Lyari is a mysterious town in karachi pakistan, only town where it becomes pitch black at night. Not a single soul steps outside after dusk because death awaits them. It has been like this, for longer than anyone can remember. Even the oldest citizens remember snip-bits, cautions their parents have passed word to word.
A myth turned into a nightmare, that no one knows who, why or what is out there but something was out there; ancient and demonic.
Vidhi should have ran the other way, should have denied to even venture to the town for some archelogical excavation. But it was a great opportunity and how could she miss it? Who knows, if she finds ruins of indus civilisation in that chaotic town?
So she and her team decided to visit lyari. The job was done, they were leaving the town when small incident leaves her stranded at the side of road, in middle of thick forest.
Scared out of her wits, she prays for protection. That’s when a military jeep stops and a dashing major offers her help.
A dhurandhar au, does not follow canon. Urban legend setting, INCLUDES EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT, CURSING AND SCARY STUFF.
It is a ONESHOT, just broken down into 5 parts. Don't worry, I haven't abandoned any of the fics, I simply needed breath of fresh air 😭
Dedicated to my mother @brightchillstar
For everyone curious to know how the howl sounds, watch this video at 2:53 (I'm sorry in advance)
CHAPTER - 2
Stuck in the road, with a vast forest on the sides, the purse and memorised lines of Hanuman Chalisa were Vidhi's only companions. She tried walking towards the town, but it was much more dangerous going straight into the town where people would rather die than step out of their homes at night. Yeah, she was willing to pass on that opportunity, thank you very much.
So she walked and walked away from the town, chanting the Hanuman Chalisa. Her hands shivered, the cold unbearable. There was no amber sky to offer her little solace, just a pitch-black canvas with several thousand stars twinkling in the sky and the moon round and bright, offering her some light to see her surroundings, like a natural torchlight, albeit much dimmer.
But she was thankful for the moon not abandoning her.
If it weren't for their friendship of several years and that lookalike getting into the car, Vidhi would have thought her friends had abandoned her. It was not human, Vidhi knew. She feared for their lives; often horror stories started like this, and cars would crash mysteriously, and the police would declare it an accident and nothing else.
"Bhoot pishaach nikat nahin aavai, Mahaveer jab naam sunaavai," she chanted, but the words came out meek, Vidhi's body shivering like a wet dog wobbling in the cold.
She coughed violently, collapsing on the side of the road. No water, no passing car, no human alive; it was past the time she was supposed to take her tablets. Her heartbeat quickened; the tablets within reach in her purse, she could risk it and dry-swallow.
Her dry as a desert throat said otherwise, and the tablets would go to waste if she choked on them, dying in a different way than she imagined.
"Is this how I am going to die?" she muttered. She closed her eyes, praying with all her heart. That's when something bright approached from a far distance, speeding towards her.
A car! Is it her friends?!
However, the engine sounded wrong; it was not smooth but rather a rumble. It was a jeep in a faded olive colour that stopped just a few feet away from her. In the line of vision, she could see the tyres which had seen better days and the metal body of the jeep, almost vintage and ancient.
Must be an old vintage model, she commented in her mind.
The inside of the jeep was well lit by the dome light. He got down from the jeep and kneeled before her, his rough hands gently holding her and steadying her swaying body on her feet.
"Aaram se."
"I don't know you..." Vidhi whispered, letting the man take control and lead her into his military jeep.
"So do I. Lyari ki sadkon par, woh bhi raat mein akela — yeh bolta hain ki aap yahan ki nahi ho. It's dangerous and you need my help."
She does. She didn't care who it was; even a serial killer seemed kind enough given the situation she was in. He guided her towards the passenger seat, a firm hand on her back that kept her grounded — that this is reality and not an illusion.
The jeep smelled clean, strong hints of cologne, cigarette and something sharp and smoky. Was that gunpowder? He got into the driver's seat and drove.
"Paani?" she asked, losing her strength of speaking.
He passed her the water bottle wordlessly, often glancing at her while Vidhi's hands took out the tablets from her purse, popping them in her mouth and downing it with a huge gulp of the bottled water. "Thank you so much, sir."
"Major Iqbal."
"Vidhi rawat. Danyawad, Major Sahab." When the tablets entered her bloodstream, everything was much clearer. Energy returning back to her, senses sharp and crisp — and she could feel her conscious acknowledging the man beside her.
He was handsome to say the least; a long, slightly ruffled beard framed a sharp jawline, aviator glasses sat on the edge of his nose, deep set eyes that dissected your life like an autopsy. The military jacket stretched across his broad shoulders, his presence commanding and comforting for Vidhi.
He looked Pakistani officer through and through.
Haye ram, he's so handsome. Is he in his mid forties?
He looks much older, the badges on his military jacket and the salt pepper hair a testimony of his age.
"Didn't the locals tell you that coming out at night is forbidden?" His deep voice asked. "You must be Hindustani."
She kept staring at him, before stuttering out. "Yes, we heard the rumours as well. But I was tricked. I thought there was a shop which sold water bottles. When I got down from the car, there was no such shop. I saw a woman who looked exactly like me get into the car and my friends drove off — not knowing it was not me."
His jaw tightened, just slightly. His eyes stayed on the road.
"I see," he said.
Just that. I see. Like it confirmed something he already suspected.
A sliver of suspicion had been planted in her chest, who was he?
Why does he seem like he knows a lot more than he lets her know? He was a mystery, as a military man should be. But right now, Vidhi’s poor heart could not afford mystery.
His hardened face, it told many things about him. He must have faced a lot of hurdles and knows his way around here; She heard stories of military officers coming across otherworldly entities and surviving such incidents.
He must be simply one of them, a brave officer who had been posted here way too many times.
