It was the last day of their deal. Elliott had dropped the personal feud between himself and Muriel. She roamed the halls more or less unafraid of him now, content in knowing he couldn’t act against her using their conflicting bloodlines as justification anymore. But, as their previous encounters had proved, he was still a force to be reckoned with either way.
She thought about the words they’d exchanged in the past few days.
*”Why would I want to lower my standards? At least you’re actually worth my attention.”*
Apparently, he saw her as an equal, even then. It was true – their families were of equally prestigious standings, far above the rest of the student body.
*”D’hivernalles or not, you are nothing short of divine.”*
She’d had romantic relationships before – not that she had ever gotten physical like she did with him, but she’d never heard a proclamation like that.
*”Trust me more, love. Please.”*
Replaying the conversations in her head, it seemed like Elliott genuinely cared about what she thought of him. In fact, it seemed more and more like he actually did care about… her. That was an unlikely story, but… *peut-être, peut-être… maybe it wasn’t so unlikely after all.*
Muriel strolled past the bustling crowds of students and the throngs of boys running through the halls like animals. Maybe it was the family name that he was held to, but Elliott was never such a rowdy character. Animalistic and brutish during the act, yes, but his actual daily demeanor was cool and collected. She quite liked that about him.
She soon found herself at the door of Elliott’s room. She hadn’t seen him all day and it was already past lunch. She knocked three times, and waited. To her surprise, he was inside. He opened the door just a crack. His expression was one of annoyance, quickly turning to surprise when he noticed it was Muriel.
*”Chérie?* Que fais- what are you doing here?” Elliott asked, quickly letting her in. He didn’t have a shirt on. Apparently, he hadn’t stepped out of his room all day. He closed and locked the door behind her after making sure no one was in the hall.
“Seeing you. This is the last day of our agreement. I figured you’d be doing something with it.” Muriel replied, taking a seat on his bed. “I was starting to worry a bit.”
“Wha- so… since I’m not chasing after you, rather than take advantage of that, you come after me to see if I’m okay?” Elliott asked, thoroughly confused.
“Pretty much.”
“Mon Dieu, I… I grew up expecting the unexpected but this is definitely not something I would have seen coming.” Elliott said, sitting next to Muriel. “The truth is… after last night, I realized I really didn’t want to hurt you anymore. At all. You’re an honorable lady, you don’t deserve that. You coming here to see me just proves that even more.”
“… How about I just lay with you then?” Muriel said, nudging Elliott onto his back. “We don’t have to do anything-”
“Wait,” Elliott interrupted, placing his hands on Muriel’s shoulders. “Can I… can I just touch you? I’ll be gentle, I promise… I just want to feel you. All of you… everything that I missed these past few days.”
“Our deal is still going. You don’t have to ask me, you know.” Muriel said.
“Forget that, our deal started because of our feud… I just want to know what your body feels like. When you’re not in pain, when- when I’m not hurting you. I want to hold you and touch you all over. I want to see every little perfect flaw in your skin. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to know you.” Elliott said, entangling his fingers with her hair. “If I could acquaint my kiss with every individual cell of your body… I would do so without a second thought.”
“I… I never took you for the poetic type…” Muriel stammered. She had definitely never seen a proclamation this sincere and intimate before. She could only nod in response, unsure how to respond to such a gesture.
Elliott wrapped his arm around Muriel and turned until she was under him. He slowly undressed her, unbuttoning her blouse and carefully setting it on the nightstand, followed by her plaid trousers, and then his. He straddled over her, then dove to her side, pulling her so that she was facing him. He graced her cheek with the side of her hand, tucking a stray auburn curl back behind her ear. They shared a long gaze before Elliott’s hands began exploring.
He ran his fingers across her collarbone, down the center of her chest, beneath her bosom and towards her back, which was still scarred from the night before. The cuts had closed, but he was still careful not to rub them too hard. His hands trailed down to the base of her spine, wandering inside of her Venus dimples and across her posterior.
