He let Sami get close. She used to be a regular pastime of his, and he felt bad pushing Succubi away. After all, this was how they were programmed. Literally what they were born to do. She'd been whispering the latest gossip about Dante's into his ear, a little smirk settling on his features as he listened. It took several moments too long for him to process that Vince was calling for his wife.
Why was he calling her? He should have had her in his pallid, slimy grip. His head whipped up and scanned the ballroom. She was nowhere to be seen. He growled and stepped away from Sami to confront the prince, grabbing him by the lapels and lifting. Several of his guards hurried forward to try and stop him.
"Where'd she go? Where the fuck is my wife, you waif!?"
He shook him, not kindly, and listened to him sputter for a moment before someone tapped him and pointed out the doors into the main hall. He was off at once. Fuck the party, he needed to find his girl. There were too many people who would jump at the chance to hurt her just to get at him. He needed to know where she was, and fast.
He popped into the bedroom, frantic in his searching.
"Lydia! Baby, where are you?"
Tears didn't start falling until she reached the bedroom. Tia and Percy were so happy to see her. All she wanted in the world was to take them with her, but she couldn't. Betelgeuse loved them and he would take care of them. What could she give them other than cold and hunger?
"I love you so much," she wept brokenly over the confused, tiny bodies, holding both squirming bundles close to her chest as though they were born of her own flesh. "But Mommy has to go now…"
The backpack she kept at the Gallaghers were tucked into a dark nook far in the back of her closet, still filled with tattered clothes, dull pencils, and a perpetually unfinished homework assignment. There wasn't any time to change or pack. She had to go. Before he found her, or he would never let her leave.
A small button she'd never seen before caught her interest at the back of the closet. When she pressed it, one of those secret doors he told her about opened. This one led into a dark unknown and Lydia didn't hesitate to take it.
He reached the bedroom just as the door was closing behind her. He was frantic now, worried that she'd been kidnapped or worse, took the cover of the party to run away.
"Baby? Please, Lyds ya gotta be here!"
He searched the bathroom, opened every closet and drawer, even the ones she couldn't possibly be hiding in. Her backpack was gone.
He dropped to his knees in front of her wardrobe and put his head in his hands. What had he done? Why did she leave? Tia whined and threw her tiny body into his arms. He held her up to his chest, taking comfort in the little warm beast before he noticed it. There, at the back of the closet, was a shimmer. Something was glinting in the moonlight coming through the window. He put the puppy aside and reached out.
A scrap of white tulle.
He scowled and got to his feet, locating the mechanism to open the passage and rushing through it. This had to be where she went.
"Lydia!" He called for what felt like the thousandth time. "Baby, come back up here! It ain't safe in these tunnels… Don't worry, I'm comin' for ya!"
The tunnels were dark and endless. Lydia couldn't see two feet in front of her nose, even her sparkling gown deprived the right to shine here in this cavern. Still, she moved forward, mapping the course with a gloved hand trailing the wall as she walked.
There was a faint echo coming down the tunnel from whence she came; her name, in a desperate, guttural growl. Aching feet moved faster. Eventually, she abandoned the beautiful, clacking heels. They were too loud and too uncomfortable, even if she might have been able to pawn them for some getting around money.
It was colder there than in the castle. She couldn't tell if she was going up or down or out or further in. Blisters were forming on her numb feet.
"You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine…"
The notes formed quietly, whispering and stuttered on her tongue, but the familiar tune comforted all the same. A woman who looked like her used to sing her this song in the warmest, most beautiful voice.
"You make me happy,
When skies are gray,
You'll never know dear,
How much I love you,
Please don't take,
My sunshine away…"
He was starting to fear that something had happened to her. Minutes ago, he found her shoes. He picked them up and carried them with him. Surely it was proof he was going the right way. He was just beginning to lose hope when a lilting, familiar voice rose out of the darkness ahead of him. He hadn't heard Lydia sing for years… once in a while, back in the attic, she would get a tune caught in her head and sing it to herself when she thought no one was watching.
But he was. He was always listening.
He ventured forward slowly, clearing his throat to answer her in what he thought was the best way.
