Ell has an ego.
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A few nights passed since a sparring session became a heated demonstration of Elliott’s epithet. The scene was vivid enough to relive at any given moment. Muriel could retrace every drop of sweat that fell from their bodies, every breath they took in unison – like winding the watch of her life back to that night. It was her turn to have a sleepless night, though. Tonight, just the memory wasn’t enough. She was craving him, everything about him. The sweat on his skin, his lips against hers, all of it.
At the same time, she was craving some form of a vengeance. He had towered over her plenty of times now. Maybe it was her turn to take the reins. Her internal monologue kept pointing out how even if she did manage to get the best of him, there was no way it would last, and the repercussions were something to be feared from a man like him. Her *other* internal monologue, however, pointed out that it was something she enjoyed. *Well, there’s not much arguing with that kind of logic.*
Schemes were never her strong point, but she compensated for it with wit and quick thinking. She had finally decided that yes, it was her turn to be on top of Elliott, and that she was going to go about it the same way he did – binding him to the bed for an early morning surprise. Obviously there was no way cloth or rope was going to hold him, so she opted for hauling iron chains from the dungeon all the way to his room, and binding him with those instead.
Muriel had to drape herself in rusted iron chains to transport them, reveling in the familiar and peculiarly comforting feeling of having them on her skin again. She wondered what Elliott would look like in them. Most likely he’d resemble a page out of Greek Mythology…as if he didn’t already. She snuck into his room with feline grace, taking a moment to look at his sleeping body. Her heart skipped several beats as she neared the bed – he was a beautiful and majestic beast, with every bit of his body on full display in the moonlight. She had to physically hold herself back from pouncing on him then and there, and focus on the task at hand – chaining that beautiful body up.
Elliott awoke with quite a start, immediately noticing the cold metal against his skin and the chill of the breeze gracing his naked body. He jolted against the restraints, turning his head towards the familiar silhouette at the foot of his bed. His opera house lost to time.
“Bon matin.” Muriel greeted, crawling onto the bed with a cheeky grin. She ran her fingertips along Elliott’s legs, lightly squeezing his thighs. He struggled to suppress his reaction, his cheeks illuminating with shades of pink already.
“Muriel! How… unorthodox…” Elliott huffed, feeling Muriel’s fingers kneading into his muscles with the precision of a masseuse. “Oh my…What’s all this about, hm? Payback for something…?”
“Maybe.” Muriel planted kisses along Elliott’s thighs, following the creases of his skin until she was face to face with his morning wood. Elliott watched her, bewildered as she wrapped her tongue around the tip. She gradually took the entire shaft in her mouth, her lips sliding up and down along the length. He heard a satisfying pop as she lifted her lips from his member, now drenched with her saliva.
“It’s not Christmas, is it?” Elliott said, already missing the warmth her mouth offered. “I feel like now *you’re* plotting something.”
“What gave it away?” Muriel purred, slithering up to Elliott’s chest before straddling herself just over his hips.
“You’re suspiciously confident… like a poker player in leagues with the dealer stacking for them. That’s the kind of confidence you only get when you *think* you’ve won.” Elliott said, using his eyes to trace Muriel’s entire body. She was certainly doing a good job masking her intentions, whatever they were.
*”Think?”*
“My love, I’m a born and bred strategist. I could *win* against a stacking dealer. The moment you let your confidence get the best of you, you’ve already lost.” Elliott looked up at Muriel’s curious and bold expression.
“You seem confident in yourself,” Muriel remarked. Elliott tilted his head to watch as she lifted her hips slightly, wrapping a hand gently around his dick and guiding it into her cunt. She slowly lowered herself onto him, grabbing the headboard for support when Elliott’s entire length had disappeared into her. “Would that imply you’ve already lost?”
“There are… some exceptions…” Elliott bit his lip, his brain wrangling with what was going on atop his body. Muriel slowly rolled her hips, her entire body gently bouncing on Elliott’s dick. He leaned his head back far enough for his forehead to press against the headboard, mustering up as much silence as he could. “Fuck, chérie…”
“…Now I understand why you try to get me to curse more…” Muriel muttered, resting a hand on Elliott’s chest. He scowled, eyes furrowing into a frustrated squint.
“I have a surname to live up to.” He proclaimed, his breath quickly faltering with another grind of Muriel’s hips. “Damn it, chérie…”
“I had a name to live up to as well, you know. Then you happened.” Muriel gripped Elliott’s biceps, pressing into them and gently kneading with each gyration. Elliott quite audibly gasped, struggling against his restraints and biting his tongue to keep his volume down. He was hellbent on not giving Muriel the satisfaction of breaking him.
“Mon amour,” Elliott drawled in frustration when Muriel’s pace quickened and slowed. “Are you trying to tease me?”
Elliott forced his hips up, jolting Muriel from her perch. She stared at him dumbfounded, before sinking her body onto him at a torturously slow pace. She reached back and squeezed his thighs to keep him from jerking. He groaned, leaning his head back again. His fingers were balled into fists, his nails leaving indents on his own palms.
