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That’s it, it’s just the two of them again.
He sent them right back to the beginning, but at least Calliope could control where they were. She couldn’t stand to see that wretched room they spent all those years in, so they were somewhere else. Maybe just outside of it, maybe somewhere else on the planet, who knows. She just knows that there wasn’t a single other soul in sight. They were alone, not even a tree to hide behind. He refused to speak the first word, rather uncharacteristically.
“What do you want? To kill me again?”
She asks, exhausted already.
“With your own hands this time? Is that why you’re holding me hostage?”
He laughs, but his grin falters.
“I… don’t know.”
It’s an unsure tone that Calliope has never known him to have. It's concerning. Then she mentally slaps herself for being concerned about her murderer, who also mentally abused her for her entire life.
“Why is that MY problem?! WHY do all of YOUR problems have to become mine! I thought I would be freed from you after you killed me, but even in death you will not let me be! You’re so selfish!”
She lashes out, yelling and waving her hands around. Being dead and alone has tarnished her impulse control.
“SHUT UP!”
In a matter of seconds, Caliborn is so close he can grab her wrists, holding them between their chests. Both of their eyes are wide, hers in surprise, his in frustration.
“I wish I hadn’t had you killed!”
Her expression deadpanned. She knew what was coming.
“I wish I had done it myself, so I could look into your eyes just like this.”
He smiles as she grows more agitated.
But then he does something that throws her completely off guard.
He shoves his face into her neck and takes a deep breath, loudly. Sniffing her. She panics a bit, trying to get away.
“What the fuck?! WHAT are you doing?!”
He sighs in content.
“I've tried to change the past, but your death — it's not undo-able… and I can’t kill you again, or else I won’t be able to touch you anymore. Smell you, see you, tas-”
“That's enough!”
She manages to get him off of her, to pry her wrists free. She doesn't know which words to pick from the flood in her head, so she just stands there wordless. For once. Of course, Caliborn keeps talking.
"I really HATE to say it, but I need you. I really fucking need you. I need to hurt you. Nothing brings me more joy, no amount of destruction will ever compare to... what we have. Had. Fuck — you being dead is so confusing and stupid! I can't believe you just left me like that, even if it WAS nice for a bit."
Her jaw goes slack, she can't even believe what he's saying, has he gone mad? What is she thinking, of course he has. He's overrun with power. His brain is probably melted, replaced with pure ego. She's shocked that he can admit that he 'needs her' as he says, even if for such a crude reason.
"...left you? I left you? Are you-"
She squeezes her hands into fists.
"Are you KIDDING ME?"
It was her turn to close the space between them, pummeling him to the best of her ability, scratching him up, yelling obscenities. It felt cathartic. Until he bit her.
"OW—"
And again. On both of her shoulders. She put her hands around his neck and slammed his head onto the ground to keep his sharp teeth away from her. His hands were still free though, so he used them to pull her down with him. She thought he was going to mutilate her face, but he caught her by surprise once again. With a … kiss? A desperate, uncontrolled kiss. It shocked her so much that she went limp for a second, caving in on top of him and struggling to push herself back up. After he finally released her, she looked down at him like she had just witnessed a crime against nature. He looked back up at her with a fanged grin. She scrambled to get off of him, only making room for him to flip their positions. He took this opportunity to pin her wrists by her head.
"Wait- No- Caliborn-"
He shuddered. He had never heard her say his name. Calliope knew that Caliborn wouldn’t stop with a kiss, that wasn’t like him. But she didn’t want to find out what came next.
"Please- why? What-??"
She was pleading yet confused. She didn't know his plan, his actions seemingly had no reason, or she at least wasn't privy to it. It's like he was under a trance. Would he really compromise their last standing boundary just like that?
"I told you stupid bitch, I need you. I wasn't begging, I was telling you — I AM telling you, you're mine forever now, and you won't leave me again."
He growled out the words, smile gone. She always knew how to piss him off. Although, just existing was usually enough. This was the first time Calliope ever felt truly scared. When she knew her death was coming, she felt sad and disappointed. But not really scared. Not like she does now. She wanted to respond but all that came out was a pathetic whimper as the reality of her situation kicked in. With the power and experience he'd accumulated, she really was stuck with him.
"Got nothing to say anymore? Come on, I like when you cry, at least give me that..."
His voice lowered the closer he got to her. He went to her neck again, this time dragging his forked tongue all the way up to her ear. She shivered. It was too intimate, and it tickled slightly. He bit her again, this time softer, a softness she didn't know he was capable of. Not that it was actually soft, but it was for him. She still bled that bright green color that he claimed to hate so much.
