Dusk 'Till Dawn
Can we guess what movie I recently watched?
Pairing: Titus Danforth x Wife!Reader
summary: It was a fun game of cat and mouse with a promise of a prize for the victor. While the "hunt" was practice for his family’s rituals, Titus reveals a much deeper, private motive for his new victory.
wc: 6.6k
Not edited.
warnings: small spoilers for the film but barely, softer!titus (but only with you) Titus is his sarcastic self, coarse language, brief mention of an age gap,pet names, satanism/occult mentions, mentions of death/ritualistic killing, blood, predator/prey dynamic, teasing, bro hunts you down on the estate!! knife play, mentions of a tranquilliser gun but no use of it- more of a joke, roughness, worship, possessiveness, reader has hair long enough to pull on/hair pulling, smut - public (but no one is around) mentions of oral (m!receiving), p in v, rough sex, doggy into prone, spanking, talks of breeding + pregnancy, creampie.
Let me know what you think!
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The Danforth estate was a monument of power, built on foundations of blood and sacrifice. To the world, it was a fortress of wealth - a grand hotel on one side of the grounds, the family home on the other.
It's stone walls encased everything like a gilded cage, hiding the outside world from the secrets within.
"You're far too quiet tonight."
Titus barely glances up from the cuff links he's removing, the gold catching the low light of the room. You stood on the marble balcony, hands resting against the railing as you overlook the now empty grounds before you.
The sun was setting, your mind deep in thought as you think over the near hunt. Dusk was approaching, and you couldn't help but wonder what tonight had in store for you.
What Titus had in store for you.
"Sweetheart?" He speaks again, a small hint of displeasure in his tone at your silence.
You didn't turn around. You didn't have to. You feel the heat radiating off of Titus Danforth as he steps up behind you, his hands sliding familiarly around your waist as he pulls you against him.
He leans down, his nose pressing into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin.
The smell of his cologne engulfs you, and you relax against him, angling your head as he presses kiss after kiss on your bare skin until he reaches your ear.
"Don't pick the cellar tonight," He all but whispers, finally causing you to break into an airy chuckle. "It doesn't count as a good hiding spot if I find you drinking the vintage."
"You took too long to find me," You counter, turning around slowly in his arms until your back is pressed to the railing. "And it was good vintage."
"It was mine."
"And now it's gone," Your hands press against his chest. "How tragic."
"And if I recall correctly," He laughs with you, low and warm, and you smile at the sound. "I found you within two hours."
Titus watched you intently, eyes sharp, amusement and something else underneath that was undeniably him.
Hungry.
You reach up to undo his top button, slowly making your way down until his shirt hung off of him. He was yet to dress into his hunting attire, still wearing the suit he wore for the gala you had both attended.
Goosebumps litter his skin instantly as the breeze hits him, reminding you both of the very public space you had chosen to have a conversation.
"You and I have very different memories of that night," You murmur, dragging your hands softly down his bare chest until they reach his belt. "Either way, you won, no need to gloat."
"You won too."
"Being fucked in the wine cellar doesn't exactly count as winning."
"I don't remember you complaining," Titus grabs your wrists before they can reach for his zipper. "Are you trying to distract me wife?"
"Tire you out seems like the more appropriate description," You shrug once. "Is it working husband?"
You say his title back like an insult more than a name.
He rolls his eyes. "Fucking you on the balcony now won't stop me from finding you later tonight sweetheart," He scoffs, but there's a playful edge to it. "Playing dirty is rather beneath you."
"I could be beneath you instead?"
Titus says your name in warning, loosening his grip on your wrist before he turns to walk back inside. You follow after him with a smirk, stopping to lean against the doorframe as you watch him shrug his shirt off his back.
He looks over his shoulder as he removes the rest of his clothing, his eyes darting over the white silk dress he made you wear for every hunt.
It was a simple garment, devoid of any zips or ties that would make your run constricting. Your feet were bare, the only other item on you being the very ring Titus had put on your finger just years prior.
