Dark Omens — Hadrian & Alessa (Mature) (Patreon)

And if I only could

You fall to your knees.

Hadrian runs as fast as he can with all the strength he has left, and then, when that runs out, with the strength he hasn't. But reality feels heavy, as if the air itself fights against him, and Hadrian runs – he runs with pleas on his tongue and eyes blown wide in shock and fear and gut-wrenching sorrow... but no matter how fast he runs, you don't get any closer.

I'd make a deal with God

And now even your knees give out. Hadrian doesn't hear the inhumane scream he lets out to the Heavens, but it shakes the skies themselves.

Please, God. Please, God. Please, oh, Lord.

You're a crumbling heap on the ground, and it's only now that the Devil lets him close the distance.

Hadrian sees you clutching your hand. He sees the wild, almost unnatural spams that shake your arm in impossible directions. Hadrian sees a black deeper than the starless night expand from your clasped hand, eating the skin up your elbow.

And I'd get Him to swap our places

He falls to his knees beside you, pulling you into his arms. You go slack, head falling back, and arms spilling to the sides. Hadrian shakes you desperately. "Please." He wants to yell, but he can only sob your name into the crook of your neck. It hurts. It hurts so much that Hadrian can barely breathe. "Please, don't go. Lord don't let them go. I'll do anything. Bring them back. Bring them back to me."

You go rigid, and then, miraculously, his prayers are heard.

Hadrian watches you, tears frozen at the corner of his eyes as, slowly, you raise your head with jerky, cracking motions until you're staring back at him. The black crawls on your skin, swallowing along your jaw until it reaches your left eye. It turns the white to black, the irises disappearing. Hadrian's hands shake as they hold you, but he can't let go.

He can't let go; not even as you cock your head and smile, and Hadrian is forced to see a monster wearing his lover's face. "Hadrian," you say in a voice that's not your own. "Will you love me too?"

The thing grabs his chin, long, sharp nails growing to sink in until they graze his bone. "Hadrian," it speaks, face contorting to a vision of pure hatred. It doesn't fit you. You have never looked at him so. "Hadrian," it spits his name like a curse as his warm, red blood spills between its fingers.

"Hadrian."

.

.

.

"Hadrian." The whispered voice tickles the side of his temple. "Wake up, big man."

Soft lips press on the arc of his cheek, and a gentle hand rests on his chest. He's vaguely aware of two feet circling his calf, warm and playful, the toes wiggling against his skin. And again, that voice with the cadence of an angel. "Don't tell me your dreams are preferable over me. I will get my feelings sorely hurt."

Hadrian fights the weight on his eyelids and parts his eyes open. The light is cold and feeble — the light of early dawn. His heart hammers in his chest, and there's a faint, metallic tang on his tongue, but whatever has his muscles clenching as if he's about to be chased is lost to him.

The dream-like memories slip past his consciousness like water through fingers, leaving behind a vague sense of... loss.

Hadrian feels your palm move over his chest until five fingers press right above his heart. There's a pause. "Are you alright?" you ask, face coming to loom over his. "Your heart is racing."

He sees you for the first time, hair tossed from bed, eyelids swollen, and a glow to your skin that rivals the most beautiful paintings of saints. He can't help the dazed smile that blooms to his lips. "Angel," he says, lifting a hand to caress your cheek with the back of his knuckles.

You laugh, short and intimate, and beautiful. You are mesmerizing. Hadrian wishes he could spend eternity staring at you. "Did you dream of an angel?"

"I'm dreaming of one right now," Hadrian rasps, finding it hard to speak. His throat is raw; but Hadrian can't guess from what.

His thumb sweeps past your cheekbone, following the faint pink blush that blooms over it. You click your tongue but snuggle close to his palm. "I'm very real, I assure you."

His smile widens, but just as Hadrian is about to answer, your hair shifts and his eyes fall on a large red bruise on the side of your neck. Images of last night flash behind his eyelids.

You're writhing beneath him, your hands secured in one of his. Hadrian buried deep within you, drinking in the pleas and whines near his ear. You were begging him, as you did so many nights before. Spurring him on, bargaining, yelling for him to... Hadrian bit you. He felt your walls tighten around him, so he bit you again on the shoulder, and lapped the skin with his tongue, begging for forgiveness even as his hips quicken and the pace turned brutal, and you had—

His hand falls from your face as his face burns with the force of a thousand suns. Father in Heaven. His green eyes look down, noticing your naked form lying on its side beside him. The sheet is crumbled at both your feet, and your skin is glowing to him, beautiful and sacred, and with finger-shaped bruises on your hips and more marks on your inner thighs.

