Cris returns to his wife, but he can't hide what Brisa did to him. He sees a side to his wife that he was not prepared for.
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You’re mine…
Her words echoed in his head with every scratch of her nails, every bite of her teeth, every mark she made on his flesh. Pain was the last thing on his mind as their bodies entwined after a week of being absent of each other. The marks he had returned with had not only infuriated her, but had brought out a side of her he was only familiar with from a distance. He knew there would be trouble but he hoped the damage wasn’t going to be too great. After all, another woman had marked him, and even worse, a whore.
As the morning arrived, the first rays of light peeked through the cracks of the small nook they had slipped into the night before. He could still feel the cold steel of the dagger on the ground stinging against his back. Her dark hair spread around his shoulder and neck as her head rested against him. His wife slept deeply, as if she had not slept the entire week he was gone. Her breathing was slow and even while a small smile seemed to linger on her lips even as she slept. Cris tried to move his legs and body, but they ached terribly. It had been a rough night for both of them. He smiled for a moment until he reached a tired hand over to his chest.
Bandages. Slowly, his smile faded and he traced the length of the bandages, stopping in four five different locations on his chest as he winced in pain. Not only was the night tiring, but it also had a touch of cruelty on her part. Cris was one to appreciate the fine art of sadomasochism, but last night wasn’t just an intimate ritual between two lovers. It was his woman making sure that no other woman’s markings remained on her man’s body.
Slowly, the memories flowed into his mind, replaying each word, each breath, and each gesture of possessiveness.
She began with her fingernail tracing over each marking, pressing hard, somewhat deep, as if wanting to carve each of them out. “I won’t let some woman’s marks stare at me as I enjoy my husband,” she growled viciously. At first she began to claw at one of the bruises on his skin. Each scratch only served to arouse his interest in his wife, but as her nails dug deeper, he began to feel the pain on his chest. Niela, noticing his wincing, reached up and licked his neck scar, tensing his entire body. “You’re mine, Cristianno.” Her legs straddled his body, and a cold metallic item slithered along his torso. “And no one else’s.” Cris’s eyes closed tightly as he felt the sharp pain of her small dagger cutting into his chest.
“N-Niela…”
“Shh, my dear husband,” she whispered against his ear before her free hand touched his scar again. The mix of pain and pleasure rushed throughout his veins as she continued to slice off the top layer of his skin. Cris didn’t see what she was doing any longer. Her touch and her demands were all he could focus on. It felt as if she intended on digging out the whore’s marks with her dagger. He could feel her rage with every breath she exhaled against his skin and he realized what she was doing and why.
And he accepted it. After all, if he had thought for just one more second, he would not have been Brisa’s chew toy that night. His fingernails dug into the ground as he felt Niela’s dagger slicing his skin once again. This time, their evening of intimacy had begun and a series of emotions were drowning within him. He began to moan at both the cutting of his skin and the closeness between them. The dagger pierced at his skin three more times before she dropped the blood-covered dagger to the ground. The cleansing was complete. He was once more entirely hers and she made sure she enjoyed every last part of him.
Their sweat-covered bodies slid against each other, mixing with traces of blood. “You want markings? I’ll give you markings,” she whispered between gasps, as her nails dug deep into his torso and she scratched down hard. His arms had puncture wounds and her teeth made sure that her bruises upon him were darker, bigger and completely hers.
However, he was not alone in receiving this baptism by pain. Many times over, he too clawed at her back, cutting into her skin a bit as he gripped her tightly. He heard her whimper and growl at him as she continued her own form of loving abuse. If she was going to claim him back, he too intended on claiming back his wife from the man who kissed her, even if it was just a game to him. Even if it meant nothing to either of them.
It wasn’t until hours later, between kisses and panting, that Niela lifted her nude form off him, gazing at his carved chest. Cris noticed a combination of pride and hurt in her eyes. She reached for a small pouch near her clothes and removed bandages, a small bottle of water, and a bottle of salve. Her green eyes shifted toward Cris’ blue-green eyes and they only stared in silence as she began to clean his wounds. Her touch was soft and tender, contrary to the cruel, rigid way those same hands held the dagger against him earlier. Cris cringed in pain as she cleaned each wound and covered his chest with fresh bandages. She kissed each bandage once they were applied and once she was done, she carefully leaned against him, her fingers caressing his glistening skin before she reached up to his lips, kissing him lovingly with a trace of that previous possessiveness she had demonstrated earlier in the night. As she kissed his neck, she whispered, “I love you, Cristianno.”
He simply responded the only way he knew how. “I love you too, my love.” It wasn’t fear or doubt that was starting to fill his veins now, but guilt and regret. How many times had she told him to think before he acted? How many times had she told him to watch himself? And now he had paid, but it wasn’t an act he hated. He loved the way she claimed him for herself.
“Niela?” he whispered, his voice scratchy from the grunting and groaning.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
She rested her dark hair against his chest and kissed his skin softly. With her fel-green eyes looking away from him, she managed to soften her voice and lovingly say, “All’s forgiven, my love,” but her eyes continued to burn with rage. Cris did not see that. All he understood was that he was forgiven and to him and his heart, that was all that mattered. He knew he had to be more diligent in the future.
As he closed his eyes and ran his hands through her hair, he pressed her body close to his, ignoring any pain he felt. His heartbeat was loud against her ear and her fingers gently began to imitate the beat against his skin.
“It beats for you and only you,” he whispered. He felt her reaction as she enclosed her body closer to his and he smiled faintly. Tomorrow, things would be back to normal. The gold eternium band with the dark bloodstone settled on his left ring finger remained the promise that everything would be fine.
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