Terror came as a heavy impact when it jarringly wrenched you from sleep, consuming your mind and inspiring the instinctive flail of your body before awareness could lend you any sort of reason or understanding to the feeling. You were screaming before your brain recognized the cause for fear, but the sound was choked by sleep and muffled by a hand covering your mouth.
“Don’t be scared, it’s just me,” a voice you recognized said in the darkness. You blinked in a panicked attempt at focusing your eyes on the person, heart racing yet somehow set slightly at ease by the feeling of recognition.
Eventually, you could make out the silhouette of the man whose warm hand still covered your mouth, his pale skin luminous in the light coming in through your open-curtained windows and eyes shining as they stared down at you.
Any sensation of ease provided by your brain’s familiarity with that voice was driven out in a flash of icy cold dread. Perhaps feeling your shift in emotion upon recognition, he smiled, his teeth flashing in the blue-ish light.
Chrollo Lucilfer. Infamous criminal and, until his high profile escape nearly a week ago, a man who had been your criminal informant, helping you solve an ongoing murder investigation from his cell at a top security psych hospital.
This couldn’t be real.
“Hello, agent,” Chrollo greeted you in his unforgettable smooth voice.
That sound brought you down to earth a bit, waking you up further from the notion that this could be a dream. There was no way you could imagine his voice with such clarity. It brought further cries of fear and objection from your mouth, all of them muted by his hand. Searching for some control, you moved to push him away. Only to feel something bite into your wrists and hear the clanging of metal.
The cause turned out to be metal handcuffs, attached around your wrists with the chain linked to the headboard. You looked up at them with a fresh flare of panic. Did he mean to be funny by handcuffing you to your bed with your own handcuffs? They were just a touch too tight, meaning that any struggling was sure to hurt you.
Chrollo was still smiling when your frightened eyes rolled back up to meet his. Without any other options, you stopped making any noise and fell still, assuming that’s what he wanted. It got him to pull his hand away, at least.
“How?” was the first hushed word out of your mouth, “They said that… That you left the country.”
Chrollo picked up something from your nightstand. Your gun. The one you kept by your bedside out of the fear that the FBI had been wrong about him escaping. Out of fear that the monsters you hunted and the ones you worked with might someday find you.
It was an act of paranoia, a feeling that had kept you awake most of the week he’d been gone. The only reason you had been sleeping deeply enough to not wake up right away and have the chance to defend yourself with that weapon was because you had worn yourself to the point of utter exhaustion with stress of him coming for you. The irony wasn’t lost on you.
“You didn’t believe that, did you, agent… Was this meant for me?” Chrollo asked, sounding pleased as he held up your glock. Before you could get too tense at the sight of him with your gun, he smoothly ejected the magazine, letting it drop to your nightstand carelessly.
“You were prepared…” Chrollo mused warmly when he checked the chamber. The readied bullet you kept loaded out of your now-useless paranoia flew out, clattering to the floor. The noise made you flinch, but he didn’t seem to care, admiring the gun a second longer before discarding it and moving to study the things on your nightstand with interest.
Considering all you knew of the man, this criminal, it wasn’t surprising that he’d want to intrude on such an intimate yet mundane part of your life. That didn’t make it feel any less out of place and uncomfortably invasive in this extended moment of cold fear and tense quiet. As much as you didn’t want his attention focused on you, you hated the uncertainty of the silence. It gave you time to think. Time for your mind to whirl in a cycle of increasingly hysteric thoughts.
Unloading the gun was a bad sign. If Chrollo intended to kill you, you’d have been lucky for it to be a quick death via a bullet in your head, but that wasn’t his style, was it? Before being arrested, Chrollo Lucilfer had been known by the media to have killed people with pens, but he could be awfully creative and artistic. The flesh eating fish had been a special variety of horrifying.
What torture would he think up for you, the person who had occasionally lied to him and turned a blind eye to undoubtedly cruel treatment for your own ambition?
Chrollo didn’t seem to be bothered by the silence as he picked through the extraneous things you had on your side table, relying on the surprisingly bright blue-ish light from your windows rather than opting to turn on your lamp. You never slept with your curtains open because of the brightness, but now you were grateful for the illumination. It allowed you to see Chrollo in his true form, styled just as he was before he had been arrested and imprisoned.
His ears, which you had only ever seen in person as being bare and stretched, were fitted with his odd signature earrings. They caught the light whenever he moved, displayed by his freshly cut hair. Glossy and black, he’d parted it in the middle and styled the strands from his forehead so the cross tattoo could be plainly seen.
You’d gotten to know, and even come to respect, a nearly boyish looking man wearing the white pajama-like clothes provided to patients of the ward. The man looming above you was different. Striking and intimidating, his black outfit broken up by criss-crossing lines of white, there was no doubt about his true nature, now.
“That smile is fake, isn’t it,” Chrollo broke the silence to say knowingly, holding up a picture of you and your family. You didn’t even have to look to know he was correct.
Correct, because even if you had no idea who this version of Chrollo was, he knew you.
