Night of the Belladonna

Heat rose amidst the cold weather that pestered the world outside. The sky was plum, and the room was dark, except for the light from the oil lamp that danced along the complex rhythm of sensuality and love. 

The moment was appalling, but the effort was quite genuine. 

Tongues entwined in a knot that only lovers knew. Lips sealed all unsaid questions, letting only the mad hunger that both bodies felt thrive. 

Confusion withdrew from the maiden's head, leaving away as warmth crippled from the bottom to the top. Her chest was pounding profusely once his hand found her breast. She gasped at his unexpectedness but then slowly eased when he whispered into her lips to trust him. 

Trust was such a heavy word to act immediately, especially when it came from a stranger. Yet, was he a stranger after all? His scent, breath, and touch seemed so familiar, though again, her mind was all in a blur. 

They kissed again after she calmed down. And when the man ravaged her, leaving her with no room for success, she gave in and let him conquer her whole mouth. As his tongue found hers, there was bashfulness seeping in, but the lust he had was so great that he forced her into his bid of a waltz—that once more, they whirled in a beat they came to adopt. Her taste was a marvel; her breath that came along with her moan was the warmness he yearned for his whole body to feel. Such a delight his little prisoner was when she fully surrendered under him. 

While their mouths comely collided, his hands slowly tore off the sheer dress that draped all over her—too eager to feel her ample breasts that all sculptures never dare to display. Fools! Fools they were, for they had missed the beauty it possessed. Round, firm, and the tips, when he glanced, were of the colors of carnation that were always present in every grand temple. He even laughed at the thought—if it might happen—if he would have the chance to see their child nursed into it. Such a tease indeed it was for him.

But she was his first. It might be a selfish notion, but he had to conquer all of her before anything else. 

Once he finished exploring her wet cavern, his mouth trailed down her neck, followed by her collarbone, leaving wet kisses and bites to mark every inch as if he had marked a land he had colonized—and then finally to her breasts. Not a moment was wasted when he arrived at his initial goal as his mouth immediately ravaged the first mount that touched his lips. He sucked hard and impatiently, making her belligerent as her moans escaped. 

The sensation was too prodigious—too staggering to bear when he suckled greedily on her now hard nipples. In her state of shock, she unconsciously held on tight to his head—gripping his hair that curled under her skin. 

Both breasts were unsafe, as he razed them all with his fiery passion and the neediness of her skin. The maiden even pleaded for him to stop, but his ears ignored her, only wanting to hear nothing but her sweet moans that he thought were the loveliest of all sounds that the muses could never duplicate. 

There was an emotion that swirled in her head when everything fell into place. The fight between repugnance and acceptance was rolling in her mind. It felt as if her brain and heart were at the tips of each other's blades, knowing they could no longer function hand in hand as the new sensation slowly drowned them. 

With every peck and love bite he made, she was beginning to lose control—even starting to liken the feel of his flesh against hers. It was dreadful to divulge with a man who remained cloaked in a great mystery, but something about him felt like home. 

"Home?" She pondered while playing with his wavy hair. "Did I have a home?" 

Her thoughts were then disturbed when he released her breast and moved down to her stomach. She could not fathom his eagerness. Such flattery made her curious as to how he could easily give in and, at the same time, control her. 

True to his principle, he was not a man who had much to say but would instead do it. Hence, her body was now gradually marked with his concealed poetry—his guarded ardor for her that she still knew not when and how it all began. 

In his mind, the very moment when his lips kissed her lower abdomen, he knew he had won the game. No more, his darling maiden was fighting against the current but had raised her white flag and went along smoothly with the flow. He was absorbing such glory, liking her calm demeanor despite the repeated licks and hard bites he gave to her. No more was she as the overly curious maiden of an hour ago but just his companion—maybe now his lover—who lay underneath him with her exhaled hot breaths caressing his skin. 

He was dawdling a minute or so on her belly, finding a short rest as he laid down his head and hoped quietly of something undetermined but inevitable. That specific hidden thought lingered in his head as he laughed and mumbled, "Ha! Ha! Well, one can try—"

By his unclear declaration, he rose and lowered down more as his hands forced her legs apart. Lo and behold, the pure and precious jewel was now within his reach after eons of being guarded and sanctified. Startled and reddened by such crudeness, she vigored against his strength and closed her legs immediately—causing him to growl at her defiance. 

"Oh, please! I beg of—"

"Shh." He bantered under his breath before her sentence ended. 

Along with the cacophony of the rain and the intoxicating heat that now overcame them like the flames of Hades—in an unannounced fashion, the man once again parted her legs and, straight away, tasted the flesh that bud like a rose petal in immense timidity.

 A loud huff puffed out from her mouth. The fair lady even had to bite her lower lip when he gained hurtle and assuredly dominated the part that she knew was sacred and the center of her womanhood. 

 She fidgeted left and right, clawing the sheets until her nails borrowed down deep. The man was so keen and very aggressive that with every flick of his tongue, her skin shivered, and her maidenhood burned from the intensity of the passion her dear devotee wanted to bestow on her. 

Intreats echoed throughout the room as he proceeded, claiming the flower that once bloomed in silence between her charming legs. With his unceasing ardors, the lady could no longer be quaint and slowly was swallowed by the void that hovered over her mind. 

Although there was pain, laboring breaths, and an odd combination of confinement and succor with her stomach twisted and sweat breaking the warmth—little by little, she accepted his endowing worship. And when gratified by her maidenhood, he rushed back on top of her, devouring her lips yet again, this time with more love and sincerity. 

"Let—me—look into those bright eyes, please." He implored, breaking in every peck. 

She complied, opening her eyes to see his—though fogged, in his orbs, there indeed conveyed longingness towards her. 

"You are so beautiful—and you are now mine. Mine, in all sense."

