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A vein throbbed in your temple as you took a threatening step forward. "I'll show you who's pathetic, you arrogant little shit."

Before either of you could strike, a massive figure inserted itself between you, Nobunaga's broad chest blocking your path. "Enough!" he bellowed, dark eyes flashing dangerously. "Unless you want Chrollo brought into this, I suggest you two back off."

You and Feitan held each other's glare for a beat longer before grudgingly disengaging. As you turned away, Feitan spat a glob of phlegm that landed disturbingly close to your feet.

"This isn't over," he promised, voice laced with quiet menace.

Grinding your teeth, you fought the urge to whirl back around and rip Feitan's throat out with your bare hands. The only thing staying your hand was the unspoken rule against infighting - a rule that both of you constantly tested the limits of.

"One of these days..." you trailed off meaningfully.

Feitan's lip curled in a feral grin. "I can't wait."

As he slunk off into the shadows, you turned your frustrated glower on Nobunaga. The samurai met your look with an impassive stare.

"You two need to get your shit together," he stated bluntly. "These pissing contests are getting old."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Nobunaga raised a hand, cutting you off.

"I don't want to hear it. Take that shit outside if you must, but if you compromise one more mission with your bullshit, Chrollo will have both your heads."

Fuming silently, you could only nod in grudging agreement. Everyone in the Troupe knew better than to risk incurring their leader's wrath.

As Nobunaga wandered off, you allowed some of the tension to bleed from your shoulders with a weary sigh. Your eyes drifted to the corner where Feitan had disappeared, cold hatred settling into the pit of your stomach.

The next few days were a tense affair, the air thick with animosity every time you and Feitan occupied the same space. You traded insults and thinly veiled threats like volleys, each one more creatively vicious than the last.

"I heard the bakery down the street got a new shipment of rat poison," Feitan would muse idly, his dark eyes glittering. "I could slip some into your dinner if you'd like to try it."

You responded with a saccharine smile. "Why thank you, that's so considerate. But I ate rat poison for breakfast...your severed head on a platter is what I'm really craving."

The other Spiders quickly learned to give you both a wide berth during these escalating verbal sparring matches. Only Machi seemed unperturbed, rolling her eyes at your juvenile antics with a disdainful sniff.

The tension finally reached a breaking point a week later during a routine mission. Tasked with shaking down a local merchant for unpaid tribute, you and Feitan bickered the entire way over the most effective interrogation methods.

"If you so much as look at him wrong, I'll string you up by your entrails," Feitan hissed as you approached the target's store.

You barked out a harsh laugh. "As if I need pointers from an edgy little runt like you. I'll make this idiot squeal like a stuck pig while you watch and learn, shrimp."

The ensuing encounter quickly devolved into a pissing contest between the two of you over who could dole out the most creatively brutal threats and violence. By the time Pakunoda and Nobunaga arrived to collect you, the merchant was a blubbering, bloodied mess - the money long forgotten.

"This is the third time this month you idiots have fouled up a simple job," Pakunoda stated, her voice laced with barely restrained fury. "I've had enough of your bullshit."

Before either of you could react, her ability slammed into you both with the force of a typhoon. You slumped to the ground, mind wiped utterly blank as she extracted your memories of the incident.

When you came to a few moments later, Feitan was already lurching to his feet with a groan. You shot him a venomous glare, to which he responded by spitting a thick gobbet of blood at your feet.

"Starting to think you actually enjoy getting knocked around like that," you sneered, struggling to stand.

Feitan's eyes flashed with murderous rage. "Why you little-"

"ENOUGH!" Pakunoda's shout shook the room. "The next time you two sabotage a mission with your idiocy, I'll make sure you never remember your own names again. Am I making myself clear?"

You clenched your jaw but nodded stiffly. As much as you hated to admit it, the woman's threatening ability terrified you on a primal level.

In the ensuing silence, you cut your gaze towards Feitan, his chest heaving with each ragged breath. A thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, crimson stark against his pallid skin.

Despite your blinding loathing for the cocky little bastard, you couldn't deny the dark flicker of something else that stirred within you at the sight. You quickly smothered it beneath your ire.

One day, you vowed silently. One day, this powder keg would finally ignite.

The hideout was unnervingly quiet when the rest of the Troupe returned that evening. An eerie hush had settled over the dingy space, the kind of stillness that made the hairs on the back of one's neck prickle with unease.

As the group ventured deeper inside, the first drops of blood became visible - dark splatters marring the concrete floor. Nobunaga tensed, hand straying towards the sword slung across his back as they followed the grisly trail around a corner.

What they found then pulled them all up short, eyes widening in a mixture of shock and disgust. You and Feitan were in the center of the room, a tangled heap of flailing limbs and bloodied violence.

A feral snarl ripped from Feitan's throat as he tried in vain to dislodge you from where you'd pinned his smaller frame. In the struggle, his shirt had been shredded, exposing a mottled tapestry of dark bruises across his sinewy torso.

You weren't faring much better. Your face was a ruined mess - eyes swollen, lip split and gushing, vivid bite marks scoring your throat and shoulders. Despite the beating, you clung to him like a rabid animal, hands scrabbling for purchase to finish him.

"You crazy bitch!" Feitan's harsh pants turned your name into a vicious slur as he bucked and thrashed.

In response, you drove your elbow towards his face with sickening force, not caring that his head snapped back hard enough to crack against the floor. Bloodied spittle flecked his cheek as you leaned in close, lips peeling back in a manic snarl of your own.

"That all you got, runt?" You wheezed out a breathless laugh, nails gouging deep furrows into Feitan's straining throat. "I was hoping for more of a fight before I killed you."

A guttural growl bubbled up from Feitan's chest as his hips snapped upwards with bruising force, momentarily dislodging you. The two of you rolled, a flurry of grappling limbs and tattered clothing, each desperately struggling for the upper hand to deliver the killstroke.

It was Machi who finally intervened, upper lip curled in a sneer of revulsion. With a deft flick of her nen threads, she sliced through the melee and bound you both - Feitan hog-tied and you lashed spread-eagle to the floor.

"Enough of this depraved idiocy," she bit out, dark eyes flickering with disgust. "You're both lucky we don't slit your throats here and now for such weakness."

Feitan strained furiously against his bonds, deathly pale except for the mottled mess of his ruined face. His gaze swung wildly between you and the other Spiders, feral and uncomprehending.

You simply laid there, chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. Spitting out a thick gobbet of blood, you turned your head slowly until your battered gaze met Feitan's. A dark, unreadable look passed between you both - something haunted and turbulent flickering behind the hatred and violence.

If the rest of the Troupe noticed, they said nothing. Gathering themselves, they began to disperse - leaving the two of you alone in the wreckage until Chrollo could decide your punishment.

Chrollo's expression was utterly impassive as he surveyed the two of you - bruised, battered shells of your former selves after that vicious brawl. His lips quirked ever so slightly as he took in your defiant glares, eyes flickering with loathing.

"You two have become a liability," he stated, voice devoid of inflection. "Your pathetic inability to control yourselves nearly compromised everything we've built."

You opened your mouth to protest, but Chrollo raised a slender hand, effectively silencing you.

"Normally, I would have Pakunoda wipe your memories clean and be done with it." His eyes bored into you, glacial and unrelenting. "However, I have another task that requires your...unique talents."

Feitan made a rude noise of derision from where he sat slumped against the wall. You shot him a withering glare before turning an expectant look back towards your leader.

"You will attend the DeMario charity gala in two weeks' time," Chrollo continued calmly. "Posing as a wealthy couple, you'll insinuate yourselves into the inner circles and extract information from Marcello Randazzo - rumored to be a prolific collector of rare antiquities."

The implication hung heavy in the air for a beat before the weight of it slammed into you full force. Your mouth fell open in disbelief as you turned an incredulous look on Feitan, who was already visibly bristling with outrage.

"You can't be serious," you sputtered, temper flaring hot and bright. "There's no way in hell I'm playing make-believe as that bastard's lover!"