The idea that he, this dangerous criminal (Murderer! How many names were on the list of confirmed kills alone?) could tell your fake smile in this dim light when your entire family had been fooled was chilling, and unbearably upsetting. It sparked a deep feeling of tragic unease within you that you had allowed someone like this to know you so intimately. But, regret for your weakness was pointless now, only an angry ache in your gut.
“Why are you here,” you asked rather than respond, trying to sound brave. Still, there was a note of pleading in your voice, a horrible tremor of fear. You’d gotten so brave, confronting him with a pane of glass between the two of you, meeting his cold gray eyes with your head held high. No matter how powerful of a man Chrollo was, you always had power. Now you were tied to your bed like some common victim while he stood above you in the dark. If you weren’t so scared, the cliche would kill you.
You felt hurt, too, as stupid as it was. You’d thought you’d become… Well, not friends. You weren’t that unprofessionally idiotic. But you respected each other. There was an understanding (Trust. Trust was the word to describe the childish feeling you’d begun to harbor towards him) or so you had thought. Foolishly, considering how easily Chrollo had just proved that it was a one-sided deal.
“Don’t worry, I’m not here to kill you,” Chrollo said warmly, sweetly, dropping the photo frame with a small crash onto your night stand to look down at you instead. The sound made you jump, the metal cuffs clanking against the headboard bars.
“Then why?” you asked, forcing your voice to hold steady with a uncomfortably vulnerable sort of strength, to not squirm in the discomfort of being in such an exposed position.
“Think it through, agent,” Chrollo replied with a touch of humor and condescension, “I’m sure it will come to you.”
You frowned at his lack of actual answer. Surely there was a clue in his words, but now wasn’t the time to try and think it through. Not when his eyes were so firmly fixed to your face, to your prone form. Panic nipped at the edges of your forced calm, threatened to send your carefully controlled breathing into an unsteady rush. No, you couldn’t think like this.
“I won’t play games if you insist on keeping me handcuffed,” you told him in as steady of a voice as you could manage. That was good. Be reasonable. Get him to remove the handcuffs.
Chrollo didn’t spare a second to consider taking the bait.
“You won’t?” he asked instead, his expression unreadable, “I played yours for nearly five weeks, certainly you can allow me a single night.”
Without waiting for your response, or perhaps satisfied with simply making such a vague and uncomfortable comment, he turned his back to you, taking silent and measured steps to the foot of your bed. You’d almost call it pacing if he didn’t stop with such assurity at the very edge.
“Do you know why I agreed to help you in the first place? Everyone in the hospital had a different opinion, but I’m curious of what you think.”
You let out a harsh breath, put off by Chrollo sharp redirect.
“Are you deflecting?” you asked carefully, unwilling to allow him to lead you into a new topic until you knew what he planned. Chrollo turned to face you, tilting his chin up thoughtfully, but not breaking eye contact. Like this, the light only touched half his face, leaving the other draped in a dramatic line of shadow.
“I like you,” Chrollo finally said, the matter-of-fact confession lacking any sentimentality, “You’re smart… Interesting. It’s a shame you’ve chosen this path for yourself, I think you could have gotten similar results without my help… If you weren’t bound by the law.”
Chrollo drew in a breath through his teeth, pausing as his dark eyes scanned your body, which was more or less covered by your blanket. For the first time, you felt horribly aware of how little you were actually wearing, your lack of bra allowing your nipples to push visibly against the fabric of your shirt. Vulnerable.
“However, I can’t say that’s the only reason…” His eyes locked onto yours. “I’ve wanted you since the first day.”
Silence that stung and echoed with those lowly spoken words played around in your muted mind until finally (finally, finally, finally) your eyes widened in understanding, your heart stopping in its frantic beat as it was iced over with new fear.
The tension you’d mistaken as murderous intent so easily took on a sexual charge under the heat of his dark eyes, making your insides twist unpleasantly and changing the meaning of your defenseless position from bad to worse. It was a molten feeling, tense and liquid all at once.
Wanted. Wanted you. Again and again that word, that phrase, swirled around and choked you. You were afraid, of course, but just as bad was the dizzying confusion. You’d have to be blind to not see the fact that Chrollo was attractive (That was, after all, an important trait of a truly good charismatic cult leader) but there had never been any sign, any feeling or tip-off, any interaction that had made you believe he was attracted to you.
It hadn’t even occurred to you until now that that could be his reason. The idea of such a simple motive for such a complex criminal filled you with shock, but the longer you dwelled on it and the seconds ticked on, the worse the fear became. The more your anxious panic flurried, already leaving you shaking and breathless.
You needed to speak, to force calm, to fix this because you couldn’t, he couldn’t-
“Chrollo, this isn’t… You’re not…Not a rapist,” you told him in a voice of forced reason, catching uncomfortably on the last word. Yes, Chrollo Lucilfer was many things, but none of his crimes were driven by sexual fulfillment. That was your assessment, and the assessment of many. For as little as he understood of himself, even he had scoffed at the idea of that profile.
