#like gorl

hungry lips are all consuming, she can feel the endless weeks of their prolonged sexual tension creating an intense heat between them as their bodies are finally tangled up in a deadly knot beneath the the lavish threads of his expensive bedsheets. this should be euphoric, this should be something to be relished — her prey is finally within her clutches, she’s got him pinned between soft thighs, her body reacts to his lust to the point she’s practically dripping on him. she aches for him, but her hesitation isn’t for the purpose of teasing him. her patron’s words echo in the back of her mind, she knows what she’s here for: ` lord gortash’s soul for yours, and his stones for your freedom. `

but gortash has her freedom in the palm of his hand, he could give it to her. he could set her free. she doesn’t have to do this, but if she doesn’t, she is fully reliant on the will of the man beneath her, the will of the man who could easily be slain right here, right now, he’s completely vulnerable to her. so does she trust him enough? can she believe him when he says he’ll help her? he’s not given her any reason to believe otherwise, but once this opportunity is gone, she’s not getting it back. she can feel her heart thumping erratically, anxiety rising, drowning out the ecstasy his lust offers. she has to make a decision, and she has to make it now.

this isn’t how she imagined this would feel, even as she lowers herself onto him, slowly, arms draped around his broad shoulders, claws tangled in messy, black hair. they share a deep moan together as he slides inside of her for the first time, fangs sinking into her lower lip as she takes him deep, slow, not thrusting, just holding him there as deep as she can get him. her body is screaming, this is everything she’s wanted, she can feel his energy already siphoning itself, nourishing her. eyes lock onto his, she's holding herself back. she warned him before hand what would happen naturally, she can only hold back so much, but a little bit of him will always be drained, he'll feel weak after, tired, assuring him there will be an after. he believed her.

she can start taking from him any time, he would be too enthralled with the ecstasy to notice his life slipping away from him, it'll feel too good to stop even if he did. this will be easy, too easy. she's telling herself this, encouraging herself to proceed, her freedom will fall from gortash's lips with his last, dying breath. yes, this should feel better than good. this should be the sweetest kill to date, she should feel godly.

why does dread create a pit in her stomach? why is she still holding back? her hips begin to thrust against him, and she can’t look upon his face any longer, his eyes are burning a hole through her skull. she kisses him, hard and deep, as she steadies her pace. with her eyes closed, she tries to shut out her incoherent mind, thoughts so loud and jumbled she can hardly make sense of them anyway. focus, neph. you’ve done this before, you can do this again, just one last time. he does feel good — no, he feels even better than nepharia imagined he would, and she tries to lean into that, lean into her intoxication, the way he sounds, the way his body reacts to every roll of her hips, enveloping him in her hot wetness. she wants to be able to enjoy him, to enjoy this, it’s what she’s good at. but— it’s different this time. different in a painfully familiar way.

the face of a lover long lost flashes through her mind, bitterly reminding her of why she spent so many years a recluse. that loss shattered her, and her first love didn’t hold any key to her freedom within his grasp. already gortash has done more for her than anyone else has in her entire life. the realization is striking, anxiety exploding through her like a wildfire spreading through dry brush.

she’s in love with him.

fuck.

pale hues finally come into view once more as her uneven thrusts slow to a halt. she stops kissing him, face hovering still close above his. she’s stiff for a moment, unable to breath, and she’s sure there’s a pitiful look of desperation forming on her expression, one she can’t even try to suppress. the emotions flood her, quickly and suddenly, she feels like she could puke. ` fuck, ` she vocalizes, heart pounding, throat dry, and she has no idea what to else to say. what is she supposed to say??? hey, sorry, my patron wanted me to kill you but i’m changing my mind, please get me out of my pact now at your earliest convenience??? also, i think i’m in love with you??? absolutely not.

me:

me: im literally a history student and haven't touched algebra in four years.

sis: *puppy eyes*

<10 minutes later>