applied gentle pressure to the rein in your right hand, tugging it. andromeda responded by veering into a smooth arc across the open field, not once breaking the pace.
your eyes widened. "whoa."
"gooood girl," titus cooed directly beside your ear.
"i was talking to her, baby."
your rolled your eyes. but gosh, you couldn't deny how liberating it felt. a few minutes ago you'd been convinced galloping was a fancy way to die, now you almost wanted to go faster, take off and fly.
you continued guiding andromeda across the plains while applecore followed. then eventually, the pace eased. the horse slowed down when you tugged at the reins, grass giving way to a higher ridge overlooking the sprawling forests. the cliffside wasn't steep enough to be dangerous, but it offered a clear view for miles.
the sky was dark, and stars twinkled in clusters over your head.
titus clicked his tongue softly and guided both horses toward a clearing. andromeda finally came to a stop. you let out a breath.
titus dismounted first, looking up at you. then he held out a hand, which you accepted. his fingers wrapped around yours as you carefully swung one leg over the saddle and slid down. the second your boots hit solid ground, your entire body rattled like a skeleton.
"oh fuck..." you wobbled a little, then adjusted your pants and shifted your weight from foot to foot. jesus everything felt sore.
"nobody told me riding feels like this."
titus looked amused. "feels like what?"
"like i've been kicked in the ass repeatedly."
"well, that ass humped my dick real good, so i'm not complaining."
you gritted your teeth, hand lifting to smack applecore's butt so he could kick titus in the balls maybe, but the man grabbed it and gave it a little kiss, lacing his fingers with yours.
the horses were left to graze nearby while the two of you wandered toward the edge of the clearing. the breeze was a lot stronger up there.
you lowered yourself onto the ground with a grateful sigh, your knees coming up to your chest. you wrapped your arms around them. titus took a seat beside you, shoulder brushing yours.
slowly, without really thinking about it, you leaned sideways. your shoulder settled more firmly against his; then your head found its way onto his shoulder. you felt his arm settle behind you in the grass.
you held on to his arm, hand closing in on his juicy bicep.
your thoughts swirled back into the game a week away. at the hundred different ways you could get hurt on the horse, and more if you were off and on the field running. a rider could 'miss' and slash at you, a horse could panic and run over you. any of the families could suddenly decide that they didn't really care about scoring, but just hurting you.
"i'm scared..." the words felt embarrassing to admit, but they were true. you were scared of waking up broken and bruised, where safety was a false promise. the games so far had all been dangerous but blood polo was physically torturous.
you felt his arm lift slowly and drape around you.
"i won't hurt you," his statement came simply. "i can keep other riders off you... for a while. interrupt them, block them."
he looked at you, at the unease in your eyes. "but i can't control all six of them."
"i can't control the horses either."
that one scared you the most. horses weighed a lot, anywhere from 400 to 900 kilograms. they ran on pure strength, stamina, speed, and momentum. one wrong move from you and you'd end up impaled and stamped to the ground.
titus sighed softly. "you're going to get hurt. that much... is certain."
his hand squeezed your shoulder. "but you also got on a horse today. terrified."
"i wouldn't say terrified..." you pouted.
"baby, you were one moment away from writing your last will."
a small smile appeared on your face anyway.
"but you know what? so far, you've outwitted every single one of us. won three out of six games just like that. that's hot," titus murmured. "you'll live."
you knew he meant it as a compliment. you looked at him for a moment longer than necessary, contemplating telling him just a little more. and titus caught it immediately
you looked away. and the bastard became even more fascinated.
"what is it," he asked again.
you let out a long sigh. "just thinking about how you'll react if i tell you another... secret."
"baby... my reaction is the least of your worries."
your groaned. here we go.
"you need to be ready to face what i'll do if you don't tell me what it is."
you gnawed on the insides of your cheek. and well, the grass was interesting, the horse was interesting, the sky was interesting.
you pretended not to hear him, still didn't answer. more silence wafted around you. the horses snorted into the grass, the wind blew whistles in the air.
"babyyyy" uh oh he gave you the voice. yk, the one that usually came with property damage and wildfires.
"baby, baby, baby," he cooed, leanng in closer. "don't make me coax it out of you."
you shoved his face away with your palm. "promise me... that you won't go non-verbal and leave me here on the cliff."
you glared at him and he simply gave you that petulant look he always wore whenever something wasn't going according to his whims. the look that usually meant he intended to be difficult until he got what he wanted.
you dragged your palm over your face, still wondering whether this was a catastrophically stupid idea. but fuck it.
"the rajans..." your voice came out quietly. "...did not die accidentally."
you instantly focused on the grass, counting one blade after the other. anything to not look at him.
"they overdosed," titus recalled.
you caught a short glimpse of his face. of that frown and one quivering lip. that was titus thinking. and, unfortunately, he was very good at thinkingâwhole gears and cogs shifting. the fact that neither brother had ever shown the slightest hesitation around narcotics. they consumed practically everything under the sun. there was no universe where madhu and viraj rajan simply took the wrong thing and died.
slowly, titus turned his head towards you.
you found another blade of grass. this one was particularly fascinating.
you continued studying the most significant blade of grass ever grown by god.
titus bore holes in you with his hazel eyes.
yep, you were a botanist now.
you held your breath, looking straight ahead and gave a slow nod. titus kept his gaze on you, the gears in his brain clicked into place.
you sucked in another breath. "uh⌠after the games, you fell asleep next to me." you gulped. "i gave them laced coke⌠apple seed cyanide."
titus stilled, eyes fixed on you without blinking, recounting every single thing he knew about you and filtering them with the new knowledge.
his mind went back to the first day of the games, after all the drinks and drugs and sex, he remembered falling asleep over your shoulder. that was it. only now it wasn't.
you had been awake. his sweet sweet girl, who got excited over coffee carts and made friendship bracelets, his sexy little language nerd who studied for 35 hours straight. who petted horses...
was now the same woman who'd handed two grown men enough poison to kill them and then sat there petting his hair while they died.
his throat bobbed, his cock twitched.
for a solid moment, he looked less like a murderous billionaire and more like someone who'd just discovered he'd missed the final episode of a show everyone else had seen.
then he pouted. @softundermoonlight prompted titus' reaction. and it's facts.
and of all the reactions you had prepared for, this had not been one of them.
