Chapter 3: R18
Kelna gasped softly as his fingers traced the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. Her own hands, clumsy with nerves and lingering doubt, fumbled at the buttons of his pants.
"I… I don't know how…" she stammered, her cheeks flushing crimson.
"Shhh," Urca soothed, guiding her hands away. "Just feel." He shed his own clothes swiftly, efficiently, before turning his full attention back to her. He peeled the nightgown away slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent. His eyes lingered on the twisted line of her leg, the visible evidence of her injury, before meeting her gaze again. He saw the vulnerability there, the raw exposure. He didn't look away.
Instead, he traced a fingertip gently along the scarred flesh above her knee. "Strength," he murmured, his voice thick with manufactured awe. "You endured." He kissed the scar lightly, feeling her shudder beneath him.
He explored her body with unhurried precision, cataloging every sigh, every tremble. His lips found the pulse point at her throat, the curve of her shoulder, the swell of her beautiful and teardrop breast. Kelna arched instinctively, a low moan escaping her lips.
"Urca…" His name was a sweet breathless plea. He captured her hardened nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue slowly, feeling her fingers tighten convulsively in his hair. He lifted his head, meeting her dazed eyes. "Tell me," he commanded softly, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "Tell me what you want."
"You," she gasped, her voice trembling but devoid of hesitation. "Just… you. All of you." Her hand tentatively reached down, brushing against his hardened length. He hissed softly, encouraging her touch. "Show me," she whispered, her eyes wide with nervous desire. "Show me how to please you."
Urca guided her hand, wrapping her fingers around him with deliberate slowness. "Like this," he murmured against her lips, his own breath catching as her grip tightened experimentally. He moved her hand in a steady rhythm, watching her fascination bloom into something hotter and darker. Her thumb swiped clumsily over the head, spreading the bead of moisture there. A ragged groan tore from his throat—part performance, part genuine sensation under her earnest, untutored touch.
"Yes, Kelna. Exactly like that." He captured her mouth again, swallowing her whimper as his own hips pushed subtly into her fist.
His free hand slid down her belly, fingers parting the damp curls below. He found her slick heat, circling slowly, teasingly. She cried out into the kiss, her body arching off the bed.
"Too much?" he breathed, pausing. Her eyes flew open, wild and desperate. "No! Don't stop. Please, Urca." He rewarded her plea with a deeper stroke, two fingers curling inside her, finding the tender spot that made her gasp his name like a prayer. Her thighs trembled around his hand, her own grip on him faltering as pleasure overwhelmed her focus.
"Look at me," he commanded again, his voice rough-edged. Her eyes locked onto his, drowning in the illusion of devotion he projected. He withdrew his fingers slowly, glistening, and guided his cock to her entrance. He paused, letting her feel the blunt pressure, the heat. Her breath hitched, anticipation warring with ingrained fear.
"Relax, my love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be gentle." He pushed forward, a slow, deliberate invasion. Kelna gasped sharply, her nails digging into his shoulders, her body tensing against the unfamiliar stretch and sting. A tear escaped, tracing a path down her temple.
"Hurts…" she whispered, her voice thick with tears she tried to stifle. Her hips instinctively tried to retreat, but his hands held her firmly, gently.
"Breathe, Kelna," Urca murmured, his lips brushing hers. He didn't push deeper yet. Instead, he held himself still, letting her adjust, his thumb stroking the frantic pulse in her throat. "Just breathe with me." He took slow, deliberate breaths, his eyes locked on hers, willing her to mimic the rhythm. Her trembling eased slightly, the panicked tension in her thighs softening.
"Good," he praised softly. "So good. Now… relax for me." He shifted his hips minutely, a fractional advance. She whimpered, but this time it was edged less with pain and more with overwhelmed sensation. "That's it," he coaxed, his voice a low thrum against her skin. "Let me in."
He began a slow, shallow rhythm, withdrawing almost completely before sinking back in with agonizing care. Each measured thrust drew another gasp, another flutter of her eyelids. Her hands moved from his shoulders to clutch at his back, pulling him closer. "Urca… it feels… strange," she confessed, her voice thick and husky. "Like… too much, but…" She trailed off, biting her lip.
"But?" he prompted, brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead. He increased the depth slightly, feeling her inner muscles clench reflexively.
