Unmelting Impurity

Marvel's bedroom had simple arrangements, neatly made to define the plainness of it. It contained a large bed with the sheets that were replaced with the clean ones every day, velvety to the touch, but we ignored it tonight.

I straddled Marvel on the couch and slanted my head toward him, engaging tightly our lips. As my arms clasped tightly around his neck, our chins pressed against each other tighter, the saliva made every friction easier. Moving effortlessly, our tongues entwined in an unrelenting kiss.

Our kisses had raw intensity. We breathed fast, hearts raced faster. At this moment, the time had been completely forgotten and in a single pull, he had isolated the space in between our bodies.

"Ngh..." I moaned softly when Marvel left my lips to trace my neck. Tickled, I squeezed his hair on my palm, my body writhed above his lap.

He pulled my shirt out of my trousers, slipping through my stomach and upward instead of undoing all the buttons and back. I complied with his command as he pulled the clothing toward my shoulders, lifting my arms to give away and letting it off. When the shirt was around my face and my bending elbows, he stopped, holding the fabric still.

I flinched in the realization that he did that not to take my shirt off, but to use it to cover my eyes and lock my hands.

There was a pause and I could feel Marvel's warm breath in front of my face. I could tell he was so close. Just when I believed I was going to be kissed again, suddenly, my body was pushed to the couch to lie down.

His strong hands pulled my pants off of my legs and despite being unable to see the movements, I flushed. The intention to remove my clothes was so clear that I couldn't even do anything to prevent it. Leaving the socks on, I soon felt his weight overwhelm my lower half.

I gasped when his hand started touching my member, roaming around in curiosity. I closed my legs, trying to stop him, but he spread my knees and slipped himself in between them, trimming out all the gaps. After my defeat, I shuddered relentlessly as he used method, rubbing the glans that were already wet and greasy with precum in candid reaction to his erotic stroking.

"Sir, y-you don't have to do this..." I tried to break the tension, but naught.

My entire body felt electrified and I huffed in steamy air, even my moans slightly trembled. My toes curled inside my socks, striking against the fabric when I nearly met my limit. Knowing that, Marvel quickened the strokes and my wriggling body kept jolting harshly.

Always, it offended me how he understood my body more than myself.

"Sir, wait- Ah!"

I moaned as I jerked backward along with the milky fluid of my own squirted out to my stomach and Marvel's palm. What was left after that was my quivering body and my fast breathing. His strokes were slowly speeding down.

The lighting was dim in his bedroom. The only source of heat that infused warmth into the low degrees was the flame in the fireplace, doing the endless work to keep the room bright by burning down the coals; sacrifice after sacrifice. Despite being kept alight almost every night, the hearth was clean from powdery residue and the coals were restocked regularly.

On the couch beside the fireplace, I was lying naked - not actually naked, though, since a pair of socks were still on my feet; the only item that kept me warm, while Marvel was still in his complete suit - he was the unfair one; he had always been.

"Sir, should I..." I wanted to return the favor as I could feel the hard bulge across my crotch was already seeming tight and painful. "Should I... with my mouth..."

Once said, I knew I wouldn't be able to take my words back. It was by my own consent to bring the harm to myself, but I didn't know why, at that moment, the idea of him shoving his dick into my mouth scared and excited me at the same time that my chest felt like it would burst.

He didn't say anything nor show interest in my offer, and I spent exactly five seconds in his silence to confirm one fact: he didn't grant my wish.

On this cold night, adding the warmth inside the room was the fireplace. The tiny fiery sparks blazed and swayed, flicking this way and that, crackling as they burned coals, casting long shadows over the rug.

Marvel was still on the couch with me, sitting right in front of me, his thighs were beneath mine. He lifted my legs to both his sides, then smeared my cum on my bottom to loosen the entrance, gently and patiently without force.

I let out moans even when I knew I hated to make ones - it was just to arouse him. The clinking sound of a belt was heard and I prepared myself for what might come, clenching my hands above my head.

Nervous, I held my breath for a moment when Marvel finally put his cock in me, but when I found that he was thrusting in slowly, I sighed in relief, until I realized his kindness only made the penetration feel deeper than usual.

"T-there..." I mentioned a certain part within my body that got poked repeatedly. "When you do it slowly, Sir, it feels so good..."

When I said that, I got goosebumps. I didn't know I would use all my trump cards to one person, to one mission, here tonight.

This room had seen every emotion; from the rage that burst out in the hard times that damaged both of us, to the sweet silence of intimate moments, when the only sound we made was an enjoyable pleasure.

I clamped my mouth shut, biting my lip as my body writhed. Seeing how I reacted to our connection, Marvel kept going at the same pace before finally speeding up.