"Over my dead body." Feitan's low, raspy voice was laced with venom. "I'd sooner claw my own eyes out than be seen on that bitch's arm."

Chrollo's eyes flashed warningly and you felt the slightest prickle of his powerful aura washing over you, a silent threat. "You'll do as I command. Unless you'd both prefer to follow the fate of the hostages we collected from that ill-advised debt collection?"

He let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a long moment before continuing.

"I'm sure Marcello's information is worth playing along for an evening. Unless you'd prefer some...permanent disciplinary actions?"

You and Feitan held each other's murderous look for a moment longer before grudgingly turning your gazes away in submission. As much as you despised each other, neither of you were foolish enough to legitimately cross Chrollo.

"I expect you'll both conduct yourselves with aplomb and professionalism befitting our reputation," your leader stated flatly. "Any further disruptions or unbecoming behavior, and I'll have Pakunoda take away more than just your memories of the gala."

With that ominous warning, he swept from the room, leaving you and Feitan alone to simmer in your mutual resentment and disgust.

Seconds ticked by, taut with palpable tension, before you finally broke the silence with a contemptuous sneer.

"I hope you know how to dance, Portor," you bit out acidly. "I have a strong urge to grind my heel into those stumpy little feet of yours."

Feitan's eyes slitted with murderous promise as he levered himself upright with a pained grunt.

"Keep dreaming," he shot back caustically. "I'll be counting the minutes until I can slit that pretty throat of yours without consequence."

As your vicious glares clashed and held, it was abundantly clear that this mission posing as lovers would be anything but smooth sailing. For both your sakes, you could only hope the inevitable storm wouldn't capsize everything you'd built.

The ornate dressing room was suffused with tension as thick as the heavy perfume hanging in the air. You sat rigidly before the gilded vanity, jaw clenched tight as Machi deftly styled your hair into an elegant updo.

"Would you relax?" The girl's voice held a hint of irritation. "You're as wound up as a clockspring."

You shot her a venomous look in the mirror's reflection. "Forgive me if I'm not exactly eager to play Ken and Barbie with that sadistic little gnome."

A snort of muffled laughter came from the chaise where Shizuku and Pakunoda were laid out, idly inspecting their phone screens. You pivoted to fix them with a withering glare.

"Something amusing?"

Shizuku shook her head quickly, eyes widening innocently even as her lips twitched with suppressed mirth. Pakunoda simply arched one sculpted brow in a look of infinite disdain.

"Must you be so crass?" The blonde's dulcet tones somehow managed to sound derisive. "This is an important mission, not some childish game."

"Tell that to our 'esteemed leader'," you bit out acidly, making air-quotes. "Playing dress-up as Feitan's loving wife is about the sickest joke I've ever heard."

Machi made a soft noise of disgust as she speared another jeweled hairpin into place. "You're both behaving like petulant children. This is simply a job - nothing more. The sooner you and Feitan stop acting like lovesick buffoons, the smoother this night will go."

Her reprimand struck a nerve and you opened your mouth to deliver a biting retort when a sharp rap at the door cut you off. A moment later, Feitan slipped into the room, looking equal parts irritated and sheepish in his elegant tuxedo and slicked-back hair.

Your breath caught momentarily in your throat as you took in his appearance. Despite the permanent scowl etched onto his features, he cleaned up...well. The fine charcoal suit hugged the lean lines of his muscled frame in a way that should have been illegal.

Just as quickly, you smothered the errant thought, sneering at him in disdain. "Well, well, if it isn't Feitan Portor himself, dressed up like someone finally house-trained him."

Feitan's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth - no doubt to deliver a scathing rebuttal - when Machi smoothly interjected.

"Enough, you two." She leveled you both with a quelling look. "The car is ready, so I suggest you get your acts together before I tie you both up in nen threads to keep you in line."

An ominous threat given her prowess with her sadistic ability. You bit back the retort burning on your tongue and forced yourself to take a steadying breath. God, this night was going to be interminable.

Rising fluidly, you smoothed your hands down the shimmering fabric of your evening gown, subtly reveling in the way Feitan's eyes automatically tracked the movement before flicking away. Feeling petty, you allowed your lips to curve into a taunting smirk.

"Well, shall we, dear?" You crooned the endearment like a slur, watching his jaw tense infinitesimally. "I can already smell the misery wafting from those uppity pricks just waiting to be robbed blind."

Feitan's look could have curdled milk, but he extended his arm stiffly all the same. As you entwined yours through the crook of his elbow, his fingertips brushed feather-light against the bare skin of your back, raising gooseflesh in their wake.

"Lead the way, wife" he bit out with obvious distaste. "Try not to embarrass me too terribly in front of the marks."

Your derisive laughter was a caustic thing as you allowed him to escort you towards the exit.

"Oh Feitan, we're way past embarrassing at this point. I'd say this night is primed to be a total shitshow."

His dark chuckle echoed yours as you departed the dressing room - a soft, shared sound that somehow managed to sound equal parts threatening and thrilling.

The sleek town car purred to a stop before the opulent entranceway, and you took a steadying breath before allowing Feitan to assist you out onto the crimson carpet. Despite the months of rigorous training and countless assignments in your bloody career, you couldn't deny the flutters of trepidation in your stomach.

This was it - the moment to see if you two idiotic sadists could pull off playing a loving couple without slitting each other's throats.

Feitan's hand was firm at your elbow as you ascended the grand staircase, his expression locked in a rictus of forced neutrality. Up close, you could make out the barest hint of cologne wafting from him - something earthy and sophisticated that shouldn't have appealed, yet had your throat tightening oddly all the same.

Then you were sweeping through the arched doors and into the spectacle of the ballroom itself. A dazzling kaleidoscope of glittering crystal and jewel-toned decor assaulted the senses. The hum of cultured chatter and tinkling laughter washed over you as you took in the crowd of Yorknew's social elite, all decked in their finest attire.

You felt Feitan tense almost imperceptibly beside you before he was smoothly taking the lead, guiding you further into the fray with a proprietary hand at the small of your bare back. A shiver traced your spine at the contact, though from revulsion or something else, you couldn't say.

"Try not to look so much like a viper about to strike, dear," he murmured against your ear, voice a surprising low rumble. "We're supposed to be the picture of marital bliss, remember?"

You bit back the instinctive need to elbow him in the throat, instead pasting on a sickly-sweet smile.

"Of course, darling. Though with how titillating you look in that dashing suit, I may have trouble keeping my hands off you in public."

His lips quirked in a mockery of a grin, even as his dark eyes remained flat and assessing. For all his bravado, Feitan was firmly in killer-mode, scanning the ballroom with cold calculation.

Playing along, you looped one arm through his, allowing your free hand to roam almost territorially over the fine material of his jacket as you began to mingle with the other revelers. With each new cluster of mark- ahem, guest you engaged, you felt yourself relaxing infinitesimally into the role of the devoted wife on her husband's arm. Feitan too, seemed to warm to the act, his featherlight touches and heated murmurs just skirting the line between play-acting and something darker, more authentic.

It wasn't until you were deep in conversation with one of Randazzo's alleged underbosses that the illusion flickered momentarily. Leaning in conspiratorially, you relayed the crucial details you'd extracted about the mobster's dealings in the black market antiquities trade. But when you glanced up to share a weighted look with your "husband", you found Feitan's gaze was distinctly...elsewhere.

Following his stare, you bit back an irritated hiss at the realization that his attention had been utterly diverted by the low neckline of your evening gown, eyes firmly trained on the swell of exposed cleavage. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously as he drank in the view.

"Feitan!" You hissed out the side of your mouth, snapping your fingers to regain his focus. "Are you listening, or are my tits really that mesmerizing?"

He startled, gaze snapping guiltily upwards as you fixed him with a heated glare. For a beat, Feitan seemed utterly nonplussed, caught completely off-guard in a rare moment of distracted...appreciation? Honesty? His eyes were wide and molten in a way you'd never seen before - utterly disarming.

Then the mask slammed back into place with a nearly audible click, and he simply arched one brow in response.

"My apologies, dear. You were saying?"

