Overdose Ch. 05

I've lost track of time. I know enough to know that a significant amount has passed, but the specifics are blurry. It has even gotten to the point that conversations with Ashford are interesting if only because they break up the monotony of my day-to-day life. How did Ashford manage 50 odd years of this?

I ask him as much one day and his response is silence - as it usually is the first time I ask a question. "I said, how did you deal with this boringness for 50 years?"

"57," he corrects.

I roll my eyes. "How do you even keep track? I don't know how long it's been since I got here, I only know that it feels like forever."

There is an edge to his voice when he speaks over the book in his hands. "You have been here three weeks and 4 days, Jennifer. Even you could appreciate my exasperation at your petty complaint. When you've been here longer than I have, maybe I'll listen."

I sigh. "You must've been banished for a reason, though. What did I do to deserve this?"

His fingers grip the book tighter, its leather bound cover creasing slightly. "There is a reason you are here, too. I'm sure of it. I just haven't figured it out yet."

"Did you kill someone?"

He laughs. Not quite the reaction I am expecting. "When you are immortal, death is a natural conclusion. It is not such a big crime to kill. In fact, only murder of the Guard and the Royals is punishable by Fey law."

I shiver. Out of all of the places I could be in Faerie, maybe it was best that I was here. It is quiet for a moment. "So I get to borrow immortality while I'm here, do I get to borrow any of that magic stuff?"

He finally makes eye contact with me with an arched brow. "No. You are still a human. Magic is not quite within your reach."

It isn't like I expected it anyway. "What's the extent of your glamour thing, though? Can you make me believe literally anything?" The memory of his power is bitter on my tongue.

He nods. "I can make you appear as anything as well, if you'd like. I could make you a horse and forget you'd ever been human, that may be more amusing to you. Pass the time."

My stomach sours. "I think I will go to my room now."

He stares at me for a long moment and I swear I see hunger in his eyes before he nods in dismissal.

I collapse on my bed when I get there, mentally drained from everything. It's night by now and I attempt to sleep, tossing and turning under the sheets. My mind still ticks over however, and thinks of Ashford. I barely know anything about him except for the fact that he's very temperamental and moody. And that he did something worth an eternity of this.

I think about his power. I have a sick obsession with the thought of it. To be able to command that power over another felt... wrong, but I wanted to know how it worked. I mean, there is a possibility that he has used it on me without me even knowing - he admitted he could make me forget things.

A lightbulb goes off in my head. Suddenly, the way I've been thinking makes sense, my obsession over him makes sense. I'm off my bed before I can finish the thought, no longer tired because of the anger flowing through my veins.

I'm in his room in moments. The door flies open, hitting the adjacent wall. The sound startles Ashford as he scrambles into a sitting position. He stares at me confusedly. "Jennifer?" He calls.

"Ash," I grumble, my anger leaching into my tone.

"You didn't think to knock?"

I storm over to him until we are face-to-face, despite the fact that he is sitting and I am standing. I point a finger in his face.

"You lied," I tell him.

He frowns. "I can assure you that whatever you're referring to is false. I have told you many times that I am unable to lie."

"Yeah, well, that was a fucking lie too, I bet," I continue.

"Again, impossible, but do tell me why you decided to wake me up at who knows what hour. Unless, of course, you're here to solicit-"

"Absolutely not," I cut him off. "You swore -swore - you wouldn't glamour me again. We had an agreement." Or maybe he did it before, the sneaky bastard.

"A promise I have kept. Again, because I have to." He only seemed to grow more bored as the conversation wore on.

"You glamoured me to think of you. I have never before in my life wasted so much time thinking about someman. You wanted this to seem like my decision, but you've been working your voodoo magic shit to get me into bed which, granted, is very sad, but also, will not work because I've figured you out. I don't know why I actually expected you to keep your terms of the-"

"I'm going to stop you right there, Jennifer." My anger wanes when I see amusement dance in his eyes. "I have not glamoured you to feel anything towards me. I have glamoured you twice, both of which you should remember."

I stumble backwards. "You're lying."

He rolls his eyes. "Again, no."

I feel my cheeks flame. This can't be possible, right? He glamoured me, he must have.

"Then, how...?"

A big grin breaks over his face. "So you think of me. More so than you have ever, with every other maleever."

My hands bunch into fists. The shame is instant and potent. "Unlike you, I can lie, so-"

His smile only grows. "We both know you weren't lying, little human."

It seems I have made a grave error of judgement. Ashford is standing now, drawing nearer to me, a sadistic smile woven into his face.

"I'm going to go back to my room and forget-"

"I don't think so, Jennifer." He is inches from me and I am frozen in place. "You see, you asked me what 57 years of this is like, I can tell you it has made me very patient. 3 weeks and 4 days, I've controlled myself but it seems like that was time wasted, hm? Turns out you wanted me all along."

"That's not true-"

He cups my cheek with his slender palms and my words are silenced. The worst thing is how good the contact is, how starved for touch I've been. He's a warm body and I find my will waver for a moment.

His thumb brushes my under eye with surprising lightness. "Stop thinking, Jennifer. Just let yourself do what you know you want to do, what you admitted to wanting."

I am still stupefied when his lips hit my neck, still silent when they trace my jaw, unmoving when his fingers play with the hem of my shirt. I should stop this, go back to my room, sleep, anything else, but I am dumbfounded and undeniably, embarrassingly,horny. His touch has awoken a sleeping desire within me - one that may consume me if I stop him.

"Say the words, Jennifer. Say them and I stop," Ashford promises in my ear, hot breath sending shivers down my spine. It's too much. His lips find their place back on my jaw and any thought of rejecting him evaporates.