"no, no, i go unconscious for a few hours and you fucking poison two people?" his tone wasn't exactly accusatory, in fact, he seemed genuinely upset he missed it.
titus looked at you again, and you could see him trying to reconcile the events. you hadn't lost control or snapped at them, or flown into a raging fit and stabbed someone. no, you'd planned it. you chose the moment, the method, executed it with precision so accurate it was invisible. and you hid it all this time.
and he'd missed the moment you handed them laced coke, or the moment your realised they were dying.
"you didn't wake me up, baby," he mumbled, a frown on his face.
"dude... i just admitted to murder."
"and??? you don't find that fucked up?"
he looked at you with puppy eyes. "you won the game, and took down the hosts... do you understand how annoyed i am that i missed that? he whined. yes, whined.
an almost childish frustration that the most shocking thing you had ever done had happened while he was asleep.
titus shifted on the grass, his face right in your eyesight. "you're fucking damn right i'm serious. you don't kill people without me, y/n..."
you gawked at him. "titus that's a bad thing!!"
he didn't look like he cared one bit. "and we do bad things together, baby... next timeâ"
"there's not gonna be a next time!" you said too quickly.
"âyou're doing it with me or not at all."
titus slowly leaned closer and closer, his breath fanning yours. he slid his hand around your neck, holding it tight. "i wanna see it..."
his lips ghosted over yours. "i wanna see you take the life out of someone."
you gulped, because for a moment you actually imagined it. you repeating your sin and him watching you with admiration.
"you are, baby... you are," he said that so softly, so pleadingly, slowly pressing kisses to your lips. "my little huntress."
you should've pushed him away, thrown him off the cliff. but you were far too deep into hypocrisy. all that went out of your head the moment your calf felt titus tenting in his pants. was he hard because you killed people?
it should've made every cell in your body twist and repel him but it did the opposite. you pressed your lips to his.
and from there it was just a messy affair.
he pushed you down with his body, your legs unfolding and thighs parting around his hips. your back hit the grass and it pricked for a while, but that sensation was secondary to how titus was absolutely devouring your mouth. he pressed himself on top of you and his lips moved against yours, starving and greedy.
titus practically smashed his face into yours, tongue sliding into your mouth. he weaselled his way inside, teeth clashing, lips smacking against yours. he didn't want anything else in that moment.
"you... mmhhh" he tilted his head to kiss you deeper "are perfect."
drool dripped out of his mouth and into yours as he made out with you. he let his hand travel under your shirt, creeping up on your skin till he reached your tits. he squeezed one, kneaded the flesh with a harsh grip till it drew out messy whimpers out of you.
"my perfect girl," he moaned in your mouth, absolutely the hardest he'd ever been. he rolled his hips over yours, clothed dick grinding right over your mound.
he barely gave you a second to breathe (mostly gasp) before he angled his head the other way and kissed you again, biting your lip so you'd open your mouth wider.
he was nothing but sheer wet desperation. a man undone by truth.
and it was filthy how he kissed you. aggressive, heated, dripping wet as his lips sucked on your tongue, his own slicing through your lips left and right.
you moaned into it, your fingers curling into his hair and around the back of his neck. your breath squeezed itself out under his weight.
titus groaned as his hips bucked between your legs, his erection pressing against the dampness there. he was drinking up every sound, every wet squelch of your tongues, every damn moan that left your mouth. he got high on it.
and if human beings didn't have to breathe, titus would've kissed you for eternity.
the week leading up to the game passed in a blur of bruises, sore muscles, and dust. every morning seemed to begin in the stables and end with you discovering an entirely new part of your body capable of aching.
ttus took most of your riding lessons himself and occasionally ursula would join the two of you.
eventually, around the fourth day, you got the hang of it. the reins felt less complex to hold, andromeda picked up the speed well and you learned to lean into the force than resist it. you'd gallop away on the terrains. the first time andromeda broke into a full sprint beneath you without sending your heart into your throat, made you want to punch a fist in the air with victory.
but you also had to train for the off chance that you picked the running card.
and that part of the training sucked.
sso every afternoon the grounds behind the estate, titus, ursula, and much to your displeasure, sebastian formed a temporary team of three on horseback, chasing you while you acted as the runner. you quickly discovered that a horse could cover distance far faster than your legs ever could. and that was humiliating.
you just kept getting blocked or rerouted to run in the other direction.
ursula taught you how to not run in straight lines, how to zigzag. taught you to cut sharply left and right instead of committing to a single direction.
titus taught you that riders may conceal their intentions and directions, but the horses wouldn't. that you could tell which way they'd turn by how they neck turned.
then came body rolls, making you dizzy and covered in grass. but eventually you learned how to throw yourself sideways, roll across a shoulder, regain your feet, and continue moving. then it was ducking beneath swinging mallets, pivots, short sprints and sharp turns.
by the fifth day, titus and ursula stopped going easy on you and boy did you realise real quick how terrifying horses could be. they were enormous. and since they were thoroughbred, they were also hefty.
sincerely, just a tonne of muscle charging towards you at great speed.
more than once you found yourself frozen for half a second as several hundred kilograms thundered towards you. half a second was enough to catch you off guard. titus and ursula halted their horses before they touched you.
sebastian didn't. he let the spare horse nudge you, let its leg stomp on your foot once and you wailed in pain.
"be dead," you cursed, clutching your foot. it was bleeding a little.
titus had his servants patch it up, keeping a sour glare on your father at all times.