"You remember the safe word?" He asks as he steps into his walk in wardrobe, not even bothering to poke his head out as you hum your reply.
He yells out for a proper response, to which you say yes even louder.
It was the same every year. Every time someone new married into the family, they were made to participate in the games chosen by Mr Le Bail.
You didn't have to participate being a spouse, but that didn't mean you couldn't.
He didn't let you regardless. The risk of you being hurt by the guest too high on his mind.
Last year, it was some nephew.
This year, it was a cousin in the Danforth line that you actually knew and thoroughly disliked. She was every bit egotistical, and her new fiancee wasn't far off.
They had both made snide comments when you had married into the family - not being from wealth, and Titus was itching for the two to be wed and dealt with.
He called your hunts 'practice'.
Not that you were ever in any real danger, save for the bruises he'd leave on your hips or thighs once he'd find you.
For one night a year sometimes more, when Ursula was away for business, his father tucked away with his care team on the other side of the wing and the staff all sent home early.
You were his to play with.
You both had the entire estate to yourselves.
Titus steps back into the room. He's dressed for the chase, clad in his dark hunting leathers that flexed with every moment of his broad shoulders.
A knife was sheathed on his side, not that he ever used it on you - save for the many dresses he had torn apart in the past.
His thighs looked distractingly bigger now that he wore his gear, and you bite your lip to stop the smirk from forming on your lips.
He looked every bit the apex predator that his father had raised him to be, yet when his gaze landed on you, the hardness in his eyes shattered into something softer, something he reserved just for you.
"Are you bringing the tranq this time?" You ask, still leaning against the door.
Titus lets out a short, dry laugh as he shakes his head - the kind of laugh he only shared with you.
"No sweetheart, I'm not," He steps forward until he stands in front, his now gloved thumb reaching up and tracing the line of your jaw. "There's no fun in that," He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as you hum your agreement once again.
"Shall we go over the ground rules again?"
"No need, I remember, same as every year," You look up at him, heart fluttering in your chest. "Are you going to give me a proper head start this time?'
Titus doesn’t answer straight away.
Instead, he looks behind you, looking out to the vast stretch of forest that surrounds the manor. The woods will be completely covered in darkness in no time, the lights all switched off.
Dense and endless, most people wouldn't step foot out there alone.
Most people aren't you.
Most people aren't his.
Not yet at least. When his father finally croaks, the world will be his.
But Titus didn't worry for that just yet, his world stood in front of him, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered.
"Worried?" He says at last, voice calm despite the eagerness in his body.
You scoff softly, an eyebrow raised. "Not the word I'd choose, you haven't told me yet what you want if you win, I'm curious."
If.
He always won. Every time.
The longest you had managed to stay hidden was six hours - only because you had hidden in your bedroom of all places. A memory he brings up often at the silliness of it all.
He chuckles at the idea of not winning.
"If?" He repeats, and he brings your head up with a tilt of your chin. There it is, that look. Focused and predatory.
The kind of look that made grown men falter mid sentence. The kind that made rooms go quiet when he enters.
The kind that reminds everyone exactly who - and what - he is in this family.
"If," You say again, "If you win. Planning something are we?'
His mouth twitches.
“I’m always planning something.”
Usually your husband would tell you days before what he wanted his prize to be before a hunt. Usually it was something that ended with you bent over some balcony in a country you didn't know existed.
Other times it was fulfilling some fantasy Titus had where you were dressed in some ritualistic getup, a bride of the damned made solely for him.
Rarely was it something you didn't also enjoy. His prizes still left you with a belly full of fine wine or your pussy filled with him.
"Do tell though," He continues. "If you were to make it to dawn, what would you ask for? What would my love ask of me that I don’t already provide?"
The possibilities were endless. "If you make it to first light without me pinning you to the forest floor, what do you want?'