And just like that, you were speaking to the most dangerous man in the room once again, cold and brutally efficient. Swallowing hard, you relayed the rest of the intel automatically, even as something restless took up residence beneath your breastbone - an odd, disquieting feeling sparked by that split-second glimpse of whatever it was you'd seen flickering behind Feitan's eyes.

As you continued to circulate through the crowd and ply your roles, you found yourself stealing sidelong glances at your diminutive partner more frequently than was wise. Each time, it was to find him in typical form - lethal focus etched across his features, not a hair out of place or a single tell to betray...whatever it was you'd witnessed earlier.

The grand ballroom seemed to bleed into a hazy blur around you as the waltz began, the opening strains of the orchestra swelling through the cavernous space. Feitan's hand found your waist with surprising gentleness, pulling you into the first steps of the dance.

For a long moment, you simply stared at each other, the newfound proximity seeming to crackle with a charge you refused to put a name to. Up close like this, you could make out the faintest dusting of freckles across the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the dark fan of his lashes. Little details you'd never noticed - or never allowed yourself to notice until now.

"I must say, dear wife," he murmured, voice a dark rumble that shivered across your skin. "You clean up rather nicely for a miserable little gutter rat."

You arched one brow coolly, refusing to be baited even as you moved seamlessly with him across the floor. "I'm surprised you can recognize 'nice' through that perverse little killer's lens of yours, darling husband."

His lips quirked in a semblance of a grin, though it held no mirth - only the same lingering malice that seemed to follow you both like a sickly perfume.

"The better to watch every tantalizing inch of you with, my vicious little vixen." His grip tightened fractionally at your waist, fingertips brushing bare skin. "Perhaps I'll have to stake my claim more...thoroughly later."

You scoffed loudly, allowing your palm to roam down the firm plane of his chest as you spun in seamlessly for the next figure.

"Trying to whisper sweet nothings won't get you far, darling. I've heard more creative threats from preschoolers."

Feitan simply hummed deep in his throat, a rough sound that inexplicably raised the fine hairs along the back of your neck. His gaze, when you met it again, had taken on a dark, hooded quality that had heat pooling low in your belly despite yourself.

"Say what you will, wife," he practically purred, dipping you in a slow, lingering arc that brought your bodies into sinful alignment. "We both know those pretty little lips were made for better uses than childish barbs."

His thumb caressed your chin with barely-there tenderness as he pulled you upright again, scorching your skin like a brand. For an endless second, you simply swayed there in silence, chests brushing with every stuttering inhale, caught in the molten undertow of his stare.

Dimly, you registered the buzz of an alarmed voice echoing over the sound system, followed by the unmistakable wail of police sirens dopplering towards the estate. Masks began slipping as guests registered the threat, panic seeping into the ballroom like a tenuous haze.

In that moment, time seemed to splinter apart kaleidoscopically, stretching and scattering until all that remained was the unnameable thing gripping your heart in its stifling vise. You turned back to Feitan, already anticipating the vicious string of threats ready to tumble from his lips as your covers were blown apart.

But there was no anger simmering in those unfathomable depths this time - only a searing sort of intensity that pinned you in place, ignited something low and precarious in your core that you didn't dare put a name to. His fingers were still ghosting across the curve of your jaw, a scorching benediction that somehow managed to convey both possession and worship in the same toxic mix.

You watched, utterly transfixed, as he leaned in with aching slowness, lips brushing the softest whisper against the thrumming pulse at your throat. Then he simply held there, breath searing like a brand, driving ragged splinters of sensation rocketing through your body.

"Run," he rasped, the barest brushing of sound against your superheated skin.

Just like that, the spell was shattered, reality cleaving back into your field of vision as distant shouts and shattering crystal rent the atmosphere. Feitan's fingers slipped from your skin, leaving a throbbing ache of loss in their wake as he pivoted and simply vanished through the thickening crowd.

Blinking dazedly, you found your limbs unlocking woodenly as you staggered into motion, following the only directive that seemed to make sense as the ballroom descended into pandemonium. One foot in front of the other as your heart jackhammered double-time in your ribcage, coursing with an unfamiliar feeling that felt a hell of a lot like it was tearing you apart from the inside.

Run. The word seemed to echo inside your skull as you fled through the service exit, a ghost's refrain. Though from what - the explosion of chaos around you or the cataclysm blooming deep within, you weren't entirely sure.

All you knew was that you would never be the same after this night. How could you when Feitan had irrevocably annihilated every fragile barrier you'd constructed between you, leaving your entire world shifted on its axis?

The dank alleyway reeked of rot and piss as you slammed Feitan against the filthy brickwork, fingers snarling in the lapels of his once-pristine tuxedo. A thin trickle of blood oozed from the split in his brow, vivid crimson against his pallid features.

"This is all your fault, you arrogant little prick!" The words tore from your throat in a guttural snarl as you shook him viciously. "If you could stop eye-fucking me long enough to focus for two goddamn seconds-"

"My fault?" He cut you off with a wheezing laugh, still managing to look utterly derisive despite the position you had him pinned in. "If your whorish little act wasn't so shameless and distracting-"

You drew back a fist, fully prepared to break his smug nose, when a peel of distant sirens had you both freezing. After a momentary standoff, you released him with a disgusted shove, wiping a trembling hand across your sweat-slicked brow as you struggled to leash your spiraling temper.

"Forget it, we need to move. Our exit is compromised."

Feitan sneered at you as he straightened his jacket with a dismissive tug, refusing to acknowledge he was just as rattled. His gaze took on a faraway look for a split second before he gave a tight nod.

"Chrollo sent a new set of coordinates. There's a safe house two blocks west."

You fell into step beside him, moving at a clipped pace that matched the jackhammer pounding of your pulse. Every few steps, your shoulders would brush with the barest whisper of contact, reigniting a phantom echo of the way he'd felt pressed against you on the dance floor.

The memory had you grinding your teeth hard enough to make the hinges creak, riling the sickly ribbon of confusion currently squirming through your gut. What the hell had happened back there? One minute you were shredding each other with barbs as natural as breathing, the next...

You shook your head sharply, refusing to dwell on the hunger that had momentarily flickered in Feitan's gaze. Or the way your entire body had sung in response, every nerve alight like a livewire about to detonate. It was nothing - a fleeting second of insanity brought on by the adrenaline and heightened circumstance. An anomaly, meaningless in the grand scheme of your...whatever the hell this sick alliance was.

Shoving the errant thoughts aside, you pushed forward into the overgrown lot Feitan indicated, trampling a wavering path through the weeds towards a squat, nondescript building. Not a word was exchanged as he disarmed the security system and led you inside to the dingy, compact space that would be your shelter for the foreseeable future.

You grimaced as you took in the sparse furnishings and musty odor. "Fucking fantastic."

Feitan simply grunted, dropping his suit jacket over the back of a battered recliner as he began divesting himself of weapons and gear. Only when he reached the buttons on his shirt did he pause, shadows obscuring his expression as he cut you a sidelong glance.

"I'd offer to let you shower first but..."

But there was only one visible door that presumably led to a solitary bathroom. You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling the first tendrils of an stress-migraine coiling behind your eyes.

"Just get on with it before I decide to gut you and bleed out in the tub like a fucking woman scorned."

A bark of laughter punched from Feitan at the morbid joke before he could smother it. You blinked at him, oddly thrown by the genuine amusement glinting in his obsidian stare for a fleeting second. Then the moment passed, and he simply shrugged out of the soiled dress shirt, turning to disappear through the doorway without further comment.

You were left standing in the middle of the ramshackle living area, keenly aware of the steady drip of blood tracking from your split knuckles to patter on the cracked vinyl floor. With measured inhales, you attempted to shunt the chaos of the evening into a small, containable box to be unpacked later. Feitan was right, getting cleaned up would be the priority for now. After that...

Well, you'd just have to sort through this tangled web you'd woven like adults. And if violence and bloodshed was the only way to sever the noose cinching around your sanity, so be it. At least that path you understood - that was stable, solid ground to walk upon with him.