A smile curved on her lips, even giggling as she touched the sharp outline of his face. 

Both knew their understanding had gone into profound depths—a point they could no longer turn back. 

As they stared into each other's eyes, Anubis then drew closer down into her—feeling her chest to his, her stomach to his, and steadily introducing his hardened manhood to hers. 

"Oh, dear Athena, once a guardian of such a city, listen to this prayer of a poor man." He purred into her mouth. "Welcoming is she now—opening her arms in solitude to an entity she formerly loves the deeds of chaos, the exchange of glares, and the shouting of invectives. It is, my dear, who once saved her people and protected them during the war. It was you, the darling little owl, I whisper my praise, for it was you—I dare say—who has won my heart." 

Along the wake of shivering spines and rising hairs, man and woman had united into one. 

Wide eyes plucked the courage to voyage beyond the sky. Heaven was no limit when she, at last, felt him inside of her. He was strong—authoritative, and rigid. In no haste, he began his beat, thrusting inside of her, who was mortified by his entrance. Nothing could subdue his lust. Not even when her flesh pulsated harshly, and harrowing grips scratched his back as she depended on his brawns. 

With each force he barged, her wails followed like a resonant clamor on a mountaintop. His ears tingled to such music; his heart was beating in greatness—singing to her with a hint of summon to duet along with him. 

Staring fathomlessly back into her drowned silver eyes, the mystery that masked his—shattered. She finally saw him in clear view. She could now look into those eyes to see whether the line that divided the truth and the lie in his words was thin or did not exist. He was all too familiar yet very much a stranger at the same time. How could one arrive at the correct conclusion when the moment was too drowsed in murky devotion when feeling him passionately pounding blinded her senses? 

The darkness came to comfort her when lust fruitfully possessed her soul—wrapping her around its finger. Her eyes were losing sight as tears beaded down on her rosy cheeks. Hands gripped tight onto him, fighting to control the willful ecstasy they had been feeling. 

As they reached the pinnacle of their lovemaking, the two lost consciousness—immediately drifted to dream by the spirit of Hypnos. They traversed wonderland with a warm embrace and strolled in serenity and contentment. 

The deed was fulfilled.

The soil was nourished, and the seed was planted. 

The white rose was no more but a blooming ruby. 

She was now his in all form, and none could easily fracture the perpetual adoration that he made her feel. 

Her loathing of him was nothing now but yesterday's thought. His skin was warm, and his soul was bold. His arms, as they wrapped around her waist as they fell in deep slumber, was the feel she would never forget if the world had decided to cause more destruction. 

In bittersweet closure, she unwittingly admitted—between reality and in a dream—that she had relished their intimate hours feeling each other. The man's touch made her realize the other side of the world, in retrospect, might not be in haze. She also understood that her existence might be nonsense, but what he showed her made her feel she had been living in goodness. 

The maiden snored, hoping that the happiness he had given to her would not fade away. 

But fading it away was fate's bid to do. 

The dawn rose in gold and silver—a rare morn as the orange streak followed on the lower tier along with the color of blush. The lilac skies dully bid farewell, and the rain no longer pestered the heaven and the earth. The morning dew was fresh, perfuming the soil and greeneries with a lush scent of natural petrichor. 

Such a delight the blessing of the early morn as the fauna gathered in all smiles, grazing to the duties of their respective lives. But the light was both a gift and a curse. 

As a beam of slow sunshine passed through the lines of the unnoticed and bolted window, it shone forth, kissing the sleeping face of the beautiful maiden as her dream was almost to a close. And with another ray of light, blinding than the first, eyes bolted wide—revealing the puzzled silver orbs as it steadied its vision. 

"Oh, my!" The lady, fair Athena—she now recalled—panted as she rose from the bed. "Where am I?" She groggily pondered. 

The room she was in was not the prison cell she had now grown accustomed to staying in. When sight wandered left and right—true it was, she was in a new place. She even now noticed she was just all skin—bare and nothing more of a blanket as a covering. Athena ran her hands from neck to breast, feeling some kind of a hot sensation that lingered on her flesh. There were also her lips that tasted quite different. Her heart suddenly stopped, frightened to know that her flashed hunch was the truth. 

Slowly lifting the sheet and looking down, her worst nightmare came true. Dried blood—the shade of a bleating crimson that raged once a flower died. There was a noticeable dried blood on her legs and in between them. Tears fell, with no indication, knowing her chaste had been tampered with by such quiet deception. She did not understand how it came to be—

Not until a strong hand brushed on her naked back, alarming her of a presence that was beside her. 

The wheel of memories had begun to circle—his name came firsthand, "Anubis." She whispered her wariness while slowly turning towards the person behind her. 

Trailing from the hand that lightly touched her skin and then to the person himself—surprise after surprise, Athena could not believe what the reality revealed beneath her feet. He was still in the hands of Hypnos while he uttered her name in reverence and flattery. She wavered, shaking on her knees to grasp the knowledge that he had successfully taken what she had kept pure for all the years of her existence.

"A—Ares." She cried as she reached out to him, wishing that he would just stay in sleep for a very long time. But what one mortal woman could do from a raging god? She knew her position now, but she could not comprehend the circumstance she had undergone for the last night of fuzziness and delusions. 

"Ares." She cried once more with a pang in her voice, understanding now how great his hatred for her was that he had simply bedded her under some kind of spell. 

Once her moans resonated in his ears, Ares woke up. The feel of the rising light of the morn on his face—while brushing his sprawled hair away—had also hounded him in his dream. As he acknowledged the somberness and the crying that came from his side, the god rose and instantly grabbed the hand of the crying maiden and solemnly called back, "Owl?" 

In forlorn grace, his call was greeted with her cries as she knelt beside the bed with one hand stretching towards his.