"touch her again, you're gonna find your foot where it doesn't belong."
the worst training of all was sliding. under the fucking horses. it sounded suicidal, but the grass was damp enough for it to be possible.
the first time you attempted it, you ended up flat on your back, stars twinkling around your forehead. but you got better at it. and by the end of the week, however, you could drop low, slide through the space between a horse's path and a rider's reach, and emerge on the other side before they could turn around.
during one of your drills, you actually lasted for half a game of polo, then finally collapsed on the grass, panting so harshly your lungs burned.
titus slowed applecore beside you, then got off.
your grabbed and threw a clump of grass at him.
and every single day of practice ended with you spending time in the stables, talking to the helpers, brushing the horses, learning about them.
the reason was simple; they were going to be on the field. so the more comfortable they were with you, the less they'd hurt you. but you made sure to learn every single twitch, snort, and step of them. especially solstice and applecore, because you wouldn't be riding them.
you fed them, stroked their necks and backs, brushed their manes, even cleaned the stables and put fresh hay. changed their horseshoe with the stablehand.
"did i hear you talking to the horses?" titus asked you at dinner one time.
you stabbed your piece of chicken and chewed on it too many times.
titus smirked, his eyebrow raised. "nothing."
as the game approached, your anxiety got worse. you could barely train. your body desperately needed the rest. but then sleep wouldn't come to you unless it brought with itself flashing nightmares of you being trampled under horses, or getting sliced by sharp mallets.
you'd wake up startled, making sure your limbs were still attached to your body.
you'd try to go to sleep again, but the bed would swallow you an you'd seek for every breath.
even when you crept into titus' bed the night before, you couldn't fully trust yourself to close your eyes and actually sleep. his arm curled around you, pulling you impossibly in, but it didn't ease anything.
sleep would only come to you when the games would be over.
âŹâ.Ë allah duhai hai; atif aslam, anushka machanda, vishal dadlani
the convoy of cars rolled through the gates of the silcox mansion. you'd seen their holiday house on the island, but their inland estate was just as enormous.
the grounds were transformed into just the perfect terrain for a game of polo, grass trimmed to perfection. white tents stretched across the property, servants moved through guests carrying trays with drinks.
goal posts stood at opposite ends of the grass. horses paced restlessly behind holding areas, their tack still gleaming beneath the cloudy daylight.
you stared at the setup from where you stood near the entrance. every banner, ribbon, and decoration seemed determined to remind everyone exactly who was hosting. the actual hosts certainly weren't helping the case either.
with silver embroidery stitched onto the hems of a stupid polo shirt, platinum buttons lined in the front, mr silcox stepped out on the grass, taking a whiff of the air.
his sons and daughters were the same. patrick, too stepped out in matching attire.
"huh, he lived," said titus.
you'd have felt joy had it not been for the reminder that should he participate, he wasn't going to root for you.
"teach a guy how to fish, huh..."
all 13 silcoxes stood together, matching and sparkly.
"good lord," you murmured.
titus followed your gaze. "they look like cutlery."
the cheng fus showed up with heavy steps, carrying tradition on their backs. their riding attire was simple and functional, lacking the unnecessary embellishments favoured by the silcoxes.
the el caĂdos, still kicking, arrived like a fleet of thespians. black and gold, feathers and cowboy boots. you get the rest.
you looked to your side at titus and ursula. the two danforths seemed military in comparison.
matching navy riding jackets, dark enough to seem black to a lousy eye. gold buttons up front with the danforth crest on them.
and then you looked at yourself.
ursula had loaned you a pair of fitted trousers. beige. you had custom brown boots made by the danforth stylist. but the shirt? you picked that one. white polo shirt smug with a hot pink barbie logo over your chest. you were very proud of it.
titus, you remembered had nearly suffered a stroke. "you could've worn literally anything else."
"but then i wouldn't be barbie."
"you're not... barbie," he felt odd even saying that name.
"nah that's where you're wrong... ken."
now, standing amongst the assembled families, you felt several judgemental stares drift your way. you just smiled.
if everyone else was determined to look intimidating, you were perfectly content looking like ball girl on a tennis court.
and finally, the lwayer stepped up. bro wore a suit in heat.
"welcome," he announced, clasping his hands behind his back. "to the fourth game of the necrofest."
the bustling crowd quietened.
"today's challenge is blood polo."
the lawyer smiled pleasantly. "for this game, the traditional structure has been altered. rather than competing individually, families will be permitted to form alliances."
immediately, murmurs spread through the gathered competitors.
"call it mr le bail's generosity... each alliance shall consist of two houses. should either alliance secure victory, both participating families will be credited with the win."
you exchanged a glance with titus.
"and should neither score a goal, such that the runner survives in the end, he or she shall win the game."
the lawyer continued. "however, participation shall not be determined by choice."
a servant appeared carrying a lacquered wooden box.
"each competitor shall draw."
since each team required four players, the heads of the house could choose blood representatives. or in your case, sebastian, as the head of the house would have to step in should you turn out to be a rider. that much made you a little happy. you wouldn't have to suffer alone.
one by one, everyone picked a card. you saw each one held up to the crowd, cheers echoing after each one. you dindn't need to look at yours to know that you...
were going to be a runner.
the bloody human ball everyone would spend the afternoon chasing.
you had a few minutes to yourself while the horses were brought on the field and teams were created.
you didn't stop to check who paired up with whom. you stepped inside the mansion, asking one of the servants if he could fetch a glass of water or lemonade and some raw nuts to nibble on.
you held on to the glass brought to you mostly for support and grounding as you breathed through your nose and out your mouth, leading yourself a little away from the fields.
you stood in one of the many silcox salons, or a tea room. you couldn't tell. you let your eyes shift from one artefact to the other, some gold lined dish, silver ashtray, some abstract painting that probably cost the same as down payment on a house.
you took a sip, then instantly choked on it when you saw three men shuffle in with duffel bags and masks, their hands full of jewelley and electronics.
you spared a glance at each of them. were they robbing the place? hell, one of them looked like a highschool kid.
