#enemy lovers

I wince at the thought. Ash rests heavily in my stomach, souring any hope of breakfast. I just rinse off his cum from my legs and pretend the guilt isn't there. Like I do every day.

The morning air is no longer crisp and clean, warmed by the rising sun. Perhaps I slept longer than anticipated. I gather my basket and coins to head for the market. The dull roar of conversation grows the closer I get. I know now that I've overstayed my rest with the crowds of townsfolk blocking the street. The best food has surely been taken. I sigh.

I shoulder past people to each stall with a weight hanging from my neck. Each person feels like a threat. Did that man see me walking home with the goblin last night? How about that woman, did she hear us? Surely my shame is written on my tunic like a red A. Yet, I'm no adulterer, I'm worse. I chew on my cheek and continue my shopping.

The suffocation gets a little easier to breathe around. The birds continue to chirp, the sun continues to rise, and everyone ignores me. I can almost pretend last night was a terrible dream. Like how I pretend my parents are just far away on an exotic beach searching for beautiful shells.

"Damn vermin," a man cries from ahead. A pile of dust is distributed into a cloud as a small figure rolls out from a doorway. I freeze a building down to watch the show. A man walks out with a raised broom to berate the creature down in the dirt. It's all too familiar.

"I catch you stealing in here again, I will make your hide into my next pair of trousers," the butcher shouts. The stout older man waves the broom in the smaller creature's direction. I look towards the poor thing with curiosity. Green skin and pointed ears, familiarity relaxes me a bit. Just another goblin.

The creature wipes his chin before shouting curses at the butcher. He stands, brushes off his pants, then addresses the growing crowd with a snarl. I stiffen as he meets my eyes. His snarl twists into a savage grin. My heart skips, my breath follows.

I twist and run in the opposite direction as the devil laughs.

I bury myself in chores to ignore the heat killing me. Every time I believe myself thoroughly distracted, I get a skin pebbling recollection of the little man pounding into me. I hate how I react to it, I hate how it thrills me. What I hate most of all is how much I want to go one more time.

Seeing him today made it all too real. I thought I would drown in embarrassment, but I only drowned in more desire. I clench around my wet laundry with a squelch. Water floods over my fist and down my wrist. I bare my teeth to the washroom to fight my internal dialogue.

"Shut up," I berate myself. With a meaty thunk of my fist to the countertop, I suffocate myself with more work than I know what to do with.

Wash the clothes. Clean the kitchen. Cook lunch. Think of the beast choking you. Pick the weeds. Tend to the flowers. Wash the sheets. Remember how fast you came from just his fingers. Air out the living room. Clean the hearth.

It never gets easier.

A parasite feasts on my brain the entire day. Like a little demon sits next to my ear to replay my worst thoughts. It taunts me with my own feelings. It belittles my attempts to get rid of it. I'm damn near ready to throw myself into the nearest river just in the hopes of drowning the horrid thing.

Day turns into dusk, which turns into night. The chores dwindle until my home is the cleanest in town. Night creeps in as scaly fingers of a monster in the woods. Its long nails pierce under my skin to scratch at my skull. Spindly digits that pick at each thought as a loose thread of a sweater. It pulls and pulls until the yarn is free.

I've never cum so hard before. The euphoria of being at someone else's whim after so many years of my own hell. Let someone else take the reins, let someone else decide my punishment. I sigh, head tapping against the bedroom doorway.

I lay in bed petting the scabs along my chest. My fingertips travel along the scaly texture, poking hard enough to aggravate the bruising underneath. It's a sweet moment of blissful silence. No thoughts, only exhaustion. Perhaps I've finally run myself into circles and have burned the visions to nothing. It's a nice idea. Maybe I can finally move on from this nightmare.

A light object gets tossed at my legs, startling me. I sit up with a start, reaching down at my legs as if to swat the offending item away. I meet cold, familiar glass. I grip the neck of a bottle and hold it up to the moonlight breaking in from the window. A liquor bottle.

"Do you think you're better than me?" A man slurs from the darkness. I jump, holding the bottle as a weapon towards the black corner. "Do you think you can just look down at me because you find me...insig-insigni- lesser!"

"W-Who's there?" I stutter. The man walks to the window, silhouetted by the moon. His small stature plucks at my flared yarn thoughts.

"Would I be your lover? Perhaps your bedmate," He laughs to himself," I know you are my filthy whore, so I don't care what you call me."

I wield the bottle, as fruitless as it is. The goblin laughs as he stumbles towards the bed.

"Not any closer," I demand. It's pathetic when my voice falters. A dull hum begins in my pants as my traitorous mind sings praises as my mysterious devil has returned.

“So eager to kick me out, but sang a different tune last night,” He crawls onto the bed and swats away the bottle. It flies from my hand and crashes onto the floor. He pushes me back into the sheets as he towers over me. His green leathery skin barely catches the light. His ears cast shadows along the wall as a sick boogeyman. I push at his chest, though no true fight is there. He reaches out and grazes his nails over my cheek. I shudder.

