Page 21 of Storm

Walking over to him, I remind myself of all the things I hate about this tyrant of a man. I hate his dark brown hair and the way it falls effortlessly onto his face when it gets too long. I hate his thick lashes that remind me of the boy sleeping in the other room. I hate his tanned skin that covers his body from days of training outside with his keepers. I hate his thick, corded muscles that shoot up his forearms and reach past his neck. I hate…

“Kneel.” Standing before his large form, I narrow in on him. His eyes are now at equal height to my own in his seated position. From my vantage point, I notice his lips quirk up at the side. Not quite made of steel, are we, husband? Like a string connects his words to my movements, my fingers instinctively reach to touch his knees, using them as leverage to crouch down.

“Open your mouth.” Looking up at Melek, I obey.

When he speaks, I move, that damn tether pulling me towards him—always.

Taking his glass, the chink of gold against the cup, our matching snake wedding band in view, he pours some of the amber liquid down my throat. I hurriedly swallow so I don’t choke. It only lasts two gulps, the glass removed from my lips, his hand under my chin making me angle my face towards him. Shit, my eyes are closed.

“What do you say?” His words reach out to goad me.

“Thank you, Sir Commander.”

The tight grip on my chin is now gone as he swallows the last of his drink. “Take my cock out and put that filthy whore mouth to work.”

Dark eyebrows raise, like he’s expecting a challenge. Tonight, I’m too tired to fight. If he knew the secret I was housing in my womb, he’d probably hold back. Actually, who am I kidding? Commander Melek of the Halo keepers does not hold back. He is all in 100 percent of the time, even, unfortunately, when it comes to his marriage. The only thing he would’ve forgone would have been the drink.

I often wonder if he fucks around, but I doubt he would have the strength or the time in his day when he spends all of his precious seconds in meetings and training, followed by coming home to fuck me into submission each night. This man loves his routine. And I’m a part of it. Yay.

Zipping down his fly, I go for what I know is waiting for me beneath his pants. I can already see the sizable bulge pushing against the material of his slacks. Standard army wear. Black on black, with silver buttons, a snake in a circle eating its tail etched on each. It’s supposed to represent eternal life or some nonsense. The pure Haloians believe themselves as righteous as gods, which is why they kill the Fairy Lands creatures for their solence—that, and the magic the hollows steal from the colourful people.

Making contact with his hard, thick, velvety length, a familiar tingle shoots down to my toes. Melek grunts at the contact. I cannot help the way my eyes dart up to his. It’s now instinct for me to seek his approval in everything, even when he’s looking at me like prey. All he has to do is give me a twitch of his hand, and I fucking fall like a leaf discarded on the breeze.

This is me falling. Falling into the arms of my oppressor. What are my other options? Go back to the farming communities, or worse, be saddled with a husband who will actively force himself on me. I may hate the commander, but he has never forced my hand. Even this. Right now. To any unwitting observer, it looks like he’s compelling me, yet Melek has always kept one promise from the day we met; he’s never touched me unless I wanted him to.

It took exactly one year and three days for me to decide feeling something was better than feeling like a corpse of myself. If I couldn’t hurt him emotionally, maybe I could break his cock. Turns out, his cock, to my utmost chagrin, is indestructible.

I won’t lie. It didn’t hurt that my first experience with him was multi-orgasmic. It was the only time the sadness solidifying my marrow seemed to take a back seat, and I relished that feeling. Sex became my new obsession to chase away the chill.

Neither of us is perfect, and neither is this coupling.

But one thing is for certain…

I do not love him.

And he does not love me.

This, whatever it is, is purely transactional.

Over the years, I’ve learnt to channel my rage for this hollow man and the people I’m forced to cohabitate with into some good old-fashioned hate sex. It’s healing. Fucked up, yes, but medicinal nevertheless.

The worst part is it’s not Melek, per se, or that I hate his stupid handsome guts and his obscenely large cock. No, it’s his endurance. Over the last twelve years, Melek has learnt to play my body like a violin.

He makes it his personal mission some nights to make me come so goddamn much that I pass out.

I hate that he doesn’t need to rest.

I’m sure he can see the fire I’m shooting his way as I glare up at him, gripping his cock with both hands, squeezing hard down to the base, twisting as I go. I swear his eyes sparkle as I roughly yank him back and forth, stuck in each other’s tempest.

“Fuck, Alora, if you don’t put my cock in your mouth right now, I’ll shove it in there myself.” An involuntary flinch pulls me out of the moment when he uses my Halo-given name. Sticking out my tongue, I streak it along the prominent vein that travels the underside of his wide length, secretly wishing I could bite down. I slide it from base to tip before finally enclosing my mouth around the leaking head so I can suck.

“God, wife, maybe for that, I’ll let you go into town tomorrow.” Another place I despise. Everything in Halo is fake. Fake smiles. Fake kindness. Fake care. They consume out of greed and power.

It makes me sick.

For a year and three days, I thought his cock inside me or his lips on my body would also repulse me. Being proven wrong has been a lowlight, and I’ve had many lows. Most of my life has been a series of dark graves.

Sucking on a hollow’s cock for pleasure fills me with utter loathing.