"i didn't see anything," you swallowed the lemonade.
the three of them looked at you, at each other. then slowly backed towards the door that led further into the mansion.
"i'd keep an eye out for darts. they're silver. 78 of them," you suggested, and looked the other way, turning your back on them.
they hushed amongst each other and skirted through the door.
"not that way, craig! this way, fucking idiot."
"i know what i'm doing, j, i'm the one who scoped it out, ask deran!"
yeahhh, you did not want to know what they were up to, but you felt about 20% more satisfied knowing the silcoxes were being robbed in their own house.
in fact, that just made you feel confident enough to step back out and onto the grass.
titus found your hand in a second. "you okay?"
"yeah. just... hoping to be done with this."
you looked at ursula too. the three of you finally had an understanding, and as much as it wasn't part of your plan, having titus in on it strangely soothed you. because titus could be deadly, violent and unforgiving. so having someone like that on your side gave you all the edge you needed to tip the game in your favour.
"just... be careful. if the lawyer suspectsâ"
"he won't." ursula grabbed her helmet and put it on.
titus looked at you, searching for any signs of fear. maybe they weren't there at that moment, but he knew they'd come. when you were out running, if he missed, there would be someone to attack you.
"who'd you pair up with?"
he blinked at your question. "the mourning dove."
"dude, everyone does," he mimicked you. "but she'll want to win. count on that."
the riders were called to mount the horses. titus squeezed your hand, then making sure no one was looking, leaned in a pressed a kiss to your lips.
"go nuts," he whispered and then turned around, picking up his helmet and strutting out onto the field with his sister.
you shook your arms, trying to physically shed off your fears (not that it worked). it felt like the fucking hunger games where the tributes stood on the pedestals waiting for the countdown to hit zero, so one misstep and it was over for you.
you stepped onto the field. thankfully, you were at least given a helmet to wear.
you could hear the council families et al. boo you as you stood on the grass. it was windy, a little cloudy, just the kind of weather to spook someone out. especially the horses.
from your vantage point, you could see the goal stumps on the edges of the field. thankfully, they had a boundary and if they made you run through them, only then would it be considered a goal.
so this:
(source: https://www.dimensions.com/element/polo-field)
you ignored your heart begging for mercy within your ribs. you could see the riders slowly take formation before you and every single fucking one of them had a threatening glint in their eye. you learned in half a second what it felt like to be wanted dead...
the lawyer, in his private commentary box, had monitors and cameras all over the field that showed him every player, every horse and the entire terrain.Â
"ladies and gentlemen, let the games begin," his voice reverberated into the microphone and deafening cheers erupted around the field.
âŹâ.Ë bfg division; mick gordon (from doom)
the moment the siren blasted, your little tippy toe steps turned into a full sprint when the silcox horses charged at youâfucking figured. you saw the mallets in their hands, a long stick really, but the ends of the head, cylindrical wooden piece attached to the shaft, had sharp silver points pushing outwards. you diagnosed within moments that one flick would bore into your skin, tear at your flesh and send you bleeding on the field.Â
mr silcox swung his mallet in vicious circles as he rode right at you. your eyes darted from his horse to the one behind him, and then to the six suddenly appearing after them and that revelation did not home a sliver of safety. having eight 700 kilo horses chase you around the field was a much worse reality.
you overestimated your speed and suddenly, two silcox horses were right in front of you, huffs of hot air blowing from their nostrils down at you. then you saw the mallet swung at you. you ducked and stepped back just in time, arms flailing in defence against god knows what.
you jogged back and away from the silcoxes, who steered their horse to meet you in your face. you covered a good enough distance, watching everyone slowly race towards you. you spared a brief glance at the watch on your wrist; you were only 2 minutes into the game. as per the rules, one chukker (FUCK U BRITAIN. colonisers stole the game and the word from manipur, india) lasted 7 1/2 minutes, and you knew there were going to be 4 of such. that was half an hour of running for your life, and a 50% chance of getting mauled to death under hoofs.
the second time the silcoxes tried to swing at you, ursula's mallet clashed against theirs, clacking around your ears as you hopped away. you barely had time to collect your breath before francesca's horse bumped into your back.
"i'm gonna kill you. i'm soâ" she swung her mallet at you ferociously and the first silver pin nicked at your shoulder. "âgoing to kill you!!!!"Â
her maniacal laughter followed like smoke from a carburettor as you bolted from there, suddenly very very aware of how much it fucking hurt. your sleeve was stained in blood. but you didn't have time to sit and patch yourself up.Â
the cheng fus on horseback weren't as much a mallet threat as they were a big fucking obstacle you had to dodge. they kept planting their horses right in your track, two together like a muscular wall before you. you swerved around them, your breath caught in your lungs. the field was all too large to keep track of every player and to run at the same time.
your shifting eyes caught a glimpse of silcox and el caido horses charging at you and you sucked in half of your breath and bolted again, past the cheng fu horses, and onto the clearing. you had to run around in semicircles to avoid getting in the track of them. you ducked and dodged one swinging mallet, the point missing your forehead in the nick of time.