"Hm," You pretend to think, a small pout on your lips as he smiles at your expression. "I'm rather fond of the idea of tying you up, a little at my mercy."
"I'm always at your mercy."
"Not with your hands tied to the headboard you're not," You counter. "Tied up and aching, gagged even if you keep running your mouth. Maybe I leave you there until I'm ready? Maybe I use you until you can't take it anymore-"
"I'm struggling to see where I'm supposed to hate this idea," Titus interrupts you with a scoff of his own, eyebrows shooting up at the thought, his voice raspy. "You know I don't mind when you use me, Hell, you use my wallet and my cock all the time, I don’t complain.”
"Bullshit," You drag the word out. "You hate not being in control of everything."
He doesn't respond right away, and you know you've got him pinned. Titus enjoyed a lot of things, but after years of being a punching bag by his father and sister, he revelled in you being the one person he could order around.
Not that you minded either. He never hurt you, never manipulated you like others tried.
"You said I could have anything," You remind him with a playful tilt of your head. "And I want you tied up and begging for me. Does the idea scare you?" "Terrifies me," He lies easily, eyes darkening with affection. "Being at your mercy seems to be the most dangerous position I could be in, I might never want to leave."
His sarcasm pissed you off. "Keep joking around like that Titus and I'll tie you up, leave you there for days, I won't even touch you."
"Bold little thing."
His watch beeps before you could cuss him out, the sharp sound immediately sending a thrill through you.
Dusk was finally here, and you had until dawn to evade your husband.
"You get twenty minutes this time," He presses the side of his watch, a new timer being set. "I'm not cruel."
"Oh how generous of you," You roll your eyes as you go to move past him. "Bastard."
Titus catches your wrist before you can walk away, his thumb brushing over your pulse. Despite the confident look on your face, he could feel the consistent thumping of your heartbeat beneath him.
You were nervous.
You arch your brow, ready to tell him that he was cutting into your starting time. He leans down, lips brushing your ear as you swallow the words in your throat. "Be careful."
"You're the only thing out there that could cause me any problems." You murmur, but you nod against him nonetheless.
"Exactly," He inhales once, smelling the expensive shampoo you wore, his favourite. "I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."
"Cocky."
His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you that he could if he wanted too. He says your name in low warning. "Twenty minutes starts now.”
You pull back, meeting his gaze, hoping your expression looks amused. “Good luck old man."
For a second, just a second, something softer flickers in his eyes. Not the predator. Not the heir to everything.
Just Titus.
Yours.
"I love you," He says, finally letting go of your wrist as he pecks your cheek. "Now fuck off."
"I love you too."
Without another word, you turn and run out of the room, your white dress fluttering around you as you turn the corner.
Titus watches until you're no longer in view, a smirk on his lips as he hears your laughter through the now empty halls of the manor.
—
The forest felt alive with the sounds of the night.
Late last year, you had chosen the wine cellar in the main house. Earlier on, you had picked your bedroom. Your first year, you had picked the hotel.
Only once before had you picked the woods, and without the lights that usually lit the large labyrinth, you had nothing but shadow.
It was perfect.
You moved with a revered silence, your bare feet digging into the moss covered grounds, carefully avoiding dry leaves or sticks that could give away your location.
You weren't a hunter, you hadn’t trained for this, and you weren't tying to escape him out of fear, but out of devotion.
Titus loved the chased - loved the way you challenged him and didn't bend to his every whim like everyone else in his life.
The Danforth's owned everything. With a click of their fingers or a simple call, whatever they wanted was at their doorstep.
But for just one night, there was something Titus actually had to earn. Something he actually had to put in the skill and effort for.
The cold hits you the further you venture. You assume your husbands choice of clothing for you was intentional - it wasn't meant for this kind of weather or terrain.
You would be stupid to run around during the night in something so loose.
Yet, here you were. The silence was deafening in a place that was usually full of staff and security. Here, the air feels thicker, wilder, the anticipation of what was waiting for you making your hands feel clammy.
