#heikel

The red face of Heikel, twisted and frozen in a permanent aghast scream, stared at me through his grimy and tussled hair. He had fallen like a broken doll with limbs spilling and tossed and his insides making arabesque patterns on the jade stone floors. One could have argued that the swirl and curve of his purple bowls matched the muted green of the intricate stonework, however I could not argue anything. I could not even move with Shiroin lodged between my open legs and her mouth chaining me to the armchair. 

She sucked my finger harder and I felt my cock twitch. A thick drop of Heikel’s blood stretched itself long under her chin and fell in a reluctant bead.

I had to look away, but in my attempt I found the corpse again.

Heikel lay like dead men lay after they have been run through with a lance and hurled off their horses on the tournament grounds. Only Shiroin had not used a weapon. She had used her teeth.  

She had ripped him apart with that same mouth that was making me stiff.

I flinched.

This was immoral. Even for me. It was macabre. It was- it was- wrong!

”Shiroin! Stop it!” I harshly tugged at my hand but her bloody nails had dug into my wrist, and her grip was impossibly stronger than ten men.  

I had been nailed to the velvet armchair for as long as the fight between her and Heikel had lasted, and that was an eternity and a flash at the same time, but now I shifted in earnest. Eager to flee.

Her claws bit deeper and I desperately clutched the armrest with my free hand. There was no fleeing. No escape. 

The fear and lust in a messy muddle of emotion made my stomach turn.  

”Shiroin please, please, stop.” I was babbling my pleas. Quietly. A wounded man pleading the death shadow at the foot of his bed in the night “please, don’t kill me…”

She parted her lips and her beautiful tongue, gushing red, licked the length of my finger, painting it in Heikel’s shade and pausing to melt against my fingerprint.

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut, too scared to see my own doom devour my hand and then soul.

Then her childlike voice made me dare a wincing peek.  

”Why would I murder you, Deria?”

“Be-because I know. I know now what you are. I- I saw what you can do…“ I was swallowing my own tongue. Gagging on bile and despair through the words.

“Yes. And that means you are mine now, does it not?” She sighed too and stroked her sleek dripping face in my palm, smearing the vibrant ruby blood. “You will not betray or defy me now. You will not dare.”  

I stared at her, the most primal of horrors drying my eyes.

Shiroin leaned on my knee; she looked like she was in some kind of satisfied daze, then she continued.

“I own you now. Like I own Kiel. Like I own the Empire. Everything that is wrong, is mine. Do you understand, little King?” Her lashes had clumped together in the wetness.

I shook my head. It was an honest reflex.

“I think you do.” She opened up her fingers and let my wrist go. I could not say if some of it was my blood in the gory handprints she left on me, but i felt the sting on my skin. Shiroin ran her hand gently up the inside of my breeches.

“No I...” I was shaking even as she reached my thumping ache and gave it a loving feel through the fabric.

“Oh yes. You know what it means to be owned by your own tainted voices. Do not think I have not always known what you are too.” Her expression was so cold, so reptilian and distant from the definition of ‘human’, and the vicious toothy smile that tugged at her lips, made me shiver. 

“You are a monster, Deria. Just like me.” 

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