"fuck fuck fuck fuck," you cursed under your breath, stepping on the damp grass. you found titus and ursula's horses and got behind them, a moment's respite that truly did last only a moment.
francesca tried to swing her mallet at titus.Â
"say goodbye to your girl, danforth, i'm gonna wreck the shit out oâ"
titus slapped his mallet right on her leg, the silver cutting a neat linear slice on through her pants. she screamed, trying to bring her leg up, but it got stuck under the footrest of her saddle, causing her to jerk her knee up and down, which made her horse steer away.
 oh you could kiss the man on his mouth.
your momentary rejoice was cut off when one of the cheng fus lunged at you, their mallet slicing the side of your thigh.
you hissed in pain, "tssss!!! ahhh!"Â
you didn't have time to think, nor the time to feel pain. you just sprinted, hoping the adrenaline will look after you for a while. from the corner of your eye, you watched titus ram applecore into the cheng fu horse once, making the animal neigh and huff in resistance before pulling away.
the first ding! of the chukker went off, and the horses pulled away from you slowly. okay, you had about two minutes to pull your shit together before the second round started.Â
you dedicated the entirety of it to planting your arms on your knees, bent forward to catch your breath and focus. your thigh fucking hurt, and you could see blood trickling down the fabric of your pants.Â
two minutes went by as swiftly as a sneeze and then you were back on your feet again. lord, the horses charged at an unimaginable speed. not a single fuck of your training came to your mind when you tried to dodge and duck out of the way. at one point, you slipped on the grass, and saw a silcox horse tower over you, its hooves raised in the air. you panicked, but rolled your body a few times till you were out of its way, then picked yourself up and dashed out of there. now your legs had started to hurt, every step made the blood in your thigh ooze out more.Â
ursula and titus were doing their best to protect you from most of the damage, but titus was right. he couldn't do everything on his own.
a few more swings and misses flew past youâone of them knocked your helmet off your head. and before you could pick it up, francesca's horse ran over it with a crack and you watched it split into two.
she had her brother, felipe, who was on the other horse, chase after you. and mind you that kid was a freak. his horse was shorter give the boy's height, therefore more agile. it darted after you mercilessly. its snout brushed against your back once and you jolted to the side. you had to escape it somehow.Â
you jogged all the way over to titus, and before he could look at you and ask you how to help, the back of your hand smacked hard against applecore's butt, and the horse kicked its hind legs as you hoped he would, the hoofs landing straight into felipe's polo pony. the horse was spooked, hurt, and triggered enough to trot away and off-field, neighing frantically.Â
an angry francesca screeched and chased you on her mare, almost driving you towards the edge of the goal post. no matter what happened, you couldn't risk crossing that boundary. so just as her horse pursued you, turning to the side so she could swing her mallet at you, your bodyâby virtue of memoryâdropped down, using your momentum, and slid under the mare, through the space between its legs, under its belly, and you came out on the other side.
"whoa... whoa!" you gasped, surprising yourself.
you let yourself smile and chuckle a little before jogging away.
and you were saved by the halfway timer. 15 minutes of pure nightmare. and there were 15 more...
you sat down on the bench surrounding the field, hands and legs shaking, heart rate on speed-drive.
you looked at yourself briefly. your arm, shoulder, corner of your forehead, your thigh, and your waist were covered in cuts and slices, fresh blood dripping out of them. fuck.
you pressed a tissue over your thigh, the pressure eliciting a whine of pain from you. it was a nasty gash. and a part of you worried that it would only get worse with forced movement. but 15 minutes, all that was left between you and your survival. you didn't even care about winning.Â
there was hardly any time between the two halves before you found yourself back on the field.
sharp stings of pain ran through your leg, especially your thigh. every bend of the leg sent another painful current in your body.
the siren went off, and again, you ran. but this time, your pace and accuracy were a lot worse than before. your focus was now shared by the pain coursing through your body.Â
which is how you caught yourself squeezed between two hefty silcox stallions, and another mallet lodged itself right on the same thigh wound, cutting deeper into the gash. you screamed in agony as the silver pulled itself out, fresh blood sputtering out in short rivulets.
"hahahahaha!!! pathetic little girl," mr silcox laughed in your face. "go on! run!"
running took away the strength in you, leaving you gasping breathlessly.Â
titus blocked a few more attacks coming your way, and ursula expertly steered the other horses away from you whenever you got closer to the goal posts. anyone with working eyes could see that the two were trying desperately to not injure you, but it did not defy the rules of the game, so no one could do a thing about it.
one of the cheng fu horses neighed before you, stomping its hoofs on the grass, digging mud out. you halted abruptly so as to not run into it, which put a strain on your leg, more blood coming out your thigh.Â
your palms patted your pockets and you dug out a few of those peanuts from earlier. logic went out the window when you tossed a handful of them at the horse. but it seemed that the equine quite liked little peanut treats. its mouth chased them, lapping them up from the grass. mr cheng fu tugged too hard at the rein, trying to get the horse back in the game, but it only angered the animal and it rocked in place angrily, throwing the man off its back.Â
you ran again, not knowing where you were headed. you couldn't tell. tears had blurred your vision, the sweat clinging to your body cooled you down, but also tired you out.Â
you didn't even hear the second bell go off, and just kept jogging nowhere in particular, completely wasting the two minute timeout between two laps.
titus watched you from atop his horse. as much as he loved a good blood polo, watching you get hurt like that, by others disturbed him more than he thought it would.
he wished he could scoop you up and put you on his horse,and ride away.Â
"don't. get soft," ursula's voice chimed in from beside him. "focus."
titus glared at his sister, at the accusation that he was distracted or 'soft'.Â
"want me to run the mallet through your skull, ursula? don't tell me what to do."
she rolled her eyes. and as much as she seemed composed, she couldn't help but feel bad for you. there was no easy way out of a blood polo. and the last 7 1/2 minutes were going to determine whether or not you could last.
so when the siren went off, she charged before anyone else, already before you.
"WAKE UP! don't fucking die on us," she barked at you, nudging the tip of her mallet against your calf. the tiny prick jolted you out of your dulled senses.
you nodded and kept jogging. by now, your entire leg was drenched in blood, the loss of which fogged your vision and made you a bit dizzy.