They would turn purple, he knows. What has he done?

But when he snaps his eyes back to yours with an apology on his tongue, he finds you smiling peacefully at him. "Don't you start."

"I—"

You put your hand over his mouth and lean closer. Lord, even your smell seems to be made for his doom. "Hadrian, we talked about this. I asked you to be rough."

"I was too—"

"You were perfect," you say, pulling your hand away to kiss him lightly on the lips. Hadrian's eyes flutter close at once, kissing you back, spelling his apology with his lips. You inhale, and he thinks you'll pull back, but your tongue sweeps past his bottom lip, and Hadrian parts his mouth at your silent request.

He feels you smile against him as your tongue delves in, and then Hadrian grunts from low in his throat when you suck him in. Lord.His hands grab you, one on your neck, the other on your hip, tracing his abuse from the night before. He draws small, comforting circles as listens to your sounds of approval.

Hadrian is happy to let you take the lead, licking into his mouth and playing with his tongue. But then, you break the kiss. "I like to feel claimed. By you. By no one else but you, Hadrian."

You stop and look at him from under your lashes, a shy, almost uncertain look on your face, and he's rendered speechless. Hadrian can only stare as something ignites in his veins. Warmth floods his crotch, and Hadrian is hard in an instant.

Bloody Hell.

"You..." Hadrian finds that words fail him. He feels a pressure in his chest, and when he inclines on one elbow, his voice sounds rougher even to his own ears. "Do you realize what you're doing to me?"

You fall on the mattress, looking up from under him. Hadrian feels the sudden need to swallow you whole. "What is it? What do I do to you, my shining knight?"

He hears himself growl. Hadrian closes the distance and claims your mouth with his. “You’ll be the death of me," he accuses between sloppy kisses. Hadrian puts a thigh between your legs, and grunts again, low and raspy, when you buckle against him.

"Hadrian," you whimper. You squeeze his shoulders, your nails digging in. Hadrian snaps his head up, suddenly taken aback to... he doesn't know where.

"Hadrian?" you ask beneath him. "Are you—"

Hadrian lowers himself and nibbles the side of your neck. You weep, arching into him, your core pressing urgently against his thigh. Hadrian puts one hand on your hip, careful to keep his grip soft, and helps you settle a rhythm. "Use me," he rasps, kissing the marks from the previous night with gentleness. He kisses up your neck, lapping at the spot beneath your ear that he knows you like. "Use me for your pleasure, love."

You lace a hand in his hair and pull. Hadrian hisses at the pleasant sting. "Use all of me," he begs, breathing heavily. Your free hand snakes down your bodies to wrap your fingers around him, and Hadrian has to close his eyes as white-hot pleasure shoots up his spine. "I'm yours. Mind, body, and soul."

It's a blasphemy. He has never heard a more beautiful heresy.

You turn your face, kissing him deeply, lining him with you. Hadrian hisses when he feels how eager you are, and God forgive him, but he can't wait any longer. He wants to make sure you're ready for him, to prepare you, but he can't deny as you put his tip against your core, your nimble fingers moving up and down.

"Hadrian," you say, breathing against him. Your hand falls from his nape, landing near your head and Hadrian grips it with his own, fingers interlacing with—

Your gloved palm.

Hadrian freezes, staring intently at your glove. A feeling rises from his stomach now, but it's not arousal any longer. It's dread. The thought is so sudden that it hits him like a wagon, but Hadrian wants to snatch your glove away and see what hides beneath.

Confirm whether it's a black darker than the starless night.

His mind reels, and before he knows it, Hadrian grabs the glove's buckle and...

You pull him in, locking your ankles around his butt, and envelop him, and Hadrian is taken to Heaven. "Lord," he mumbles, catching himself on his elbows before he crushes you. Your arms cage him around the shoulders, hugging you with all your strength, pulling him to your chest as your nails leave deep red lines along his back.

Claiming him too.

"Hadrian, move. Please," you whisper before you kiss his mouth, and Hadrian has no choice. He'd die before he refused you. He forgets dreams and nightmares and seeds of dread growing in his stomach.

