The Ritual

"I'm just average," she muttered. As much as she hated him though, it was almost nice to be wanted. She felt that unbearable burning return and intensify as he kissed her again.

He moved quickly from her lips to the other side of her throat, this time pausing about halfway down her neck to suck and bite. The increased sensitivity made it unbearable, and that specific spot seemed so much worse.

"You're absolutely perfect," he murmured in between kisses. He leaned onto his left arm, as his right hand squeezed and kneaded her chest like a cat. Everything he did just made her ache, and she struggled to contain a slew of soft moans and whimpers.

The heat in her body became a full blown ache, focused between her legs and in her lower abdomen. Soon enough it wasn't just a feeling, but an actual presence of moisture like there'd been an oil spill on her inner thighs. She was worried it might get on the sheets.

"Will," she said quietly, "It hurts."

He separated from her throat, leaving a tender, bruised spot in his wake. Then he looked at her like he'd just been pulled out of a daze. His lips were shiny, and his eyes were clouded with desire, but those words seemed to clear some of it up.

"What hurts?" he asked, using his free hand to comb through her hair now.

"You biting me, and I-I can't," she said, but she stuttered and stammered and struggled to say what she meant. Apparently that was enough for him to get it though, because a look of understanding appeared on his face.

"You need me that badly already?" He asked, cocking his head slightly, as if he'd expected her to last longer.

"I don't need anything," she tried to say, too proud to admit that it felt as if her insides were being pried open with a hot poker, and somehow she knew having something else in there would fix it.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he said teasingly. That stupid nickname made her want to knock his teeth in.

But he was already repositioning himself, untangling his hand from her hair and moving lower down her body so he had easier access to the important parts. He ended up on his knees again, with hers spread wide on either side of him.

She looked up at him, eyes burning, silently begging. She just wanted the feeling to go away so bad.

Will placed his hand on her left thigh, the same one he'd injected. The wound was still tender, and there was a faint red spot peeking through the bandage as if it had continued to bleed a bit more after he wrapped it. Slowly, he rubbed his palm over that spot, gradually going higher and higher.

He squeezed her leg and she yelped suddenly, surprised by the pain and sensitivity of it.

Then his fingers were pressing into that slick, slippery place. Only it didn't seem quite so slippery as he tried to push two in at the same time, when her body barely seemed wide enough for one of her own. At first she yelped and tried to move her hips away, but he placed his other hand on her pelvis and held her down as he somewhere halfway between coaxed and forced her to accept the intrusion.

Delilah moaned in pain, feeling the ache of emptiness replaced by the pain of her insides being stretched. He continued to push his fingers in deeper, but the worst part was just getting them in at all.

"Oh dear," he crooned, curling his fingers deeper and drawing out a feeble, breathless noise from her.

She hated the way he said it, hated it with her entire body even as her face got hot and she physically twitched. His fingers were much bigger than her own, but the worst thing was that they weren't hers, that none of this was happening under her power. Maybe that was how her body was designed--to cave under someone else's touch but hardly be fazed by her own.

Will was entirely unpredictable, as he slowly slid his fingers part way out and then right back in even deeper than before, curling them upwards at the same time. He deliberately prodded at and stretched her insides

Delilah tried to fight the natural movement of her body, the way her hips were inclined to reach towards his hand and seek more. She hated the feeling, hated him for inflicting this on her in the name of love, or protection. It made her feel small and afraid the way nothing else could.

"Why?" She muttered, just barely managing to slip the words out with any amount of coherency.

The haze in his eyes seemed to clear for just a moment, and she could see the Will she had grown accustomed to returning. Even kneeling between her legs he managed to look apologetic and pitiful. His awkward scholar's charm made him seem so harmless.

She noticed that the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, and that there were dark circles under his eyes that had clearly been years in the making. There was a dingy yellow light coming from a fixture in the ceiling that brought out the faintest hint of color in his cheeks, and made his eyes look more green than brown. His expression softened, and he lessened the pressure his alternate hand was placing on her pelvis.

"I've told you, I don't have any other choice," he insisted, both hands now still, but one still shoved inside of her. At least he allowed her a moment to breathe.

"You don't have to keep lying," Delilah said flatly, fixated on the ceiling now, and where the light bulb was tucked into it.

He knew what she meant, but he still sounded guilty.

"I haven't exactly been shy about my interest in you," he claimed. But he had. He'd been so cordial with her, always one step removed even when she was wishing he'd get a little closer. To hear him say it was love was both baffling and infuriating, but somehow the least surprising thing that was occurring tonight.

He removed his fingers, and placed both hands on her thighs again, careful not to put pressure on the spot he'd injected her.

"So you are just selfish then?" Delilah muttered, "You'll at least admit that."

Will frowned, as he gently rubbed his hands over her thighs. "I thought this was what you wanted," he admitted. "I thought you wanted me too."

"Not anymore," Delilah replied. "And never like this."

He still looked sad but that answer didn't exactly have the result she had intended because she saw something hopeful glint in his eye. In a moment he was on top again, hovering over her.

"That means you did before?" he confirmed, as she avoided his gaze. He seemed to take it as an answer, and it made him smirk a little. "You wanted me."

"That was before I figured out how good of a liar you are," she said bitterly.

He sighed. "At the very least, you must have found me physically attractive. I'd bet you still do."

"Being tall and having a nice voice doesn't excuse your rotten behavior."

"Is that your criteria?"

"No," she said, crossing her arms and pulling her legs closed, trying to become less vulnerable, but it already felt too late for that. "Just things I happened to appreciate before I found out how insane you are."