âŹâ.Ë blood in the cut; k. flay
"keep running. just..." you slurred. "keep going. don't play the game, play the horse."
you repeated that to yourself for a few times, and focused on ursula's mare. solstice was a judgy girl, and you needed that aspect of her personality real bad.
you remembered how she hated hearing clicks, they simply made her go feral. so you mustered every bit of your stamina and bolted after her, loud clicks coming out of your mouth. the horse neighed and shook its head a few times.
ursula narrowed her eyes at you. "bitch." but she let it happen anyway.
solstice surged forward violently as the clicks grew louder, pushing past the silcox horses, causing mr silcox to slip off his horse for a moment before sitting upright again.
but destiny was on your side as you watched his mallet fall to the ground. you didn't think twice before dashing towards it and grabbing it.
"youâgive that back to me!" he snarled at you.
"gladly..." you slurred, a faint smirk in the corner of your mouth.
then you swung the stick with full force... and hammered it right into his face, the silver point driving into his skin, cracking his cheek bone.Â
you yanked it out with force, holding it tightly in your bloody grip.
self-control was your long time friend, soulmate even, but when the pot boiled to its majesty, you had to take the lid off, let the steam escape its confinement. so that's what you did.
breath heaving, vision practically a blob of nothing, ears ringing and your thigh pulsing with pain and blood, you grabbed the mallet and dashed after the other silcox. all your stress and panic bubbled aggressively down into simple, unblemished rage. rage for the games, the twisted fantasies of one of the world's most corrupt and malevolent individuals, your boyfriend included. you hated how much you had started to fall for him, victim to the command he had over you that made your emotions betray your morals. rage for the self-serving gluttony of all the money-nexus billionaires whose wealth relied on the death of people drastically distant from a good life. a normal loving life.Â
mrs silcox tried to steer her horse away, but you were supernaturally faster in that moment. you swung the mallet and it lodged in her calf with a squelch. she cried out, but you didn't stop there. all your patience and empathy crumbled in one moment, and you let out a guttural scream, one for the books as you dragged the sharp end down down down her leg till it tore through her skin, a valley of red giving way to a waterfall of blood.
you were never a haughty woman, but there something incredibly ecstatic in making them cry in pain. they deserved worse.Â
you stopped running. no, you strutted on the field, dark clouds gathering above you. you swung the mallet in your hand, like swinging a purse.
"who's next!!!??" you cried out loud, a question for everyone on the field.
the wounded silcoxes had come to a halt, their horses tapping lightly on the grass. the cheng fus hadn't really bothered to take a swing at you the entire game, but now that you had a stick of your own? the hell would they even look at you.
your eyes locked on to francesca. calmly, you made your way to her. she swerved her horse away from you, but ursula blocked her, snickering as solstice shoved at the other mare.
francesca glared at ursula, then looked at you, but you were suddenly too close. in a fraction of a second, she tugged at the reins and her horse trotted away.Â
but she heard the wind howl as you twirled and swung the stick like a mini hurricane. you hurled it right in her direction and by some miracle, the silver end pierced right into her back, making her yell out in pain.
she slowed down and you grabbed the moment to sprint at her, hand outstretched to grab the mallet back.Â
titus, who'd been on the sidelines all this time, watched you in both; horror and excitement. bullet points flashed inside his mind as he watched you grab the stick and yank it out of francesca's bent back.Â
it had been one hailstorm after the other discovering just how... terrifying you were. from day fucking one, insistent child clutching dead poppies in your fist, to a mature woman putting him in his place in the hospital, to a wise intellectual who'd singlehandedly done what his entire family couldn't. to a bold and beautiful lover, the most unusual strategist of all, and one scary fucking killer.Â
there was no predicting you.Â
empty syringe, laced coke, and now your enemy's own bloody mallet.Â
there was no predicting you at all.
other than him or ursula, you had made no effort to ally with anyone else, didn't so much as blink at bribes arouind you, outwitted people left and right.Â
titus considered the silcoxes as strong and frightening, with their lineage and historical ruthlessness; they relished in showing off how powerful they were. a shiver ran down his spine when he realised just how daunting you could actually be when pressed too hard. corrupting the innocence of someone was one thing, watching their inner malice come out naturally was another.
and even then, titus knew you weren't like them. knew it as he saw you turn the game around and fucking hunt down the riders instead, as you drove the pointed end of the stick into francesca again, enough to scare her. even then, you spared her from fatalityâa grace he knew he wouldn't have.
self-control was indeed a rare strength you possessed.
the siren went off loudly, blasting through the speakers with a crackle.
the lawyer announced the end of the games, with a single undeniable verdict: neither house scored a goal, and you were still alive and swinging.
no one clapped, no one cheered. the silence was loud.Â
you tossed the mallet away, wiped the blood off your face and trudged out of the arena and under the tents again, slumping into a bench, blood trickling down your entire body once again, the pain numbing itself trying to overpower each cut, gash, and slice.
âŹâ.Ë fetish; selena gomez ft. gucci mane
knees scraped, skin burning with fresh cuts and slices, a bleeding thigh and numbness in your eyes, you stood in the ransacked bedroom of the silcox mansion, every drawer cleared out by those robbers.
humming, pleased, you peeled off your shirt, and your pants, hissing as the fabric slid down your skin. you tossed it on their bed, then fully naked, stepped into their lavish bathroom.
you took your fucking time looking around at the luxury scented soaps, body washes, bath oils.
you watched the water fill in the tub, blood pooling at your feet.
you heard his footsteps behind you, felt him halt at the door.
"you won again," he said.
he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and clicking the lock.
his eyes travelled up and down your body. your back, the line that ran down your spin, stained in red. your hips, your ass, curves he couldn't and wouldn't resist. he stared at the gash on your thigh the longest. it was still dripping with blood slowly.
even then, you wore that wound like an ornament and he resented the swirl of arousal in his body upon its sight.
he stepped closer to you, slowly shrugging off his coat, the shirt underneath it. he was right behind you, his lips against your ear.
"you look beautiful," he murmured. his hands slid around your waist, not minding the blood at all, in fact, he fucking loved it, the metallic smell of it, the wetness of it.
you leaned into his shoulder a little, head falling back. "yeah?"
