He cut you off with a hard shake. “You almost made it to the cave,” he muttered, voice dark, almost impressed in its coldness. “Almost.” He shouldered open the bedroom door and flung you inside, letting you stumble and sprawl across the thick rug. As you scrambled to your knees, breath rattling in your chest, you didn’t look back at him—you didn’t dare.

The door boomed closed. Henry was on you before you could stand, grabbing your upper arm, forcing you around to face him. You tried to twist away, shoving at his chest. He didn’t budge. The movement only seemed to amuse him, the corners of his lips curling in something dangerously close to a smirk.

“Fighting me?” he asked, voice soft and curious as if he were observing a wild animal, not a person. His hand slid up to your jaw, thumb digging into your cheek until your eyes watered. “You think that’s going to save you?”

You couldn’t help the shake in your voice. “Let me go. Please, I wasn’t—I was just—”

“Just what?” He pushed you gently backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed and you collapsed onto it. His body loomed over you, all broad shoulders and cold, blue eyes. “You weren’t thinking. You don’t think. You react. You run.”

His hands were hot on your skin, one at your throat, not squeezing, just holding you down—reminding you how easy it would be if he decided to. The other traced your hairline, almost tender, fingers grabbing onto the back of your neck. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there?” His voice dropped, suddenly rough. “You could have tripped in the dark, broken your neck. Or maybe someone else would have found you—someone who doesn’t care what happens to you at all. Not like I do.”

You closed your eyes, blinking back tears, trying to turn away. He tsked, gripping your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “No. Look at me. You need to understand this. I am the only reason you’re alive. The only reason you haven’t been hurt. I protect you—every day. And this is how you thank me?”

You squirmed again, pulling at his wrist, but he held you fast, his strength unyielding. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of crying, but your eyes burned, vision blurring.

He leaned closer, nose brushing yours, breath warm and steady, a sick intimacy in the way he hovered just above your lips. “You’re lucky I found you first,” he murmured, his voice suddenly honey-sweet, full of dangerous, false comfort. “You don’t realize how cruel the world can be. I do. I see what you’re too naïve to understand. You’d be dead without me.”

A tremor shook through you. You hated how your body reacted to his touch—how heat bloomed low in your belly even as your mind screamed to get away. Henry’s hand slid from your chin down to your throat, his thumb stroking over your pulse. “Do you want to be safe?” he whispered, tone coaxing, seductive. “Or do you want to risk everything, again and again, just to spite me?”

“I—I don’t—” Your voice failed you. The humiliation of being caught, the ache of his grip, the fear—it all twisted inside, making you dizzy.

Henry’s expression softened, but it wasn’t kind; it was predatory, almost pleased. “You can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushed his lips against your ear, voice barely more than a breath. “You need me. You don’t even know how much yet.”

Your body shivered beneath him, thighs pressed together, trying to make yourself smaller. He pressed you flat against the bed, his thigh between yours, forcing you open. “You’re so stubborn,” he said, almost fondly. “Always testing me. I have to teach you. Again and again. And you never learn.”

He paused, taking in the tears slipping down your cheeks, the defiance still burning in your gaze. His eyes flashed, something wicked behind the icy calm. “Maybe I haven’t been strict enough,” he murmured, thumb smearing a tear away with agonizing slowness. “Maybe you need to be reminded what happens when you forget who you belong to.”

You shook your head, words caught behind your teeth, but he only laughed, soft and cruel. “You want to run? Go ahead. See how far you get next time. But for now—” He shifted, pinning you harder, his weight a promise. “I guess I’ll just have to teach you properly.”

His voice was low, menacing, yet almost gentle. His grip never loosened, even as you writhed—just enough to show you still had some fire left. You tried to twist out from beneath him, but he used his weight, his presence, to force you down, breath coming fast and shallow against your ear.

He smiled, slow and cold. “Keep fighting, if you want. See how far it gets you. All you do is prove how much you need me.”

The mattress dipped under his knees, the world narrowed to his hands on your body, the sick pulse of arousal and dread mixing in your veins, his breath hot at your jaw, teeth grazing skin, voice a velvet threat:

“Let’s see if you learn this time.”

Henry’s hands moved with an infuriating slowness, heavy palms skating down your trembling body, mapping every inch as if memorizing the contours of your fear and stubbornness. His fingertips hooked under the elastic of your panties, dragging the thin fabric down your thighs. The backs of his knuckles grazed your skin, a touch both deliberate and dismissive—he wasn’t in a hurry, he wanted you to feel how casual this was for him, how completely in control.

The air was thick, hot with anticipation and the humiliation of being laid bare under his gaze. You tried to close your legs, but his knee wedged itself between them, forcing you open, exposing you to the cool air and his hungry, assessing stare. He sat back just enough to admire his handiwork, one hand braced by your hip, the other lazy and taunting, cupping the heat between your legs. He brushed his thumb idly over your clit, featherlight, barely there, making your whole body jerk involuntarily, a choked gasp slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

“Oh, look at you,” Henry murmured, voice syrupy with condescension. “Always so defiant until I’ve got you like this. You don’t even know what you want, do you?” He circled your clit again, almost a tease, watching the flush creep up your chest, the way your hips tried to arch up for more, desperate for any real friction.

Your hands fisted in the sheets, nails digging in, breath coming in tiny, ragged shivers. “Stop—please, Henry, just—”

He cut you off with a tut, bending over to press his mouth hot and close against your ear. “You want me to stop?” His fingers slid down, parting your folds, slicking themselves with your arousal as if to prove a point. “That’s not what your body says.” He rubbed slow, lazy circles over your clit, two fingers dipping down to tease your entrance, pressing in just enough to make your muscles clench around nothing. Every movement was calculated, designed to drive you mad with need while keeping you just out of reach.