“Chérie… where did you even get these?” Elliott asked, shifting his focus away from the sensations.
“Souvenirs from a room with a suspiciously shattered pillory.” Muriel replied. “I figured ropes wouldn’t be strong enough to tie you down under me.”
“Is that what this is about?” Elliott darted his eyes towards her, digits twitching. “You want to dominate *me?”*
“Mhm. I wanted to feel what it’s like when you’re the one under me…when I’m the one in control of you.” Muriel said, easing into a deeper grind. Elliott held his breath, snatching up any moans trying to escape and shoving them back into his lungs.
“In that case, I’d say that gives you about three minutes.” Elliott said, looking up at Muriel with an ominous gaze.
“Three minutes for what?” Muriel asked, lowering her body to his chest. Her knees were planted on each side of his hips, his length inside of her and her lips just inches from his.
“Me to get out.” Elliott bluntly replied, a flat grin on his lips. He was indeed a strategist – he had mastered the emotionless smile to the fullest extent. He was unreadable.
“You’re bluffing.” Muriel hissed. Elliott raised an eyebrow, one corner of his blank smile turning upwards into a smirk. He made no attempt to respond, simply enjoying the feeling of Muriel pleasuring herself on him.
Muriel’s rhythm was hypnotic in itself – if she hadn’t practically challenged him to escape, he might have just let her continue. He observed the way her lips slightly parted with each wave, half-lidded eyes staring him down with an intoxicated stare. He could sense how much she had craved him. He felt the way she was savoring every inch of him, trying to stretch each moment into an eternity with him. He gently rolled his hips in unison with hers, listening to her melodic and breathy moans as she rode the crest of his tide.
“Chérie…” Elliott said, no longer concealing his own pleasure. “Oh… fuck, Muriel…”
“Tu es vulgaire.” Muriel commented with a hint of a smile. She pushed herself up from Elliott’s chest, riding him with a galloping pace for a moment before slowing to her calmer ruts. Elliott groaned in frustration at the change in tempo, locking eyes with her. “Ooh, those eyes… dangerous.”
“Don’t you dare.” Elliott gritted his teeth, his frustration nearly boiling over at this point. Muriel looked at his arms – still bound, but judging by the way they were flexed, that containment wasn’t going to last. She repeated her tease, grinding at a gallop and then a trot, just to see his reaction. It ended up being the final straw on his back.
“You- you little fucking–” Elliott roared, throwing both of his arms forward at full force. *”–BRAT!”* He not only broke out of both chains, but left several of the iron links completely shattered. His grip landed on Muriel’s hips as he shot up to a sitting position, growling at her. “Did you really think a man like me is the type to bluff? Or did you actually think iron was going to hold me back?”
“Mon Dieu, what kind of a beast even are you!?” Muriel was stunned, paralyzed by a mix of awe and fear. She felt Elliott’s hands snake around her body, pulling her head to his shoulder.
*”La Bête du Soleil.* That’s a title you won’t soon forget.” Elliott whispered. His fingers wrapped around her waist, mere inches away from completely encircling it. He roughly slammed her down, laying on his back and thrusting upwards into her. Elliott wrapped his right arm around the back of her waist, trailing his left hand across her scapula and to the roots of her mane. “You like having your hair pulled, don’t you?”
“Wh-what? What in the world makes you think-”
He gripped her curls, yanking her back and forcing her to look at him, earning a prolonged moan.
*”That.* That beautifully debauched and absolutely fucking *delicious* sound you make every time I do it.”
“Elliott, ple-*ease!”* Muriel yelped as she felt another tug, combined with a powerful thrust from below. Her voice was already breaking – in record time, even for Elliott. She watched as Elliott removed his hand from her mane, grabbing her right hand and interlocking their fingers briefly before another collision of their skin broke any of her remaining composure. A few stray tears slipped down her cheek, landing on the pillow next to Elliott’s raven locks. Elliott was admiring the expression on her face – that half-lidded stare that oozed with lust and desire, the kind that betrayed her illusion of decency. Those lecherous eyes were chipping away at his soul, in the most beautiful way he could imagine.
“Oh my… I must admit, I like being under you… you’re even more beautiful when you break at this angle.” Elliott wiped away her tears, cradling her cheek and gazing into her eyes. “Even your tears are made of stardust.”
“E-Ell…” Muriel slurred, feeling Elliott’s hands grip her waist and force hips her down again. She threw her head back as he lifted and slammed her petite body down in sync with his own bucks, her arms too electrified with the sensation to move. She fell onto his chest, her will to move melting atop his heat. Elliott slightly nudged her body up until they were face to face, adjusting his legs so he wouldn’t have to lose the feeling of her flesh.
With one arm around her back and the other hand wandering through her hair, he pulled her into a long kiss, all the while thrusting into her with the intensity of hatred and the intimacy of love. He could feel her moaning into his mouth, a sound that became more akin to a desperate shriek after a few rolls of their hips. He slightly slowed down, amused to find her grinding on her own accord just to chase the high that he had given her. He pulled his lips away, holding her head back from the roots of her hair and taking in the lewd gaze she gave him.