"Missed me," he asks. I can't talk. His nails glide over my cheek and along my jaw. In a flash, he pins me by the neck with a growl. I push at his chest and claw at his wrist. His free hand snatches my fingers off him to pin them next to my head. I'm truly at his mercy just like yesterday.

I whimper.

"They call me the pest, the vermin. Would they feel that way if they knew you let me do this to you?" he slurs his words. The stench of alcohol is pungent on him. He sways a bit, putting pressure on my neck as he careens forward. I grab his wrist and push upwards off my throat. "Whore," he laughs," Slut. Hoe. Bitch." He laughs at each word. I squirm under him.

"Please," I whine. He only mocks me more. It all makes my head spin to be at his mercy once again. He falls forward to slobber over my cheek. His spit is sticky against my skin. His tongue licks a long line up to my temple, where he presses a kiss.

"I'm going to fuck you again," he declares as he nudges his nose against mine, " And this time you cum when I let you."

Any protest is lost when he slants his lips against mine. His grip tightens on my throat until pressure starts to build at my forehead. I wriggle away from his lips to try breathing, but it's a weak gasp that spurs him on.

"I saw you today," He sings," Wearing a pretty blue dress." His hand unclasps mine and works on lowering my shoulder strap. He kisses along my collar as I suffocate below him. My nails dig into his tough skin to no avail.

"P-please," I beg again.

He hums," Say it again."

"Please," I choke out. He stops above my breast, drooling along my skin. He sits up and looks down at me over his nose. His hand loosens enough for me to catch my breath, but soon his other hand joins. He begins choking in earnest, pressing me down into the mattress.

"I should do it," he mumbles," I should just kill you right now. Damned human."

I gurgle and claw up his arms.

"It would be so easy, and no one would even care. If you died, if I died. Not a single person would care."

I start to see stars when he finally relents. Air inflates my chest so hard I cough. He lets me turn away to regulate myself.

"Tell me you like it," he leans in. I turn into him, startled at how close he is. "Beg me to fuck you."

I watch with shallow breath. I can't ignore the ache that forms between my legs for this damned beast. His abuse, his words, a balm to my being. Let him take, let him demand. I've been denying it all day, but in the dark, I don't have to see myself. In the pale glow of the moonlight, I just pretend I'm not the studious woman who owns her parents' blacksmith shop without a clue of what I'm doing.

"Please," I whimper.

"Please, what?" He tugs my dress down over my breast. I gasp, but heave my bosom close to him.

"Fuck me," I look into his eyes. His grin could light up the whole room.

He falls to my breast where he tongues the closest nipple. His tongue is rough and harsh, but it has me melting all the same. He licks and sucks, releasing with a pop. His hand gropes my other tit brutally. His fingers pinch without a care. I arch into him for more.

"Good whore," he giggles," All mine to play with."

His hand cups me hard enough to make me jump. He nuzzles into my breast as his other hand makes its way down. His long, bony fingers prod at my entrance. They press inside without so much as a knock. One finger becomes two while he curls to pet along my spongy walls.

"Wet and ready. You haven't been thinking of me all day, have you?"

I don't answer.

"No matter. Let me cum inside," he shrugs. He sits up and settles between my legs. He lifts my thighs up to his chest as he presses forward. He grinds his clothed cock against me to relish in anticipation. I can't look at him to see the pleasure on his face of having me below him. His cock prods me. I flinch. A knot ties my organs as his tip delves in.

"So easy," he taunts," I don't even have to try if I want to be in you. You just take whatever I give." He slaps my thigh against his chest with a contented sigh. I feel so full and free. No thoughts or worries, just sex.

He pulls back and begins a fast and free pace. He leans forward to press my knees towards my chest and takes. I toss my arm over my eyes to hide from the shame of letting this man use me. I asked for it! I relish in his cock, the taboo of it. He even flicks my clit for me. All I have to do is take it and not fight him off. Not my fault.

His thumb plays me to a quick flurry. I arch and whine for more. He laughs.

"I want you to cum on me. I want to feel you milking me."

I nearly cum from hearing those words. He spread my legs and thrust with a bruising pace. My hips ache, and my legs stiffen. My whole body shakes with each beat.

"Do it," he barks," show me you love this."

I clench around him and cry out into the room. I hide under my arm as a coward while squeezing him in a vice. He shutters, eating up every flutter to his heart's content. With a shaky buck, he buries in deep to drain his warmth.

I escape the shame with my eyes closed. The post clarity makes the whole event tragic. Buried to his balls in me while spilling his seed. Thank the heavens he cannot breed me, but the way he hasn't escaped leads me to believe he wishes he could.

He pulls out with an exaggerated gasp. I peek down to see him admiring our mess. He thumbs my hole and presses everything back in.

"Goblin cum," he hiccups," All inside you."

I hide back under my arm.

He leaves soon after. No words, no tender moments. The only evidence he was here is the growing stain leaking out of me. I run my hand over my sensitive neck and dig into the forming bruise. The pain makes my head spin, but it makes this all hurt a lot less.

Pathetic

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More mean goblin, but hey, it's Enemy to Lovers for a reason. She likes when he is an ass because she has *trauma*. I relate.

Part 3