He pressed a little harder, making you whimper, your hips rolling in spite of yourself, seeking more, begging for it. He grinned, voice low and pleased. “Look at you. I barely touch you and you’re already soaking. That’s what happens when you disobey—you make a mess and I have to clean it up.”

You tried to turn away, mortified, but he caught your chin, forcing you to face him, eyes sharp and demanding. “You want to come, don’t you?” His fingers stilled, just barely inside you, refusing to move until you answered.

You hesitated, shame warring with need, but your body answered for you—a needy buck of your hips, a strangled whine in your throat. Henry laughed, the sound dark and knowing. “I knew it. But you don’t get to come yet. Not until you mean it. Not until you’re sorry. Not until I believe you.”

He dragged his fingers back up, circling your clit with maddening patience, teasing but never giving enough. You squirmed beneath him, the pleasure too much and not enough, a sharp ache building inside you, heat pooling deep and urgent in your belly.

“Say it,” he commanded, voice velvet-wrapped steel. “Tell me you’re sorry. Like you mean it.”

You shook your head, biting your lip, the words stuck in your throat. He pressed a little harder, the pads of his fingers slipping over your clit in slow, lazy circles that made your thighs tremble. He leaned down, lips brushing your jaw, breath hot and ragged. “Don’t make me wait all night,” he warned, a mock patience in his voice that sent a cold thrill down your spine.

He pressed two fingers inside you without warning, knuckles deep, stretching you slow and deliberate, curling up to stroke that sensitive spot that made your whole body arch off the bed. Your mouth dropped open, a helpless moan pouring out, raw and desperate, your hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Say it,” he repeated, thrusting his fingers slowly, almost carelessly, as if he could do this forever, as if your pleasure—or your torment—meant nothing to him except as a lesson. “Or I’ll stop. Right now. I’ll leave you like this, aching, desperate, until you learn to be good for me.”

Your pride fought back, stubborn, tears prickling at your eyes, but the pleasure was overwhelming, impossible to ignore. He shifted, pressing his thumb against your clit while his fingers fucked you slow and deep, pushing you closer and closer to the edge but never letting you fall.

“Please,” you gasped, voice breaking, body shaking with the effort to hold back, to not give him the satisfaction.

He tsked, shaking his head. “Not good enough. I want to hear you beg. I want to hear you mean it.”

You broke, the shame and need twisting together until you couldn’t tell them apart. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, voice raw, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Henry, please, I’m sorry—”

He smiled, wicked and triumphant, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “That’s my girl.” His fingers sped up, thumb circling your clit with perfect pressure, drawing desperate, needy sounds from your lips. “Now come for me. Show me how sorry you are.”

The orgasm crashed over you, violent and overwhelming, your whole body seizing beneath him, cries echoing in the room, every nerve ending aflame with relief and humiliation. He held you through it, fingers milking every last tremor from your body, watching with dark, satisfied eyes as you fell apart for him.

He didn’t stop until you were boneless and gasping, the lesson burned into your skin. His hand finally left you, sliding up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing away the tears, his voice low and almost gentle.

“Maybe now you’ll think twice before running,” he murmured, a threat and a promise tangled together, as he leaned in to claim your mouth with his.

Henry’s hands slid from your jaw down to your collarbone, rough and unhurried, fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin as he pushed the straps of your dress from your shoulders. The fabric slipped down your arms, pooling at your waist, exposing trembling skin to the dim light. He caught your gaze, the ice in his blue eyes thawing into something heavier, more wounded than angry.

His palm flattened over your heart, thumb tracing a circle just above your breast. “You really wanted to leave me that badly?” he murmured, voice low, not harsh but laden with an ache that twisted in your gut. “You were going to run from me? After everything I do for you?”

You opened your mouth, but the words tangled with a shaky breath. Henry’s fingers found the clasp of your bra and undid it with a deft flick, letting the final scrap of modesty fall away. He nudged the dress the rest of the way off, his knuckles grazing your thighs, making your breath stutter.

He held you there, stripped bare and shivering, under the weight of his stare. “I’m not angry, darling. Not really.” He dipped his head, brushing his lips over the line of your jaw, warm breath feathering down your neck. “But it hurts. It hurts, knowing you’d rather risk yourself out there than stay with me. Am I really that awful?”

His question crawled beneath your skin. Tears welled up, blurring the world around his face, your throat tight. “No, Henry—no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I just—” Your voice cracked, and you buried your face in the hard muscle of his shoulder, shame burning your cheeks.

He shushed you softly, hands soothing over your ribs. His body pressed into yours, heat and need and ownership all wrapped up in the way he handled you—unyielding, but never hurried. He sat back just enough to undo his own pants, pushing them down over his hips, cock heavy and flushed, the sight of it making your insides twist with nervous anticipation. He didn’t bother to take his shirt off, just let it hang open as he guided your legs apart, body slotted perfectly between them.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your nipples, the scratch of fabric against your bare skin sending a shiver up your spine. His hands framed your face, forcing you to look up at him. “You’re mine,” he said, soft and final, a statement of fact that demanded no answer. “Say it.”

You swallowed hard, tears spilling over, voice small and raw. “I’m yours, Henry. I’m sorry. I’m yours.”

He kissed you, slow and punishing, teeth scraping your bottom lip as his hips pressed forward. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, slick and aching, your body already yielding from the rough tease he’d given you before. He slid into you in one long, deliberate thrust, filling you completely, stretching you open until your mouth dropped open on a shuddering gasp.