"Ash," I gasp when his fingers deftly undo my bra in one action.

"Say that again," he whispers to me, ever exerting his power over me.

I have enough wherewithal to remain silent, but too little willpower to stop his hands fondling my breasts. His face hovers in front of mine, eyes too foreign and intense to stare back into, so I close my eyes. His lips graze mine, so light I think I imagine it, but he leaves the taste of Faerie fruit in my mouth and I feel addicted.

Somehow, I'm lying down now, dress discarded. Time seems to run like oil between us and thoughts dissipate into thin air. It feels like my whole life has been this moment, feeling his tongue explore my body. He has experience on his side and I realise that I never had any hope. He can read my gasps and whimpers as if they were their own language, and I'm trapped in a loop of pleasure.

I come for the third time, legs shaking. Exhaustion threatens to ruin the high, but I push it aside. Ashford sits up, taking a breath himself. We make eye contact. He gives me a lazy smile and I am taken aback at the beauty his face holds.

"My turn," he says, grin still present. He frees himself from his trousers and my mouth falls open. He is big. More so than his body suggests. Maybe 8 or 9 inches and thick.

"Wait, I don't-"

He pushes his cock into my open mouth, silencing any more protests I can offer. At first, I struggle, trying to pull away, but his grip is unwavering. I relax and that's when he pushes the rest of his length in. I give in and then it's easier. His breath grows quicker and just when I think he's close, he pulls away.

I catch my breath and wipe my mouth as he moves back down the bed. When he positions himself at my entrance, I freeze. "Wait, no."

"Too late now, Jennifer."

I scramble back, pushing myself back out of his reach. He gives me a warning glance and continues to approach. "That's not happening unless you have some sort of Faerie condom."

Ashford actually laughs. "Very rarely are Fae children brought into the world."

"Even using humans?"

He is quiet. His wording had been too ambiguous for me to trust it, and turns out my gut feeling was right.

"Rarely do humans give birth to Fae children."

I narrow my eyes. "Yes, I wouldn't imagine it's common for that to happen because very few humans even encounter Fae, but you have said nothing about the likelihood of pregnancy from sex."

His eyes flash. "You are smarter than you look."

I hate that his words make me feel some sort of pride. "This was fun and all, but-"

"No," he says, drawing closer. "I don't think we'll be stopping here."

Something like panic sits on my chest. "Dude, I don't want your Faerie syphilis."

He doesn't laugh, grabs my closed legs. That's when the fear really sets in and I start thrashing my legs. His grip is like iron. He forces my legs apart and keeps them there with his body between them. He simultaneously grabs my flailing arms and holds them above my head with one large hand.

"Now I get my fun too."

He drives into me. No warning, no ease. I let out a groan with the force of it, adrenaline not letting me decide if it's pain or pleasure I'm feeling. He is relentless in his assault. Out and in until my body is accustomed to the rhythm, until my hips meet his every thrust. The first moan that passes my lips feels like defeat. The rest feel like nothing but the sensation between my legs. He no longer holds my hands up and I grip the sheets of the bed, knuckles white.

He buries his head in my neck and picks up the pace, something I was unsure of being possible. I can tell he's close and, at this stage, I'm chasing my own release just as much as him. We come in unison. It feels like the first breath after drowning, that first taste of water when hungover. It feels like the previous three orgasms rolled into one.

I am just present enough to hear the name that passes his lips, just mere centimetres from my ear. I am not surprised when it isn't mine.

"Rosia."

***

I expect the next morning to be awkward but when I wake, Ashford is not next to me. The bed is cold. I sit up.

"Jesus," I find myself muttering as I rub my face. Regret hits me like a hangover. The memories of last night are too strong in my mind, I shake them away.

"Morning." A gasp falls from my lips when I catch him in the doorway. He looks different, less polished. His hair falls onto his face, unkempt.

"You scared the shit out of me," I reply when words finally come to me.

"Apologies," he says lazily. The memory of his body on mine flashes behind closed eyelids as I blink. "I'm up for a second round if you have recovered, I-"

"Absolutely not. You may recall I didn't even want the first round, you arsehole." I suddenly remember that I should be angry at him, that he had used his strength and exploited me with it.

He simply rolls his eyes. "Deny that you enjoyed it."

"Yeah, I loved being called by your ex's name." I expect him to flinch, get angry,something, but he merely smiles. He has no malice in his eyes but the sharpness of his teeth is enough to make me pause.

"Jealous?"

"Fuck you." It is me who is angry. The words are out of my mouth before I realise that I took his bait. I fell for the same trick I tried to pull. I sigh.

"You look just like her."

I look up and our eyes meet. He looks as surprised at his words as I do. He blinks, shakes his head. "Is she dead?" I ask.

I watch as the openness that had been on his face shuts down. At first, I think he isn't going to reply, but then he speaks. "In a way."

I don't know how to interpret that and before I can ask another question, he leaves. I fall back onto the bed and have no idea what comes next.

Apparently, breakfast comes next. Awkwardness follows closely behind. We sit opposite each other and say nothing. I break off a bit of toast and chew it uncomfortably.

"Are you going to keep staring?" He asks, nose in a book. He doesn't look up.

"Not like there's much else to look at," I comment, peeved.

He doesn't say anything for a moment before he sighs and puts the book down on the table. "Garden, then. Now." I hate the spark of excitement those words bring about. He smiles cruelly when he sees it. He gets up, walks to the door, not caring if I'm following. "But no touching everything," he throws over his shoulder.

I hate myself more as I follow him.