The scent of stiff tapestry silk and leather book bindings hung in the ember warmed air. High, stacked stone walls. Darkly varnished paneling. To the right of the wilting fire through a deep set window night had fallen over the highlands. Contentedness warmed Marc's appetite. The theory of having her here. His lost girl, lost to him, laminated now into surroundings anciently permeated by the various timelines of his private selves.  

He'd have had her cease to have have existed before he was a significant overshadow on everything she was. The frail and shrunken girl clutching to him. Hollow her of any memory of her identity. Force obsession if he couldn't induce it. Near become him. Independent enough only to appreciate that that difference was left so she could acknowledge her own worship of him as a separate icon superior to her.

He’d slept beneath the Tudor four poster since a boy, hand wrapped around his cock holding onto simple renditions of Faith prototypes. One day he'd have her open a window into the past and let the boy watch. Memorise every curve, every fold of skin, every pale scar. The sound of the cries an education through centuries had taught him the mechanics of how to tear from her. Drink in the wet, pink stress, the strain he put on her little body. Beckon the boy close so he could see every throbbing vein, feed an imagination blurred by a world before pornography. Press her mouth down over his human, adolescent penis whilst he himself fucked her from behind. She'd want it by then, to offer herself for the two of them. Fill those holes. Poor lad would have centuries of wait before he owned her. It was the least he could oblige.

Here in his quarters he could unthinkingly map the mental Xs of where and how around the room. No apparitions of dead whores polluted the space he'd kept pure for her. Mattress firmer. Higher. Better alignment. He knew if she swung her legs over the side of the bed the tips of her toes just touched the floorboards. 

His love warped his lust until it was the trinket quirks which advertised Faith as her which sent him into the brief collapses of mentally dark deeds. His eyelids weighed with his name on her pleas. They already rang in his ears. Him the only thing she could process, taken over, consumed by him inside her. The anticipation of him.

Keeping one arm locked to Faith he shrugged out of his dinner jacket “You were'ne bound at the table. Ye coul've stopped what I was doing to you. Whilst they watched. Whimpering against me”

In the scarlet dark of Marc's shoulder Faith stilled. At the back of her eardrums she heard herself swallow. Hadn't occurred to her. Not even that she'd wanted him to. When he took control she surrendered it. Faith lifted her head.

Marc cupped the side of her face firmly "Ye goin' t' want it, pet. Ney 'cause it feels good, 'cause, what ye want Faith, is for it to feel good for me. Tell me why you didn'ne stop me. I want to hear you say it"

Faith's eyes shot away from him "I didn't think I could"

Marc roped the waistband of her tights around his fists surveying her darkly

Faith bristled at the screech of ripping polyester, grabbing his wrists as the room's cool air hit her thighs and pelvis "No, wa-

"Say it" 

"Because its you"

Straightening he yanked her jumper over her head catching her hips with a slap of flesh to hold her still. Eat in what was his. 

"When Gremory was fucking you I could see him inside you. See the outline of him" gripping either side of her his thumbs met at the flat, indented landing strip of her lower pelvis. brusingly he stroked his thumb back and forth "I's spite-eyed with hatred. Some stolen, beautiful instrument, stretched around him, dragging you up and down his length, he could'n love you, couldn't have appreciated what he had"

Faith hooked her fingers at the waist of his undone jeans trying to drag them off of him his erection pressing between the pair of them "'Centuries waiting and the first sight of you was in another man's arms. His body carving its mark through you. Smelt like me by then" Marc straightened so fast she just caught a glimpse of his face before he'd crushed his mouth to hers. Marc rarely kissed her, Faith had barely a moment to let out a semi-startled sigh before he'd pulled back again holding her face close to his "You remember"

Faith's gaze was loose to focus. A prickly sensation spat anxiously under her cheeks. She could remember. If she let those memories flash forcefully back. Marc watched her face crunch wincing as they did. Evade their nasty realities, whispering secret self-honesties, tell herself they were lies.

Marc pulled her up on her knees raised above him lips finding her neck "Remember for me, Faith"

At the back of her eyelids there was the hazy, cut image of golden blonde bristles of Gremory's throat. Lost to the solidness of him inside her, cutting her breath, meeting that demanding ache. Him withdrawing. Forcing her back down on him. Hear herself. The ruptured cries. Marc. Felt his body slam forward at her back. Heard his knees hit the stone either side of her. His arms lock around her, pulling her to him. Crushing her ribs. He'd needed her.

"You cried out for me, kitten, one touch, just knowing I was there. Face turned to mine. Pleading for it. Stripped all vulnerable. 'Twas me you wanted inside you"

Faith's cheeks were on fire. Her nipples were hardening for him under his fingertips. His head dipped down clamping one between his teeth and Faith cried out hunching over him. Faith felt him smile against her skin. Felt his tongue brush against its tip feeling it between her thighs. He pulled back and the tiniest cry of protest cut from the back of her throat "I cried out just getting inside you"

Faith clutched his shoulder trembling as she looked down at him. Meeting his eyes was a new hell. Faith couldn't remember what it felt like. Forcing her to take the pair of them. She remembered trying to reconcile the pain with the want to give it to him. Drugged. That strange idea of the cries it tore from him. Locked nothing but skin and muscle and heat fogging her world until she gleamed with sweat. She'd lost herself. Hurting to win those cries from this man felt better than if it had never hurt at all.

"I could feel him through you. To within a breath of what you can take. Used for me" he pressed two fingers inside her "Aye. That's my girl" 

Her gaze slipped from his eyes down to the weeping head of his erection. He was so thick. He'd feel so good. Widening her. Like his fingers were. Three, four. Curling. She gasped buckling upwards. Weeping as she felt the ridge of a knuckle. Stretching her roughly. Yanking her forward and back. Hitting spots that had her clamping down hard on cries. Clutching his shoulders, pleading for it. Hungry for it.