Henry’s breath was hot against your ear as he bottomed out, holding himself deep inside. “You feel that?” he whispered, moving his hips just enough to make you clench helplessly around him. “No one else will ever have you like this. No one else gets to see you fall apart. You’re mine, and you’ll never run from me again.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks, shame and relief warring inside you, body clinging to him as he started to move—slow, possessive thrusts, each one claiming you again and again. His hands roamed everywhere: cupping your breasts, gripping your waist, pinning your wrists above your head only to let go and cradle your face while he fucked you.

He kissed along your jaw, and you pressed your lips to his skin in a desperate apology, peppering kisses along his neck, across his throat, up to his cheek, whispering broken pleas between every gasp. “I’m sorry, Henry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, please don’t let me go, please—” Your words were muffled against his throat, voice shaking with every thrust, every wet, needy moan.

He grunted softly, thrusts deepening, fucking you harder but never rough—just insistent, relentless, coaxing you toward the edge again. “That’s it,” he murmured, letting you sob into his neck, “say it again.”

Your lips brushed his jaw, his mouth, salty with your tears. “I’m sorry, Henry, I’m yours, I promise, I’m yours—” The words spilled out between kisses, each one more desperate as your body tightened around him, every muscle trembling, the pressure building again, impossibly sharp.

“Good girl,” he breathed, voice ragged. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes searching your face, needing to see every quiver, every tear. “Come for me. Show me you mean it.”

You shattered for him, your whole body arching up, walls clenching tight around him as you cried out his name, sobbing into his mouth, legs trembling as the orgasm tore through you. Henry groaned, hips snapping forward, thrusts growing frantic as he spilled inside you, holding you so tight you couldn’t have run even if you wanted to.

He stayed like that, locked together, letting your bodies ride out every aftershock, his lips gentle on your damp cheeks. His hands softened, stroking your sides and kissing away the tears.

Slowly, carefully, he eased out of you and gathered you up, pulling you onto his lap, your face pressed into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you secure and safe, rocking you gently while your breathing evened out. He pressed soft kisses onto your temple, voice a low rumble against your skin.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, thumb wiping the last tears from your cheeks. “I forgive you. You’re safe with me, always. I’m not letting you go. Never again.” He held you close, bodies tangled, the sharp edge of the lesson fading into a quiet, possessive warmth, his forgiveness settling over you as heavy and inescapable as his love.

everything: @clxt-lamb1 @person-005 @bookoffracturedescapes

“And if your plan doesn’t work? I’d rather be at home, with my friends, in a familiar place.” You turned towards him as well, the counter resting more on your ribs than your hip.

“Have I not made this a home? You’ve become familiar with it, with me..”

“It’s not like that!” You quickly steadied your voice, trying not to seem too emotional. “You’re kind to me, Henry, but this isn’t my home.”

“I’m not going to allow that to happen, end of story.” Henry stood straight and walked out of the kitchen, not bothering to look back. You quickly followed and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.

“I’m going whether you like it or not.” Henry’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing. “I won’t stay.”

Henry spoke no words, but he pulled your hand from his, before pulling you towards him pressing his chest flat against you as his other hand slipped up the back of your neck to grip at your hair. If he could feel your heart nearly beating a hole in your chest, he didn’t show it.

“If you want to go and be torn apart by those monsters then be my guest. But, if you want to be good and appreciate all I’ve done for you, the warm home I’ve provided, food on the table whenever you so please, safety from being ripped limb from limb, you’ll understand why you have to stay.”

Henry didn’t let you respond, his lips capturing yours before they could form a smart response. His fingers tightened in your hair as he backed you up against the wall next to the stairwell. You sunk into the kiss, much to your better judgement. You knew you had to stand your ground, to fight for your freedom to leave and be at home, but how could you say no to him? He was right, he had provided so much for you, you didn’t need to work, you had endless entertainment, you had him when you had no one else to warm your bed.

His hand that held your wrist in a vice-grip released it, sliding over your hip and to your back instead. Despite being someone you had clocked as some sort of psychopath, Henry was passionate, desperate in a way. The hand he had just released wrapped around to his back, gripping his shirt as his left leg slipped between yours.

His knee provided a wonderful pressure to your core, prompting you to open your mouth further to him. The warmth in the pit of your stomach was one you had gotten used to when he had you like this. He somehow knew everything you wanted, every urge, every desire. His fingers slipped to the front of the dress he had provided for you, fiddling with each metal disk as he unfastened them. Your fingers tugged his shirt from its neatly tucked place in his pants, quickly finding their way under, to his bare skin.

Before he tried slipping the dress off of you, he pulled you from the wall and dragged you towards the old couch, his lips barely leaving yours. The ‘oomph’ sound you made as you hit the plush sofa was all the invitation he needed to slip the buttoned from your body, bringing your torso up to pull it from your arms as he tugged it over your head. Henry didn’t go back to immediately kissing you, instead burying his nose in your neck as his fingers roamed your mostly bare body.

You could hear the deep inhale through his nose next to your ear as he took in the feeling of you half-naked beneath him. It wasn’t the first time you had been in a scenario like this, bare underneath him as he found some new way to admire your body, but this time felt more predatory, more like he was sizing up his next meal. You couldn’t care to complain, however, shamefully enjoying the feeling of his fingers undoing the clasp of your bra.

Henry’s nose dragged down your neck, over your collarbones, and finally, to the swell of your breasts. His mouth made quick work, suckling on as one hand grasped the other. Your head fell back in pleasure, enjoying the sensation as he made quick work bringing your nipple to a stiff peak, before switching to the other breast.

