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“Why?”
The tremble in your hands increases when he doesn’t immediately dismiss the idea.
It's taken you weeks to work up the courage to ask for this, an idea that sparked when Kratos’ firm hand pressed against your throat unwittingly grew into a fantasy that seems to play constantly in your mind. The thought of it has made you sick, from anxiety of telling him or disgust at yourself you cannot say, but it’s also had you slipping your hand between your legs in the dead of night when Kratos wasn’t home.
You know why you want it but getting the reasons out is proving to be more difficult than you’d anticipated.
You’re not sure what it is that’s been suffocating you. Your life is good, satisfying, you want for nothing with Kratos by your side, yet sometimes frustration creeps in. Irritation at nothing in particular, the feeling of being too big for your skin, and you need to get it out of you.
Kratos’ expression is enough to make tears prick hot at your eyes. His face exceptionally stony besides his dark brows pinched together and pitched slightly upwards. Not judgement but pity, maybe? You think you might prefer outright disgust.
You both know he’s capable of doing it, the theatre of what you’re asking for, he has a thousand times the strength one would need to pin you down, to take you. And you know his past just as well, you’d rather die than make him feel like a weapon— a monster— ever again. You shiver and bite your tongue, still trying to think of an appropriate response to give him that doesn’t make the whole prospect seem dark and wrong.
You know what you want is not rape, an ugly, detestable violence some gods are notorious for. What you want isn’t about cruelty or violence, you want to hand over control to Kratos, to trust him.
If you think about the why too much you begin to spiral into doubt and self hatred, so you carefully begin to choose your words.
“I… I want to feel weak,” you swallow harshly, chest rising and falling with forced, deliberate breathing, "I don't really want you to hurt me, and I know that you won’t.”
Kratos’ eyes never leave your face, even when you look away you can feel them on you, studying you.
“I don't know exactly why,” you shut your eyes tight and let out a deep, shuddering breath, “I need to feel helpless.”
You let yourself be led to bed, slipped under warm fur and laid beside Kratos, suddenly exhausted.
“Let me think,” is all he says on the matter.
You nod against him and let out another long, deep exhale when he kisses your temple, tucking yourself into his side as you always do to sleep.
***
It's been nearly two weeks since you’d made your request. Each day you’d anticipated him finally giving you outright rejection, and each day you’re met with nothing out of the ordinary. He doesn’t act differently, with the pleasant exception of a few nights of exceptionally slow and tender sex, so you come to the conclusion that he thinks it’s best for you both to ignore the subject entirely.
You eventually lose track of the days, but that feeling begins to creep back in, tugging at your brain until you’re in an uncharacteristically crabby mood. Conscious of this, you set out to gather what you need to make a calming tea, hoping it will help. You don’t bother to ask if Kratos will follow, the moment he sees you preparing to leave he’s with you, your ever present guardian when you venture into the forest.
It doesn’t take long to find the pale pink and white blooms of the plant you need peeking out beside a fallen tree not far from home. You shake the plant to let any insects and debris loose before you draw your knife and begin to harvest.
The silence is unexpectedly broken by Kratos, “Your request, I have thought about it.”
You freeze with your hands around the roots of the plant, almost afraid to move as if it’ll scare him off.
“Do you wish for me to be unkind?”
Your breath hitches and you’re glad he can’t see your face. Your reply is little more than a whisper, “A little, yes.”
“When?”
Your heart pounds a steady beat in your chest while you fill the bottom of your basket with the plant's roots, “Tonight?”
Kratos cups your elbow when you begin to stand, he steadies you and turns you to face him. You can’t bring yourself to crack a smile but you do find yourself relaxing a bit, stepping into his space as he moves to cup your face with one warm, dry hand. You press your cheek into his palm and he leans down to kiss you, soft but promising.
“Tonight,” he says, and a shiver runs down your spine.
***
The tea you’d brewed had done little to calm you, even after two cups. Having another would’ve made you sick so you’ve decided to busy yourself with mending clothes. It’s mindless work, your thoughts drift occasionally but the prick of the needle at your fingertips brings you back out of your head. The cabin is aglow with candles and the crackling fire, so you sew and you wait.
Just as the anticipation begins to become unbearable, you hear the crunch of footsteps outside, fast approaching. The door to your shared cabin opens and slams shut, too quick for you to really process. Your head whips up even though you know who it is and what’s about to happen. He deposits his weapons and gear then he’s moving towards you with swift and heavy strides. You jump up out of your chair, the sound it makes as it scrapes the floor sounds almost like a scream.
You take a step back and he takes one forward, both of you mirroring each other until your back is against a wall, cornered by Kratos. He grips your hip with one hand and you hurriedly move away, already beginning to tremble.