Chrollo just laughed, the sound muffled slightly as he pulled his black shirt off, revealing a torso just as impossibly pale as his face. Muscular. Of course he was, you’d been told of the amount of time he dedicated to training while imprisoned. Chrollo didn’t pause to check your reaction. He wasn’t bothering to show off for you, you realized. That almost made the display more intimidating.
You ripped your eyes away as he undid his belt and stripped to a pair of black boxer briefs, shaking your head to clear the image from your mind. If you stared too long, if you admitted that he was attractive, or that this somehow filled you with a sickening assortment of confused butterflies, what would that make you?
“You can’t possibly tell me that… that the only reason you’re putting yourself in such a dangerous position is to…” You swallowed hard, cursing the awful tremor in your voice and keeping your eyes resolutely fixed anywhere but on his state of undress. “You can still stop this, Chrollo, an-and… and leave.”
He was far more exposed than you were now, yet your skin crawled with a feeling of exposure, with an awful anticipation. You pushed yourself back with your legs, curling inwards to the headboard in an awkward protective stance despite the way it forced your arms to contort behind you.
“I know… I know that you’re not this stupid and reckless.” You were pleading now, willing the words to be true. You couldn’t honestly say them with any degree of certainty, now. Your profile no longer mattered. Maybe it never had.
“You’re right,” Chrollo told you, the words just as friendly as that laugh had been.
Kneeling on the edge of your bed, he pulled your blankets away from your curled legs, baring the skin to the cooler air of the room. His dark eyes didn’t leave your face, studying every expression you tried so desperately to control.
“You know what I am, agent. Or have you forgotten?” Chrollo asked, as if teasing. His lips quirked into a smirk. “The Spider. We steal what we want,” his voice lowered, the smirk dropping, “We take anything we desire.”
Again, helplessness consumed you. The primal need to fight warring with the dark eventuality that you couldn’t stop this. It was a feeling of sickness, it was absolutely sick to submit yourself to this. Even if you couldn’t stop him, you had to at least be able to say you tried.
You took a deep breath, willing yourself to stop trembling.
“I… I still don’t think you really want to do this,” you argued, “You were locked up for awhile. I-it makes sense that you’d think you were attracted to me, because I was the only woman you really interacted with.” You swallowed hard. “But thi-this… It’s… It’s beneath you, Chrollo, isn’t it?”
In the blue tinted light, you could clearly see his impassive expression when you were brave enough to meet his eyes. Yours were wide with pleading; his were dark, round, and luminous in a way that was on the wrong side of unnerving. Inhuman, almost. With only half of Chrollo’s face illuminated, the angular lines of his features were twice as intimidating, sharp in a way that brought to mind mythological fae creatures.
“Don’t sell yourself short, agent,” Chrollo said, making his way up the bed with an easy grace, “I wouldn’t bother stealing something I didn’t believe had value. In fact, I’d say that I value you more than anyone else in your life. You… fascinate me.”
Your breath audibly caught, the terrible pit of absolute discomfort swelling in your stomach. It was the gnarled weight of disgust, or maybe disagreement, or unhappiness or-
Some part of you tingled to hear such overt praise in his voice.
Chrollo took your stunned silence as invitation to come nearer. Close, too close. You’d never even touched before tonight, you realized, always separated by the safety of glass. Panic kicked in at the thought of him being so near you, of his intentions, it pushed you into an mindless reaction, undeterred by reason or thought.
It happened fast, you lashing out with a cry of denial when he was close enough strike. Although your foot connected in a glancing blow to the side of Chrollo’s face, it wasn’t the straight-on, nose-shattering kick you intended. It was too clumsy, too uncoordinated, and he was ready for you.
Chrollo easily caught your ankle while you were off balance, pulling you towards him with a violent jerk. The harsh movement pulled hard on your arms, the warmed metal of the too-tight handcuffs biting deeply into the thin skin and bone of your wrists. He was the one who’d gotten hit, but you were the one who cried out in pain.
With one hand, Chrollo pinned down your legs while you were preoccupied by the pain, looming above you once more while he probed his face with gentle fingertips. The side of his full bottom lip was split, blood welling into a lovely little bloom against his pale skin, there might have been the red mark of a developing bruise, but it was hidden by the shadows.
“Going for the face, agent…?” Chrollo asked quietly, studying the blood on his fingers, his voice warm in a way that made you shiver. The unnerving tone matched the sharp smile he wore as he tugged you down in a painful motion yet again, getting your sleep shorts and underwear to your ankles in one pass. You only half-heartedly kicked in protest against being stripped, more concerned with trying to spare your hurt wrists and biting down your cries of pain. “Well, that’s fine… I don’t mind playing dirty.”
He didn’t wait for you to scramble together a reply to those intimidating words or deal with the fact that you were half naked, not even giving you a chance to struggle properly. Twisting the elastic fabric of your shorts and underwear tight around your ankles, binding them together, Chrollo pushed your legs up, forcing you into an awkward folded position that, considering your nudity, left you embarrassingly exposed in the most intimate way.
