You groan, groggy with sleep and curl up on your side, your
backside facing the door. Cold kisses apply themselves along your naked
shoulder and you frown. The Guardian's lips are warm and his kisses send
shivers of delicious forbidden pleasure up and down your spine; these kisses
send a jolt of uncomfortable fear through you. You open your eyes, glancing
backwards to find the Predator. Gasping, you fling your covers away and huddle
against the wall.
The Predator smiles, leering at your naked body appreciatively and your face flames up as you reach for the cover. Unfortunately, he pulls it just out of reach.
"Why hide yourself, precious Dolly? You have let the Guardian see you that way."
You catch the undercurrent of danger and keep yourself from cringing even further away. If he was privy to what you and the Guardian did last night, you had better to listen to what he says, or your existence could be very short lived.
"Good Dolly. Now, why don't you come back over here and let me kiss you."
He opens his arms, expecting you to get to him by yourself, but terror keeps you frozen in place. You don't want him to touch you that way. Hell, you just want to cover yourself and call the Guardian, but that would probably do you absolutely no good. The Predator frowns and grows more restless the longer you stay huddled away from him.
Growling wordlessly, he scuttles across the bed with surprising speed and grasps your middle section to drag you up against him. He kisses you hard, cutting your lips on your teeth. He whimpers a little, letting you feel the bulge in his pants. You push him away hard enough to yell, hoping that maybe this time the Guardian will come save you, but the Predator grins, ominous.
"The Guardian won't come for you. He has other… obligations."
Your eyes widen and you feel tears gather. "What have you done to him?"
It might be the first time you've addressed him and not told him to let you go or not to touch you. He smiles again and you fear for the worst. The Guardian, your Guardian… A cold hand slides up your leg and you screech.
“Don't touch me! Don't you fucking lay your dirty hands on me!"
The smile disappears. He forces you on your back and, wrapping your legs around his waist, grounds his erection against your naked core. You gasp, unable to help yourself, the sensation of jeans a shock to your delicate folds.
"You aren't complaining much now, are you Dolly?"
You push against him, desperate to get away and he grinds, holding your hips into place. A breathless plea to stop crosses your lips and he frowns, thrusting his pelvis. You bite your lip and close your eyes, trying to tell yourself that this isn't happening, trying to imagine that it’s him, the Guardian, holding you, kissing you, telling you he loves you.
"Open your eyes and look at me baby doll, I want you to see me. I want you to love me."
You comply. Things could get so much worse if you don't listen to him. Naked skin encounters naked skin and you whimper as he rubs his exposed length against you. You can't help it, your body is such a traitorous thing, you can't help but feel the pleasure he wants you to feel. You feel absolutely disgusting.
"No…" you whisper, pushing against his stomach."No."
This time he is angry at you. Fortunately, he simply ups and leaves. You cry, shaking, scared but oh so relieved that what you feared did not happen.
Later that night, you scream your throat raw as he brands the marks of your 'betrayal' -as he sees it- in your back. Those birthmarks that once made him call you his angel because of their resemblance to wings are now a mark of your fall. You, dear toy, are fallen from grace. Those charred wings are a reminder.
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