“Stop,” Kratos commands, eyes dark.
You jolt, sucking in an uneven breath and using both hands to try to push his arm off you, some kind of plea bubbling up but dying on your tongue like ash. Kratos easily grabs both your wrists with one of his hands, moving them to the side as if they weigh nothing. To him, they probably do. You jump when his other hand grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks to force you to look up at him, your heart quickening when you see how cold his gaze is.
Unexpectedly, he dips down and crashes his lips to yours. He takes his fierce kisses with ease no matter how much you struggle, forcing his tongue past your lips despite your pitiful whines and useless scrambling at his arms. You’re sure your lips are bruised when he finally frees you, but the peace is short lived. Kratos tears your clothes away like wet parchment, you shriek and stumble away, falling back onto the bed. He’s on you in a moment, even when you try to roll away back into the safety of the room.
Kratos grunts as he wraps an arm around your waist, your breath forced out of you when you’re dropped back into place. His hand spans over your chest, pinning you down hard, your ragged breaths are almost deafeningly loud in the silence of the cabin.
“Please,” you whimper as the last of your clothes are ripped away.
Kratos doesn’t respond, he just flips you onto your stomach and ignores your shocked shriek. A bolt of fear zips up your spine at being tossed around, you’re disoriented and desperately clawing at the sheets but his heavy hand on the back of your neck prevents you from moving more than turning your face to the side to breathe.
You can’t see what he’s doing, but you can hear something unbuckle, the rustle of leather, and you feel the hot head of his cock press against you. A frightened, garbled sound escapes you as you drop your hips and kick out your legs, earnestly trying to escape but you do not succeed. Kratos corrects you, swift and effortless, lifting your hips and squeezing them hard. Hard enough to bruise, harder than he’s ever done before, and you hear yourself whimpering.
“No,” you plead as you realize the inevitability of what’s about to happen, “No, no, please don’t—”
Your words die with a wordless cry as his cock pushes into you, just the tip for a too brief second before he sheathes himself fully and begins to find his rhythm. It’s too much, too fast, he’s too big and you’re woefully underprepared— tears begin to fall fat and hot along your cheeks when you realize you’re wet, embarrassingly so.
You can’t make a sound, the breath forced out of you with every deep staccato thrust, but you try to fight as best you can. Each attempt is useless, you don’t move more than Kratos allows you to, which means you don’t move an inch. He’s relentless, a force of nature, it’s inescapable.
A sob ripples through you— you’re careening towards orgasm and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. Kratos pays no mind to your noises of protest, his hips continue crashing into yours at the same unabating pace, the way you’re forced to cum around his cock was bound to happen.
Kratos lets out a short, low groan when you finally let go, suddenly pliant as your orgasm whips through you, white hot and overwhelming, your cunt twitching and clenching around Kratos’ cock as your mind goes blank and all you can do is take. Your mouth falls open with pathetic little ah-ah-ah’s as he continues to sink his cock into you, again and again, the rhythm of it hard and steady. Your thighs burn and his balls slap against your throbbing clit, you could swear you feel him in your throat when the full length of him is buried deep.
His cock finally kicks inside you, if you were more coherent you might even be able to count its pulsing throbs as he fills you with cum, enough to have it leaking out around his base and onto your inner thighs. A ragged breath leaves you then, more a sob than an exhale— relief.
Kratos pets your back before he pulls out but you barely register it, you can do little more than pant as you melt into the sheets. He makes a sympathetic hum when you groan and he begins to roll you over, his hands on your body exceedingly gentle. He gingerly adjusts your limbs to lay down beside you and silently reaches for one of your hands. You squeeze his hand and blink tears away to see him clearly. Kratos brushes his knuckles along your cheek as both of your breaths slow back down, the last of your tears flowing over your temples and into your hairline.
He has that familiar tense expression on his face, a question in his eyes. You huff out an exhausted little laugh, an odd noise distorted by the way you’re still choked up, and you pull him close. Neither of you pay any mind to the stickiness of cum and sweat on your bodies as you kiss, the press of lips firm and reassuring, back to the familiarity of the Kratos you know well. The way Kratos cups the back of your head makes your stomach flip pleasantly as you spend a few minutes catching your breath and trading kisses.
“I love you,” you artlessly mumble against his lips when you finally feel able to speak.
“I love you,” he murmurs, pressing you into his chest.
Aches and soreness is already starting to settle into your body and, in time, you’ll ask him to carry you down to the river so you both can clean up. but for now you’ll just rest, pressed up against each other, occasionally exchanging whispered, affectionate reassurances between kisses.