“Nonono.. No, STOP!” you shouted in a desperate panic, kicking and squirming against his grip with as much strength as you had, tugging on your wrists unthinkingly.
Silencing your protests and replacing them with a sharp yelp of pain, Chrollo’s palm landed with a loud slap against your forcefully presented ass.
It was shocking and cruel, and it also really hurt, leaving a handprint of fire against the sensitive skin. The pain was enough to make your toes curl and legs try to bend inwards, fighting even harder against his hold. When you continued to struggle, Chrollo hit you again, then a third time. It burned in a foreign way, an entirely new type of agony. The few times you’d experimented with being spanked had been nothing more than a few playful swats, nothing like this. Each time Chrollo’s hand landed you were certain you’d be bruised, perhaps even find the imprint of his hand emblazoned onto the sensitive skin.
“Stop…” you begged through grit teeth to hide the whimpering tone of your voice. You had stopped struggling, not just because of the pain, although that was enough to draw tears into your eyes and make your ears ring, but because of the humiliation of the position, of being crumpled and exposed to him against your will.
“What did you think would happen when you attacked me?” Chrollo asked, his hand running trails of fire over your stinging skin. He sounded genuinely curious, waiting for your response with his round eyes burning into your skin. You couldn’t meet them, your watery gaze looking anywhere, everywhere, but at him.
You honestly had no idea what you had wanted. The goal had been to mindlessly attack, but there was no point in telling him that. Instead you sniffed, trying to compose yourself somewhat and hold on to a shred of dignity and anger.
“Is that what..” you bit out, pausing to clear your throat of the thick tears that were swelling and choking you, “What this is? Punishing me for… Rejecting you?” If you could have managed a properly acidic tone and been able to meet his eyes, the words might have sounded brave.
As it was, they only made Chrollo laugh. Such a warm sound, but mocking. It filled you with cold, made you tense.
“No.” His hand landed again, spanking you hard in the same spot as he’d first targeted. It made you cry out, the sound pitched high and choked. “Truthfully, I’ve been looking forward to trying this,” Chrollo continued conversationally, striking you again, even harder. Your entire body jolted into the cruel touch, your head turning into your arm to stifle a scream. “You’re lucky.. If we had more time, you might have tempted me into doing even worse. Are you trying to seduce me, agent?”
Chrollo paused in his assault with that horrible question, humming in satisfaction as he admired the marks on your skin.
“You’re better than I imagined.” His voice was caramel sweet with the praise, layered with affection as he looked down at you. The rush of gratitude you felt was ugly and suffocating, but for a moment it overwhelmed the pain.
Then his hand came back down. By the sixth blow you were certain you couldn’t bear anymore, that your skin was certainly on fire, being eaten away by the stinging licks of flame. He raised his hand.
“Stop.” You forced the word out of your mouth with as little interference from your pained cries as possible, but it still managed to ring hoarse desperation, begging that his hand didn’t land again. “Please, please stop.”
“Relax,” Chrollo cooed. His hand fell to your heated flesh, but with a delicate touch, moving to pet your tender skin.
The softness of the action made your sobbing breath catch.
Like a soothing balm, the relative relief was good enough to send a shiver of pleasure down your spine, pulling a soft noise to your lips that you didn’t think to stifle until it was too late. A moan, whimpery in the wake of your wailing. You went stiff.
“Do you think it’s appropriate for an agent of the FBI to be moaning for a known criminal?” Chrollo asked without skipping a beat, looking down at you with cocky half smile.
Ignoring the way you squirmed, his fingertips slowly trailed upwards, sliding across your flinching and delicate skin. Despite the way your body was exposed, Chrollo’s dark, round eyes stayed trained on your face. You almost would have rathered it the other way around, just to avoid the spotlight of his gaze watching every expression you couldn’t hope to control.
“I wonder what your team would say to know that you get wet from being spanked by Saherta’s Most Wanted,” he continued, using a cruel tone of friendly playfulness.
Your breath stopped at the taunt, your body tensing completely as humiliation overwhelmed you. The words were a sickening reminder of your disgust, of the senseless unfairness of the pain, of the uncomfortable shame of the position he still held you in.
It all bubbled up, fed by the dozens of terrible emotions and pain swarming your thoughts. Dazed by it all, frenzied by it, you began struggling again, another thoughtless action born of nothing but a need to get away, to get free.
“Shut up,” you demanded in a breathlessly flustered voice. Denial. Denial of whatever conclusions he’d drawn from your uncontrollable reaction, denial of the way he was touching you so intimately. “I’m not.. I’m.. I’m not!”
Contrary to his sweet reassurance, Chrollo spanked you again. His palm landed on your ass with an awfully loud cracking sound, shutting you up and making you still with a wave of new pain. It made you wail, the sound drawn into a pathetic keen by the way his hand instantly went back to gently caressing the tender skin.
“You were doing so well, agent,” Chrollo admonished, although he sounded more pleased than ever, “If you wanted me to hit you again, all you had to do was ask.”
“Oh, fuck you!” you cried, the most honest expression of your helpless pain and exasperation you could voice.