"The other night dear,
As I lay sleeping,
I dreamt I held you in my arms…
When I awoke, dear
I was mistaken.
And I hung my head and I cried…"
He fought back the panic building in him. She was fine. If she was singing she had to be okay, right?
"You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine…"
She swallowed the next verse as well as a cry of horror when his voice joined in, freezing in the place where she stood. She knew‒ she really, really hoped and thought so‒ that he wouldn't hurt her. Not physically.
But she had made a spectacle and there would be consequences. He let her get away with a lot, but not this. Maybe there was still hope for escape. He sounded so close. Her feet hurt so much.
Above them, the party continued merrily.
As much as she wanted to escape, he was singing that song. Disgusted with him as she was, he didn't get to do that. It wasn't right.
"Tha‒ that's my Ma‒ Mama's song," she cut him off accusingly, giving away her destination in doing so. It was worth it to make him stop.
"It's not… not for you…"
She was so close.
He was so angry.
But through the haze of rage, he was well and thoroughly relieved. She was right there, and safe. With a snap of his fingers, a floating orb of light appeared in front of him, illuminating his poor, tattered wife. Her beautiful ball gown was torn at the edges, and as he looked her over he could see her feet swollen and blistered from walking on the cold flagstones.
"Oh thank fuckin' god… you're okay…."
He hurried to wrap her in his arms, pulling her as close as the hoop of her skirt would allow. He pressed a bruising kiss to her temple, standing there and just holding her for several long, agonizing moments.
"What the fuck were you thinking?"
The words were hissed into her ear, his hold tightening to the point that it must have been painful.
"You scared the shit outta me! C'mere."
With her clutched so tight, it was easy to pop them back to her bedroom. He pushed her onto the bed and pulled her foot up to look at it.
"Fuck! Look at you. You're a mess, Lyds. Strip and get in the bath. Now."
His embrace, which was once so comforting, felt like a frozen iron trap. All through his tirade, she cried. Sobbed and sobbed, until her chest hurt and she felt dizzy. Still, upon his flat demand, she stood on aching feet, dropped the backpack from her shoulders, stripped down without any help whatsoever, then limped shamefully to the steadily filling tub.
Through it all, she continued to wail, lost in the throes of despair. She cried for her old life with her parents and the Maitlands, and for them stuck there now, dead and haunting and forced to forever bicker over interior design. She cried for what could have been if her father wasn't such a drunk bastard. She cried for the tarnished thing she and Betelgeuse had‒ dirtied by both their hands, certainly beyond cleansing.
Why did everything that went wrong go downhill so quickly? All it took was a slippery road or a polite dance.
Once all of the messy, emotional tears were exhausted, she lay resigned and mute in the far corner of the tub, where he would have to lean and put effort into it to reach her. Eyes open and smudged black, she stared at nothing on the marble tile ahead of, not following its beautiful, intricate design.
Speaking took so much energy. He would have to work to make it worth her while.
He bit his tongue as he cleaned her up, cleaning and balming sore feet, and wiping the majority of makeup off her face. A snap made a tray of herbal tea and plain, somewhat stale cookies appear at her elbow. He was angry but that didn't mean he wouldn't try to take care of her.
She didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stared ahead and cried until she couldn't anymore.
He paced in long, quick strokes back and forth from the bedroom and to the tub. He wanted to leave. To let her be locked away in her wing like so many Belles before her and rot in her perfect princess' prison, but he knew he could never do it. Finally, he stopped to stare at her, his face carefully emotionless.
"You left. You ran away… after everything I've done for you. Why? Do you hate me that much? Hmm?"
He bent over the tub to force her eyes to meet his, his stare as cold as his touch.
"Do I disgust you, little girl?"
She flinched when he lunged for her, cringed deeper into the tub, but he wasn't having any of it. This was a face she had never seen on him, but always knew he was capable of.
He was wrong!
The defiant voice of her subconscious, usually so meek and quiet these days, lashed out as he continued to spit venom at her. Little girl. Her upper lip rose in a sneer to match his, her arm drew back, and before either of them knew what had happened, she had slapped him.