This... whatever it was brewing between you like a virulent sickness, was far more lethal.

The pipes clanked and groaned as you twisted the tarnished shower knobs, filling the cramped bathroom with a humid, enveloping steam. Grimacing, you peeled off the tattered remnants of your evening gown, letting the ruined silk puddle at your feet.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the warped mirror above the chipped porcelain sink - hair lank and makeup ravaged, vivid bruises already darkening along your ribs from your rough tumble during the escape. More telling, however, were the faint indents marring the swell of your breast, pressed there by Feitan's fingertips in the ballroom like brands seared into your very being.

A violent shudder ripped through you at the visceral recollection, every nerve ending rekindling with phantom echoes of his scorching touch. Slamming your palm against the mirror, you shattered the refracted image into a thousand fractals, each one reflecting back the turmoil roiling in your expression.

With a ragged exhale, you shed the rest of your undergarments and stepped beneath the mercifully scalding spray, welcoming the harsh sting across your battered skin. Anything to dull the incessant buzzing beneath, the molten licks of pure confusion that had you splaying one palm over your lower abdomen in a futile gesture.

After several long, steadying minutes, you finally felt coherent thought filtering back, shunting the chaos into submission - at least for now. Grabbing a towel, you twisted it around your body and yanked open the bathroom door, striding back into the main room with a cloud of steam billowing in your wake.

Feitan stood in the cramped kitchenette, spine taut as a bowstring as he doctored the split over his brow with clumsy, one-handed stitches. At your abrupt entrance, his shoulders twitched and rolled almost imperceptibly, head swiveling to face you with narrowed eyes.

"About time," he groused, voice sandpaper rough. "I was starting to think you'd drowned yourself in there to avoid facing the cosmic fuckup you-"

Whatever insult he'd been ready to deploy withered and died as his obsidian gaze dropped lower, raking over the exposed expanse of damp skin visible beneath your precariously knotted towel with undisguised hunger. His throat bobbed convulsively as he swallowed hard, suddenly looking anywhere but at you.

"Dammit," he snarled after a strained pause, teeth snapping the crass endearment like a viper's strike. "A little warning about parading around like that would be appreciated."

Despite the multiple layers of ice coating his tone, you detected the barest wobble crack along its surface - an infinitesimal tremor betraying the struggle to maintain his sangfroid. A meandering lick of validation bloomed through you at having caught him so thoroughly off-guard, splitting your lips in a mocking moue.

"What, am I making Lord Feitan flustered?" You stalked forward challengingly, towel slipping lower with every predatory step to bare more glistening skin. "Seems your vaunted self-control has sprung a rather conspicuous leak, husband."

His nostrils flared minutely at the poisonous endearment, fingers tightening around the bloodied gauze until his knuckles shone bone-white. Yet, his stare remained steadfastly fixed above your collarbones, the muscle in his jaw twitching erratically.

"Keep pushing, wife ," he bit out in a strained rasp. "You're cruising for a brutality you're ill-equipped to face tonight."

The unveiled threat landed square in your solar plexus, simultaneously shunting your reckless desire to poke the caged beast and stoking a deeper, infinitely more terrifying burn low in your belly. You felt yourself sway forward of its own volition, every instinct honed on a whetstone of fear and adrenaline screaming at you to retreat, to reassert the fragile barriers before they were obliterated entirely.

Yet you held your ground, searching Feitan's expression for any flicker of the same wounded animality you felt ricocheting through your own veins, your towel slipping another infinitesimal fraction down your sternum in the process. His eyes followed the movement with searing intensity before snapping back up, something dark and unfurling igniting in those obsidian depths.

"Bring it, husband," you heard yourself hissing recklessly. "I'll shove those brutalities so far up your sadistic little ass, you'll be regurgitating blood and teeth for a month."

You could have sworn his pupils blew wide at that, flaring with undisguised relish before he was lunging for you, movements a blur of untamed violence. If you'd hoped to provoke him, to unleash whatever it was roiling between you into the light, you were rewarded a thousand fold.

His hands were iron manacles around your biceps, slamming you back against the grease-stained counter as his lithe body caged yours with arching menace. You crashed together like colliding celestial bodies - unstoppable force meeting immovable object in a maelstrom of jagged breaths and stifling heat.

"Should've kept your mouth shut, dear," he growled against the hammering pulse in your throat. Each consonant scorched like a brand, igniting detonations of raw sensation you were powerless to withstand. "Now you get to take exactly what's coming to you."

His hips rolled into yours with bruising force, crushing your lower bodies together as his teeth sank into the juncture of your neck and shoulder hard enough to reave a harsh gasp from you. Not quite a bite, but a vicious promise all the same - a precursor to the violence he was poised to inflict that would leave no question as to whom you belonged.

You were suddenly lightheaded, nerves blazing white-hot as your body responded viscerally to his provocation. Mortification, anger, arousal - every emotion flooded your senses in a dizzying, inextricable miasma until you couldn't be sure what you felt any longer. Only that you burned feverishly from within, every cell straining towards the brutal inevitability of Feitan's next calculated strike.

When it came, your world whited out entirely, the resounding concussion off the counter rattling you down to your very marrow. There was no pain, only a discordant ringing and an unbearable pressure centered below your diaphragm. A sustained, broken noise reverberated in the cramped space that you belatedly recognized as your own ruined voice.

Feitan remained locked against you with grim triumph, the pads of his fingers leaving livid crescents in your flesh as he drank in your total debasement and undoing. When he leaned in next, you were certain without a shadow of a doubt that anything left unraveled between you would be torn asunder in the next breath.

You glared at Feitan from your sprawled position on the floor, chest heaving as you swiped the back of your hand across your split lip. A thin rivulet of blood trailed from the corner of his mouth as well, stark against his pallid skin.

"You're going to pay for that, you sadistic little bastard," you growled, levering yourself upright with your elbows.

Feitan simply arched one brow mockingly, his tongue darting out to lave at the crimson seeping from his busted lip. The sight of it, so obscene yet undeniably magnetic, had molten anger roiling through your veins anew.

"I'd like to see you try, bitch," he taunted in that raspy timbre that somehow managed to sound both threatening and profoundly unsettling. "Unless you plan on crying for Chrollo to intervene again?"

You were across the room in a blur, your towel slipping loose as you tackled him with bruising force. Feitan met your violence with feral glee, hands snarling in your sodden hair as you grappled viciously. The two of you crashed and rolled, trading blow for stinging blow in a whirlwind of flailing limbs.

At some point, your towel had come undone entirely, the terrycloth puddle abandoned on the floor as your bare skin met Feitan's sweat-slicked torso. Yet neither of you registered the complete state of undress, too singularly focused on the vicious undulations of your battle.

Finally, you managed to pin him beneath you, knees caging his hips as you fought to trap his wiry arms. Feitan thrashed and strained, every sinewy muscle corded to breaking as he bowed against your weight in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

Then, all at once, something within the atmosphere shifted - a subtle charge bleeding the rage from the air in a dizzying spiral. You both stilled as one, harsh pants reverberating between your sweat-sheened forms as you registered your tangled states. Feitan's gaze was hooded, pupils blown wide as they raked over every inch of your exposed, vulnerable flesh with undisguised hunger.

Belatedly, you realized your fingers were fisted in the sweat-damp fabric of his tank top, straining the material to translucence and leaving very little to the imagination. Your lips parted on a ragged inhale as Feitan's hips canted up in a subconscious grind, the blatant ridge of his cock catching you square between your bodies.

Time seemed to slow to a viscous crawl then, the world narrowing to the minuscule space between your labored breaths. Feitan's lashes fluttered once, twice, before his eyes slitted back open - dark pools of naked wanting that had you arching into him before conscious thought could intervene.

His mouth was searing, branding yours with a ferocity that stole the air from your lungs. Yet you returned his onslaught with equal desperation, all nails and teeth as you clutched him tighter against your naked body. There was no preamble, no gentle exploration - only the wild, unrestrained explosion of every unspoken want and need as you finally surrendered to the maelstrom.