You don't run immediately, you walk - fast and deliberate, your mind running a mile a minute instead as you work through routes and trials in your memory.
You knew these woods well, but Titus was born here, raised on these grounds, even without the millions of cameras attached to every suitable surface, he would be able to find you.
Without a watch, it was impossible to know if your twenty minutes was up, but it was safe to assume your husband had begun his hunt.
You weaved between trees, doubling back once, twice, crossing a small stream without hesitation. The cold water bites at your skin, but you ignore it, climbing the opposite bank and continuing on.
Just once, you want to win. Just once, you want to prove that you are more than capable of looking after yourself and being more than prey.
Eventually, your feet begin to ache from the constant walking, and you're sure that it's been hours. You've put enough distance between you and the house, no longer able to see the empowering building from where you stand.
With nothing but the moonlight to guide you, you tuck yourself into a hollow beneath a fallen cedar, tucking in the bottom of your dress to ensure it doesn't stick out and reveal your location.
Your pulse has settled, the adrenaline you had running through your blood subsiding by the minute, replaced by the urge to rest.
Titus is good.
Too good to underestimate.
But for once, he's not right behind you - nor finding you within hours.
You didn't mean to fall asleep, but as the hours passed and the cold took over, your eyes had closed and the hollow had become your makeshift bed. You praised Satan for not being born a snorer, and the sound of the birds and insects lulled you into a sleep you didn't realise you needed.
The hunt lasted far longer than either of you expected.
Hours bled into the dark.
In the distance, you hear the frustrated snap of a branch, and your eyes open immediately, your heart hammering at the sudden sound. You look around, seeing nothing from where you were hiding.
Ignoring the twinge in your neck from your position, you hold your breath when you hear a low, guttural growl of a curse.
Titus was losing his temper. There was two hours until dawn, and he hadn't found a proper track in awhile. You had circled over your own footsteps more than once, a move he had taught you, and so he couldn't be mad.
Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you adjust the way you're sitting carefully, hoping that nothing revealed your location to the hunter that was loose in the area.
He was used to being the master of his home, used to finding his prey within the hour. But tonight, you were becoming something he couldn't grasp.
The thought made a thrill of pride bloom in his chest, he was both proud and pissed off that you had made it so far.
"No perfume tonight?" Titus' voice drifts through the trees, sounding much closer than you expected. "That's smart honey, that's usually the first thing that gives you up."
You don't move. You quieten your breathing even further.
"Although," He continues, and you can almost sense the way his jaw is no doubt clenched. "You're not as clever as you think, your tracks might be messy - sure - but they end up heading in the same direction eventually," His voice circles like a wolf. "I'm proud though, this is a good run time for you. Just… I'm getting a little bored."
He goes silent, his footsteps continuing as he stalks around. He knows you're here, he just doesn't know where.
The silence stretches until his boots come to a stop.
"Aren't you cold out here sweetheart?" He starts again. "Gotta be, that dress doesn't leave much to the imagination. Beautiful on you though, shame it’ll be cut off soon."
The arrogance is back. Titus wants you to bite back, yell out some quip that'll reveal where you are, but you ignore the urge.
He's right though, goosebumps were all over your skin, your nipples peaking through your dress as the chill of the night danced around you.
Still, you didn't bite.
"I'll just buy you more, hundreds more, I don't mind," Titus speaks lowly again. You can picture him perfectly, the heavy stance he carries. "I'll buy you whatever the fuck you want."
The angrier he sounded, the hornier he was. He was getting beyond frustrated. Never had he lost a hunt, and although he didn't mind the idea of his little wife tying him up for once, the prize he wanted was far too great to miss.
It was apart of Mr Le Bail’s deal. A prize had to be claimed, no if's or buts, even if your hunt didn't count as a part of his usual style of business - but if there was something Mr Le Bail enjoyed, it was a game signed in blood and pleasure.