“You’re so smooth… like the custard of a crème brûlée. And you’re just as delectably sweet, too.” Elliott said, ducking his head under Muriel’s chin. “Mon Dieu… who- why are you allowed to be this perfect?”
“I’m far from perfect.” Muriel said, lifting her left arm to reveal her inner bicep. “I’ve got a little café au lait spot here.”
“I think it’s perfect.” Elliott brought her arm down, planting a gentle kiss on the birthmark. He trailed kisses up her shoulder and across her neck, and soon he was peppering kisses across her cheeks and lips. He had soft lips, much like her own. She looked at him with surprise, too shocked to return the gesture. They’d kissed the night before in the heat of the moment, so it didn’t really process that time, but this…was nice. Really nice. “Muriel…”
“Quoi-hein- wh-what?” Muriel shook herself out of her momentary daze. Elliott looked like he was yearning for something.
“S’il te plaît, Muriel… embrasse-moi.” He whispered, leaning closer to her. Muriel leaned into him and closed her eyes, feeling his lips brush against hers. Once he had found her, he pushed towards her, pulling her deeper into the embrace. His heart fluttered when he felt Muriel’s hand wander in his hair and pull his head closer as well.
Muriel could feel Elliott’s tongue tracing her lips and parted them, allowing him inside. He roamed across her teeth with grace, entangling his tongue with hers. The moment of mutual exploration felt like an eternity, one which they would both be content to spend if it weren’t for the need of oxygen.
The kiss came to a close. They pulled away from each other, both breathless. Elliott lay Muriel on her back and rested his head on her torso, looking up at her face framed between her pale breasts. She lifted her head to look down at him, met by his amused, and slightly cheeky smile. His black locks brushed against her ribs as he traveled down, trailing kisses down to her thighs. He lifted her knee up and made a few daring pecks along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the lips of her lower half.
“Muriel… would you hate me if I… you know…” Elliott asked, toying with the curly brunette hairs that guarded her. She let out a little giggle and shook her head.
“Honestly, I was expecting it.” Muriel said.
“I’ll be gentle today, I promise…” Elliott prodded against the lips of her entrance with his finger, surprised at how wet she already was. “Wait, were you- *wanting* me to do this?”
“I wouldn’t complain if you did.” Muriel said, ruffling Elliott’s mane.
“Is that the real reason you came to visit? Because you *missed me?”* Elliott playfully teased.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I can make myself feel good too, you know.” Muriel replied.
“Ohh, I’d love to see that sometime… but for today, even if it’s the last day I see you… let me do it. Let me make you feel what I feel with you,” Elliott said. He crawled back up until he was eye-level with Muriel, his hand positioned between her snow-white thighs. He nibbled the lobe of hear ear before whispering, *”Heaven.”*
Muriel could feel a less-beastly incarnation of Elliott’s hardness rubbing against her thighs. He let his fingertips drift across Muriel’s clit, gently rubbing in circles to start her off. She mewled – a needy, lustful noise, swaying her hips into Elliott’s movements. She shuddered as his fingers made their way into her, massaging her inner walls with a series of curling motions. She purred, swaying her entire body to match his rhythm. The scent of the last few days was almost palpable – it was an intoxicating amalgamation of sweat, tears and sex, of faded hostility and lost virginity, and now, of newfound intimacy. This was not the same man who had ripped her apart, and she was not the same woman who had thrown her dignity to the wind.
“Elliott…” Muriel cooed. She parted her legs further, beckoning him to come inside. He looked down at her with surprise.
“Do- do you want me to…?” Elliott asked. Muriel timidly nodded, stretching her arms over her head towards the headboard, her wrists crossed. “Why are you- *ohhh. I see.”*
It clicked.
Elliott held down her wrists with one hand, guiding his shaft into the soft lips of her pussy. Her breath hitched as he went in deeper, inch by inch. Even though she was accustomed to his size now, the first couple inches always took a little effort to get past. He leaned down, letting out a quiet chuckle as Muriel immediately hid her face under his chin and within his charcoal mane.
“Tell me what you want, love.” Elliott whispered, giving the top of Muriel’s head a quick peck.