Chrollo just laughed at that, finally allowing your legs to drop and positioning himself between them before you could attempt a bid for control.
He allowed no in-between moment to allow you to adjust to the new position, no time to think or to control your reaction to the pain of your sore ass making contact with the bed or your frightened shock. You weren’t wet enough for there not to be an uncomfortable stretch when he pushed two fingers into you, but Chrollo didn’t stop at your pained whine, or because of the way you struggled. He didn’t stop until his hand was flush with your skin, his fingers buried deep inside of you.
It wasn’t just that it hurt, you already had plenty of distracting pain with the way your thighs burned from being dropped out of the pose he’d held them in, how your wrists decided now to remind you that they were bruised and bloody from the cuffs, and the burning hand print marks your ass was decorated with.
The issue was that, even with all of those conflicting sensations, your mind still managed to feel every minute movement of Chrollo’s fingers. Being spanked had left your body sensitized and tingling (aroused, the horrific word to describe the feeling was arousal). The feeling of his fingers inside you was good, sparking pleasure and filling you with warmth.
When his tongue made its first pass over your clit, your hips jumped against him, a gasping moan leaving your mouth
“S-stop,” you got out in a shuddering breath, “What… What are you doing?” This wasn’t how it was meant to go. The spanking had been one thing, but this was-
“Relax,” Chrollo cooed soothingly for the second time that night, flashing his unnerving cocky half smile up at you. Positioned so lewdly between your thighs, angular and cast in the monochrome palette of black, white, and blue, it struck you again that he didn’t look wholly human.
That frightened and fleeting thought was blown from your mind, though, because he gave you no chance to object, offering no other preparation before ducking down to focus entirely on eating you out.
Chrollo didn’t seem to suffer from even a second of uncertainty, not in the way his tongue traced across your clit and not in the way his fingers curled and thrust into you. It wasn’t fair that he was a skilled lover when you should have seen him only as your attacker, and it wasn’t fair that he’d chosen to attack you now in this most intimately vulnerable of ways, straight off the heels of a humiliating punishment for a crime you didn’t claim guilt.
But then Chrollo found a spot that made you see stars, and the pleasure hit as an excess in the purest, a drug of erotic bliss and depraved torment. It was intoxicating - It was disorienting.
Objections left your mouth, half-hearted and heavily accented by your unsteady breathing and bitten back moans. In your heart, you knew they weren’t sincere, hardly even coherent, and soon they were reduced to nothing but inarticulate noises that might as well have been encouragement.
When you chanced a fevered glance down to see Chrollo between your thighs, you felt the filth of sin in taking pleasure from such a terrible man, but that was no longer enough for you to be able to fight the physical, to fight the primal and increasingly insistent heated lust from his touch.
If they knew what the devil could do with his tongue, would anyone blame you for damning yourself by praying his name?
You threw your head back into the pillows, powerless and lost in sensation. Now that you’d lost that last shred of defiance, Chrollo had no problems with making you moan and cry out for him, your body arching and tensing and singing to his touch, because of the pleasure he was giving you.
He offered escape, allowed you to abandon your mind in favor of his control. It was wrong in every way possible, but that wasn’t so bad, was it? Not when Chrollo was making you feel so good, touching you in a way that made your mind buzz with desire and need. You were going to come like this.
The thought should have disgusted you, but in that moment you wanted it more than anything. In this miniature scope of base desire on the grand set of your nightmare, the physical was all that mattered.
Release was sweet on your tongue, tasting of liquid heat and need and the faint scent of leather. Your encouraging words, pleas, and senseless sounds filled your room, your body straining as you sought the final burst of pleasure that would send you over the edge. So close, you were so close you could-
Chrollo pulled back.
That promise, the blissful edge that had been tingling your fingers and toes, drew away from you, too.
“Nonononono…” you whined, your eyes squeezed shut and voice full of a very childish disappointment, hips pushing mindlessly.
You had been so-
Disappointment didn’t stick when Chrollo was soothing it over only a second later, easing the ache of being denied with a fresh swell of pleasure. You accepted his expert ministrations greedily, the dizzy pain of that dissatisfaction forgotten as you began to chase the feeling once more.
This time there was no gentle built and swell. The spark provided by Chrollo’s clever tongue and wonderful fingers was more than enough to have you on your way to getting off quickly, your body wanting it as badly as you did, reaching for it with the same senseless lack of rationality. His fingers curled, dragging across your g-spot with a nearly painfully intense focus, his mouth pushing you to the very brink when his lips closed around your clit and sucked lightly.
Shameless, now, lust drunk and needy, you begged for it.
“Oh please oh please, ‘m close… Right there, please, yes YES…. No-” your voice broke on the last word in actual despair. Being denied again when Chrollo pulled away at the last second struck you as hard as any heartbreak, the frayed edges of your mind screaming desperation. “Chrollo, please… Why are you..”
Your teary eyes opened to look down at him, completely composed and wearing that half smile, the undeniable control he held despite the position between your legs silenced you completely. With only a second of rational thought, you realized that this wasn’t an accident. He was enjoying your helplessness, just as he had earlier.