As he sucked, your mind wandered for just a second. Was it really so shameful to give in? It had been what you assumed to be a month since your last attempt to escape. He had ‘saved’ you then, dragging you back home before some creature came to tear you apart. He was protecting you wasn’t he? And why should you feel shame for at least enjoying your stay, no matter how long it may be?

His lips released your breast as he brought his face back to yours, one hand using its grip in your hair to force you to look at him. He searched you face before yanking your head to the side so he could lean in and kiss your neck. Being in his arms like this was a sensory heaven, feeling his soft lips go from kissing to biting, firing up all the right neurons in your brain. You exhaled as he sucked roughly at the delicate skin, leaving a blooming purple bruise in its place as he pulled away.

“Don’t you see how good you have it? How well I treat you?” His voice was soft. He was playing you like a fiddle and you both knew it. “The way I practically worship you?”

You could barely form a response past an elated sigh as he brought his hand forward over your stomach, fiddling with the waistband of your panties before slipping under, digging through the folds to find your clit. When the pads of his long fingers found the bundle of nerves, he worked quickly, moving them in circles as you writhed beneath him.

“You and I both know you can’t get this back home, that there’s no one else there that can relieve the stress you feel.” Henry reveled in your whimpers and hushed moans, the sound like gasoline on a fire. “I’m the only one who can keep you safe.”

Henry pushed his hand down further, letting one finger circle around your wet entrance, as you bucked your hips into his palm with need. He always seemed to know exactly what you needed. He waited until you were nearly begging before he slipped one finger inside, pulling it back and forth as he coaxed out those sweet sounds you made.

One soon became two as he added another finger, making you fight to keep yourself from getting any louder. Henry seemed to notice the restraint and smiled cheekily, picking up the pace as he whispered in your ear. “There’s no one else here but me to hear you, there’s no need to be silent here.”

As if on cue, Henry added a third finger as he kept up his fast pace, making you whine and squirm beneath him. You felt the pressure in your gut build, your heart race, and the sweat form on your brow, and you braced yourself for that familiar release, but it never came. He quickly pulled his hand from your panties before yanking them down. Understanding his plan, you brought your hands up to fumble with his belt, undoing the buckle as he looked down on you, his cold eyes never wavering. He took great pleasure in seeing you like this, beneath him, at his mercy.

When you managed to undo the buckle, he quickly unclasped the top of his slacks, sliding them over his hips as well as his boxer shorts. You had grown comfortable with his size, having been quite nervous to proceed further during previous encounters. His right hand quickly shot out to grasp your jaw as he pushed you back into the sofa, gripping as though he had every intention of crushing it. His other hand took his length as he spread the bead of precum over the tip, before slowly sinking into you.

Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips, opening you up more so he could sink deeper. A wanton moan slipped from your mouth as he bottomed out, making him inhale sharply through parted lips. With bated breath, you held still around him until he finally began moving, setting a painfully sensual pace just to make you squirm. Henry loved how anxious your impatience made you, how it would make your brow furrow and your tone desperate. “Please, Henry- “

Most of all, he loved hearing you use his name when you begged, so sweetly. You weren’t innocent, nor were you naïve, but he let you pretend in these moments, because he knew what kind of animal you truly were. Henry knew of the animal you kept caged inside you, foaming at the mouth, desperate for love and acceptance and pleasure.  As much as he delighted in using against you, he loved feeding it as well, nurturing the neglected beast.

Henry took pity and picked up the pace, moving his hips faster and sliding his hand from your jaw to your neck, pressing it into the cushion. You could feel him slowly cutting the circulation to your brain, making you lightheaded and maybe a little delirious. His lips found yours again as you were already struggling for air, feeling empowered as you squirmed beneath him. His pace went from fast to brutal as his free hand slid over your stomach and down to your wet folds, finding the bundle of nerves with ease.

Combined with the thrilling lack of air and being fully pinned down, the added stimulation was enough to bring you over the edge. The pitch of your moans raised as he turned his head from your mouth and to your ear, biting at the lobe. The pressure inside of you continued to build until the coil finally snapped, bringing your orgasm crashing over you in waves.

The feeling of your fluttering walls and you writhing beneath him soon sent him over the edge too, his seed spilling into you as it had many times before. The fingers around your neck tightened for a moment before loosening up and retreating all together. Henry looked you over as he brought over your face, sliding it up your cheek before pushing your hair from your sweaty brow. He slid his hand to the back of your head and brought it up to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to your temple, before slowly laying you back and removing himself from you entirely.

With a slight exhale, he pulled his pants back up and redid his belt, straightening himself out before he exited the living room to go retrieve a rag to clean you up. As his figure retreated through the door, you couldn’t help but stare at the empty space, wondering if now was the right opportunity to run again. The original feeling of shame returned, making your face heat up wit humiliation and anger. You couldn’t understand why he had this hold over you, why you couldn’t fully hate him despite knowing that he was lying.

Plushly panting rouse from your lungs in patterned puffs. Pleasure jerks your hips beneath the covers. You're bedroom ceiling comes into view as youre eyes open.

"Mmm..."

A groan vibrates into a moan through your throat. Looking down you find a long body under your cover between you're legs.

"Ugh..."

Their long wet tongue laps between youre legs causing them to try and close only to be stop by large long hands. His voice was as clear as day despite youre covers

"Someone's finally awake."

You knew his voice. That charming young voice.

It was Mr Whatis, Henry Creel. A man who's been appearing to you for weeks in hopes of making a 'darling friend'. You lift the covers to see the dashing blonde man without his glasses and blazers, sleeves rolled up, and mouth glistening.