Marc searched her closed eyes. He wanted them open. Wanted to watch her weakening for him there. This girl. His girl. Finally. Beads were rolling down the inside of his wrist. Ready for him. Good girl. Her muscles were putting up less and less resistance ramming his curled fingers in and out of her, forward and back trying to press them through that slick, tight rim.

Marc's fist curled forward on itself, his knuckled met the hot, wet muscle inside and Faith cried out in pain, pulling up, fighting against him holding her in place. The sound hummed in Marc's mind faltering his breathing drawing his eyelids down in an effort to preserve it.

Impatience was shortening his control. How gentle he could be with her. He wanted that sound. It coursed straight up his length squeezing droplets of ejaculation rolling to his groin. She was tensing. He hadn't trained her. He could jackhammer his fist into her. He'd get his scream but she'd get none of the pleasure.

Faith hated him. Everything in her wanted to buckle. From the pain. From pleasure, as though if she tensed she could tighten herself around it. Make it last forever. She relaxed. A prickly spasm, a fragment of an orgasm shot up her pelvis ripping a cry of surprise from her.

Fingers, knuckles, more aggressively, she could take it. Come on, pet. He'd have her. Faith screamed clawing desperately at his shoulders hunching away from his hand. Air caught in his throat and his hips jolted forward. His own hoarse cry mangling with hers. He fucked her with as much of his fist as she'd allow, his own hips jolting up with each pleading whimper until finally Faith cried out a semi-verbal plead of his name and his taunt body broke into sadistically galvanised climax.

Hand slick he pulled from inside her. Beads of sweat puddled along the top of his spanned fingers at the base of her back, rolling down her spine. Within his arms her frame was quaking with the stress he'd just put her under. Faith felt lost at his expense. She'd felt less vulnerable when he was raping her. Here he'd take his time and tell an insight on the centuries of perversions he'd cooked up in this same room. Crushed between them she could feel the jerking contractions as he climaxed. For her pain. She felt that idea like a knife.

His palm pressed commandingly beneath her ribs pushing her back from him. Marc raked his fingers roughly through her tangled hair. Clamped his mouth blindly to hers. Cupped her rear harshly with his free hand dragging her several inches up and away from his mouth. Faith let out a torn breath trying to tilt forward to keep hold of his lips; latch to any shred of intimacy ease her vulnerability. Marc snatched her waist positing her over the head of his erection whilst his other dropped from her hair to push her thighs apart like wrenching a tripod out.

The look of a man with his slab of meat. Painting pictures of how pink and exposed she'd be when he pulled out and could admire his handy work. Him. His. Yes that was his big, hard cock. Would he even meet her eyes? Faith fixed her gaze on the bed's canopy. She couldn't do anything. She was in this now. Now. Now wasn't immortality. Demon he wanted to possess her. Man, he wanted to fuck her. If it came down to loving him or loving her she loved herself more.

Faith shook hair from her eyes letting him glide her down over him. Felt the instant shock of how hard he was. It had never felt like she expected. Even when her body was aching for it. Even when it felt as equally good as it did protesting at the size of him. A virgin she'd expected every nerve to go off the moment he entered her throwing her up into the continuous throngs of orgasm. Instead it just felt like a foreign body larger than she could handle and much harder than could be necessary.

Marc watched the slick pink brim of her vagina stretch over him. Viciously he wrapped his arms under her thighs tugging her to spread further "All the way, come on-

His tolerance snapped. He pulled himself further upright curling an arm tight around her waist and pressing down on her thigh with his other hand. Above him he heard her whimper. That bobbing half cylinder raised through her abdomen. Carving and distorting her soft tissues. He grit his teeth. He wanted to hear the slap of skin. See her juices tint pink as he damaged her. Feel his tight, throbbing balls against the curve of that pert rump.

He hoisted her up, bare-trapping her waist to slam her back down. Pound her up and back again, pulling as much distance back into the mattress as he could to jolt back to meet her. It wasn't hard enough. He hated it when they were on top. He wouldn't be able to see otherwise. He knocked a foot at the floor pushing forward to the edge of the bed winding the girl on top of him. Switching arms to still drive her himself her grabbed the bedpost. Intensifying that slap of skin on skin. Just the wonderfully aggressive visual of it. Faster. Harder.

Marc's arm dropped back to the bed to support himself leaning back. The girl had it. She'd clocked what he wanted. How he wanted it. Something fucking bless her the princess was actually going to take the discomfort to give it to him. His head fell back on his neck, the stretch of the sinew at his throat. Why would you ever stop? Politics. Power. Gods. Keep this going for an immortality. Send a memo to the seraphs: he'd found heaven and they weren't invited. His eyes gazed half lidded at the canopy. Yes. Argh yes take it. You whore. Take it. Just keep him like that. That was enough. His turn. 

His head fell forward on his neck "No"

Faith was clutching the bedpost. Trembling, the bridge of her nose and cheeks scarlet and wet with tears from her knotted eyes. His hips stopped. Clamping down on her to stop. Faith screeched choking with subdued sobs. Clamping down on her he'd forced her fully down on him. Marc winced. 

He'd waited, wanted, mourned and forgotten. In the moment he finally had her. He'd reduced her to a cylinder of tight flesh. In that moment he'd killed of the woman to have the body. A body that could have been anybody but it wasn't any body he wanted it was Faith he wanted. 

Hand curved around the back of her neck he pressed her face into his "God forgive me."