"uh huh," he mumbled, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, more blood staining his chin.
he gently spun you around, hands gliding over your bloodsoaked back and hips.
"fuck, look at you," he growled. "you're perfect."
your body burned, joints hurt, your shoulders sagged from carrying your own weight and you were a bloody mess. yet he found you attractive.
his nose bumped against yours once.
titus caught a bead of trickling blood from your forehead, and licked it off with his tongue, the rough tip running over your cheek.
yiu gulped. you saw this coming from the moment you dropped that mallet, but experiencing it was titillating.
his hands carved over your body, fingers digging into your flesh. blood oozed out from cuts as his thumb pressed the flesh around them. you winced and whined a little, but he didn't stop.
"they hurt my girl so bad..." he whispered against your cheek. "didn't fucking like that."
for a second you thought he spoke from his heart. nope.
"no one hurts you like that." he bit your ear lobe. "not unless it's me."
there it was. the filth under the charm. the bloodlust under his love.
his hand curled around your throat, fingers pressing into your neck unashamedly. "i'll kill them all... anyone who lays a hand on you," he murmured against your lips. "you're mine to ruin. to hurt."
and before you could stop yourself, your hands grabbed his neck back, and you shoved him hard, straight into the pale, polished bathroom tiles. he landed with a heavy smack. he grunted, but grinned widely as he welcome whatever hell you wanted to unleash on him.
"and i'm yours to hurt..." he whispered as your lips closed in on his, pressing a chaste, bloody kiss.
your mouth crashed into his, tongues tasting the iron and vengeance in your blood. snappy, wet, downright disgusting, your tongue swirled around his, the translucent saliva turning pink and red mixed with your blood in his mouth. you heard him slurp it up.
his hands gripped your ass with a tight slap, his fingers squeezing the plump flesh greedily. oh he wanted to scream at how long he'd wanted to fulfil this sick fantasy. your blood was delicious. salty, metallic, dark in colour that just made him want to slice your skin and bury his face into it, eat you out anew.
you pulled away, taking a few steps back from the heaving man, reaching down to turn the tap off.
"take of you clothes, titus," you said calmly.
he shed off his trousers, kicked his boots away and tugged down his boxers.
you held out your hand to him, smiling at him sweetly. and he held itâtwo bloody hands joined for a prayer.
you pointed at the tub. "get in."
he stepped foot into the marble tub, warm water clashing around his calves. he held your hand as you stepped in too.
then you shoved him down into the water and he landed with a thud, water spilling over the edge. titus tried to pull you down just as fast, but you swatted his hand away.
"rush me, and i'll walk out on the field naked. bring the mallet back up. i still got a few swings left in me..."
titus looked up at you, what a vision in red you were, blocking the light over your head and casting a haunting shadow over him.
"you threatenin' me, baâ"
crack! your hand struck against his jaw with a tight slap. titus yelped just a little, his jaw clicking a little. he immediately shoved that noise down, trying to appear unaffected, but his cock twitched underwater anyway.
"don't be rude, titus..." you gently lowered yourself down into the large tub, kneeling before him. "be grateful."
the water turned red immediately, blood from your wounds mixing in like milk in tea.
you leaned in, lips ghosting over his. "be grateful i haven't killed all of you in your sleep."
titus shuddered, his spine arching just a bit, hips bucking gently underwater.
"so so selfish... aren't you? all that power, money, all that... 'influence' you have. nobody really likes you, do they, baby?" you cooed in his ear.
you let your knee wedge between his legs, nudging against his weeping length. he buckled once, and then you stood up.
you let your toe run up the underside of his fat cock a few times, feeling it twitch and spring to life.
"god, you're pathetic," you barked out a chuckle.
titus gritted his teeth, but the feeling of your foot against his crotch was just too good to stop. he bit his lip, holding back from showing you what a mistake it was to try and dominate him. yet somehow, you weren't even doing that.
just making him feel good while dropping bars of truth on him, little taunts at his character. and he knew you were right about it all. he was pathetic. falling for a woman so young, so sprightly, so so detached from the satanic hell his life was. making you his, his claws of crime over you till you couldn't escape.
the sigil may have kept you bound to him, but it was titus danforth who was utterly inseparable from you.
you hadn't missed the way he looked at you, at your blood, wounds, and you didn't miss the hunger in his gaze. so you let him have it.
"you bloodthirsty devils are only good for one thing... go ahead. clean me up, titus."
your thigh was right there, bleeding and juicy.
and titus locked onto it like a bloodhound, thirsty, starving. he lurched forward, hands grabbing the back of your thigh, squeezing so blood would drip out of your gash. his tongue dove right into it, lips plastered over your skin. he sucked and sucked and sucked the blood out of you. every drop that went down his gullet felt like elixir. he hadn't tasted anything this sinful.
he moaned into your skin as your foot teased his cock once more, pressing against the base.
you gave it a little kick and titus whimpered.
it hurt like hell, having his tongue poke and prod at your wound, but it aroused you equally. maybe you were fucked up. traumatised. whatever it was, you didn't dwell on the reasons. you let yourself glean pleasure. you deserved it after the hell you went through.
your hands stroked his greying curls as he sucked the blood off your thigh.
then you tugged it hard and shoved him back against the tub. you cupped his cheek once, letting him rot in the constant switch between softness and hardness.
his jaw was covered in blood, lips stained alike, it even dripped down to his neck. his eyes? dilated, miserable, downright embarrassingly teary for you.
"so pretty..." you pat his cheek once.
you sank down again, knee hitting right on his crotch, making him groan in discomfort. you rubbed your hands over his thighs, clawing at his skin.
you pressed your lips to his once more. kissing him was truly a weakness you never denied. always hard to resist swapping spit with that man.
you pushed past the pain darting in your thigh as you straddled his lap now, your pussy rubbing over his dick. your mouth moved against his, the blood on his imprinting over yours. it was animalistic in a way. the most intimate a human could be with another.
you pulled away once, watched him chase your mouth. you smiled, looking down at the man.