*”Baise-moi,”* she whispered, her voice muffled by Elliott’s skin.
“Anything for you, chérie.” Elliott began his movements – they were slow to start, but deep and hard regardless. Each time he disappeared into her was an electrifying wave that only grew in intensity as his rhythm began to quicken. “Tell me if it’s too much… I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You’re fine, you’re fine… I’m okay.” Muriel quickly replied. The tension in Elliott’s eyes faded. His thrusts became a little more confident and powerful – the sound of his skin colliding with hers was now audible. Muriel bit her lip, relying on the sound of her erratic breaths to suppress her moans.
“Muriel, I…” Elliott started, pausing to think. He arched his back and pressed his forehead against Muriel’s, locking her into a stare. She found herself entranced with his emerald rings, and he could melt beneath the warmth her amber eyes seemed to exude. He finally pulled away from her, looking down at her with an unexplainable expression before he finally spoke again. “I love you, I do. There’s no way around it now.”
“Ell.”
“And I understand if you think it’s too soon-”
“Elliott.”
“- or if you don’t feel the same way and you haven’t forgiven me for the last few days-”
“Elliott!” Muriel chirped. Elliott finally heard her and stopped rambling.
“Wh-what?”
“Je t’aime.” Muriel said, looking up at him with a warm smile that made the butterflies in Elliott’s stomach flutter into a hurricane. She looked beautiful beneath him – her wrists in his grasp, his entire length inside of her, and that damn French. Her French somehow naturally sounded sultry and needy. Or maybe the neediness was just amplified when she used it.
“Muriel, I… I’m not sure I can hold myself back much longer…” Elliott leaned down, nibbling her ear and whispering, *”You have no idea how much I want to hear you scream my name again.”*
*”Then make me.”* Muriel challenged. Elliott had found that quite amusing about her – she was stubborn, almost as if she was trying to prove something to him. Well, she had nothing to prove – not to him, anyway.
“Aren’t you going to tell me to do my worst?” Elliott said, climbing off of Muriel and flipping her onto her stomach. She laughed lightly into the pillow, lifting her head to look back at him.
“No, I don’t really like the idea of getting whipped with metal chains, thank you.” Muriel replied.
“Smart choice.” Elliott chuckled, positioning himself back on top of her. He leaned down, pecking her cheek. “Are you sure you want this? I’ll let you leave if you want to.”
“You asked me to trust you last night,” Muriel said, resting her chin on the pillow. “This is me trusting you.”
“Do you trust me to make you feel good, ma chérie?” Elliott asked, tousling with the hair that spilled over her shoulders.
“Mm, if the last couple days are anything to judge by… yes, I’d say I do.” Muriel said. She could feel Elliott poking around near her entrance again with his dick. He nudged himself in once more, his entire length vanishing into the warmth of her flesh.
“Put your hands on your back for me,” Elliott quietly commanded. Muriel reached both of her arms to the base of her spine. Elliott held them together in place, rolling his hips back and snapping them back against her body. She gasped, instinctively trying to move her arms as he repeated his motions, slowly easing into a steady rhythm. Each time his skin slapped against hers, her breath would hitch and falter – there was a certain unexplainable thrill to being pinned down like this, and it was more to Muriel’s enjoyment than she cared to admit. “I haven’t already got you breathless, have I? We’ve barely begun, chérie…”
“Your whole being makes me breathless, Ell… I don’t know what to tell you.” Muriel said. Her voice was airy, and it sounded as if she was relying on the wind to carry her words.
“Ah… is it that bad?” Elliott chuckled. He thrusted a few more times at his pace with metronome accuracy, gradually increasing the strength with which he plunged back into her. He could feel her arms twitching in his grasp, heating up from the electricity firing through her entire body. “My family has a habit of attracting quite the crowd…”
“If your family looks even the slightest bit like you, I can’t say it surprises me.” Muriel said.
“Am I… that attractive to you?” Elliott asked, curiosity piqued.