This wasn’t meant to be for your pleasure.
“Is something the matter?” Chrollo asked, casually pushing his fingers into you, making your hips jolt distractingly. It was only enough to tickle the heat in your core, but his unconcerned strokes against your g-spot made focus, even on the anger or frustration or hatred you should have felt for this torture, an exercise in futility.
“Stop…” you whimpered, closing your eyes to escape his and willing away the all consuming sensation that came with the way he was playing with you. “You’re…”
Your words cut off with a sharp gasp when Chrollo’s finger found your clit, rubbing it slowly. Your hips jumped, trying to find more in the the painfully slow and controlled movement, but that only made Chrollo’s motions slower. Torturing you, edging you to madness.
“I’m…” Chrollo prompted teasingly, trying to pull you from your increasingly irrational chase of pleasure from a source that could never provide.
You let out a frustrated breath that came out more like a choked whine, stupidly tugging your hands down in your desperation to touch yourself, to get off. Of course you were stopped by the handcuffs, which clanged and bit your skin, adding pain to the dozens of helpless sensations coursing through you.
“You’re doing it on purpose,” you whined when you reached the powerless conclusion that the only way you’d get anything was from him, stating the obvious because it was the only rational thought you could conjure.
“Doing what?” Chrollo asked, mocking you without pretense. If you were to look down at him now, you knew his dark eyes would dance delight, his lips twisted into a smirk. Even to imagine that was unbearable. Instead, your teary eyes squeezed shut, a hissing whine drawn from your lips when his fingers began moving faster, “This?”
Frustrated focus had made you semi-sane for those brief moments, but when Chrollo went down on you again, that all scattered and surrendered, submitting your sanity to the singular surge of satisfaction. It didn’t matter that you had been upset, or that he was torturing you on purpose, or even that you were fairly certain you didn’t want this at all, because it felt so good.
It was right at the edge, right where you were striving, straining for the sweetness of release with every fiber of your being, that Chrollo eased up. As if possessed by a demon, your back arched dramatically away from the bed, your hips chasing his touch in the hopeless hope that it could be enough to relieve your desperation. Mourning satisfaction, lost in the limbo of desire, your body heaved in a sob, inconsolable in your blindingly senseless need to come.
Still, Chrollo didn’t entirely stop. Instead he switched to only using his hands, slowly and cruelly upping the pace once the intangible threads of climax were despairingly out of your reach.
Keeping you dazed with pleasure, he moved up your body, his lips seeking one of your stiff nipples through the thin fabric of the shirt you’d never gotten out of. The edges of his teeth scraping the fabric against your sensitive skin was a nearly overwhelming sense of stimulation in its own right, feeding into the quickly building coil winding back up in your core, so eager to be inflated despite the knowledge that this time would likely leave you just as dissatisfied as the rest.
“Chrollo please, I can’t… It hurts,” you cried in an unrecognizable voice, pathetic beyond belief, writing beneath him. That changed the way you were laying, moving your thigh slightly.
You should have felt fear and disgust to feel his erection, tragically clothed, against your leg, but instead it only intensified your need, your desire. How could Chrollo remain so calm when he wanted you, too? How was it fair that you were the only one falling apart?
“Please, Chrollo, I need to…” you said, the choppy collection of words the only thing you could vocalize when his fingers were still languidly stroking you.
“I find it interesting how easily a person can be driven mad by their desires,” Chrollo said with an insulting calm, his mouth still hovering over your chest, “I’ve seen it so many times, humans ruined by their greed and lust.”
Chrollo paused, withdrawing his fingers from you. Although they’d only been torturing and teasing, the loss still brought another pathetically disappointed whimper to your lips. Before that emotion could torture you too much, rounded dark eyes, shining excitement and lust, met yours.
“I don’t doubt that you’re a strong person, agent… But right now, what would you do in order to come?” His eyes flicked to the side, looking at the clock you couldn’t quite see, “The the night is still early… I wonder how much of this you could take.”
You were shaking your head before you even registered the movement, tears welling in your eyes as a feeling of suffocating and genuine panic filled you. How much more could you take? You didn’t want to know the answer to that.
“Nonono, please… I’ll do-” You swallowed hard, tripping on the desperate words despite how far you’d already fallen. “I’ll do anything, just no more, please.”
Chrollo watched your fearful reaction without compassion, studying you intently before wiping a tear from your flushed cheek. You pushed your face into the fleeting touch.
“Don’t worry, agent,” he said soothingly, “I don’t want to break you yet.”
“Yet…?” you questioned hoarsely.
Rather than answer, Chrollo disrupted your discomfort with distraction, finally pushing down his underwear, sliding the fabric all the way down and off of his perfect and pale legs. Beautiful, (he truly was beautiful, no matter what protective mindset you’d attempted earlier in the night) but your eyes were still drawn to his freed erection, fresh need striking hot in your core.