Your fingers found the hem of his tank top, tearing it upward impatiently. Feitan's muscles rippled beneath your fingertips as you ran them reverently across every scarred inch of his chest and abdomen. When you flicked a teasing thumb across one hardened nipple, he hissed into your mouth, bucking up hard.

"Fuck," he swore, breaking the kiss with a ragged gasp. His fingers were tangled in your hair, holding you steady as his other hand skimmed up your bare flank. "If I'd known what a devious little whore you were, I'd have fucked you over every surface in that ballroom ages ago."

You arched one brow mockingly. "Is that so? Or would you have been too busy eye-fucking me to notice?"

The words left your lips in a breathless, taunting rush, and suddenly you were on your back again, the wind knocked from your lungs as Feitan pinned you against the floor with an animalistic snarl. He looked wild, utterly disheveled as his hips canted hard between your thighs.

"Perhaps I would have fucked that smart mouth of yours right there in the middle of the dance floor, wife," he practically purred, eyes gleaming as he rocked harder. "Would have had everyone watching how thoroughly I owned you."

Heat bloomed through your lower body at the vivid imagery, even as a traitorous moan slipped past your lips. Feitan smirked, a smug, victorious expression that had you surging up to catch his bottom lip between your teeth. He groaned, heady and deep, as you bit down, blood mingling on your tongues.

Then, abruptly, he was wrenching free, leaving you sprawled against the cracked tile. Before you could recover, his palm was wrapping around your ankle, yanking you across the floor like a ragdoll. Your fingers clawed at the ground, scrambling for purchase as you were dragged inexorably towards the couch.

The rough material was cold and abrasive against your skin as he flipped you over, yanking your ass into the air. Then his hands were spreading your thighs wide, and he was sinking his teeth into the tender flesh at the crease of your hip. You whimpered, hips grinding back against him mindlessly as your nails tore into the worn fabric.

His fingers were rough, merciless as they probed at your entrance, slicking through the evidence of your arousal. A choked moan slipped free at the sensation, back bowing as your spine arched involuntarily.

"Oh, look at how wet and desperate my vicious little whore is," Feitan crooned, two fingers curling inside you as his thumb circled your clit. "This what you've been aching for, wife?"

He punctuated the taunt by leaning in and biting the swell of your ass, sending a violent shudder through your core. Your fingers tangled in the frayed throw, the fibers ripping under your grip.

"Go fuck yourself," you bit out, hips canting back against him.

A sharp crack rang out as Feitan brought his palm down on your ass, a livid welt flaring across your skin. The sudden pain had you hissing, a curse rising on the tip of your tongue before it died as a third finger was shoved roughly inside you.

"Careful what you wish for," Feitan murmured, a hint of danger lacing his tone as his fingers thrust into you at a brutal pace. "I'd be more than happy to oblige, since you're such a cock-hungry little whore."

His words sent an undefinable pang through your core, your muscles clenching around him in a visceral response. He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers with a final, lewd curl. You heard the jangle of his belt, the rustle of clothing being discarded, and then he was dragging the thick head of his cock through your folds.

"Please," the word escaped in a hoarse, pleading breath, the last vestiges of your pride crumbling away.

Feitan paused, his entire body stilling. A long, tense moment passed, the only sound between you two the rasp of your combined, ragged breathing. Then, slowly, his palms slid over the curve of your hips, thumbs hooking along the crest of your ass as he spread you wider.

"As you wish, dear wife," he replied in a strained whisper.

His first thrust was a violent thing, driving straight to the hilt in one harsh, relentless motion. You keened, fingers tearing deeper into the couch as the pain-pleasure of the stretch burned through every nerve ending.

Then, without pause, Feitan was fucking you in earnest, hips snapping forward with savage, staccato motions. Every inch of you was alight, electrified by the feel of him, the sound of his low, guttural grunts as he ravaged you.

You felt the tension mounting within, coiling low in your belly and spreading through every extremity like liquid fire. When Feitan's thumb ghosted against the tight ring of your ass, a violent spasm rocked you, a choked sob tearing free.

"You like that?" He practically growled, the pad of his thumb teasing the sensitive rim with a wicked rhythm that matched his thrusts. "Such a filthy little thing, you'll take it wherever I decide to shove it, won't you?"

Before you could even respond, the digit was pushing inside, sinking into your ass and stretching the tight muscle in a way that had tears spilling down your cheeks. Everything was too much, too overwhelming, the twin intrusions setting off a detonation of sensations that had you seeing stars.

You came hard, an uncontrolled explosive gush of liquid spraying all over the couch. Feitan moaned, an obscene, animalistic sound that had another aftershock wracking your entire body.

"Fuck, yes," he snarled, fingers digging bruises into your hips as he fucked you through the orgasm. "Soak me, whore. Mark me with every fucking inch of this tight little cunt."

His thumb twisted in tandem with his thrusts, stretching the ring of muscle to an almost-painful extent. It was too much, too fast, but every sensation felt dialed up to an eleven, leaving you helpless to do anything but ride the wave of his brutal pleasure.

When you came again, the scream ripped from your throat was a broken, fractured thing, a desperate, primal noise that Feitan seemed to revel in. You sagged against the couch, trembling uncontrollably as another rush of liquid coated his cock and thighs.

"God, that's it," Feitan hissed, sounding utterly undone. "Fuck, look at you, soaking and gushing all over me."

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back sharply as his hips lost their rhythm. Then, without warning, his thumb was withdrawing, his grip shifting from your hair to your chin, wrenching your neck around.

Your eyes widened at the sight, the utter wreckage of him reflected back - flushed and wild-eyed, with his lips glistening and swollen from your earlier kisses. He was the very definition of unhinged, an untamed beast unleashed at last, and you'd never been more turned on in your life.

He kissed you again then, tongue plundering your mouth with a feral intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. You felt him throb and twitch, his moans becoming more frenzied, more broken. Then, with a final, brutal thrust, he was spilling inside you, the molten heat of his cum a brand marking you deep within.

You were barely able to catch your breath before Feitan was pulling out, rolling you onto your back and yanking your thighs over his shoulders. Your vision blurred for a moment, mind utterly uncomprehending, before the realization dawned - Feitan was burying his face between your thighs, his tongue plunging into the depths of your core to lap at the mess he'd left behind.

Sensation overload had you screaming, back bowing off the couch as another violent, full-body tremor ripped through you. Yet he refused to relent, his tongue relentless, his fingers joining the onslaught as they plunged into your abused hole to stroke at your oversensitive walls.

A third gush of liquid coated his fingers, and he was moaning, utterly shameless, against your pussy as he drank from you ravenously. The sound of him, debauched and unhinged, was too much, your nerves already rubbed raw.

You tried to push him away, the sensations too intense, too overwhelming. Yet Feitan simply growled, a muffled warning, his teeth closing on the hood of your clit. A sob wracked you, the overstimulation bordering on exquisite pain.

Then, he was sucking, tongue swirling and teasing and driving you mad. It was all too much, yet you couldn't pull away, couldn't escape the relentless tide he'd unleashed. When he slid a finger into your ass, the coil snapped, a white-hot, blinding rush that had you convulsing and screaming in his hold.

He worked you through the orgasm, his tongue gentling until the aftershocks had faded and you were left utterly wrecked, limbs quivering and mind completely obliterated.

When Feitan finally emerged, licking his lips like a self-satisfied cat, his expression was one of utter, smug satisfaction. You were barely able to form a coherent thought, much less an insult, so instead you settled for glaring at him weakly, trying to channel every ounce of disdain and irritation into your glare.

Feitan simply shrugged, an infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. "Don't look at me like that, dear wife. You started this."

You attempted a scathing retort, but only a ragged, garbled sound escaped as you realized the extent of your destruction. The couch was absolutely drenched, rivulets of liquid and cum leaking over the cushions in a vulgar display.

Feitan followed your line of sight, the smirk twisting into a lewd grin. "And to think, we've only just begun."