"YOU'RE A LIAR!"
An unearthly passion possessed her, years of emotional and physical abuse bottled up and reaching a head. No regret for the slap issued on her expression. She raised her jaw, in fact, as if daring him to strike her back. More tears were streaming now, but she owned them in her great rage and sadness, looking like some damaged muse as she erupted there in the tub, still wearing his grandmother's jewelry.
"You hurt me. You said you wanted to do the whole marriage thing 'right.' You said I was your baby‒"
She choked, heartbroken and terrified of how he would retaliate despite her brave facade.
"You were all over her! She was touching you!"
Lydia actually gagged, sick to the stomach from the memory.
"Why was she touching you like that? Why did you let her? Why did you invite so many fucking hookers to my birthday party?"
They came out one right after the other in an angry, heartsick rush.
"Why did you do any of this?!"
Suddenly all the pieces fell into place. She had seen him talking with Sami, gotten the wrong impression… probably helped along by her dance partner. He softened somewhat after everything came pouring out of her. Clearly, she needed to get this all off her chest. After a long, still moment he cracked a smile.
"Hit me again. If that makes ya feel better. Y'wanna know why… let's see."
He cleared his throat and settled in his stool at the edge of the tub, knitting his fingers and tilting his head as he looked at her.
"Why was she touchin' me? N' why did I let her… I can answer both of those at once. She's a succubus. It's in her nature to flirt, flounce n' yeah… touch. I let her because she's our guest, and quite frankly I was jealous." He sniffed and looked away for a moment. "Couldn't watch that asshole prince hold ya so I distracted myself. I don't exactly got a wide friend circle, n' the girls don't get out much so I invited 'em."
He crossed his arms and stared at a crack in the floor.
"I didn't mean t'hurt ya. I do wanna do marriage right, but I don't fuckin' know how… You are my baby n' I—"
He choked on the words he really wanted to say. They were too final. Too heavy for him to bear if she threw them in his face.
He put his head in his hands.
"I was so fuckin' scared. When I couldn't find ya… I thought somethin' had happened. Ya got kidnapped or… or hurt… but seein' that ya ran away hurt so much worse… if ya hate me, you can leave. I won't force ya t'put up with me. You've done enough."
"I don't hate you," she snapped to answer without missing a beat, emotions still strung high despite his calm. Something about his explanations left something to be desired.
"I love you."
Apparently, Lydia wasn't half the coward he was. She surrendered this truth without any fear or hesitancy, still humming with tense energy.
"‒ and Vince didn't have his hand on my ass. He was being a perfect gentleman. I only just met him tonight. You were feeling up someone you have a sexual history with in front of everyone, not ten fucking minutes after introducing me to the room as your wife. It's not the same thing. I would never have let another man touch me like that, much less in the same room as you and on your birthday."
She took a breath, surprised at how very much she was saying, as well as the conviction with which she spoke.
"And I love you. So I ran away so you couldn't hurt me like that ever again. I can't take it. I just can't."
He was shocked into looking at her by the words he'd choked on just moments ago. He couldn't do much more than stare at her as she scolded him, his chest tight.
"You're right….I. I'm sorry… I didn't think about it. I've had so much shit goin' on up here.." He tapped his temple, shaking his head. "N' these ain't excuses. I got none of those, just. Me tryin' t'communicate or whatever."
He reached for her, gently taking one of her own, delicate and dainty hands in his own oversized and calloused one.
"Baby please believe me… I didn't mean t'hurt ya like this, and I can be better. I promise that I'll be better… because I —"
He shut his eyes tight, a single rebellious tear falling down his cheek without him catching it.
"I love you too. I love you so much and I'm so scared I'm gonna lose ya."
His confession spilled forth, and Lydia couldn't withhold her affections anymore. Full of love and forgiveness, she wrapped wet arms around broad shoulders and brought his cold face to her damp breast to rest.
"Shhh," she hushed as if he was the one who had just spent the past several minutes bawling like a wild person and not her. "I don't want to leave… I just didn't know what to do. I was scared too. That I'm not… enough."
