10. Javan

10

JAVAN

I trail my lips along the curve of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat mingled with the copper of her blood. My tongue flicks over the welts and gashes left by the dark elves' cruelty, each lick a silent promise of vengeance. I can feel her pulse quicken under my touch, a frantic beat against the predator's caress.

"Javan," she whispers, her voice a tremor that might be fear or anticipation. It matters little; I know the fire that burns within her, the desperate need for transformation that courses through her veins.

My hands roam her body, mapping the terrain of her suffering, the valleys and peaks of her resilience. I find the core of her, hot and slick with desire, and I tease her there, circling the sensitive bud with agonizing slowness. She writhes beneath me, a creature caught between agony and ecstasy, and I relish the power I hold over her.

The scent of her arousal is a potent aphrodisiac, an intoxicating aroma that wraps around my senses like a velvet shroud. I descend upon her, my gaze fixed on the prize between her trembling thighs. My intentions are clear, etched in the predatory gleam of my eyes and the curve of my wicked smile.

"You're mine, Catandria," I murmur, my voice a low growl that resonates with the promise of dark delights.

She gasps as my hands part her, baring her most intimate place to the cool night air and my eager eyes. Her flesh is flushed and glistening, a beacon of desire that calls to the very core of my being. I lean in, my breath a whisper against her dampness, and she shudders in anticipation.

"Please, Javan," she pleads, her voice laced with a need that matches my own.

My tongue darts out, tasting her essence. She's sweet and tangy, like the rarest of wines, and I find myself wanting to savor her. I lap at her slowly, deliberately, relishing the way she squirms and bucks beneath me. Her hands find their way into my hair, tangling in the dark strands, pulling me closer as she loses herself in the sensation.

I chuckle against her, the vibration eliciting a moan from her lips. "Eager little thing, aren't you?" I tease, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in with renewed vigor.

Her responses are music to my ears, a symphony of gasps and whimpers that drive me wild. My hands slide under her, gripping her firmly as I delve deeper, my tongue exploring every fold and crevice of her sex. I feel her climax building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm her.

"Oh, Javan, I’m so close..." she stammers, her body tensing as the wave of her orgasm crests.

With a final, drawn-out lick, I pull away from her suddenly. I don't want her to cum, not yet.

"Every inch of you belongs to me."

She gasps as I position myself at her entrance, the blunt head of my cock nudging against her. I enter her with deliberate care, stretching her, filling her. Her body stiffens, then relaxes, accommodating my girth with a mix of discomfort and pleasure.

I begin to move, each thrust a deliberate claiming, a merging of flesh that binds her to me, body and soul. She meets my rhythm, her hips rising to greet mine, her fingernails clawing at my back, leaving trails of exquisite pain in their wake.

I hold her legs aloft, my gaze locked on the sight of our union, the slow, deliberate glide of my cock into her slick heat. Her pleas fill the air, a litany of desire that fuels the fire smoldering within me. She's a vision of wanton need, her body arching, back bowed, as she begs for release.

"Please, Javan," she moans, her voice a melody of desperation. "I need to feel you... cum inside me."

I smirk, my grip tightening on her thighs. "Patience, my little human," I purr, my voice a low thrum that vibrates through the space between us. "Good things come to those who wait."

Her eyes flash with frustration, but there's a spark of defiance there too, a testament to the strength that first drew me to her. She's not one to yield easily, and I find the challenge of her spirit intoxicating.

She writhes beneath me, her body a captive instrument played by my expert touch. Her breath hitches as I tilt my hips, hitting that sweet spot within her that makes her see stars.

"You feel that?" I ask, my voice rough with restrained need. "That's the power you crave. It's yours... all you have to do is take it."

Her response is a wordless cry, a surrender to the pleasure that courses through her veins. I can feel the shift in her, the moment she stops fighting and starts embracing the darkness that will soon transform her.

Our eyes meet, and in this moment, something unspoken passes between us—a recognition of the bond we're forging, a pact sealed not in blood, but in ecstasy. She's mine, and I am hers, in ways that transcend the physical realm.

I piston into her with renewed vigor, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing in the stillness of the night. Her moans grow louder, more insistent, and I know she's teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Cum for me, Catandria," I command, my voice a guttural growl. "Let go and embrace the power."

With a scream that's part triumph, part surrender, she comes undone, her inner walls clamping down around me as wave after wave of pleasure wracks her body. The intensity of her orgasm triggers my own, and with a final, powerful thrust, I spill myself inside her, marking her as mine in the most primal way possible.

As the aftershocks subside, I release her legs, lowering myself onto her, our bodies still intimately connected. I brush a stray lock of hair from her face, my touch tender despite the roughness of our coupling. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light.

"What happens now?" she whispers, her voice tremulous.

I smile, a slow, satisfied curve of my lips. "Now, my dear, the real fun begins."