You couldn't win. Maybe next year would be your year.
With no rebuttal, Titus goes quiet, his footsteps getting quieter until you could no longer hear his boots digging in the moss.
You waited. Five. Ten.
You waited until you were sure the distance between you both was enough. This position hurt. You didn't mean to be cooped up in such a confined space for so long.
Emerging from the hollow, you wince as you stand to your full height, stretching your shoulders and arms until you release a small sigh in relief.
Your dress was filthy, little cuts on your arms and legs from the trees you had run through, but still you smiled.
Satan, you wish you brought a watch with you. It was impossible to know just how much time was left, but you knew that you'd made it far - judging by Titus' frustration.
You hitch up the straps of your dress before dusting off the dirt from your behind.
Maybe the north side would be a good spot.
You're deep in thought, planning your next move carefully.
Then -
A voice.
"You are just so beautiful."
You freeze. Your breath catches, not completely from fear, but from the sheer shock.
Slowly, deliberately, you turn your head, and leaning casually against a tree like he’s been there all along, watching you, is your husband.
He's smiling, beaming from ear to ear.
"You-"
"Hello darling." His voice is soft, almost fond, a stark difference to the mischievous glint that no doubt rests in his eyes.
You narrow your own eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.”
“So you knew I was hiding in there the whole time."
“Oh yeah," He nods, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Wanted to see if you'd come out yourself or make me pull you out."
“Typical,” You straighten, masking the jolt of adrenaline with a cool expression. “You still haven't caught me Titus."
You bolt before he can reply.
Your bare feet hit the earth with frantic speed as you run. You hear your name from his lips with an angered yell. He was running out of time.
You're grinning regardless. The more pissed off he was, the more you laughed as you ran. His heavy steps can be heard behind you, moving with a terrifying efficiency.
He wasn't playing anymore, he had to catch you before the sun came up.
Titus cursed at himself for not bringing the tranq gun.
He yells your name again,and you praise the heavy hunting gear for weighing him down. Your back is pressed against a tree as you hide again, your muscles screaming, your feet aching.
But still, the adrenaline fuelled your fire, the hunt doing nothing but make your love for your husband grow further and further.
The rhythmic, heavy crunch of his boots came closer as you pressed yourself into the tree.
You could see the stream nearby, and you know that you'd have a home stretch if you made it over.
"I know you're near baby," Titus tried his best to mask the desire in his voice. His tone was teasing, rich and worst of all, close.
“We both know you didn't make it over the water, just come on out," You hear him take another step, no doubt checking behind another tree, his eyes scanning the shadows with an intensity that made your pulse jump. "If you come out now, I might even let you cum when I fuck your brains out."
Your mouth opened in shock at his words. He was baiting you again. Titus always made sure you finished when you both had sex - he was cruel, but never to you.
That's how you knew he was losing his cool.
When you hear his steps come closer, you run again.
A blur of movement follows you. You spin, just in time to see his arms come up as he lunges, and you twist sharply to throw him off balance.
Your shoulder hits his chest instead, and for a moment, it works. He stumbles, a grunt on his lips, and you go to run again when a large hand snaps around your wrist, pulling you back towards him roughly.
You drive your knee up, he blocks it. You throw a hit, he counters. It’s messy, it's chaotic, it's you. It’s a dance he craves.
You twist, trying to break free, your other hand raising to push against his chest. Before you can push him away, Titus manages to grab your waist, and with quick kick at your legs, has you both falling to the ground beneath you.
The sudden loss of your footing has you gasping, and he rolls, ensuring you're stuck beneath his weight as he pins you beneath him.
It was a familiar, grounding pressure, his breathing heavy but controlled.
Still, you attempt to buck him off of you, but Titus sits up just enough to roll you over onto your belly roughly, one hand pressing the back of your head into the grass below, his front pressed into your back.