Sami was tall and busty, with good child-bearing hips had she the mind to lay some eggs. Lydia was none of these things. He was so loathe to risk hurting her frail form that he postponed his lust to make room for her. She was dreadfully mortal and limited. What could he get from her that he couldn't get from Sami?
"That you would keep me here and pretend to love me even though you don't really love me, while I really loved you… and… uhm…"
Saying it all out loud, it sounded insane. Wow.
He pressed his face quite happily into her offered breast, nuzzling in against her as he wrapped his arms around her damp form. He sighed and pressed his lips against her skin gently.
"Don't worry about shit like that, babes… ya know I do what I can to keep ya happy. Yer more than enough for me."
He slid his hand up to the back of her neck and then back down to cup her ass. He could hear the music, distantly, that meant his so-called friends were keeping the party alive. It was just as well. At least someone was celebrating.
"Come on, baby. Let's get ya t'bed. You'll catch a cold in there. Besides, I believe I promised ya one more birthday present... if ya still want it."
He smirked playfully and scooped her up, drying her off and carefully removing the tiara from her head before making for the bedroom.
Heart, mind, and ego were still bruised, but it felt so good to be back in his arms. As he carried her back to bed, she was starting to feel whole again when he offered to fulfill the promise made earlier in the day.
After everything, Lydia wouldn't back out now, but she still mourned how this night should have gone; her sweet, generous husband slowly stripping her from that starlight gown before making slow, sweet love to her all through the night. That was tainted now. They were both still hurting. Whatever was going to happen next frightened her on some level, but not enough to give it up.
This was hers and she wouldn't let it slip away.
"I just can't… stop thinking about you touching her…"
"Let me touch you instead… I promise I'll never touch another woman again. You're all I need…"
He pressed his lips to her neck and hummed softly as he laid her out on her back in the middle of their spacious bed. Sometime tonight he decided he didn't need his chambers. He was never leaving her side again.
"You're all I want, too. There ain't nothin I can get at Dante's that you can't do better."
He kissed her lips next, his hand sliding to her hip where it gently pulled her up and against him. He was starting to feel impatient. He had been essentially blue balling himself for weeks to keep her happy, but he was promised a fuck and he was going to get it.
"Just lay back and relax, princess. Let daddy take good care of his birthday girl."
A traumatized, distrusting portion of herself didn't believe him, thought that he was just saying whatever he needed to say to get her back to a state of willing compliance so that he could get what he wanted. Another part, the dominant part, didn't care if it was the truth or not because it sounded so good.
It was easier to silence the voices of doubt that constantly reminded her of her own inadequacy and instead put faith in his dark whispering. Every touch felt new and bittersweet, Lydia caught in a reverent state of gratitude that they were all hers and not some other woman's.
"I'm sorry," she moaned as he brought his teeth into the equation, suckling dark marks into her neck. "I'm so sorry. I ruined everything. You worked so hard to make it perfect and I messed it all up…"
Not that his efforts weren't having the desired effect, but her poor heart was wide open and bleeding, mingling deeper emotions in with the lust he stoked.
"I didn't even get to meet any of your friends…"
That she could still hear her birthday party in full swing through the stone walls served to rub salt into the open wound.
"Can we… go back? After? Or is it too late…?"
"We can do anythin' ya want, after…"
That was important. She needed to be fully aware that he was going to get what he wanted first and foremost. She could go be the princess again after he made her his toy. He continued sucking deep, bruising marks into her neck and chest, one hand searching between her thighs for his ultimate goal. Tonight was the night she became his once and for all.
What was that saying? You never forget your first? That was more true than his soft, weeping wife would ever know.
He quested further, sliding a gnarled finger into her the way she was accustomed to.
"Just relax, baby girl… I'll take care of ya n' then we can do whatever."
Ever trembling and skittish, Lydia forced herself to let go of all the ugliness; jealousy and hurt and insecurity. There was no room for it here. Tears swallowed, she held onto his still-clothed shoulders as he went to work, prodding at her intact maidenhead.