"Disgusting..."
He whispered before making a mess on her skin, rubbing the blood everywhere with his lips. When he finally detached from her, she could see his face. He looked horrible, lime across his cheeks, smiling from ear to ear. Seeing her own blood reflected at her, from the very person she hated yet craved most. The person who constantly insulted her but couldn't get enough of her, who wanted to be painted in the color he detested simply because it was her color.
"Oh Callie... you taste delicious."
He mocked the nickname her friends gave her, and the whole scene just broke her. She started sobbing, squirming, closing her eyes so she didn't have to see this any longer.
"Stop stop stop- stop-"
She had trouble breathing between her pleas, her crying, and his weight on her chest. She's not sure if he could be reasoned with, but she knows she doesn't have the capacity to even try at the moment. She had never consciously thought of him in a sexual light. Maybe if she had she'd be better prepared for this situation. He had always hinted at it, but she thought it was just bloodlust.
"Yeah, that's it, fuck-"
He laughed, clearly getting off on her panic. His grip on her wrists tightened, digging his claws into them. She stopped thrashing around, afraid of causing more pain. This was more than bloodlust.
"Why..."
She managed to get out. Was it a question, or was it just her thoughts escaping her?
"I'm so glad you asked, sis!"
More mocking.
"You see, I've tortured you in so many amazing ways, all ways except one. Because I never had the chance. But now, I do! I have you here, your body, your weak ugly little body. All for me. I deserve this, after all I've been through."
He lets go of her so he can start ripping her shirt and jacket off.
"And you? Well, you deserve this too."
She gasps when the air hits her bare skin. She's already sweaty from their fighting, and also because their planet is rather warm. His eyes are fixated on her chest. There's not much to see. It's the same as before she died: skinny and green. Yet he still goes in to abuse it, licking, biting, kissing, just making another mess of saliva and blood. And the sniffing. He's engulfing himself in her, and it scares her. She had no idea he felt this way, that he would ever do this. She goes to push him off, and she's not sure if she's just really weak or if he's just really strong, but he won't budge no matter what she does. Her protests are in vain, her pain ignored. Her breathing picks up when he makes his way to her pants. She really wishes she could've stopped him, but he's so quick with it, tearing them to shreds. Calliope is left completely naked.
"Wow..."
He's drooling like a fucking dog, fixated on her- on her- fuck she can't even-
"AH- N-"
She inhales quickly when he forces her legs apart and shoves his face between them. His nails are dug into the outside of her thighs. Her arms turn into jello and all she can do is lay on her back and take it. She lets out a mix of cries, quick breathes, and the occasional unwilling moan. Just when he flicks his tongue a certain way... She squeezes her eyes shut, her entire body tense yet unable to do anything. The slurping sounds he's making are obscene, and it makes her feel disgusting that it's coming from her body. He really meant it when he said he needed her. He's sucking her dry, as if he's been denied water and is on the brink of death. As if she's an oasis in the desert.
"AhH!"
He's kissing it now, her most sensitive parts, like he knows her inside out, as if he always has. She can't stop the whining, the pressure that's building, her back arching. She can't see it, but he's looking at her. Studying her reaction. Hiding it away in his mind for later, to play again and again on repeat. And when all of that tension releases, it's in the form of a long gasp that devolves into shaky cries. She doesn't get much time to process before he's chomping at her inner thighs, chewing at what little fat she had there. Not enough to rip it off the bone, but enough to break skin. A lot of skin. When he was done with that, which only took about a minute, he straightened up. He looked down at her from his kneeling position.
"This... is the most beautiful... you have ever been."
He said in between pants. Her body looked like a massacre. Absolutely covered in sweat, saliva, blood; a sea of lime on her dark green skin. With splashes of red, because in his frenzy he had managed to cut himself up too. She never wants to know what she looks like in this moment. She refuses to lift her head up and look down at herself. The air is just filled with heavy, exhausted breathing.
But then she hears him taking off his clothes. The torture isn't over. She gathers the strength to lift herself up slightly. The sight of him almost naked shakes her so much that she scoots away frantically. He takes it as a fun little game.
"Come back stupid slut!"
He lunges forward to grab her ankle, dragging her towards him. The ground scrapes up her back, but it's nothing in comparison to the rest of what she just went through, nor what's about to happen to her.