Before you could even begin to comprehend the implication, he was pulling you to your feet, scooping you over his shoulder in a fireman's hold. The next thing you knew, you were being dropped on the bed, bouncing against the sheets as he stalked after you.

"Now, wife, why don't we continue our honeymoon a bit longer?"

The dim of the Phantom Troupe's hideout greeted you and Feitan like a physical force as you stepped through the threshold. Raucous laughter and jeering whistles erupted the moment you appeared, drawing mortified flushes to both your cheeks.

"Well, well, if it isn't the newlyweds!" Nobunaga's booming voice cut through the catcalls as he swaggered over, a salacious grin splitting his weathered features. "Gotta say, I didn't peg you two for the kinky honeymoon suite types."

"I must admit, your performance was rather...enlightening," Chrollo interjected, the barest hint of a smirk playing across his lips as he leveled you with a weighted look.

You felt your face heat even further at the implication. Feitan shot you a murderous glare, clearly placing the blame squarely on your shoulders for this humiliation.

"You've got to be kidding me," he snarled through gritted teeth as understanding dawned.

"We had cameras installed to monitor your location," Machi confirmed with a longsuffering sigh. "For safety purposes. Though I don't think any of us expected...that level of disclosure."

Uvogin guffawed loudly, slapping his knee. "You mean you weren't hoping for some free live entertainment, Machi?"

The teasing and raucous laughter continued to swell around you as the rest of the Spiders utterly failed to contain their amusement at yours and Feitan's expense. Even the typically unflappable Pakunoda had a glint of mirth dancing in her eyes.

"I can assure you, the footage was quite...comprehensive," Chrollo offered blandly, making no effort to hide his satisfaction at your escalating mortification. "There were no details left to the imagination."

You sputtered incoherently, torn between the urge to burst into flames on the spot and throttling every last one of these voyeuristic savages with your bare hands. Feitan, meanwhile, looked two seconds from detonating entirely.

"You lecherous band of voyeurs!" he exploded, visibly shaking with rage as he whirled to face you. "And you! How did you not notice the goddamn cameras?!"

Seizing the opportunity to redirect even a fraction of the blame, you met his fury head-on.

"How did I not notice?! If you hadn't been too busy eye-fucking me at every turn like a horny mutt, maybe we both would have paid more attention to our surroundings!"

The argument quickly devolved into your typical vicious back-and-forth, insults and profanities flying as the Troupe howled with laughter around you. Eventually, you both stormed off in a cloud of barely restrained violence, hurling threats over your shoulders at the jeering pack of depraved hyenas.

As the sounds of your bickering faded down the corridor, Chrollo's smooth baritone carried after you with a hint of dark amusement.

“Feitan?” You ask, shifting yourself on the worn cushions of the sofa. You don’t dare pull your foot away--he’d stop you, if you were stupid enough to try.You’re not that stupid anymore.

He doesn’t acknowledge you at first.

You curl your toes, unused to the stretch of the thin nylon material over them--and his eyebrows actually lift up. Seeing any expression on him that wasn’t irritation or disgusted glee while he tortured people was almost astonishing enough to make your own eyebrows raise.

“What are you doing?” he asks, voice low, almost husky.

It’s the question you wanted to ask him.

“Nothing,” you say. Right? You’re just sitting here. He’s the one acting odd.

“You curled your toes.” His answer is short. Factual.

Because well, you did curl your toes. But… you didn’t mean anything by it. They were stiff, you’ve been sitting here so awfully long, and Feitan hasn’t explained a thing.

He didn’t respond this morning when you asked why there were nylons on the bed with the outfit he’d picked out--a short white nightgown that you’ve had for ages, worn in the armpits, with a lace trim that needed a good bleaching--or where your socks had gone.

He didn’t give you a reason when you told you to sit on the sofa, or when he grabbed your legs and yanked them up, forcing you to pivot around to avoid an uncomfortable twist in your hips.

Nor did he offer up any explanation when he’d taken your ankle in his hands and placed your foot on his thigh and simply… held it there--is still holding it there.

“I… I didn’t mean to?” You lick dry lips. “I mean, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just going to ask you why you’re…” You trail off as his eyebrows go from high to furrowed. 

Slowly, his other hand moves from its spot on his thigh and hovers above your foot. Your heart begins to beat faster--you weren’t disobedient lately, or at least he hadn’t said so.

He wouldn’t break your foot without telling you the reason, surely. The lecture he’d given after he broke a few of your fingers the first (and last) time you’d ever slapped him was a testament to that.

His fingers descend--one, two, three, four, five--but he doesn’t break your foot. Instead he begins to massage it.

That should make your heart slow down, but instead it only speeds up, even as his fingers begin to press down harder, a firm pressure down the length of your arch, then up your sole, ending just underneath your toes.

The nylon material shifts under his fingers. It feels strange, like some kind of thin second skin that heightens the sensation of being touched. It feels warm from the rubbing, despite the vague undercurrent of ticklishness that makes you want to yank your ankle away.

His fingers begin to lightly massage your toes, which stretch and curl instinctively. It’s too light, too ticklish.

Your breath hitches.

So does his.

“Ticklish?” He asks.

You nod. Lying had been trained out of you long before this.

He hums. There’s a pit in your stomach that begins to eat itself as you watch emotions play out on his face. It’s harder with the cowl up, but his eyes can give enough away, if you know how to look. You’ve had lots of practice.

He’s delighted by something.

Which is rarely a good sign.

Still, you know better than to try to yank your foot away, even as his fingers return to your toes, pressing down harder. It still tickles, but there’s more to it, now. The warmth is back, an unexpected, unwanted pleasurable feeling.

He stares at you the whole time, gauging your reaction.

Your fingernails dig into the sofa, digging into the already frayed threads. You bite your lip. You don’t want to give him anything. But he’ll just take it anyway, won’t he?

A step in your direction caused the thoughts to dissipate, eyes flicking over to the man that stood off to the side of you. His eyes looked at you expectantly, impatience enveloping his gaze. Such intensity caused a sheepish sorry to escape your glossed lips, pushing off the slippers you wore with a hum. You then turned your body to lay across your plush blankets, arms stuck to your sides whilst your head rested on your pillow. A soft breath flew from your nose, tensing the moment he stepped closer.

The idea of the group project was being able to label the muscles of a human off paper. You were sure this type of assignment was for closer students but you drew the short end of the stick. Then again, it wasn’t too bad; Feitan didn’t seem like the perverted type— you highly doubted he would take advantage of such a situation.

His form moved closer, knees pressed against your bed as his hands hovered above you. Feitan’s eyes fell to your legs, mentally deciding to start there first.

Which.. wasn’t the best for you.

As his hands dragged up from his ankles and further; lips moving to utter the muscles beneath your skin— you felt a warmth brew inside you. Was it the feathery touches? Maybe you were touched starved even..

Either way, as he got closer and closer to your middle; you felt the heat threatening to spill over. Fuck.. you were done.

His hands were.. warm, the feeling seeping through the thin blue gloves he wore— large, a complete contrast to his smaller form, which barely reached your bust. They ghosted you perfectly, teetering between respectful and disinterested as they brushed your covered hip. Maybe you really were touch starved, or maybe an inkling of attraction towards the man rested deep within you. Either didn’t matter given the little gasp and flinch that escaped you was clear as day.

Feitan’s hands stopped just on your lower stomach, eyes snapping to your face. Oh, was he annoyed. Aggravated you had interrupted him whilst attempting to complete the assignment. Your manicured fingers bundled the plush blankets beneath you, lips parting slowly to speak;

“‘M sorry..”

“Your constant twitching is bothersome.” The man hissed softly, eyebrows brushing close as his face turned to glance back down your body. “A single touch and you’re trembling..” Feitan spoke, actions solidifying his words the moment a hand grasped your hip, thumb pressing into your plump, covered skin. The warmth you felt from his hand was stimulating, trickling between your legs— causing the plush limbs to push together. An action the man caught easily.

An annoyed sigh escaped him, hand withdrawing from your body whilst his eyes bore into your form. “What a waste.. getting aroused during an exam, specifically when we were so close to being done.”