“Ell, when you took off your shirt the day after that first night, I’d have thought I’d died and gone to the great beyond. I’ve seen the boys at the lake every now and then. Twigs and blokes with bad posture, that bunch. But you… *Tu es un sacré spécimen.* Sculpted. Perfect posture. Perfectly proportionate. And…very endowed, may I just say.” Muriel fidgeted her fingers in his grasp. “And your eyes… a sea of emeralds. Never in my life have I seen a color like that.”
“You flatter me, chérie…” Elliott said with a bashful laugh. He was admittedly flustered about having someone speak so highly of his appearance.
“Maybe people should flatter you more often.” Muriel said. She could sense Elliott preparing something.
“I’d prefer to hear it from you only though,” He said. “You’re the only person whose opinion matters to me now… *which is why you’re also the only person I want to hear screaming my name.”*
He roughly bucked into her at full strength, forcing the air out of her lungs. He let go of her wrists, grabbing her by her waist and pulling her deeper onto him. She wasted no time scrambling to grab the sheets, her fingertips turning white with how tightly she held them.
“Ell-Elliott,” she breathlessly moaned out, words slurring into incoherency with each of Elliott’s thrusts. “Mon Dieu- Elliott, please-”
“Please what, love?” Elliott said. He couldn’t help but feel a little devious, even now.
“…fuck,” Muriel whined. The need was clear in her voice. “Please…”
“Please *what?”* Elliott repeated, lips curled into a smirk. He could sense the frustration rising in Muriel’s body as each buck of his hips denied her the opportunity to speak. Eventually she caught just enough breath.
*”Fuck me,”* she finally mustered up. Her nails had cut through several spots of the sheet. Elliott could hear the fabric ripping beneath her claws. “Please, Elliott… I need you…to…”
*”Avec plaisir, ma chérie.”* Elliott’s hips pounded against hers, producing a sound that seemed to rattle his entire room with the intensity of a timpani. His every movement seemed to coax out an increase in Muriel’s volume, to the point where she buried her lips in the pillow to silence herself.
It was like an orchestral arrangement of passion. The accelerando of his pace, the crescendo of his power – like a true musician, he’d mastered both to create a truly beautiful symphony with Muriel’s body as his instrument. It turned out that down feathers in a cotton case didn’t do much to hide her shrieks, so Elliott had to enlist his own hands as a mute. He leaned down and cupped his hand over her lips, leaving bite marks and light bruises on her neck.
“I’m- I’m so close,” Muriel said, barely audible through Elliott’s hand. He gently wrapped his hand around her throat instead as her cries increased in volume. His eyes met hers – shaking with anticipation, glassy with pleasured tears, and wide with panic as she felt his fingers around her neck. He loosened his grip slightly and gave her a reassuring kiss on the cheek.
“Shhh… we wouldn’t want someone interrupting us… *not when you’re so close.”* Elliott said. Damn that gorgeous, husky rasp of his. That voice alone could probably send Muriel over the edge. She resisted the urge to growl as his movements slowed from a fiery Vivace to a teasing Adagio.
“Elliott, *je jure devant Dieu-* if you keep teasing me like this I swear I’ll kill you,” Muriel hissed. Elliott laughed above her, coming to a complete stop.
“If I agree not to toy with you and finish you off, you have to do something for me.” Elliott said.
“…Does it involve whipping me with a chain?” Muriel asked.
“No! Good God, no! I thought I established that I’m not going to hurt you anymore. Not like that, anyway. That’s just… excessive.” Elliott nearly shouted.
“In that case, I can probably handle it, so I’m not even going to bother asking.” Muriel said. “Now, s’il vous plaît, Elliott… would you be so kind as to finish what you’ve started?”