"Henry... what are you-"

He smiles kindly as he gently shushed you.

"You're safe. No one will know. Just trust me, my dear."

Henry holds youre eyes, letting his tongue finds its way. Your jaw loosens.

"Ugh...oh god..."

As you're head falls back you drop the sheet to cover him again.

"Thats it...just enjoy it..."

The sounds of his work under the sheets arouses you more. Swallowing moans you didnt wish for any loved ones to hear.

"Agh h-henry... they'll hear-"

His chuckle vibrates your wet vulva.

"They can never hear me, sweetheart. You know this. If they hear us... its all because of you~"

His lips wrap around your clit with a Cheshire smile. Meanwhile your lip threatened to pop under the pressure of your teeth. Your hand shields them.

"Mmm!"

To any other, you would have looked down right possessed. Squirming around in bed to the tongue of a ghost trying to suck your soul.

You're mind flashes with images of what it might be like to let him take you all the way. His beautiful lean pale body caressing yours. His hips softly moving in and out against you.

"Mmh!"

Your hand clamps hard on your mouth. Henry's fingers stroke you're entrance. The tip resting right outside your vaginal canal like a gentle hello to an old lover.

"Henry... don't. I can't-"

"Sshhh... trust in me..."

Your jaw opens again when his middle finger finds its way in.

"Stay quiet... they wouldnt understand this... understand us..."

His finger feels never ending, seemingly stretching deep. Simply to explore.

"Sweetheart, you need to promise me you'll stay quiet. Can you be a good girl amd stay quiet for me?"

Looking down your sheet was gone and his bright blue eyes hold yours with authority masked as kindness. You're pathetic nod wasn't satisfactory.

"Words."

His single word command was paired with a curl of his middle finger right into your gspot.

"Yes! Mm... I mean... yes, sir... I'll be quiet."

Henry muphed happily and continued the curling to reward you.

"Mmph... you are a good girl... gonna be so good for me~"

The sounds of your wetness clapping with the rhythm of his finger amplified the power dynamic. Henry's face grows creepier as his authority over you grew. His second finger found its placed squeezed in with its brother.

"Aghh-"

You bite your lip to silence yourself. He lifts his large slim body over yours, never stopping his fingers.

"Thats it. Do as you're told. Stay quiet."

Your legs jerk to the pleasure. His fingers stroke your gspot faster. His face lowers to your ear causing your face to turn away.

"...I own you now..."

Your eyes catch your reflection in the vanity mirror and Henry was there. Not truly.

"Say it." He groans his fingers picking up speed.

"Tell me who owns you."

The reminder of him not really being there with you makes you hesitant.

"Tell me and ill reward you for being such a good girl. Don't you want that, sweetheart?"

You're eyes water in pleasure forcing you to nod.

"Please..." You whisper.

"Say it." He growls.

"You own me... aggh...you own me Henry."

You're confession is still quiet. It snaps Henry's hold causing him to hurry back down to your vulva with a trail of open mouth kisses. Your hand flies to his blonde hair and tugs whole he sucks your clit once more. No words come from him again. He was on a mission and you were trying not to scream. You jerking uncomfortable hip bothered him none. His telepathy held them down with ease.

"Mmm...henry... slow down-"

You're whispered begs were purposely ignored. You're body began to tense.

"Shit... please... henry... I cant... ill scream-"

Suddenly your voice is lost. Like a force had imprisoned it. His tongue moved fast to match his fingers. He almost had you were he wanted you. Just a little more.

You body tried to jerk up but didnt move. A scream was locked in your chest as you came hard on his tongue and fingers.

Your burning body cools at the sweat sliding down your skin. Henry's smiles into your convulsions.

"See? That wasn't so hard was it?"

The ceiling above you blurs. His powers temporarily paralyzing you while he stands to his full height. Wipping his mouth, Henry grins at the gleaming residue on his left hand. His tall figure crawls up your paralyzed body.

"I'll take you away to a place much more desirable then here... youll want for nothing and youll feel..." He leans to your ear. "everything~"

Pulling back to look you in the eyes his expression his full of disturbing determination. You're eyes water from crashing pleasure and clouded confusion.

"Don't you want that, sweetheart?"

He nods encouraging yours to follow.

"Good girl.. youll like it and all its little pleasures."

As he leans down to kiss the curve of your ear, your ceiling starts to crack and glow red.

"H-henry-"

"Sshh just trust in me~"

In the background, the voice of your professor blended into a soothing hum and with each passing second you felt your mind drifting further and further away from the class.

Into something dark.

Memories so consuming that even the shuffling of books sliding into bags and chairs scratching against the floor could not drag you back from your thoughts.

Everyone told you that what happened hadn't been your fault. That there was nothing you could have done to stop it, nothing you could have done to help—yet that did nothing to lessen the weight on your shoulders.

The guilt that had made its nest in your chest.

The pain that lingered, even as the hum reached your ears.

So warm, so soft, so gentle.

"Sweetheart."

You blinked as you were suddenly dropped back into your seat, the voice luring you back out of your spiraling thoughts.

"Are you with me?"

You turned your head toward the voice, and seeing him leaning against the desk in front of you was an unnecessary confirmation of who it belonged to.

You would recognize its softness anywhere.

Its gentleness.

"There you are." 

"Professor Creel," you managed to breathe out.

A smile tugged at his lips as he looked at you. "I was beginning to worry you had finally slipped away from us for good."

"No." Your chuckle was dry, hollow. "I'm still here."