“I am not.. I am not aroused.”

The man sucked his teeth at your words, eyebrows pushing even closer together as irritation formed his features. Feitan remained unmoving for a moment, simply staring you down before he leaned over, taking your cheeks in a tight grip and lifting you a bit off the bed. “So you’re not only a slut, you’re a lying one at that.”

A hiss tugged his words, fingerprints pushing into your heated skin whilst his eyes stared you down— daring you to deny. A stranger he was, nothing more than a classmate yet; here you were, so open and pliable for him. Staring up at him as if the venom spewing from his lips were the sweetest things ever.

Your head tilted down just a tad, gripping the sheets as you struggled to hold his gaze. “‘M not a slut either.”

“A pervert then—“ Feitan countered easily, fingers tapping against your skin while tilting his head. The moment your lips pulled into the tiniest pout a grin was pulling his own, thumb reaching over to press against your glossed mouth, “— is that more fitting? You laying here; waiting so desperately to be touched..” Feitan removed his hand from your face slowly, watching in amusement at the way you tried to follow his grasp.

“What a display really.. the only thing that is missing, is you begging.”

The anticipation welling inside you was threatening to explode, thighs pushed close as the heat rose within the room. Feitan enjoyed such a sight, piercing eyes taking you in— interest for once swirling in his irises. Finally, his eyebrows rose, even going as far as tilting his head.

Breath escaped you as you took him in, Feitan Portor your classmate and very much a stranger. And despite such formalities here you were, gripping the sheets, lips parted as pretty pleas escaped you.

Feitan sighed softly reaching down once again, taking your cheeks in his hand; a grasp you’ve already come to adore. “Speak up.” He hissed, fingers pressing into your hot chubby cheeks whilst his gaze never left you.

“Ple..please Feitan, please— I need you..” You cried out, eyes dipping down as the embarrassment settled in. Feitan didn’t allow this to settle for long, hand dropping to collect your chin more and pushing you to force the gaze.

“Need me?..” His tone was airy, a snicker even passing through his lips; such sound causing further shyness to trickle down your spine. “We’ve only just met.. just interacted,” Feitan drawled and not so gently pushed you to lay across your bed, crawling over your form. Your legs parted to rest on other side of him, gripping the sheets in excitement.

“And yet, you need me. Such a desperate thing, aren’t you?” Feitan dipped down close, hands pressed on either sides of your head, hovering just above your face. He watched as your eyes fluttered close, surely expecting a kiss. Instead his face was dropping to your neck, teeth sinking into your skin abruptly.

The hiss, mixed gasp that escaped you was loud, hands flying to his black shirt whilst he sucked and bit into your skin; dark marks forming from the attention. His hands moved across your body, falling down to your thighs— sliding under them to push them even wider. Once satisfied he was moving in closer, pushing your dress up to your stomach whilst using his free hand glide across your covered slit. Your hips rose to find friction, yelping the moment he pinched you lightly.

“Quit moving..” Feitan huffed, fingers pressing just a bit harder against your covered wetness, finding your clit and slowly stroking it. The little sparks of pleasure were sweet but barely enough, the burning impatience brewing inside you caused a whine to escape your throat. The dark-haired male clicked his tongue, eyes flicking from your thighs to your face. “Impatient slut..” He hissed, hand pulling from your covered, wet cunt.

You wanted to whine again, but instead— Feitan forced a sharp yelp out of you the moment his palm struck your pussy. Your thighs closed around his hand, tears springing into your eyes as the pleasure and pain combined into a single, sickeninly sweet feeling. The grin on his face was telling, clearly delighted by the high pitched cry that escaped you so freely.

A sound he chased; pushing at your thighs again and slapping the exact same spot. A wet sound entered the room, followed by an even sharper cry from your mouth. Your body rose up off the bed, cunt throbbing from the attention as your heart pounded against your chest.

A snicker, one far too sinister escaped the man above you, pushing your thighs back down to the bed. “Hurts doesn’t it?..” The humor was clear in his tone, pushing you even wider as his eyes trained on the prize between them. “As if I could tell, making such a mess all over your sheets.” Feitan claimed, reaching over and finally; peeling your ruined panties from your body.

The undergarment was tossed to the side, his thumbs pulling your folds as his eyes focused completely on your wet sex. Clit throbbing, hole clenching around nothing, you truly were such a mess.

“Feitan..” You spoke softly, nearly shifting under his gaze if it wasn’t for the quick glare he sent you. You decided to simply bunch your dress up in your hands, eyes fluttering closed the moment his fingers gliding across your abused slit.

Slowly, the man collected your arousal onto his still gloved fingers, the thin latex pressing against your wet cunt. And without warning, two digits were pressing into your awaiting hole; sinking all the way down to his knuckles. Feitan didn’t wait for you either, scissoring and thrusting them in and out of you— the soft squelches soon filling the room.

Your moans escaped you freely, acrylics gripping your dress as your legs threatened to close. His fingers hit all the right places as precise and calculated as he was with suturing. So perfect.. fuck, so so perfect; you felt your brain getting hazy, cries of pleasure escaping as his fingers pushed against your hot gummy walls— essence spilling with each push.

As if the pleasure couldn’t get any better his thumb lowered to your begging bud, teasing it for a moment just to hear you whine— right before rubbing harsh circles into the sensitive button. Feitan’s eyes captured it all, free hand gripping your other thigh to assure you didn’t move an inch.

If you wanted.. needed him so bad, you would be sure to take everything he gave you.

Once the third finger pushed in, you were thrown off the edge; groaning at the sudden stretch yet moaning as it worked in tandem with the other fingers. He played with you so easily, pushing spots with just his fingers— much deeper then your own has ever reached.

“F—fuck.. Feitan.. feels soo good—!”

Feitan grinned down at your display, listening to the breathy praises that continued to escape you. How you begged so much for a release, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his fingers; withering beneath him. “What a fucking mess..” He drawled, eyes flicking to his hand to watch your sticky arousal coating the blue latex. This only caused his expression to deepen, quickening the pace of his hand whilst hanging his head; mouth brushing against your ear.

“This was the only thing you were thinking about, weren’t you? The moment I walked into your bedroom, you were just itching to feel me.. such a perverted slut— [Name].”

His words, tone, the way his fingers bullied your insides; Feitan was just so fucking mean. Yet here you were, eyes rolling to the back of your skull while the loudest moan escaped you, making a mess of his hand. Your arousal trickled down his fingers to his palm, ruining his glove even further.

However, even as your orgasm raked through your body his fingers never stopped moving; pushing you further and further, sensitivity rising as breathy whines escaped you. Forgoing his threat from earlier, your hand lowered to his wrist. With each movement the muscle was tensing, your thumb pressed against his pulse to feel his rapid heartbeat— in sync with your own.

“Ca—can’t fuck it’s too much!”

Such noises fell on deaf ears, his pace continuing but not moving your hand. The man wouldn’t dare say he enjoyed your grasp around his wrist.

“Too much?..” Feitan mocked, gripping your thigh when you attempted to shut your legs. The pretty whines escaping your throat was answer enough, his eyes gleaming with excitement as his thumb continued working circles into your clit; fingers never faltering inside your wet walls.

From just his fingers, just his fingers you were so lost. A fucking babbling mess whose long forgotten the entire purpose of him being in your room.

Your stomach tightened, the feeling bordering on painful, as your next orgasm got closer and closer. Pushing through the pain, your hips rocked against his fingers, desperate for the euphoric feeling again— only for it to be snatched away the moment he removed his fingers.

Your clit throbbed, hole fluttering around nothing as your hazy gaze soon focused on the man between your legs. The annoyed moan that escaped you was shameless, lips slick with your saliva pushed into a pout. “Why’d you.. I was so close!” You spoke, watching his eyelids lower.

Feitan moved to hover over your body, hands sinking into the spaces beside your head whilst pressing his hips to your own. “Said it was too much, right? Or are you already too fucked out to remember?” His hips moved slow, grinding the hardon within his pants into your wet, uncovered slit, your essence darkening his bottoms.