"I love you so much…"
It came out as a dying whimper, like one of her pathetic little pleas when he was edging her mercilessly. The single finger that was able to fit past the crevice in her hymen curled, agitating the fragile membrane and rubbing at a deeply sensitive, untouched bundle of nerves hidden within her.
Her body jerked. Her grip on his shoulders tightened. Teeth dug in harder to her bottom lip, expression twisted in consternation. She looked as though she was already taking on his cock and having a difficult time of it and it was just his index finger.
"Nnng," she huffed, caught between pleasure and discomfort, "Daddy…"
He smoothed his empty hand over her stomach as though he could banish the pain she was apparently experiencing. It was silly, really. She'd taken him before. Maybe not so deep, but still.
"Relax, kitten… that's it. Doesn't that feel good?"
He curled his finger against the place again before adding a second finger to the equation and gently stretching her open. He tried his best to maintain the integrity of that thin membrane that marked without a doubt that she was his and his alone.
"You're doin' great, kid… just let me in. You're gonna feel so good around my cock… fuck."
Impatience reared it's ugly head and pulled his fingers free to haul her up against him.
"Get my clothes off. Now."
Without breaking his intense gaze, she set about unbuttoning his ratty tux with shaking fingers. He had never ordered her around so fiercely when they indulged in each other's bodies before. His mannerisms were always very patient and sweet, gently guiding her into the world of sex.
This was a different side of him previously hidden from her. The way he stared down at her now, bloodshot emerald eyes surrounded by deep death locked shadows boring into her very soul, she was frightened all over again. Keeping her brave face, she once more sought mercy.
It was barely audible, tiny fingers having moved on to his belt. Vocal apologies weren't enough. Once his pants were hanging loose, she pressed long, sweet open-mouthed kisses to his neck while pushing his jacket and shirt from his shoulders, even daring to go as far as bite him. Not too hard, but more aggressive than anything she had done before.
Before he was completely nude, she broke orders to attempt wrapping her soft, puny hand around the tool he threatened to rip her apart with. His feral gaze was just as terrible as before when she pulled back from her cute attempt to leave him hickeys.
"Is it going to… hurt?"
"Yeah. But only for a moment."
He took hold of her wrist and pulled her closer, pressing himself against her more fully. There was no use in lying to her. She was already upset with him, so why try to pretend that she wasn't going to hate this?
He kissed her firmly, one hand gripping her ass as the other hiked her leg up and over his hip, splaying her open for him.
"Yer gonna feel pressure when I get through yer hymen. Don't worry about that, okay? N' then it'll start to feel better."
This was happening. It was going to hurt. He was mad at her. She was so scared.
She gave a single deliberate nod at his curt breakdown, too proud to keep begging him for a softness that wouldn't come. It was only going to be for a moment and then it would get better, just like he said. Like when she got her ears pierced.
He positioned himself, something in her chest panged painfully, and she held her breath in anticipation, eyes squeezed shut.
Only for a moment.
The closer they got to the main event, the more his anger melted away. She was scared. He hated seeing her scared in ways that he didn't want her to be. So he slowly held her close and kissed her, far more gentle than he'd been only moments before. The last thing he wanted was for her to be too afraid to fuck again.
"Take a deep breath, love… I'm here…"
He kissed her as he pushed inside, trying to distract in any way he could from the rude shoving of his cock in and past her carefully maintained barrier. He moaned into her lips, the hand on her thigh tightening with the effort to go slow. He didn't want her too beat up.
Lydia could feel distinctly when it happened. At first, he was just pressing into her, pushing, but not really going anywhere. It was uncomfortable and for a moment she worried that something was wrong, but then a jolt of strength pushed his hips to lunge forward, breaking something inside of her so that he could sink deep and snug in her tight channel.
Her jaw dropped in a silent scream into his kiss. Short, weak nails dug in hard to his shoulders, each muscle going tense in resistance. It hurt so much more than she thought it would. Her chest heaved with deep breaths and she buried her face in his neck, seeking comfort and relief from the distress he was causing.
"I love you," she repeated for him with labored breath, legs clasped tight around his hips to try and force him still. He had the potential to do her great damage at this moment if he so chose. All she could do was hang on from beneath him and put faith in that he loved her too.