"You're getting more of your episodes." His voice was gentle, his words anything but accusing. "This is—what?—the third time in the past two weeks that you have dissociated during our class."

You hadn't been keeping count, but at his words the reality dawned on you. Everyone had told you it would get better over time. That the grief would make space for healing, but you? 

You were getting worse, not better. 

"Yeah." You swallowed. "Yeah, I—"

You what? 

How could you even begin to explain how you felt? How the darkness, hopelessness—the feeling of being alone—that you'd told him about so many times was only beginning to dig deeper?

You shook your head in a desperate attempt to stay in the moment. To not let your thoughts escape you and lure you with them. "I'm sorry, Professor Creel."

"Sweetheart, we have spoken about this." His smile didn't falter as his hand reached for yours. "You never have to apologize to me."

His fingers blanketed your hand, the touch so gentle. So him, and from the warmth of his skin against yours you felt like—

You swallowed, your eyes studying the way his thumb traced slow, gentle patterns across the back of your hand. The touch felt grounding. Familiar. Soothing. And as he spoke, that same aura of calm carried through his voice.

"I'm getting more and more worried about you."

The words cut straight through your heart, tears welling in your eyes at their impact.

"I'm okay." It was a weak attempt, and with a chuckle—not mocking—Professor Creel shook his head.

"No. You're not." His fingers left your hand, and just as you parted your lips to—to what? Beg for him to touch you again?—they found their way to your cheek. "But what you're also not, is alone. 

"I know you feel like no one understands you. Like the whole world has abandoned you, forgotten about you. But you have me."

For the past months you'd been working hard to push everyone away, keeping everything at an arm's length, and yet, he was right.

Somehow, he'd remained.

"I'll never leave you." His voice was a warm sound. Honest, and raw. "No matter how ugly things get, you can count on me to be here."

"Why?" The word slipped past your lips as a breath confused and lost before you had managed to bite it down. "Why would you be? I don't understand what you're—"

Getting out of this, you had wanted to say, yet the way his thumb brushed softly over your lips silenced you. 

You felt stupid, and small, and broken, and yet, as his voice reached your ears— 

"Look at me, darling."

—it was adoration that burned in his eyes as your gaze met his.

"There you are," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. "Now, I want you to listen to me. Can you do that, sweetheart?"

Sniffling, you nodded your head. 

"What I'm about to say—," he wet his lips with a soft chuckle. "Can never leave this room. It must stay between you and me. Between us, darling. Do you understand?"

A gentle crease formed between your brows, and you nodded your head once more.

And with a voice warm and gentle, he said: "In the past few months, I've learned to care about you. First as a student in need of help. Then as a friend. 

"But the more time I've spent with you, sweetheart, the more I've begun to realize that what we have—" His gaze held yours, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "It reaches deeper than just friendship. The way I feel about you…" His thumb brushed against your bottom lip as his eyes followed the movement. "It's not appropriate, darling. And yet, I can't control it.

"And yet, I don't want to control it."

Your chest rose with the depth of your breath as you tried your hardest to understand. "Professor, what are you—?"

"I want you," he stated. "I crave you unlike anything else I have ever craved. I need you," he then hummed as he pushed off the desk and stepped closer, the blue of his eyes never leaving yours. "More than I have ever needed anything, sweetheart."

For the past few months, he had given you guidance. Comfort. Safety. 

Throughout that time, he'd become the one thing you knew you could count on to always be there.

To always have your best interest in mind.

And so, as he guided you to stand from your chair, could you really be blamed for following along?

As his fingers sliding to your jaw tilted your head back, could you really be blamed for complying?

As his lips found yours, could you really be blamed for answering their caress?

His lips on yours were soft, his touches on your face softer still—and it was only when confusion surged through you that you broke the kiss.

"Professor Creel—"

"Shh, darling," his chuckle was a gentle sound. "It's alright. I know it must be a lot to take in right now, but I assure you, you're safe." His thumb traced your cheek as he held your face only inches from his. "You're safe, my sweetheart."

It was wrong. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong, and yet, as he kissed you once more, deep and tender, for the first time in months you felt…

Alright.

Alive.

Whole.

And so, you caved in. 

And so, you allowed him to deepen the kiss as he guided you onto the desk, settling between your legs. 

Your hand—slightly hesitant—moved to the side of his neck to feel him closer to you, and this time you didn't break the kiss.

Not even when his hand found your knee and slid higher and higher, until his fingers cupped your inner thigh.

You didn’t break the kiss until it was the deepest of shivers running down your spine and your lips parting in a soft breath. "Professor Creel—"

"It's alright, sweetheart." He spoke against your lips, stealing a kiss and another from you. "You are so used to pushing everyone away, but allow this. Allow me to make you feel good."

His touches felt burning so close to your heat, and the way your body responded to them was instant and clear.

There was no denying the effect he had on you: the way your thighs were already trembling around him from the mere promise of his touches, or the heat gathering between your thighs. 

God.

What were you doing?

Your hand landing on his stomach, you moved to push him off you—desperate for a moment to catch your breath—but it was right then that his hand slid from your inner thigh to under your skirt.

Right then, that his hand cupped your heat through your ridiculously thin pair of panties.

And you melted.

Your eyes fluttering shut, you leaned your head against his chest. 

"Good god, sweetheart—"

"Professor—" It was all you knew how to say as his finger hooked around your panties and slid them aside. As a single finger dipped between your slick folds and ran along them, from your entrance to your clit, and back down.

God.

"You're drenched for me, darling, aren't you?" His chuckle was thick with pride. "Look at me."