"Sir, p-please slow down... I just came..."

Instinctively, I blocked his stomach with my legs to resist his fast thrusts. Not like it changed anything.

The only time he went slower was when he had released it. With the amount of his first time, it was plentiful to make my inside soggier, and naturally, our joining felt much more comfortable.

As he was doing it slowly, he saved more power to make the duration last longer. But, even if he treated me with such gentleness, somehow, the state of him that didn't talk at all and his icy controlled quietness petrified me.

All of a sudden, he touched my mouth with his hand, slipping the knuckles in between my lips. I started nibbling and kissing them softly, then his fingers moved in rhythm with my tongue; a simple attraction yet sensual. His index finger barged in, grazing my palate, dancing with his thumb that was stroking my moist lips. My eyes flickered under my shirt, wavered even, when I noticed he seemed like he enjoyed what I was doing.

The only window in the room was a giant one in the corner. The white curtains were widely opened to let the moonlight in. For a moment, filling the solitude was a relentless smooching and we both knew that it wouldn't do. I need to do something before the magic fades, I thought to myself.

"Sir, let's change position..." I husked softly in between my smooches, trying to make a conversation.

In response, Marvel paused our momentum, pulling his fingers out and caressing my cheek with his wet hand, but still, he didn't create a sound. My attempt to make him speak may have failed, but I didn't give up.

Just like Marvel, actually, I had my own way to get what I wanted.

Marvel pulled my body and let me sit on his lap. His hands squeezed the humps of my butt while he was kissing my collarbones, sucking once or twice, and it stung. I lifted my head in a heady trance, burying my vision into the white fabric of my shirt as he possessed my neck and down. This time, he didn't leave any bruises on my skin with his hands, but with his lips, and it nearly offended me how I didn't mind it at all.

"Ngh... So deep," I clenched on Marvel, hugging him tightly, my legs around his waist. "Sir, I like it deep... like this..."

I whispered to provoke him. I shouldn't have done that.

When I began to move my hips, riding him slowly, within a minute after my thrusts, I sensed my inside was filled for the second time, it felt overflowed. Marvel's grips were firm on my shoulder and back, his nails digging in deep with strong emotions.

Washed by the fluorescent rays of orange, I watched Marvel's vague shadow through my shirt as he took a break to rule his breath. Before long, he got up from the couch and carried me without removing our connection. My legs were still as tight as before around his waist, and as he took the step one by one away from the couch, I could feel something was jabbing, hitting within me and I knew what it was. The other thing was leaking, dripping through my ass and I knew what it was.

Did he come again? That was fast. He never came so fast... Did he lose it because of what I said?

Marvel was still holding my body in his muscular arms before he let me go and I fell to the soft cushion of his bed. His knees leaned against the mattress and added more weight than my body when he climbed up. Before I could prepare myself for the continuation of his action, he yanked my shirt away and I was completely exposed.

A glint of dark, malevolent eyes captured my hazel ones. In this stillness, I felt the need to say something, but didn't know what. My head was too messy to compose a sentence and it was because of him as he began to take off his top, revealing the shape that once had me speechless - still did now.

I came to believe that my bravery to say the things I said tonight came from missing his gaze. Now, simply being aware that he was there, even his presence could intimidate me more than I knew it would.

He was on me again while staring at me with those eyes; the eyes that disturbed my logic to respond to stimulations, and as he did what he desired with me, with my body, with my mind, I became that person he had conquered completely. So defenseless, so vulnerable.

It was gross; the part of him that invaded deep inside me, the weight of his body that tightly pressed against me, his warm breath, his musky scent mixed with someone else's blood, everything was gross. But, why... why did it feel so good?

Sex was just thrusting one's genital against the other's and we had done it so many times before. So, why did I feel like I was being held tenderly by him more than I could imagine?

We looked like we were making love.

There was a deep intoxication in our nonverbal communication and Marvel might think I seduced him with all of those sweet words, but the real seduction happened before I even spoke. And I wouldn't have thought Marvel who murdered people was the same Marvel who held me gently tonight.

Perhaps, there was a whole difference in how he meant by being gentle; not necessarily showing meekness or trite politeness, but behaving in distinctive ways.

I could relate when I thought about that beast and this beautiful man.

There is a link between beauty and love, where beauty is merely aesthetic, but it can conjure lust; a tiny replica of love, but based more on desire than feeling.

Like love, lust can be romantic too.

It was ironic how it was the sweetest intercourse Marvel and I had ever had. I found it mysterious how he could pull such an act after literally killing a human being.

This time, I felt that Marvel had reached a higher level of mad atrocity.