"I love you too, kitten… daddy's got ya."
He kissed her head and cheek, anything he could reach with her curled into him as she was. His hand rubbed gently up and down the back of one thigh, trying to soothe her somewhat.
"You feel so good, baby. Just relax for me, huh?"
One hand crept between them to rub her clit gently, pinching and pressing to try and encourage her to get just that little bit more aroused.
"Lyds? Talk to me… how ya feelin'? Is it too much for tonight?"
"Not too much…"
She shook her head, breathing deep to force herself to relax for him.
"I just…" she panted, sweating already from the exertion of her body making room for him. "Want to be perfect for you…"
His sneaky fingers meddled down below, manipulating her clit until her clenching insides parted just enough to let him sink that much deeper, throwing her breaths higher.
"You're so big…" They'd come too far to stop now over a little petty discomfort. "I can do it, Daddy. I can. Just need a minute…"
He smiled softly at her insistence, rubbing her in slow, purposeful circles. She really was a good girl, and he told her so, kissing her where he could while she took the time to adjust.
Still. She'd tried to run away… to leave him. He couldn't allow that. She had overstepped. He'd have to remind her exactly who she belonged to. Slowly, he shifted his hips, rocking his cock in minuscule movements inside of her. She was so tight. Not a surprise considering how tiny she was, but it didn't help that he was above average himself.
"Easy, babes… just relax n' let me in. Yer mine…. yer body knows that. You do too, don't ya?"
The more he rocked, the more her speech faltered, breath forced out with each little shove of his heavy hips. Never before stimulated nerve-ending were coming alive, hot internal tendons squeezing and pulsating to complement his shallow, careful rhythm. Slowly, that initial burst of white-hot pain evolved into a different kind of burn, one Lydia was somewhat more familiar with.
Crushed beneath him as she was, it was a feeble attempt she gave when her body finally began to fall into line and dance with his in return.
"Mmf," she keened, writhing like a pinned butterfly when he sunk deep and the meaty base of his cock stretched her wide open. "It's… so much! Fuck! I need– faster!"
He grinned as she slowly built up to squirming beneath him. As she had learned, he rarely gave in to requests that came from the bedroom. Her soft pleading for more fell on deaf ears. He stared down at her, pushing himself up on one arm to be able to see her from her face down to where his round gut pressed against her soft, thin stomach.
"Faster? Hmm… maybe I wanna take my time. Maybe I'd rather go nice n' slow n' keep ya like this for good."
He grinned, leaning down to nip at her lips.
"Who do you belong to, Lydia? Who takes care of ya like ya need? Tell me…"
"You do," she gave up without need of further cajoling, perfectly happy to sing his praise. "You're always so good to me, Daddy…"
Her arms were lax and still, thrown above her head in a position of total submission, head turning from side to side on her pillow as she squirmed through the violation of her person. She needed him to move.
"You treat me so nice… make me feel so good…"
In stubborn pursuit of relief, she grunted and bucked hard, forcing him that much deeper from where he was infuriatingly still inside of her.
"Please… please fuck me… I'm sorry I left… Don't be mad at me, Daddy…"
How was he meant to deny her when she begged so sweetly? He growled softly when her hips bucked up into his, his hand leaving her clit to grip her hip tightly.
"Ya want me t'fuck ya? You got it."
Without much more preamble, he started to move. It was slow going at first, just because she was so tight, but he kept at it with smooth, steady thrusts. Soon, he was thrusting into her firmly, sliding into her from head to base again and again as he lost himself in the sweet, slick slide of finally having her.
"So good, baby… fuck. Never leave me again… ya got that? Yer mine!"
Lydia was lost in sweet, blissful agony, crying out her pleasure every time he rolled back into her hard and deep with thrusts that took their time savoring the tight pull of her cunt.
The discomfort never really went away. Lydia just learned how to like it.
She couldn't imagine ever being with someone who wasn't him, who wouldn't envelop her completely the way he did. His motions were so strong and confident. All Lydia had to do was lay back and relax like a good girl, the way he'd told her to so that he could use his grip on her hips to pull her small body in to meet his thrusts.