His thighs straddle you completely, and he waits for you to stop your movements, lets you catch your breath as you realise you're well and truly caught.
"Nearly had it, didn't you sweetheart?" He rasps, his head leaning down to see your expression. His hazel eyes burned with a mixture of triumph and pure, unadulterated lust. "You did good, just not good enough."
"Get the fuck off me." You hiss, attempting once more to move under him. Your ass brushes against his clothed cock, Titus having been hard the very moment he had first found you. He grunts again.
"Shut up," He retorts, reaching down to push some hair out of your eyes. "No point having an attitude now," He pushes against you once more, eyes closing a little as his jeans feel tighter against him.
The hand on your head grabs at your wrists before you can protest, pinning them above your head. You moved against him at every chance. "Stop - stop fucking moving."
You oblige, turning your head to look at him clearer. "So," You breath, chest heaving. "Sun's not up, but you win fucker. What do…" You breath again. "What do you want?"
The witty, sarcastic mask he usually wore slid away entirely. He looked down at you with a seriousness that made the world around you fall silent.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly vow that shook you to your core. "You almost had it." He says again.
"Almost doesn't count."
"No," He agrees. "It doesn't."
You feel his knife gliding gently up your thigh before you realise, and your breath is stuck in your throat once more.
You didn't even notice Titus grab it from it's sheath, and you feel yourself stiffen as the tip of the steel drags up and under your dress.
Never once has Titus cut you, he was messy when he wanted to be, but he was precise more often than not.
"That's a good girl," He whispers, feeling you completely stop your fidgeting. "Not so brave now, are we?"
The air between you was thick with the scent of the woods and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline. Titus didn't move to let you roll over, instead, he settled his weight more firmly against you, his heavy hunting leathers pressing your thin silk dress into the earth.
The damp chill of the ground seeped through the fabric, but you barely felt it over the radiating heat of his body.
He looked down at you, his chest heaving in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own. The shadow of his frustration was still there, flickering in the depths of his lustful eyes, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a terrifying, singular focus.
"Do you have any idea," He rasped, his voice dropping into a low, vibratory growl that seemed to rattle in your own chest. "What it does to me when I can't find you? When you just disappear?"
You so badly wish you could reach up and brush away the dark locks of hair that fell onto his damp forehead. Even in your state, you couldn't resist the spark of his fire. "Thought you liked the challenge."
He leaned down again, his face inches from yours, his gaze devouring every inch of your expression. "I love that smart mouth more," He let out a sharp, self deprecating huff of a laugh, his nose grazing your cheek as his knife slides higher.
"And I love you," He paused, his eyes softening into a look of such raw, unshielded devotion it made your throat ache before his jaw tightens. "But right now, I'm going to fuck you like I don’t."
"High praise," You huff out, ignoring the heat in your belly. "Makes me want to run again, see if you can catch me twice."
"Don't fucking dare," He warned, though there was no heat in it, only a possessive desperation. "You’ve had your fun."
You don't answer, your heart feeling like it was going to break from beneath your ribs at just how fast it was beating. This was the part that you enjoyed the most, not that you would ever tell him.
The part where the doting husband was gone, and just the man who wanted to collect his prize was left.
Speaking of, Titus was still yet to tell you what he wanted from you, but you were too turned on and too anxious for his next move to speak.
His knife stops at the dress band around your waist, and with a turn of his wrist, he cuts through the fabric like it was nothing.
The dress falls loose to the ground below, and Titus cuts through your bra and panties next, not wasting a single second more to get you bare before him.
"Titus-"
He lifts himself up off of you again, giving you just enough room to hoist you up by your hips as he lets your wrists go. Your clothing falls to the floor, and a protest leaves your lips as you're left naked and shivering.
Your hands press into the ground, the thickness of the grass running through your fingers as you attempt to gather your bearings.
His jeans bite into your skin, his hands are rough on your body as he pulls you up further onto your knees. You struggle back, his knife thrown somewhere to the ground as you feel and hear him undoing his belt from behind you.