Unconsciously, almost unnoticed by your singularly focused mind, you whimpered at the sight of Chrollo’s hand closing around the shaft. You shouldn’t have wanted this, you really shouldn’t have, but when that hand moved, stroking himself in an utterly tantalizing way, your nearly numb hands pulled at the cuffs with the desire to help.
Belatedly, you realized you were crying again, arousal haunting you with the phantom pains of his tongue and fingers, lust cursing you as Chrollo so easily teased out your torment.
“Look at me,” Chrollo said lightly, a demand issued with the casual confidence of a man who knew he’d be obeyed.
He wasn’t wrong. Breathing fast, heart pulsing in your throat, your watery eyes tore away from his cruel display, seeking submission in the danger of his dark gaze. The corner of his plush bottom lip was still swollen ever so slightly, you realized. It was with a dizzy sense of confusion that you recalled your attack, an event that might as well have taken place years ago. In your mind, this bubble of time was separate from all else, a place free of reality or reason.
“I’ll let you come,” Chrollo said, snapping you back to relative focus. There was a small smile playing across his mouth. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” you replied instantly, without even considering the danger of that word. Despite that, the conviction in your desperate voice was far more convincing than any protest you had offered.
As if to reward you for your quick answer, Chrollo reached out with the hand not stroking himself, his fingers expertly rubbing against your swollen and over-sensitive clit. The pleasure fought the muted disgust you felt for yourself, allowing you to sink back into the haze of bliss. A helpless moan left your mouth as you fell, helpless against the mesmerizing allure of his unbreakable gaze and helpless against the reminder of the agonizing pleasure. Helpless against him.
“Tell me the truth,” Chrollo said lowly, intimately, “I want to hear your desires and thoughts, without the filter of shame and morals. Expose yourself for me.”
A flip of shaky humiliation managed to turn your stomach at his words, even if it was quickly folded into the emotional storm that had turned you into this defenseless mess. You had said you’d do anything, and with the horrifically wonderful reminder of the not-enough pressure building pleasure within you, you knew you didn’t have the strength to deny him.
“Okay,” you finally agreed.
Chrollo smiled, his hand pulling away as he shifted positions.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
Just like humiliation, shame still managed to find place in your response to the question, and no matter how badly your body begged to be filled, to be touched by him, the reality was frightening. And yet, you spoke. And, somehow, it was the truth.
“Me?” Chrollo asked, arranging you into position like a doll, but doing nothing more.
He wanted more than just one word. Your desires and thoughts. The truth. You swallowed hard and closed your eyes, stifling a terrible plaintive cry that wanted to simply break down and begin begging. Your control almost shattered to that impulse when he ran the smooth tip of his dick through your nearly obscene wetness, dragging it up to your clit and making you shudder.
Still you knew that if you broke down, he’d only prolong this, and the idea of that was abhorrent on a profound level.
“I want… I want you… Inside of me,” you finally got out, “F-fuck me until I come, please, Chrollo. I want… I need-” With your eyes still squeezed shut and mind too distracted by the humiliation of your words, you were caught entirely by surprise when Chrollo pushed into you in one smooth motion.
Your eyes snapped open in surprise at the feeling, instinctively seeking Chrollo’s control through the darkness of his gaze, seeking stability as your mind attempted to find traction amid the overwhelming feeling. Chrollo was controlled, but his dark eyes offered no stability. His smile was madness, and your incoherent mind was suddenly sure that he was some inhuman creature. Dangerous and cruel, sculpted and beautiful. Chrollo was heart-wrenchingly beautiful, but so was the devil.
You were afraid, maybe, but you couldn’t tell the feeling apart from the rest anymore. All of your intense and frightening emotions (too much! They were too much for you to bear, you were sure to explode with the pressure of feeling them) bled crimson lust, swirling into your inescapable and reprehensible need.
Chrollo didn’t give you any time to adjust or to think or to organize yourself into anything more than your senseless craving. His fingers dug into your hips, holding them at an angle so he could fuck you while still looming above, looking down on you, dominant and controlling and cruel.
It didn’t matter if the feeling of him filling you was good (did any of this feel good? You couldn’t tell, only that it was simultaneously too much and not enough), or that he was a bit too rough, it didn’t even matter that the way his hips snapped against your ass rekindled that awful stinging pain from being spanked.
None of it mattered (it was all you cared about), nothing else mattered (if it did, how would you stand it?). You were indecently wet, needy to the brink of madness, and broken down from the night’s torture, your body accepted Chrollo’s with all the pathetic enthusiasm of the pitifully dehydrated being satiated drop by drop.
Your want, your need, your desire - the agonizing ache the fast paced slide of his dick inside you both soothed and worsened - was so intense that you were certain you’d accept death like this as long as Chrollo didn’t stop.
“Please,” you gasped out, breathless and gasping, “Please tuh-touch me, I wanna… Please.”
“Touch you?” he confirmed in a low tone. You nodded, begging him with your eyes in the hopes of a shred of sympathy.
Chrollo slowed the pace instead, pushing up your shirt to bunch beneath your arms. Air caressed the sweat slicked skin, sending a shiver down your spine. He traced his fingers over your newly sensitized stomach and breasts.