"needy boy..." you rolled your hips over his teasingly, draaaaging the motion slowly, making him impatient and erratic.
more whimpers spilled out of him as his hands grabbed a handful of your ass, the rolls on your back. his tongue latched onto your breasts, circling around your nipple. he swirled it around, sucked on your tit like a baby, which he truly was.
he alternated between the two, all the while his hands ran over your body, then under. his mouth left your breast wiht a pop, bloody saliva tearing like strands of web as he parted and looked up at you. oh, that man was a mess.
you hovered over him once more and he lined himself up at your hole from behind you, his eyes on you the whole time. a slow, intentional squeeze, and he was inside you, cock pulsing, hardening more than ever inside your heat. the water only made it smoother to fully sink into you, sheathed and warm.
titus hand clawed at your back, trimmed nails dragging down your skin so hard you were certain he drew blood... again.
you sat yourself down on his lap, his cock inside you, and you let the fullness settle in. this was perhaps the deepest he'd ever been in, not a single millimetre left between you.
you lifted your ass up slowly, then lowered it again, slowly, teasingly, like a snake coiling and squeezing its prey.
titus moaned, your pussy just felt too good. he could stay buried in you forever. water sloshed around you both as he bucked his hips up to meet the movement of your ass. who fucked who, didn't matter.
you started to rock your hips faster, chasing that euphoric feeling of fucking titus danforth on your terms for once. you rolled your hips into circles, eights and what not, your pussy glossy and goopy with the water, his precum, your own arousal, and of course... your blood. never in your life had you thought you'd use your own blood as lube to fuck a man but here you were.
you clenched around his cock already, body utterly devastated from the day's events. you just wanted to feel good, feel that release. and wasn't it just great that titus existed purely for that?
"make me cum first okay?" you told him, patting his cheek a few times to snap him out of that drugged look he had on his face.
he nodded too quickly, whimpering out, "mmhh, ffffuck... yes... yes, i will. i will."
you grabbed his adorable pouty face and kissed it, pressing little butterfly kisses all over it.
titus did not stop thrusting back into you, not caring that his knees hurt cramped in the tub like that, especially not caring that he forgot how to be in control. fuck that. you mattered more. you... you you you.
that was all that floated in his mind.
your tits bounced in his face, and that man did not care. he simply let his jaw unhinge, slacked open as your flesh hit his tongue over and over.
if you thought of yourself as the bloody mess, you were dead wrong. your man had your blood all over his body now, red murky water soaked up by his skin. cdc would advise you to simply disintegrate, but your only concern was the orgasm building up in your body.
you ground your hips over his, your pussy clenched and unclenched around his fat, veiny cock, sucking it deeeeep inside you.
you let out an agonised moan at how incredible that felt. at how your mind slowly started to quiet and your body absorbed every touch of his.
but, just to make his life a bit more intolerable, you reached past his freckled back and turned the tap on again, letting hot, scalding water surround you for a moment before turning it off.
titus gasped and whined in emergency, arching into you, his pace stuttering.
"mmm don't stop, babyyyy!!!!" you scolded him, grabbing his jaw tightly.
he didn't know what to do. the hot water burned his back, but at the same time, your cunt swallowed his cock so so so well he might as well make that sacrifice.
shoving his pain down, he continued thrusting up up and up into you, cockhead hitting your cervix over and over. he groaned, moaned, whimpered, whined, and cried out in pain and pleasure as you rode him.
"fuckkkk fuck just like that!!! good boy..." you loosened your grip on his jaw, and pressed a wet lazy kiss over his lips. "gooood fucking boy," you sighed.
titus lapped it up like a pathetic dog, both your tongue and your compliment. no fucking joy like being your good boy, he decided. so what if he was nearing fifty? he was your good boy now.
"mmmmppfff," he whimpered against your lips, back arching into you as the water burned his skin red with irritation.
"sssooo close, baby... so close. keep fucking me," you told him and he listened.
his cock drove into you, unstoppable, irrational. he never wanted to part from you. never wanted his dick to know any other sensation but your cunt engulfing him.
and then your hips staggered, pace irregular, the stimulation too well for you to hold back.
lewd moans spilled out of you as you clenched hard, pussy clamping shut any space of air between his cock and your walls as you came, gushed wet and sloppy all over his cock.
titus watched the absolute heaven before him. his girl, his woman, bloodsoaked and wet, coming apart over him like a divine presence. he could die.
he blinked at you with teary eyes as his hips bucked into you.
"i know," you huffed, panting, "i know baby... 's okay, you can come too."
you dug your hands through his damp hair, still hopping over his wet cock. "go ahead, baby, come inside me. you need it, don't you?"
he nodded, eyes half-lidded, mouth open, his teeth peeking out just a bit.
titus only lasted a few more pumps of his cock into you before he released with a stuttering whimper, letting go of the release pent up in him, and flooding right inside you. his cum slipped out and blended with the red water, every wet slide against your walls squeezing out more and more from the man.
the silcox bathroom looked like a crime scene, pearl white tiles covered in streaks of your blood, the floor a pool of pink, and the tub? well...
his cock softening inside you, you stayed on top of him in the tub, utterly tired, and slumped forward, dropping your head over his shoulder.
titus held you, gently running his hands over your back, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulder. his mind hadn't fully processed anything, just that you were more dangerous than he thought, and he wanted to be a victim too bad.
im back. sorry, for the delay, i was dead.
no ssly, i had last bit of my exams left, had to host my friend over so we went out for drinks (i drank 1 litre jug of lychee beer, 500ml of guava and mango beer, idk), and simply did not sleep at all. also had to wathc a few polo games because idfk what goes on there.
i lowkey am terrified of y/n too. help.
always, comments are loved loved loved, reblogs are always welcome, all my ghost readers; u da real gems
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