Titus didn't bother taking his pants off, pushing them and his underwear down just far enough to get his cock out. It slaps against his lower belly instantly, and he hisses at the feeling, pushing his pants down further until they banded around his thighs.
He strokes himself once. Twice. He curses at the feeling.
“You love this,” He kicks your own legs apart with his knees, grinning as he sees the glistening mess between your legs waiting for him. "You fought back a lot for someone whose practically dripping."
"Shut up."
He pushes your legs apart even further, your thighs burning now as you feel him right behind you. There's no check if you're ready, just a slap to your pussy with the tip of his cock before he buries himself inside of you in one quick thrust.
The air leaves your lungs, hands giving out as he fucks you into the ground. Your mouth opens in an attempt to say his name, but the only noise that comes out is a choked moan.
“You remember, fuck - what I told you,” He says in between his rough thrusts. “About what happens when I take over the family?"
You couldn't speak, focused on nothing but the grass your face is pressed into and the thick head of your husbands cock hitting that spot inside you with every push of his hips.
"Answer me." Titus orders, reaching down to grab at your hair and pull you up roughly. Even through the aggressiveness of it all, you can't help but smile through perfect mix of pleasure and pain.
"You said, you - mppf," You can't help the squeal that leaves your lips as Titus grips tighter. "Shit, you said you would g-give me the world."
"I did," He nods behind you. "And I will."
His gaze drops briefly from your face to your pussy, watching the way his cock disappears inside and the way you grip him like you didn't want to let him go.
"But first," He says, his voice low and breaking, his own control wavering as he becomes lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. "I"m going to give you something - something that's mine," He groans. "Fuck, you feel so good."
You wiggle your hips against him, trying to meet him halfway as he picks up the pace. His hands connect with your hips, gripping too tightly, bringing them down to meet his thrusts whether you were able or not.
His words barely register, too overcome by pleasure and the building orgasm in your lower belly.
Titus' smile doesn't waver, even as he grunts your name like a prayer for Satan. "My prize," He says with a harsh thrust, his hips stilling for a moment so you can pay attention. You can't even whine at the sudden stop, eager to hear what your love wants. "Is an heir."
Your breath catches, the words settling between you, heavy and deliberate.
Not a demand. Not a question.
Your husband thinks for just a small moment that you'll oppose, tell him to get off of you and to fuck off, but his eyes close with a moan when he feels your cunt clench around him.
He wouldn't force you, even if the deal with Mr Le Bail meant you'd have to relent eventually.
But the idea of Titus filling you over and over, being the one to carry the future of the Danforth line did nothing but make you gush.
You nod over and over, hands squeezing at the grass again for leverage as you try to push against him once more.
You had both talked about children in the past, seeing as it was something that you inevitably would have to do once joining his family.
But when you were intimate, he wore protection.
Or was quick enough to pull out and finish down your throat.
Titus’ role in the world was far too important to be clumsy, especially when a baby in the family would open up a new member for the cult. You hadn’t been ready for that then, he didn’t think you were ready for that.
You were ready now. He knows it now.
Never had you exactly planned when it would be done, seeing as his father was still alive and controlling everything.
Ursula didn’t want children, refused to marry even out of fear that a man would try and take control over what the family had worked so hard for.
Titus on the other hand, loved nothing more than the idea of seeing you big and heavy with his child.
Already he was possessive of you, worried constantly that some other wealthy bloodline would try find some clause in the book of Mr Le Bail that meant they could take you from him.
But if you were properly claimed? No one would dare.
You were made to be his. You were meant to be his.
"I accept," You cry out, nodding more as you all but beg for Titus to move. "Fuck! I accept, move Titus, please."
He obliges with a grin, his hips pressing against yours again, his balls slapping against your clit with each move.
Beads of sweat coats his forehead as he speaks, telling you just how good you feel, how beautiful you're going to look when you're pumped full of him.