"But I don't want it to stop," she breathed, her hips lifting tentatively to meet his next thrust. Her eyes widened at her own boldness, a flush spreading down her neck. Urca rewarded her with a deeper glide, a groan tearing from him—half-genuine at the tight, wet heat enveloping him, half-performance to feed her fragile confidence.
"There's my brave girl," he murmured against her lips, capturing her gasp. His rhythm deepened gradually, each measured stroke stretching her further, coaxing her body to yield. Kelna's whimpers softened, transforming into low, shuddering moans as the sharp sting receded, replaced by a building, unfamiliar pressure. "Urca… something's… happening," she managed to choke out, her fingers digging into his back.
"Let it happen," he commanded, hiss escaping as her inner muscles pulsed around him. He shifted subtly, angling his hips, and brushed that tender spot inside her with deliberate precision. Kelna cried out, her back arching sharply off the bed. "Oh! What—what *was* that?" Her eyes flew open, wild and dazed.
Urca's lips curved into a predatory smile against her throat. "Just pleasure, Kelna. Pure and simple." He repeated the motion, grinding against that spot with relentless focus. Her thighs clamped around his hips, her cries dissolving into breathless gasps. "Too… too much!" she pleaded, tears spilling anew—but these weren't tears of pain. Her body moved beneath him now, seeking the friction, clumsy and desperate.
He slowed, withdrawing almost completely, watching her writhe in frustration. "Tell me," he rasped, his own control fraying at the edges. Her need was palpable, a weapon he wielded. "Tell me what you need." Kelna's hands clawed at his shoulders, pulling him down. "You," she sobbed, the word raw. "Don't stop. Please, Urca!"
He drove back into her, deep and hard this time, stealing her breath. Her climax hit her like a breaking wave—a choked scream tore from her throat as her body convulsed around him, milking him with rhythmic pulses. He held himself deep, letting her ride it out, whispering filthy praise against her ear. "Yes. Take it. Take all of it."
Urca felt her inner muscles flutter, a vice grip pulling him toward his own release. He fought it, grinding against her, drawing out her pleasure until her cries softened into exhausted whimpers. Only then did he allow his own rhythm to fracture. His thrusts became ragged, uncontrolled. A guttural groan ripped from his chest as he buried himself to the hilt.
His hips jerked erratically, spilling himself inside her with hot pulses. He collapsed atop her, his breath harsh against her neck. Kelna lay boneless beneath him, trembling, her fingers tracing mindless patterns on his sweat-slicked back.
They lay tangled in silence for long moments, the only sound their mingled breathing. Kelna shifted, wincing at the ache between her thighs. "Urca?" Her voice was hoarse, tentative. "Did... did I please you?" Her eyes searched his face, wide with fragile hope.
He traced the damp curve of her cheekbone, his thumb lingering near her swollen lips. "You were perfect," he murmured, the lie smooth and warm as honey. "Every gasp, every tremor." He kissed her forehead, feeling her relax infinitesimally against him. "See? Trusting me wasn't so dangerous, was it?"
Kelna nestled closer, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder. "It felt... different than I imagined," she confessed, her voice muffled against his skin. "Raw. Like falling. But safe, because you were there." Her fingers brushed the faint scar above his collarbone. "Is it always like that?"
Urca captured her wandering hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Never," he lied, his voice rough with manufactured tenderness. "That was only us. Only you." He felt her sigh against him, a warm puff of breath that stirred the damp hair on his chest. Her eyelids grew heavy, the exhaustion of emotion and exertion pulling her toward sleep. "Rest now," he murmured, pulling the silk sheet over them both. Her breathing deepened almost instantly, trusting and spent.
He remained awake, staring at the canopy above. Kelna's warmth seeped into his side, her head a trusting weight on his shoulder. The scent of sex clung to the air.
Outside, rain began to patter against the leaded windowpanes, a soft counterpoint to her steady breaths. The silence was broken only by her soft, even breathing. He slipped out of the bed. He was married, secured a high-society cover, and had the police dismissing his crime as natural causes.
His path was clear. He had to begin the hunt for the truly wicked, those deserving of the sigil, to feed the hunger that was now his life. He was safe for the moment, but the clock was ticking, and the voice of the Totem felt louder than before. You have taken your place, successor. Now, gather the faithful.