*“Oh, I will.”* Elliott’s intermission ended, and the show was back on in full effect. He’d gone from Adagio to Presto in a matter of seconds, and Muriel’s grip on the bed was faltering. There they were again – those almost-words that poured from her mouth like honey, the airy half-curses that she could barely muster up, it was wonderful to hear. The sound of her broken voice with her body falling apart around him was something to behold indeed – he could hear each drop of her heat as he tore through it, each clap of their bodies as their skins struck each other, and on the edge of her lips, his name. *“Hurle pour moi, ma chérie. Hurle comme si ta vie en dépendait!”*
“M-mon Dieu- S’il t-te plaît, ne t’arrête pas, ne t-t’arrête pas-” Elliott could feel Muriel about to shatter under him. He could feel the heat surging through her body and pooling where his dick was conducting her body’s symphony. At last, the grand finale had come. “E-Elliott, *Elliott!”* Just as he’d asked of her, she screamed as if her life depended on it. She threw her arms back, desperately trying to find Elliott’s body. He quickly lifted her up and flipped her onto her back, giving her a few more powerful thrusts to completely satisfy her. He interlocked their fingers and sealed his lips over hers. He felt her wrap her legs around him, the warmth of her carnal fire enveloping him completely. He took a moment to just observe her; she was beautiful, beads of sweat painting her chest as it heaved beneath him.
“Are you alright?” Elliott asked, climbing off of her and laying at her side. He gently massaged her breasts, trailing his hand down to her thighs and lightly massaging them. She nodded, taking a few deep breaths before turning to look at him.
“So… what is it that you want from me?” she asked. Elliott was slightly taken aback.
“Wh- you’re recovered already?”
“No, I’m just good at acting like I am.” Muriel replied. Elliott paused to think, shot her a devious glance, then sat up and sprung into action.
“A word to the wise, mon amour. Never, *ever* tell me that you’re vulnerable at *any* given moment. Because as much as I love you, *I will use it against you.”* Elliott shuffled himself off of the bed, nudging Muriel until her head was hanging off the edge. She opened her mouth to protest, silenced by Elliott’s entire length making its way down her throat. Elliott caught her arms as they came flying towards him, forcing them down to the bed and leaning over her. “You’re lucky you feel so good down there too. This won’t take long, ma chérie, don’t worry.”
Something about Elliott’s voice was always a little intimidating, especially when he seemed to be enjoying her struggles. At the same time, it excited her – what was it about being used by him that riled her up so much? Was it the fact that he was physically perfect, perhaps the fact that he was a Soleion, or maybe she was just wired in such a debaucherous and obscene way? Well, if he had no complaints, that was fine by her. All the questions swimming around in Muriel’s mind almost made her forget to choke as Elliott fucked her throat the same way as he’d fucked her cunt minutes prior. Her vision was blurring, and she felt her urge to fight willingly leave her body. Why *did* she want to be so helpless for him? That was a question for another day.
She felt him twitch inside her throat, soon accompanied by a flood of salty warmth that coated her tongue and spread within her entire mouth. Elliott immediately pulled out of her, allowing her a moment to breathe. He gently lifted her into a sitting position and turned her around to face him, wiping a stray drop of his seed from her cheek. Before she could cough or swallow what remained on her tongue, he forced a kiss from her, tasting himself as their tongues danced together. He pulled away after a moment, wiping his lips and cradling her cheek in his hand as she dazedly looked back at him with half-lidded surprise.
“Why did you…”
“It only seemed fair.” Elliott climbed onto the bed, pulling Muriel into his embrace. She turned to face him, staring into his eyes. He seemed…concerned for her well-being, like a guilty puppy.
“I’m alright, don’t worry.” Muriel said, wrapping an arm around him and giving him a reassuring smile. “I can tell that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.” Muriel said. She hid her face in Elliott’s neck and muttered, *”Imayhavelikedit.”*
“What was that?” Elliott asked.
“I am *not* repeating myself.” Muriel triumphantly said, smiling into Elliott’s skin. Maybe she could keep some secrets from him. He chuckled above her, running his fingers through her hair and holding her close to the heart that she had stolen from him.
“That’s fine.” He said, planting a kiss in Muriel’s hair. *”Je t’ai entendu la première fois, vous sale putain de masochiste.”*
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/tq05ug/academia_iv_mf_deepthroat_facefucking_romance_bdsm