Your choked cry of disappointment at the cruel joke earned a breathy and rumbling laugh from Chrollo, drawn out into a low sound that could only be called a groan.
“Have you thought about this before?” Chrollo asked, his voice low and marked with the strain of pleasure and exertion, “Have you fantasized about me, agent?”
Flat denial was your first response to those questions, the most natural answer to come to mind, but Chrollo knew that. His hand dragged back down your stomach, making the skin flinch and flutter, to roughly dig back into your hip.
“Be honest,” he reminded you sweetly, warmly, tilting up your hips to accentuate the words with a harsh thrust that made you yelp, flashing your vision white.
You thought of Chrollo in the cell as you’d known him, wearing white and smiling warmly at you, his dark hair grown out and constantly unruly. He’d spoken in a lighter tone, then, his humor dry but friendly. You were an idiot and unprofessional and morally corrupt, but he was an attractive man, one who had somehow gotten to know you better than anyone in your life.
“Of course I have,” you finally responded. The gutted truth.
Chrollo hummed lowly, a delighted sound.
You had closed your eyes again, but they snapped open when Chrollo pulled out, hiking your legs up his waist. Then he dropped down to his elbows, your chests nearly touching with each frenzied breath. His eyes were round and wide with an excited mania, his smile sharp and pale cheeks flushed.
“I want to hear about them, later,” Chrollo told you, pushing back in.
The change in position made your eyes roll back in pleasure, the angle in which he entered you shifted and your over-sensitive clit rubbing against him with every roll of his hips.
“But for now, I want you to come for me.”
If you weren’t otherwise preoccupied, you could have wept in relief as he began a rough pace, his hips quickly thrusting against yours, chasing his own release with as much vigor as you wanted your own. It wasn’t going to take long for you to finally come, not like this, not when your body was tense and aching and building to it with the intensity of all the denied orgasms piling on top of one other.
It was going to be so good, sweet, splendid, sublime, you strained and strove for it, moaning and crying out with one of your only coherent thoughts being that you wished you weren’t handcuffed so you could tangle your fingers in Chrollo’s hair, feel the muscles of his back moving and tensing and hot beneath your hands.
Chrollo didn’t vocalize his pleasure in the way you couldn’t help, but his voice got twisted up in his heavy breaths, the sound imbued in each harsh burst of air that hit your neck.
Need was all consuming, your entire body becoming taunt and pushing into it, muscles trembling and aching as the tension in your core became the only thing in the world that mattered.
“‘m close, I-” You couldn’t form the words to ask together, your brain sparking with stimulation and body entirely fixated on the place where your bodies joined.
“Yeah?” Chrollo asked, low and amused in response to your choked almost-plea. You whimpered helplessly. “Are you… Going to come… For me, agent?” His voice was heavily strained now, lower sounds mixing with the breathy higher notes. It was so lovely, so sexy, so perfect.
It was his low, rumbling groan that truly sent you spiraling, toppling over the edge into blissful oblivion with a prayer-like mantra of his name on your lips.
Your orgasm didn’t hit you fast and fizzle out faster. Rather, it began at the point of the thousands of nerve endings Chrollo had frayed and abused through the night, that he continued to stimulate with his increasingly sporadic thrusts. It was like you could feel all of them, your whirling mind becoming hyper aware of each sensation and touch, even the pain was rendered beautiful in this kaleidoscope of pure stimulation.
Lost in it, you arched against Chrollo, tilting your hips so you could take him deeper, feel as much of him as possible. Ecstasy was hot and liquid, intense in a way nothing like you’d ever experienced. It was every second of Chrollo’s tortuous build up and the salve to each second of misery thereafter. He fucked you through it, racing towards his own end by using you, by fucking you harder.
“Are you going to come for me, Chrollo?” you asked in a stranger’s voice, languid and sugar sweet softened with pleasure. The words themselves had no meaning in your mind, spoken without any thought as you lingered in the valley between rapture and sanity.
They made Chrollo swear, his violent hips stuttering and body tensing, breath catching with choked groans and gasps. His face, and whatever expression he might have worn, was buried into your neck, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs. He pushed hard into you, shallowly thrusting once he’d bottomed out, riding out every last second of his orgasm.
By the time he was done, the hazy golden glow had lifted from your brain, leaving you to contend with a confusing reality in the wake of something so extreme. It felt dull. And uncomfortable.
Chrollo pulled out, letting your legs go so he could sit up and let out a big, breathy sigh. His breathing was fast, his hair slightly messier than before, but he didn’t look even half as utterly worn out as you. When his dark eyes turned down to survey the damage, they widened slightly, as if surprised by your messed up appearance.
You blinked up at him, somewhat caught on how unfair it was for him to look so good, after everything. Somewhat caught on the hundreds of emotions you probably should have felt, when all you felt was exhaustion.
“Eh? I hope you’re not tired out already,” Chrollo said, wearing an expression of concern. That became a smile when he ran a hand through his hair, pushing the messy pieces away from his face. “After all, we have a long night ahead of us.”