Your ass bounces against him with every move, a sight Titus never gets tired of seeing. His hand smacks at the skin, spanking your flesh until his handprint shows, even through the leather he wore.
It only makes you moan louder.
Titus' head lulls back as he bites his lip, and he adjusts the way he ruts deeper into you. Your name escapes his lips anyway, your pussy fluttering around him as he grips your hips even tighter.
Just the image of you swollen with his child, his heir, is enough to nearly make him cum - and with the way your moans turned into breathless sounds, he knew you weren't too far away.
It’s all too much. His rough thrusts, his desperate words, the exposure to everything. You’re unravelling, skin hot as your thighs quiver. “Titus, please. I’m close, I’m-”
Your legs give out, your stomach and breasts pressed to the ground as his weight is completely on you once again. He feels almost deeper at this angle, and he ruts into you even messier than before.
His head dips down to your ear, lips biting at the skin as he moans. "C’mon sweetheart," He whispers. "Be good for me, want to feel it."
Your release comes within seconds of feeling Titus' voice in your ear. Hot and heavy, your vision goes as you tremble beneath him. "Fuck - fuck, Titus."
He just nods, his eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrow. "I know baby," His words sounded muffled against your cheek as he fucks into you, riding your orgasm out as his balls tighten. "Fuck."
His cock twitches relentlessly, his hips pressed flush against your ass as he cums.
His hips stutter, his hands leaving your hips to rest beside your head, his fingers seeks yours as they entwine, Titus thrusting up into your leaking cunt until he's left spent and twitching.
He buries himself to the hilt, a cry on your lips at the feeling.
He stays there, gathering his breath until his cock softens, pressing gentle kisses to wherever he could reach from his position. "You okay?"
Your thighs hurt, your hips felt tight, your pussy - still full of him, felt sensitive. Still, through it all, you grinned, your cheek still pressed into the grass while the other received kisses. "Mm."
"That's not an answer," Titus rubbed his nose against your skin, gloved fingers squeezing yours tighter. "Words Mrs Danforth, use them."
"M'fine," You manage to murmur, feeling incredibly full. The prospect of carrying the future leader of the world making your belly flutter again. "Just, feels too good, and you talk too much.”
There you are.
"Still feel like doing another runner?" He quips, looking up to see that the sun was just starting to rise. Dawn was here, and you had no clothes.
"Fuck off and carry me home before someone sees us."
Titus chuckles, pressing another kiss to your temple before he slowly pulls out, a gasp leaving your mouth. If anyone else spoke to him like that, they'd never be seen again - but with you, he revelled in it.
He fixes his pants, tucking himself back in before he lazily fixes his zipper. He doesn't bother with his belt, knowing it'll just be off again when he helps you bathe.
He'll clean you up, have you dressed in your designer pyjamas and in bed before any staff in the manor wakes up - he always does.
Someone will come out and find his knife, throw out the torn clothes and make no mention of it to anybody.
For now, he watches as you roll onto your back, your hair a mess, small cuts on your face, stomach and breasts from where you had been pressed into the ground.
He didn’t dare look further down, he knows that if he sees the way you leak, leak with what he gave you, that he’d take you again then and there.
You looked beautiful like this, fucked out, eyes tired, body shivering and quivering ever so slightly.
Yet, you still beamed up at him, hands reaching up for his support, eyes full of that love and warmth you gave no one but him.
His eyes dart to the wedding ring on your finger, a blooming sense of pride at being the man to put it on you, and now a difference sense of pride fills him, knowing you now could carry something else that belonged to him.
It was early, far too early to be excited - he knew that, but a deal was a deal with Mr Le Bail, and he knew it wouldn't be too long until he heard the news.
He helps you to your feet, catching you before your legs give out. You're lifted bridal style, pressed flushed to his chest as your feet dangle. You're completely exposed, a naked prize whilst he walks completely dressed.
Another successful hunt.