And Hadrian moves.

- - -

I'd be runnin' up that road

Alessa cannot move.

She wants to. She tries to. But, for all her efforts, her legs refuse to take a single step.

She'd scream, of course, if only her throat hadn't stopped working.

So, she can only stand still and silent, like a ghost, as she watches you take a broken, bloody step forward. Your hand is stretched out towards her, blood dripping from the tips of your fingers and falling in a small, thin river from the corner of your mouth.

Her most darling one, her beloved one. Seeking her.

And yet, Alessa cannot move.

Be runnin' up that hill

She can see your lips moving, but fate isn't kind enough to let her hear your voice. So, Alessa can only see as your lips move to the shape of her name. "Alessa," you call as you take another step. "Alessa," you yell silently, tears mingling with blood, and whatever is left of Alessa's heart shatters when you pause, waiting...

But she cannot speak.

You take another step, but your leg falters, and you fall to one knee.

Alessa's lips curl in a feral snarl. Her hand shakes, and sweat erupts on her forehead as, with all her willpower, and all the strength in her character, Alessa is able to move her hand...

Until she grabs a knife.

With no problem

She stabs her thigh, and the pain does it.

Alessa flies forward, leaping over shapeless bodies, running to you, who still call for her. But even as Alessa approaches, she cannot hear you. "I am here," she says, sliding on her knees towards you. Dust kicks around you both, stinging her eyes as Alessa reaches to cup your face. "I am here."

Alessa touches you, and you are so cold. Colder than her. Your eyes do not look at her – they stay dazed and blurry, watching, seeking the air around you. They are also pitch black. "Darling one?"

A chill colder than death grips her. Alessa realizes you cannot see her.

"Alessa," you say, in a voice so feeble, Alessa feels tears sting her eyes. "Where are you?"

Her hands shake, and desperation lurks, but Alessa does not fall to it. "I am here," she repeats, pulling your cheeks, begging you to look at her.

And, suddenly, you do.

With a snap, your head twists and your eyes fix on hers. "There you are, you wrecked thing," you speak, but your voice does not sound like your own. It is dark and cruel, and her darling one has never once spoken to her in this way.

Your hands grab her wrists. Alessa jolts in shock as you tighten painfully. "Tell me. Will you stay loyal as I feast on your blood?"

You turn your cheek in her palms, the gesture almost loving, and Alessa can do nothing as you bite into her flesh.

.

.

.

She wakes with a start.

Alessa shoots in bed, her hands clutching the sheets and her heartbeat fills her eardrums. Her blue eyes are wide, but Alessa cannot see anything.

For a moment, panic grips her. She lifts a trembling hand, but even as Alessa peers through the darkness at her pale skin, she forgets what it is she's supposed to be checking.

She tries to hold onto the dream, but it crumbles beneath her, leaving her lost and cold.

A rustling to her left breaks the deep silence surrounding her.

In a flash, Alessa grabs the knife on her nightstand and holds it to...

Pale moonlight slips past parted blinds and falls on your form, sprawled beside her. The night is cold, and Alessa feels the night air prickle at the skin of her bare chest and arms, but your arm is looped around her waist, and your legs are on top of hers, warming her lower body.

'Tis you.

She lowers her knife as her heart slowly calms.

'Tis only you. She is on your shared bed, and her muscles still ache with a pleasant soreness from what you have done earlier that same night.

A small, secret smile twists Alessa's lips as she turns to consider you. You're lying on your stomach, your mouth slightly parted, and a few strands of your hair have fallen over your eyes. She cannot stop herself from reaching over and lightly sweep them away.

She tried to be gentle, but gentleness has never come easy to her and the motion has you blinking your eyes open.

Alessa cannot say she regrets it when you look up at her, eyes catching the moonlight with dazed confusion. "Lessa." you rasp, and she enjoys the low rumble of your sleep-addled voice. "You're awake?"

Alessa lies beside you, snuggling closer to your warmth. She likes how you immediately raise your arm and allow her closer, moving as if it's an instinct to want her nearby. Alessa does not know if she will ever be able to voice how cherished you make her feel. How wanted.

How she wishes she could reciprocate. If only she was not so... like herself.