"Thought you could get away? Of course you did, 'cause you're dumb, you're nothing but a dumb whore. For the rest of your life — death — your only role is being my fucktoy! Ahaha! How does that make you feel?"
He's so focused on her reaction. It's so on-brand for him, yet it feels like she barely recognizes him. She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how devastated she feels. Her lip quivers as she tries to keep it in. She hates him. The only thing that question deserves is a fat spit on his face, which she does. Stupid? Yes. Worth it? He'll hurt her no matter what, so she might as well not hold back. His eye twitches almost comically.
"YOU—"
He's so angry he can't even get words out, but he does deliver the slap of the century. She was expecting that. She wasn't expecting him to grab her cheeks afterwards and force her to look at him. That's when he kissed her again. All of this intimacy, it disoriented her. He would never have even spoken of these acts when she knew him. The violence is normal. The kissing? It's vulgar at best. He's playing out his sickest, most vile fantasies. And she's the main character, or victim rather. His thumb slips from her cheek into her mouth, so she bites hard enough to nearly rip it from his hand. He pulls it back with a hiss, cradling his bleeding finger. Her lips twitch up into something that may resemble a smile. Finally, she can get back at him, if only for a moment. A very fleeting moment, because his retaliation was to wrap his hands around her neck and watch her gasp for air. She wishes she was like all the other dead people who could magically heal, but taking her out of the dream bubbles removed that ability. So she just had to endure it.
"I am your air."
Squeeze.
"I am your life."
Let go, gasp.
"I am your GOD."
He aggressively flipped her onto her stomach, again knocking the air out of her.
"Caliborn,"
She wheezed. She wasn't sure why she said his name. Maybe it was a plea for mercy. Even though she knew he wasn't capable of that. As expected, he ignored her, instead opting to grab her ass and pull it up to meet his groin. She kept coughing, still trying to stabilize herself. She didn’t register him taking off the remainder of his clothes until she felt it against her.
Rock hard.
“N-no…”
Her voice was raspy and weak. And he exploited the hell out of it. She yelped when he slapped her ass, only further straining herself.
“No? Well I say yes!”
She regrettably pushed back against him when he slid into her. It was forceful yet so easy for him. She didn’t mean to, it was just an automatic response. Biologically, she was technically living the dream right now. Cherubs would do anything to mate with their other half. Really, Calliope should’ve known this would happen sooner or later. She just didn’t think about it, didn’t think it would be her, didn’t think it would be this ravenous. Not for the first time in her life, she felt like a monster. But this was the first time she truly felt like an object.
“No one gives a fuck what you think or say, ESPECIALLY not me.”
He mumbled into her ear, a tone of satisfaction and a shiver she could feel. He didn’t move for a moment, maybe getting used to the feeling. He wasn’t as experienced as he acted.
Her shoulders tensed, bunching up by her ears. It’s not that she wanted him to move, it’s just that the suspension was killing her.
“Fuck…”
She squeaks when he pushes forwards, rocking her back and forth. Unsurprisingly, he picks up the pace as soon as he can. He doesn’t even focus on his own pleasure, it seems, he just wants to invoke as much pain in her as possible, emotional and physical. She bit her arm to keep her noises inside, but it became harder when he would pull all the way out only to slam his way back in. Eventually she just let everything out, albeit muffled in her arms. He relished it, blabbing on, probably degrading her and uplifting himself. But one thing he says pierces through her haze.
“I love you,”
It’s said through rugged breaths. Such a juxtaposition of his actions. She learned what real love is from her friends, and it’s not this. Maybe this is love for him though, reserved only for her. Should she feel special? Surely not. No one would enjoy this. But if she truly is to endure this forever like he says… it might be better for her if she forces herself to like it. To love it. To love him.
Their bodies were so hot and exhausted. She could feel the fatigue behind his vigor. He always pushed himself too far. He went until he collapsed on top of her back, gripping the skin of her back as he came inside of her. She whined at the foreign feeling. He fell onto his side, pulling her with him, his cock slipping out. She huffed at the uncomfortable motion, and now with the liquid dripping out of her. His arms held her, crushing her slightly considering he had no regard for how she felt. Just that he liked it. She wanted to go to sleep, but she couldn’t.
He nibbled at her neck absentmindedly, a different part of his brain taking over. What a mess he made. Of him, of her, of their lives, of the entirety of time and space. Why didn’t she kill him? Why couldn’t she?
Maybe it was her fault.
Maybe she did deserve this.
“I love you too.”