You weren’t given a second to dwell on his words or even muster a reply. Because the moment his hips moved yours were as well, head knocking back against your blankets as the light pleasure danced up your spine; stirring you inside. Your hands rose to bunch his shirt in your fingers, shaking underneath him as the desperation oozed from your heated body.

Feitan’s hand rose, taking your braids in a secure hold, pulling your head up from the bed to bring you a breath’s away. “Humping me like some bitch in heat.. So fucking needy.” A hiss hugged his words, as if aggravated from your actions. However, he was far from irritated, far from angry— enjoying you far too much.

You just looked so pretty like this; wet trails running down your chubby cheeks, dress and blankets wrinkled, with your legs wide— a clear invitation to ruin you even further. The sight was.. unbelievable, one he was delighted to keep all to himself.

“Feitan, please..” You dragged, hips pushing against him more, craving the friction and something else. He should have slapped your thigh or even pinch you for your impatience but fortunately for you, Feitan was just as needy. A huff escaped you as he released your hair, hands dropping to your hips. You silently questioned this, only for him to pull you up, you in his lap with his legs hanging off the bed.

You hovered above his lap, watching intently as he shoved off his bottoms; revealing his hard, long length. The tip was bubulous and red, a contrast to his paler skin. What’s more, pretty white pearls of precum oozed from the slit, twitching from the cool air in the room. Your hands found his shoulders, eyes flicking to his face as nerves settled in the pit of your stomach.

Feitan didn’t do much to ease your anxiety, even finding it a bit comical. His hand rose, shifting under your dress to stroke the dimples etched into your lower back. “What’s wrong?.. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now, [Name].” He watched as your eyebrows pushed together, lips pulled into an annoyed pout.

“I’m not..” You huffed softly, nails digging into his skin as your hips lowered just a smidge, jumping the moment his tip bumped against your throbbing bud. “Just.. g—give me a second.” You spoke, hips moving, lining his cock up with your entrance. A whimper escaped you the moment his tip breached the warm space, sinking down slowly whilst more breaths escaped you.

His hands were steady on your body, holding you up and watching in excitement as you trembled. Your walls clenched around him, slick coating his length as you reached just the middle. The stretch teetered between painful and pleasurable, eyes closed shut as you allowed yourself a moment of rest. A moment that dissipated rather quickly, given Feitan lifted his hips; shoving his length the rest of the way inside.

You tipped over, leaning into him as a sharp whine escaped you. You fisted his shirt, seated completely in his lap as huffs escaped you. “Feitan—!” You cried out, feeling his hand lift to the back of your head, taking your braids in his hand as he lifted you from his form.

“Such a crybaby..” Despite his words, his eyes searched you for any discontent or actual pain, lip tucked behind his teeth. When he found neither — ignoring the light feeling in his chest — the man’s hand fell to your hips, gripping the plump flesh. His fingers dug into your sides, lifting you up off his length until only the tip resided inside— before pulling you back down.

The moan that escaped you was far too sweet, nails pushed into his skin as your hips began to move without restraint. You were so uncoordinated, so fucking messy as you bounced up and down his cock; whimpers thrumming from your throat. The sounds carried around the room; the wet slaps each time you slammed down, your desperate moans, and the subtle grunts Feitan would release every so often.

With each moment of your hips his tip was striking the sweet spot inside you, your walls clenching around his slick length— fresh tears beading and threatening to spill over. A hand rose from your hip, driving up the plane of your stomach to grip one of your breasts; pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers just to hear your voice pitch.

Feitan, Feitan, Feitan! His name was falling from your lips like some type of prayer, knees digging into the mattress as the pleasure consumed your body. You were so fucking lost, lost in the throes of it all with only him to guide you. A faulty anchor he was, pulling you deeper and deeper; leaving your mind so hazy and bleak.

The show you were unveiling was such a delight, the man far too happy to have the front row seats. He pushed closed, hips rising to meet your drops as he grew just a breath’s away. “Keep clenchin’ me so much.. you’re close aren’t you?” Feitan’s voice was ragged, feeling your breath fan across his face. The whimpers that escaped you was enough of an answer, his hand rising to your throat to simply hold— placing his lips onto your own for the first time this afternoon.

The kiss was as heated as the rest of the room, as intense as the moment his hands settled onto your skin. Feitan’s tongue intruded your mouth, licking into the wet cavern to claim as his own. And the moment you attempted to pull away to breathe, his teeth were sinking into your bottom lip; swallowing you back up.

It didn’t matter if you were on top or not, you and him both knew who was in control.

Your hands rose, curling into his black tresses as you felt your peak approaching quickly. You moaned and whined into his mouth, legs shaking as the band tightened deep in your stomach. The tears were flowing freely now, Feitan releasing you this time to hear the haste babbles that escaped you.

“Fu..fuck Feitan! I—I’m gonna come—!” You cried out, the bounces becoming even messier. You felt his hot hands fall to your ass, slapping a cheek as if encouraging you to ruin yourself even further.

“Fucking minx..” Feitan hissed out, eyebrows pinched close, cock twitching within you. “Make a mess than.. don’t hold it.” The confirmed huff was enough for you, creaming all over his dick as you arched into him. The feeling caused a shiver to run down the man’s spine, hissing as you clamped around him.

As you rode out your high, your movements slowed— lurching forward the moment his palm slapped your ass again. The high-pitched whine that threatened to escape was quickly overshadowed by his words;

“I never said stop, did I?” His hand traveled to your hair again, tugging just to hear you whine again. “You wanted it so bad, you don’t get to stop.” Feitan spoke, gripping you to keep you grounded before lifting you up and off his length. The added fact he was matching each thrust was enough for you, head tossed back as the moans slipped from your bruised lips freely and shamelessly— eyes meeting the back of your skull.

The breathes that escaped you was strained, the pleasure far too much but you being unable to run from it. It seems his height went to his strength, holding you so fucking tightly you couldn’t move an inch. Leaving you defenseless, making you take every inch without mercy. The sensitivity dissipated quickly, leaving behind unadulterated ecstasy that caused stars to invade your vision.

Proper words no longer escaped you, babbles of his name and praises replacing such intelligible speech. But Feitan knew enough what you were trying to say, grin still plastered on his features, like some type of madman.

You were sore all over, struggling to keep going but so desperately chasing the release that was bubbling inside of you. You fell forward, forehead brushing his own as his tip brushed your cervix. The pain mingled with the pleasure easily, cunt pulsating around him as you felt yourself grow closer and closer.

In the past hour Feitan had grown to know your body. Each twitch, spasm— everything. He didn’t need to be warned of your climax, especially since he felt the way your walls clenched with urgency. Such a feeling pushed him closer to his own end, blunt nails etching crescents into your sun-kissed skin as he rose up off the bed; fucking you even harder.

The two of you leaned forward for a sloppy, messy kiss; moaning and groaning into the other’s mouth. The hurried slaps of skin on skin contact intensified for a split moment before stuttering as the man spilled inside you.

This was enough for you, coming on his dick again; your releases mixing together and trickling down his cock. Slowly, the two of you pulled back from the kiss; a string of saliva connecting your lips.

Your chests brushed against each other, breath heavy and fanning against the other. The flat of his palms pushed against your waist, pulling back to look at you. “Get off me.”

“Give me a moment to breathe, Fei.” You spoke, used to his harsh tone by now. Despite the small annoyed sigh that escaped him, the man didn’t push you off; even leaning back onto his hands and allowing you to remain in his lap— length still inside your wet sex.

A pleased sigh escaped you, arms tightening around his neck as you leaned into him fully. His eyes darted to the side of your face for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his features.

A comfortable silence covered the room for a moment before Feitan spoke again, amusement etched into his words;

“I wonder if the professor will like our.. exam.”

Your eyes flew open at this, glancing down at the grin plastered onto his features. Sure enough, the moment you turned, you spotted your phone on your tripod— still recording.

The next ten minutes was spent fighting the shorter man for your phone, him managing to grab it, and you pleading for the video to not be sent.