You did as you were told, a knit between your brows as his lips found yours. The kiss was tender and sweet: his voice low as he spoke.

"That’s it. Take a deep breath for me. Eyes on me, alright?" His finger moved to tease and circle your opening, your hips bucking instinctively against his hand in your body’s desperation for more. "Feels good, doesn’t it? It’s nothing bad. None of this is bad, darling. Pleasure like this—" His finger slid in.

First knuckle, second knuckle. 

By the third, your lips had parted in the most desperate gasp for his name, your brows furrowing.

"Pleasure like this could never be bad." He hummed as he curled his finger inside you. "I have never been bad to you, have I?"

"No," you breathed out with a shake of your head. "No, you—"

He slid his finger out.

"Professor—"

Just to slide one more in. Two fingers now working on stretching you open, he bumped them in and out of you with gentle flicks of his wrist, the palm of his hand brushing against your clit each time it met your skin.

"That’s it, my sweet." He cooed against your forehead, lips soft as they pressed a kiss and another on your hairline. "I need to hear every moan passing your pretty lips, darling. Can you do that for me?"

You nodded your head once and thrice, your eyes desperately searching for his. 

You needed something familiar. Something safe, and normal. You needed to see the blue of his eyes, twinkling with adoration, gazing down at you. 

And that was exactly what he gave you. 

His gaze finding yours, his hand picked up its pace, the tips of his long fingers now brushing against your cervix with each flick of his wrist. 

"God," you gasped. "Professor—"

"Henry." He smiled down at you, his eyes darkening with amusement. "Unless calling me Professor Creel is turning my darling on."

Your laugh was a careful sound, your cheeks heating up as your lips parted. 

Yet you did not have to admit to it out loud for the man to see it in your eyes. 

"Professor it is."

Fuck.

He led you into a kiss, yet this time—as his fingers continued to coat themselves in your arousal—there was something new in the way that he kissed you.

A touch of possessiveness, the hint of darkness that you had never associated with him before now coaxing the most desperate cries and moans from your lips.

In that moment, drunk from the way he touched you, it was all you wanted.

To be his.

Fuck, if it was wrong, you did not care.

The heat building up at the pit of your stomach was a telltale of your body getting closer and closer to your orgasm, and you knew he could tell it too from the way your hips ground against his hand, instinctive.

Desperate.

So why—god, why?—did he have to pull his fingers out of you with a sound wet and nothing short of obscene?

Because he was just as desperate as you were, you understood, as his glistening fingers found their way to the fastenings of his brown pants. 

As he unclasped his belt. As he unbuttoned and -zipped his pants without his eyes—dark and hungry—ever leaving yours. 

"Remember, darling," he then chuckled against your lips as he aligned his cock, thick and throbbing, with your dripping entrance. "I'm the only one you have left."

And with that he slid in, the burn of your walls stretching open around him combined with the pleasure it brought you enough to cloud your mind.

Enough to make you forget about his words and the implication there.

The touch of manipulation. Of darkness. Of something so sinister that slipped your mind as fast as it had surfaced as he kissed you deep, his lips on yours full of affection.

His cock slid out of you, just to slide back in, this time bottoming out: the feeling of him filling each and every inch of you drawing soft breaths from both of your lips.

"There you go, sweetheart." His thumb brushed against your bottom lip as he drove into you again and again, the sounds of him stretching your drenched walls filling the silence of the classroom. "That's better, isn't it?"

It was.

Fuck, it was so much better.

"You are heaven around me." He kissed you once and he kissed you twice, and as his pace remained the same despite the depth of his kisses, you understood. 

He was not fucking you.

"Darling, you are everything I have ever wanted."

He was making love to you, and that—that realization was enough to cloud your mind. To have your thighs begin to shake around him, and have your walls clench around his length. 

Because you weren't just a fuck against a desk of his classroom. No.

You were special, weren't you? 

Yes, his eyes told you.

Yes, his cock driving deeper into you assured.

And as if reading your mind he then chuckled against your lips: "I need you to be mine, sweetheart."

Fuck.

"Let me have you. All of you."

You were so drunk off him: so high on him, on the way he made you feel seen and heard and understood. 

The way he took care of you, that what could you do but nod your head again and again and again as the most desperate moans passed your lips. 

"Professor, please—"

"Use your words, sweetheart. You can do that for me, can’t you? Let me hear what’s going on in that pretty little head."

And with your mind clouded, you managed: "I need to be yours, Henry."

"Shh, soon enough you will be, my darling." His chuckle was deep as he drove into you, his hand sliding to your hips to drag you closer to him on the creaking desk. "You do know that this is what you were made for, right, sweetheart? To be mine. To be claimed by me."

God, yes.

All you could do was moan from the words, your head nodding yes again and again. You were so close, the familiar heat building up at the pit of your stomach once more. You needed him, in a way you had never needed anything else. 

In a way you swore you would never need anything or anyone again.

"I will cum in you, and you will take every drop of it, won’t you, sweetheart?"

Fuck.

"Yes, Henry—"

"That’s it, darling. Cum with me as I take you. Claim you. Make you mine for eternity—"

And that—that snapped the band. 

His lips quick to find their way to yours he muffled your moans and cries, your gasps and your begs as you came shaking against him, your thighs trembling as his cock twitched in you. 

"That's it, my sweet. There you go—" His cock was throbbing against your walls as he shot ropes after ropes of his cum deep into you, his lips finding yours for a kiss deep and tender. 

Possessive, in a way that made your head spin. 

"I adore you," he then spoke against your lips, his voice a warm hum. "More than I have ever adored anything."

It was wrong.