"Never again," she agreed deliriously, brokenly, barely able to piece sentences together. "Never… ever… just you… only yours… make me yours…"
He was obsessed. He had known that Lydia was addictive, but he'd never anticipated what finally getting inside her would do to him. At her request, he started to pick up his pace, thrusting into her just on the edge of too hard. He couldn't look away, her face contorted in painful pleasure just the way he'd always dreamed.
"Fuck… You're all mine. Don't gotta make ya mine, ya already were…"
He grinned and ran his hand up to squeeze her tits firmly.
"You like it, don't ya baby? God, yeah you do... look at ya…. tell me how it feels to take daddy's cock, kitten…"
The syllables puffed past her kiss-swollen lips with breathy, euphoric intonation. She felt like a beautiful, cherished little doll meant solely for his pleasure, her only use to be impaled by his mighty form until her body had performed its due diligence to capture his seed.
When he released her hip to use her tits as reigns instead, she hiked her thighs up higher on his waist for better purchase. The motion constricted her insides, brought him to depths within her that ached so good. She couldn't possibly take any more of him, and yet take it she did, not a word or sound of complaint to be had.
This was the only lovemaking Lydia ever wanted to know. She had no desire to know what it might be like to be had by a smaller, gentler, more forgiving man. All she wanted was her Daddy.
"Big," she repeated in a pant, continuing to give him the description he was asking for. "Full… hurts… good! Don't stop…"
He liked her like this. She was pliant and euphoric in the way she obediently answered his questions through the haze of their lovemaking. He couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"Hurts good, huh? That's perfect, baby…"
He kissed her firmly, speeding up the pace of his hips, the room filled with the sound of his cold, clammy skin meeting her soft and slick thighs. He wanted it on record to play when he got down.
"So beautiful… yer perfect, Lyds… go ahead n' cum for me when yer ready… fuck, I ain't gonna last long with ya so tight around me…"
As soon as he gave the order, it became her only true desire and ambition in life.
"Yesss…" she hissed her agreement, arching beneath him, smoothing her palms over his collar, and then down his biceps, more cut and defined when strained with the effort of pounding into her relentlessly.
"I will… I'll do it… I can do it… I'll cum for you, Daddy…"
Finding a burst of energy hidden somewhere deep and private within, she undulated back up against him just as he drove down. The brutal force of their joining sent her dancing off the edge into a pit of fire, sobbing tears of happiness to her untimely demise.
He was surprised at her sudden, eager pursuit of orgasm, but he shouldn't have been. He gave her an order, and his girl was nothing if not eager to please. He matched her frantic, rocking thrusts with those of his own, his hand abandoning her soft chest to take purchase on her hips again, pulling them up and onto his own.
"Fuck! You're so good, baby… my perfect little wife…"
As she careened off the edge into orgasm, he was just behind her, thrusting through his peak like an animal. He pushed deep and grunted, his face screwed into an odd expression from his climax. When he was finished, he rolled away from her, gently extracting the girth they so carefully fit into her with the same consideration.
"Fuck! Lyds… happy birthday to you and a big baby goddamn for me." He chuckled and pulled her into his chest, kissing her soundly
Despite his gentility, she let loose a soft hiss as the quickly deflating but still enlarged head of his cock popped free from her vacuous, abused muscles. A residual pulse of pleasure reverberated from her middle and she quickly forgot all about it.
"That was amazing…" she breathed in agreement, strewn across his chest bonelessly. She'd yet to notice, but there was now a small crimson stain at the point of their joining marring her pristine crushed velvet bedding.
Stifling a sleepy yawn, as she wasn't done enjoying either her party or her husband yet, Lydia inched up his chest until her lips could land sweet and wanting on his, seducing his cold tongue into a heated tangle.
"Can we do it again?"
He'd created a monster.
He chuckled at her sweet request, returning her kiss quite happily. She was soft and warm against him, still damp with sweat from their little romp.
"Absolutely we can… but not tonight."