"Well, I happen to like that you're...soft, and small--a bit like a rabbit." Will kissed her on the nose. "It's very cute, but I'm afraid it poses a bit of a problem."

"I'm not a rabbit," she said as she glared at him. "What problem?"

He sat back, and started unbuttoning his shirt, with a sheepish grin. "Have you ever tried to put on uh, a sock or something that's too small?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly, not liking where this was headed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Can't say I've ever experienced it for myself," he said, as he stripped off his shirt and let her get a good look at him in the dim light. Despite his thin frame, pale skin, and utter lack of muscle development, he did look quite nice. But the thing that drew her attention was the obvious tent in his trousers. "But have you ever imagined what it would feel like to be that sock?"

"No," she squeaked, knowing exactly what it meant as she watched him pull a little foil packet out of his pocket--a condom.

"Guess you're about to find out."

A small whimper escaped from the back of her throat. Those words did something to her insides that both terrified and excited her. "I don't want to."

"Why don't you just get under the covers? Make yourself comfortable," he suggested as he got to his feet.

"Why should I do that?"

"You did say you were cold."

She sighed and awkwardly lifted the edge of the comforter before climbing underneath it, having to admit it was nice not to be so exposed to the cold air in the room, or Will's prying eyes. She watched him though, noticing a physical reaction from her own body as he methodically removed his belt. Long fingers working seamlessly to pull the end of it through the loops.

He had it on the smallest hole, and even then it didn't seem very snug on his narrow hips. When he finally got it open his trousers sagged almost immediately, until she could see the edges of his boxers.

"See something you like?" He asked jokingly. She scowled but had to admit she did.

"I wonder how much time you've spent putting new holes in belts," she said tartly.

He frowned, seeming a bit self conscious as he suddenly halted. "Should I just turn the lights off?"

"Well no. You've seen me naked, now I should get to see you."

"I think you'll be sorely disappointed," he said as he semi-awkwardly shoved his trousers down lower until they slid down to the floor, and then stepped out of them. He looked sort of goofy, standing there in his underwear. She'd always thought of him as having oddly cartoon-like proportions, being so thin yet so tall, and with the size of his hands and feet compared to the rest of his body.

And other things...

She stopped watching as he prepared himself, only hearing the sounds of zippers and fabric, and then the soft crinkle of foil tearing. The bed creaked, as he slipped under the covers beside her.

"Spread your legs for me, dear," he said gently.

She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. "I'm not going to."

His hands were slightly cold as he gripped her thighs and forced them apart anyway. When she opened her eyes he was above her again, giving her that sympathetic stare, but it was laced with something impure. "If you don't cooperate with me it's only going to be more uncomfortable," he explained. She could feel his cock resting against her stomach, taut skin throbbing through the thin layer of rubber, and seeming impractically large.

"Will that's not," she started, her voice shaking with disbelief, "it's not going to fit."

"You'd be surprised how much a little sock can stretch," he said with a smirk, as he slipped his hand down between them and aligned himself with her entrance. It felt so wrong.

"I'm not a fucking sock," she protested.

"Lift your hips a little," he instructed, and when she didn't he added, "unless you really want this to hurt." Then she obliged him and put herself into a more favorable position. Immediately he started trying to enter her, but all she could feel was pressure on the outside that made her moan in pain. Until he completely slid away from her because of all the moisture.

"I told you," she hissed, seeing the slight furrow in his eyebrows that indicated his annoyance.

"Oh, what, you think I'm going to give up that easily?" He asked, almost laughing. "Turn over."

She went white. "What?"

"It's easier from behind," he said simply. Something had darkened in his expression, and when she didn't indulge him, he simply dismounted her and flipped her over himself. Her face was dark red, buried in the sheets as she turned her head to the side to be able to breathe.

Will's hands were on her hips, coaxing her to stay up as he pushed the tip of his length against her from this new angle which was stricter, but remarkably less complicated. Naturally she tried to shy away from him and sink down into the bed but he held her still as he continued to put pressure on her entrance which seemed futile until all of a sudden it wasn't. She let out a broken whine as the miserably thick head of his cock split her open.

"Don't!" she squeaked, panicking as she realized that he'd gotten her to accept the width of him and that he could easily get much deeper now. "Please don't, I can't--" Her eyes were watering from the pain.

"Hush, yes you can," he said dismissively, as he started shoving himself in, deeper. It hurt so bad she nearly screamed, but instead it came out as a feeble high pitched moan that didn't cease until his cock was completely buried inside of her, and she could feel his weight on her back. "How's that feel, darling?" He asked, twining his fingers with hers.

She could barely answer him through her tears. "Horrible."

"Sorry," he murmured against her skin as he buried his face in her neck. "Bit much for someone your size, huh?"

She continued to protest but was met with a strange parody of intimacy. He covered her throat in little lovebites as he thrusted slow and deep, filling her up over and over again and pushing her inner limits as she moaned lewdly into the pillow. Reduced to a shameful mess of a person.

This was it though, the pain, the pleasure, the weight of his body as he caged her in and did what was supposedly necessary. But he enjoyed it, enjoyed her. She could hear him, panting and moaning. And as the minutes passed his pace became more aggressive, hitting far too deep inside her small body.

Then it was utterly desperate, his grunting and panting. His fingers twitched in their placed, intermingled with hers.

"I love you," he muttered, barely aware of the weight of those words as he finally climaxed. His cock twitched and throbbed inside of her, the weight of his body intensifying, nearly crushing her.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes burning faintly as she hoped he would get off of her, but he clung in this particularly needy way. Hoping she might feel the same, even for just a moment.

"It's alright," he said, still not getting off of her. "It's over now."

But it wasn't really over.