“It would appear we’ve found your new favorite position.” Elliott purred, running his hand over the curve of her posterior and giving it a light slap.
“Sh-shut up, or I’ll rip your f-fucking cock off…” Muriel barely said through her moans. She was undeniably enjoying this.
“Ooh, touchy.” Elliott yanked her hair back as hard as he could, immediately letting it go and slapping both curves of her ass at full force. He pumped a few of his hardest bucks yet upwards into her, his eyes practically glowing with manic lust when he heard the way it affected her. She let out the loudest, most lustful and pleasured howl that he was quite sure anyone as far as the cave would be able to hear. It melted into tears of pleasure that she shed into his mane, gasping for air as lesser thrusts continued to pound her. “That is without a doubt the loudest scream I’ve ever gotten from you… *and it was the most fucking beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.* I must be doing something right.”
“Ohh, you- fffucking- bêtedubâtard-” Muriel was slurring incoherently in both languages now.
“I understand both of those languages yet none of what you just said, chérie.” Elliott chuckled. He wrapped an arm tightly around her torso, pulling her in for another sloppy kiss. Her gibberish moans rode along her tongue across Elliott’s teeth again as she forced her hands to move. She wove her fingers through his hair, her entire body locked with his at both sets of her lips. Elliott had to pull her hungry mouth away from his own, looking at the way her expression was overflowing with euphoria and clouding any of her sane judgement. “God, you’re so beautiful…”
Muriel could only moan in response, the hypnotic lull of Elliott’s hips sending her into a trance.
“And very broken too…” Elliott commented. He securely grabbed her entire body and rolled with her until he was on top of her, staring down her shocked eyes. Elliott leaned closer to her, lightly kissing her nose and adjusting his body above her. His hand wandered towards her left leg, fingers pressing into her thighs as he gently lifted her leg onto his shoulder. *”You didn’t think I was done, did you?”*
“I thought you were human,” Muriel gulped, feeling Elliott begin to rock his hips against hers. He tilted his head, amused by the comment.
“Not around you, I’m not. I can honestly tell you that even I wasn’t expecting to get out that easily.” Elliott wrapped an arm around Muriel’s torso and leaned down, the other arm occupied with keeping her leg rested on his hip. Muriel could see each bead of sweat on his forehead, a red tint still painting his cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled back as Elliott forcefully slammed into her. He pulled out and plunged back in again, his repetitions slowly gaining speed and intensity.
“H-how are you ev-en still going?” Muriel whimpered, her hands frantically gripping Elliott’s arm.
“I got a good night’s sleep… also, I’m mad at you.” Elliott replied. Muriel could hear the panting growing in his voice.
“Mad at m-”
“No one gets to be on top of me like that. No one. *Not even you.”* Elliott said. Muriel’s fingertips were white from how tightly she squeezed Elliott’s arms. Her nails were digging into his skin, and he could feel her inner walls faintly clenching against his dick. “What made you think you could take down la Bête du Soleil?”
“Elliott- Elliott, oh my- chéri, chéri-!” Muriel’s voice faltered as Elliott stopped, then suddenly pounded her with reckless abandon. Elliott let go of her leg, prying her hands from his arms and interlocking their fingers. “S’il te plâit-”
“Ooh…Good girl,” Elliott huffed, faintly smiling at her timid beg. His pace slowed slightly as he pinned her hands down, fingers still interlaced. Muriel forced her eyes open to look at him as he leaned down, brushing his lips against hers before letting his tongue wander inside. There was no protest from her – her mind was occupied with other pleasures at the moment. He pulled his lips from hers, a thin line of saliva briefly tying their lips together. He groaned as the heat in his body finally overcame him, the fruits of his labor spilling into Muriel’s body. She tightly wrapped her legs around his waist, carnal shrieks escaping her throat as she rode out her own final wave.
Elliott rolled off of her, his arm draped over her trembling body as she slowly unwound herself. He carefully turned her onto her side to face him, cradling her cheek and wiping away her residual tears with his thumb. She shakily lifted a hand and placed it on top of his, purring as she nestled into the embrace.
“I can see why you’re called la Bête du Soleil,” Muriel said after her heart was finally back under her control. Elliott chuckled lightly, kissing her forehead.
“Because any other human being would probably die if I did that to them?” He suggested.
“Exactly…” Muriel said with an exhausted yawn. “You nearly killed me.”
“Oh, chérie… I would have just fucked you back to life.” Elliott said, ruffling Muriel’s hair as he let himself drown in the golden spokes of her eyes.
“You probably would have killed me a second time in the process.” Muriel quipped. She inched closer to him, pressing her body against his. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her even closer until the skin of their chests was flush against each other.
“Then I’d repeat the process until you were revived. I don’t take ‘No’ for an answer, even when it comes to the very backbone of nature.” Elliott planted a kiss on the roots of Muriel’s hair, lightly stroking her back.
“That’s… oddly sweet… yet disturbing.”
“Well… look who you’re talking to.”
“Touche, mon chéri…touché.”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/u4i6n8/academia_ch_vii_mf_cowgirl_rough_hair_pulling