He nuzzled his nose against hers, smiling into her lips.
"Come on. Let's clean ya up and get ya back to your party. There's a chocolate fountain with your name on it. Literally."
He summoned soft, damp cloth and set about removing the evidence of their union, the cloth coming away pink. He kissed her firmly before leaving the bed and getting dressed again, his usual stripes replacing his "prince" getup.
A soft white nightgown was pulled from her wardrobe and slipped over her head, a soft smile on his face. She was still wearing the jewels he'd given her, so he put the tiara back as well.
Her legs felt like jelly, soft inner thighs blushing violet from where he'd surged against her like a battering ram. Lazy arms reached out to him in an indication that she would like to be carried and, of course, he obliged.
Like Clara and the Rat King victorious, he carried his bruised and battered princess back to her party. Things had calmed. About half of the partygoers had gone home and the lights had dimmed, but music still played and people still danced.
There weren't any spotlights or heads turning to highlight their entrance like before. They swept in through the sleepily waltzing crowd and were immediately immersed and accepted. The buffet table was completely untouched as if the bounty of mortal food it carried was meant solely for her.
Lydia let herself be enchanted by the late-night magic, the way he breezed her through the room, occasionally twirling with the swing of the tune to give her a headrush‒ dancing with her the only way he could at the moment.
"It's almost midnight," she commented dreamily as he whirled her slowly past an ornate grandfather clock, a decadent cupcake with buttercream frosting in her hands. "You said it doesn't end at midnight. Right?"
He happily kept her in her arms, sweeping her through the ballroom and chatting with their guests as she half dozed in his arms, picking at sweets and gazing around her as though high on some unknown substance.
"Doesn't end at midnight, baby. Ends when we're done. And I ain't done yet."
He smiled and kissed her gently, finally setting her on her feet so that he could press her against him from chest to knee.
"Is this evenin' what ya wanted now, kitten? I know we had some speed bumps, but… ya know I love ya…"
She only very loosely supported herself once he put her back on her feet, leaning heavily against him while they swayed, licking icing and crumbs from her fingers.
"Mmhmm," she nodded the affirmative, cheek pressed to his chest. "This is perfect…"
The Prince was MIA. Since the big show, no one else had worked up the audacity to request a dance from Betelgeuse's sleepy, deflowered bride. It was obvious to the spirits in attendance what had been done to her, but she was sweet and young and this was her party. Teasing was unwarranted and unwelcome.
"We should throw balls every weekend. Just because. Dance and dance and dance until we can't anymore. That would be fun…"
He found himself strangely grateful for the people still gathered. She was clearly not up for real socializing and their guests seemed to understand that.
He chuckled at her suggestion for weekly parties, running a hand through her hair gently.
"I don't know if we should do it every weekend. That's a lot of partying, Princess."
He kissed her and rubbed her back, keeping her close. He had a strange kind of contradicting emotion. On one hand, the night had been full of anger and fear. On the other, pleasure and splendor had dulled the sharp edges to something blurry and bright.
"Babes, you wanna meet my friend Jacques? He's a skeleton. I think you'll like him."
Jacques and Ginger were easy enough. Simple conversation that he could let Lydia float through while he thought the thoughts that were pushing at his brain.
It was probably time to get used to her feet again. Still, she leaned heavily against him and brought her hand up to her mouth at the suggestion of meeting his friend, biting at the tip of her thumb in a nervous tick.
"Is he a nice skeleton…? The Prince was a gentleman… but I don't think he was very nice."
It was just a feeling. She didn't have anything concrete to back it up, but the thought ruminated regardless. If Betelgeuse was offering to introduce them, rather than this skeleton rudely intruding and guilting her into a dance, then everything was probably just fine.
"I've never talked to a skeleton before."
Jacques was indeed a nice skeleton. He had a heavy French accent, a pencil-thin mustache that Lydia was pretty sure was drawn on, and a spider-girlfriend named Ginger that Lydia simply adored. Together they kept her entertained until she fell asleep in his arms. Even then, he continued to carry her, whirling her through the quickly dispersing crowd until one by one they all went home and the castle was theirs again.