"'Twas a dream," she admits, speaking in a quiet whisper. Her cold, imperfect hands play with your bicep as you snake your hand lower down her back to bring her flush to you.

You turn on your side, your nose almost brushing hers. "Dream?" you say, blinking the sleep away. You watch her, and Alessa tries to keep a neutral face, but you know her.

You know her better than anyone in her past, present, and future. You know her like no one ever will. "A dream?" you question gently. She knows you too and hears the concern. "Or a nightmare?"

Alessa shivers, but she chooses to ignore it. 'Tis better to focus on how your fingers feel, tracing small circles on her lower back. Your other hand rises to cup her breast, not in a sensual way. Alessa has long realized you enjoy feeling its weight. She likes to click her tongue in disapproval every time you sneak a hand up her shirt to hold one of her breasts, but the truth is, Alessa likes it.

"You were in it," she tells you, hand exploring the planes of your chest. It is quite remarkable how she never tires of your form. She has wandered this same chest so many times before, and yet, as she squeezes you gently, Alessa feels a spark of desire between her legs.

She will never understand, how you have bewitched her. She is a fool, she knows, for she cares not.

"I was?" You bite the bait not because you don't understand her attempt to divert but because you noticed she desired you to. And here is her heart, warming in her chest. "Then it must have been a very good dream."

Alessa cracks a smile, nails digging up your chest, to your collarbones, to the side of your neck. You close your eyes and grunt, and she leans forward to swallow the noise.

Your lips are still swollen from the hours before, and Alessa cannot help but nip at your bottom one. You wield, opening your mouth, and she cares not for greed as she drinks you in. Her most darling one. Her nails scrape your scalp as your hands busy themselves on her backside, squeezing the flesh between your fingers.

"'Twas the most pleasant dream," she lies, speaking into your mouth. Alessa remembers not the dream, but its claws still grip her, and it is not pleasant. But you are. And here, now, she desires nothing more. "But naught may compare to the real experience."

To punctuate her words, Alessa traps your leg between hers and slowly rolls her hips against you.

It is pitiful how much it thrills her to listen to you moan.

"Darling one," Alessa says, softly bucking against you. Your hands cup her butt, accompanying the movement while hers hold the side of your face. She can feel herself getting wetter.

"Wait, Alessa," you say, and then you turn your head and kiss her palm tenderly.

As if lightning strikes her, Alessa halts. Her eyes widen as she's taken back to a place where you gripped her wrists with so much force, she was sure you’d snap the bone. Alessa opens her mouth—

"Are you sure?" you speak in the tender tone you use for only her and kiss her other palm. You look at her, and she can see nothing but love in the gaze. "It wasn't long you were singing for me, after all."

Alessa has to scoff. "If I recall, 'twas you who could not keep your mouth shut."

You smirk. The sight makes her lower stomach coil. "Whatever you tell yourself, beautiful."

Alessa decides she will kiss the smugness away. "I am sure," she says between rolling kisses. You lick into her mouth, and Alessa sucks the tip of your tongue, delighting in your shiver. She lets go of your mouth to kiss along your jaw, and then, she raises one of your hands and starts to kiss your knuckles. "I... I desire you."

She wants to erase every trace of the dream that had plagued her. The unsettling feeling looms still, too close for comfort. Alessa knowns not how to ask for help, so she does the next best thing.

She kisses down your middle finger, pauses, and looks at you through half lidded eyes. "I need you," Alessa declares, cheeks flushed red, and pride forgotten as she takes your finger in her mouth and sucks.

It has the desired effect.

It is as if a fire ignites within you, and Alessa finds herself thrown on her back. Her hair circles her head, tossed and in disarray, but she cares not for the stained paint around her eyes as you suck on the skin of her neck. She lets out a soft exhale, caressing your nape and upper shoulders, eyes closing in bliss as you work down, worshipping her collarbones, her breasts, her stomach, and her navel.

Her legs are thrown over your shoulders, and you grin devilishly from between her thighs before you catch her left leg and kiss her ankle, slowly moving towards her inner thigh and finally, her core, and Alessa can keep her eyes open no more, for you give her what she cannot put into words.

Beauty made physical. Pitiless addiction.

Your hand works her along with your tongue, but the other claps hers, and Alessa feels the rough fabric of your glove against her palm. And with the little mind she has left, Alessa wishes she could find a way to let it loose.