It was so wrong, but as his lips graced against your forehead and you felt your heart flutter in your chest, nothing had ever felt as right. 

"You are mine, darling."

That you were. 

"So you're— saying you are bored" his eyes bore into you with a solemn look.

You flitted your lashes to your book following your lover who held a hunched posture as he craned an old book onto his slim slender hands.

"I'm not saying that— nor did I ever say that. It's just that I want us to spend time again" you sulked at your lover, flipping a page onto the book you held that once belonged onto one of the shelves of the library.

"So you want us to go somewhere nice and have a date-" His interest on his book fading as he locked his gaze with yours. "-But out of all place why to your house?"

He chuckled a smile gracing and lightening his complexion.

"Weve been there a couple of times, wouldn't going somewhere like a resto or park be nice for a change? We could either walk or talk and even eat something nice? "

"Heh Well my mom— is again competing for her culinary classes. I swear it never ends! And dad is again abroad doing something god knows who-" You sulked in an depressing yet encouraging tone "-And you know— we could like do something fun! " You encouraged voice in full pitch and a smile plastered onto your face.

"Hmm well then I see" He replied as his eyes scanned the last remaining words on his book.

"Hng~"

A gasp was pulled out of you, the blonde above you snapping his hips crudely as he held you still.

"Is this what you're implying by fun?" The blonde peered his eyes above you heat rising onto his neck as he breathed heavily. He looked at your heaving frame, your back laid flat on your plush mattress and your face craned tucked into your pillow held and stabilized by one of your arms.

Henry didn't like that, he peered his eyes menacingly to you and your stupid pillow you held for dear life that was covering your face. He was tempted to use his psychic powers on you, but he knew better than to scare you to some unknown forces so he let you just have your way.

He waited for a reply, his dick snug balls deeply into your cunt. Though the only response he got was an out of breath moan.

You held onto the soft plush pillows beneath your head your hand sinking into it by how soft it was other than that it was doing a real good job by hiding your bashful face from your dear lover above you.

"I'm asking a question-" The blonde pulled away your juices mixing and sticking onto his shaft and to both of your bodies before falling down onto your pink plush bed ruining the newly spread bedsheet.

You almost thought you could draw your breath for a moment but before you could do so, Henry snapped his hips deep into you so hard it knocked the air out of you "-so I would expect an answer "

"Ha~ " You curled your toes, your legs shaking from overstimulation. Henry looked at you with no remorse, before snapping his hips again so hard you lost your posture. His sharp thrust made you feel so overwhelmed your whole body started to shiver and shake from his past teasing, your weak frail arms failing to support your pillow.

His firm grip onto your legs disappeared your weak numb arms sprawled onto your head side, he leaned into you his hands following trail to yours, his look devouring you so intently.

"Isn't this what you wanted sweetie—? So why are we acting like we aren't enjoying it? " he cooed to you his breath gazing past your ears making you shudder.

"I uh- "before you could respond you felt his hand grip your wrist tight onto your sides. "-Henry~ I-i do, I do love it!ꨄ"

You breathed out your eyes reflecting the ceiling lights making it look glassy, as if begging for more. Your eyes cooed at him and he looked at you with a disdainful look, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smirk.

"Hmm? So this was your plan all along huh?" He flexed his grip onto you tightening and the veins on his arms getting slightly more visible.

"Your plan was for me to stick my dick so bad into your aching cunt huh?" He dragged his teasing a pleasing smile framing his face.

"Again I'm asking a question" He emphasized sticking his shaft roughly into you in all the right places.

"Yesss! T-this is what I wanted all~ along! "

"Good girl-" He grunted as he took a swift glance to where you're both connected as he felt you tighten by the words you just spew"-And you know what good girls get? "

He asked breathless as he looked at you fiercely.

"A reward"

As he answered his own question his hips suddenly rutted into you with such immaculate need and speed. Your body bounced and ached your lover fulfilling your need thrivingly, his arms flexed pinning your wrist as well as using it to stabilize himself so he could thrust with an agonizing speed.

He leaned into you, you were a mess breathing heavily and your slender fingers clawing into his and resisting desperately. His lips came in contact with you, devouring you with need and passion.

Your lips mingled with need and fierce, taking your breath away from.

"Fh-Fuck" He cursed as he pulled away from the kiss, focusing on to bringing pleasure to you by pistoning his hips to you with never ending need. Your bedframe creaking and the wet sloshing sound becoming extremely noticeable, as well as the juices mixing onto you both.

"Are you close? I can feel it" He questioned you though he knew you wouldn't be able to form an answer with how dumbfounded and mesmerized you are by his dick repeatedly going in and out of you. Just from one sight he knew you almost saw stars by how good you felt.

"Nghh~ Henry I! " You moaned letting go of that knotting feeling within your stomach.

"Thats it darling" Henry dragged his dick in and out of you, as he fucked your high out.

"HAhhh~"

Your aching cunt pulsed at your orgasm, your lover now reaching his own high. He abandoned your wrist and followed to the back of your thigh pressing you further onto the mattress.

"Wai-t H—Henry i-" He didn't gave you a chance to end your sentence, obliterating it without thinking twice as he pounded into you with fervor.

"Haaa! Fucking Take It! " He grunted pushing you further into the bed and overstimulating your abused poor cunt. It wasn't long before he pounded you into oblivion as he chased his own high.

Not before long he gave you a breathy grunt and a hard thrust. Fucking his body liquid into your cunt.

"Hah- You did so well for me love" A grin plastered onto his relieved face after coming down on his high though on the other hand there you were vulnerably weak and fucked out in all terms.

"Now you see wasn't that fun? "