His focus returned to the road ahead, lit by the jeep's lights. Her eyes darted to his hand, leisurely holding the steering wheel, thick fingers that tapped against the leather to an unknown beat he must be playing in his mind.
The olive jacket was rolled slightly, offering her the view of veins running along his thick forearms.
"It's dangerous out here. Khuda ka saya nahi padhta Lyari mein jab suraj dalta hain. Kuch log bolte hain ki Lyari ne khuda ki ghazab hawa ke gawahi de sakte hain."
(Not even god's shadow falls on lyari once the sun sets. The people of lyari are witness of god's wrath on this town)
"Then why are you here, Major Sahab? Isn't it dangerous for you also?" she challenged, a seed of suspicion budding in her heart.
He let out a low laugh. "It is. But I was born to a maulvi, grown up in an orthodox family. I know the ways of Islam that offer me protection from whatever is out there."
She almost didn't notice how quickly he'd had the answer ready.
"And what is out there?" Vidhi asked.
"It's better if you don't know." That was his answer. Short and simple, like a bullet shot at her. Minutes passed by, the slow rumble of the jeep speeding towards the town, soft whirr of AC and long silence between them.
She wiggled closer to the gear, towards him, unconsciously seeking his warmth. He noticed and said nothing, except for a curve of his lips. She didn't look out the window, knowing she would see something and get fucked up again. Nope, Vidhi Rawat was way too smart to fall for this shit.
When the silence settled uncomfortably, fate had decided Vidhi had enough happiness and needed to be awoken violently into reality.
A howl erupted, piercing the quietness of the night. Muffled by the closed windows, but crystal clear — not a wild animal's howl that one might mistake it for. It wasn't quite human either. It was something in between — something that had heard human crying once, long ago, and learned to imitate the shape of it without understanding the feeling. It was nothing like a cry for help, but a warning to them.
A man wailing at the night in supposed demonic woods... Yeah, Vidhi ki gaand fatt gayi.
She shrieked, jumping from her seat and hugging Iqbal's side, eyes shut in terror. She felt his body stiffen, the sound of gears shifting and the jeep accelerated.
"Don't open your eyes. Hold me tight, and chant under your breath if possible." He ordered. The jeep swept then it descended from the road and into the woods with a tumble, the dried leaves crunching under the tyres.
"Why are we going towards the woods," Vidhi asked, hearing the leaves and whoosh of the trees. The howling became more prominent. Oh they are going to die, she's going to die a virgin and he's —
He looks experienced.
She cursed loudly, tears of frustration at the corners of her eyes, hands holding onto Iqbal's arm for dear life. "Vidhi, nothing will touch you. Not while I'm protecting you." He promised.
She nodded fervently, his mere presence offering her the greatest protection.
The jeep came to a stop, they lurched forward at the force. The howling stopped. Iqbal's body relaxed for a second.
"Mere veer, you can open your eyes."
At his soft tone, she slowly opened her eyes. They were in the middle of the woods and illuminated by the headlights, was a small military bunker, abandoned, with vines growing around incessantly like a cage. The vines had grown so thick around the bunker entrance they looked less like growth and more like something that had been reaching toward the door for years. Waiting for it to open.
"This is a bunker we use rarely, in case of emergencies like this. Follow me."
Billy: Just one kiss, I swear!
Steve: Billy, it's never just one kiss with you! And I have gotta take the Party to that arcade tomorrow!
Billy: *softly kissing Steve's forehead*
Steve: ....fine, just one kiss.
Later in the morning...
Steve: *finding stinging bites all over his neck*
Steve: YOU FUCKING DOG! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO MEET PEOPLE NOW!?
Billy: Then don't meet anyone.
Steve: I will skin you alive, you fuc-
Tala and Bryan came out from the pub and were now heading towards home. Though both of them have high tolerance for alcohol, but for some reason, tonight they felt lively.
They were walking on streets, all the while chanting a poem.
Tala and Bryan: “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. If you see a crocodile, don't forget to scream”
They were now on threshold.
“Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. If you see a crocodile, don't forget to scream”
Suddenly Spencer opens the door.
Tala and Bryan: “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
Spencer sighs and glares at them.
The end.
Lyari is a mysterious town in karachi pakistan, only town where it becomes pitch black at night. Not a single soul steps outside after dusk because death awaits them. It has been like this, for longer than anyone can remember. Even the oldest citizens remember snip-bits, cautions their parents have passed word to word.
A myth turned into a nightmare, that no one knows who, why or what is out there but something was out there; ancient and demonic.
Vidhi should have ran the other way, should have denied to even venture to the town for some archelogical excavation. But it was a great opportunity and how could she miss it? Who knows, if she finds ruins of indus civilisation in that chaotic town?
So she and her team decided to visit lyari. The job was done, they were leaving the town when small incident leaves her stranded at the side of road, in middle of thick forest.
Scared out of her wits, she prays for protection. That’s when a military jeep stops and a dashing major offers her help.
Would they both survive what walks at night?
Author's tags .˚⊹. ࣪𓉸 ࣪⊹˚.
Yeah smut warning guys.
Dedicated to my mom @brightchillstar, hi sissy! @viviinthewoods and my chhoti for completing her exams @shadylovedhurandhar
He held his palm out, no words spoken, and she understood. Wordlessly she dug into her purse and placed the dagger into the rough planes of his palm, her touch lingering a moment longer than she intended.
"Didn't your parents ever warn you not to steal such things? To stay away from activity that is beyond your understanding?"
"No! They did, but I don't know what came over me when I kept this with me. I tried to give it to a maulvi in a small dargah, not the one the locals suggested but a dargah adjacent to our street. But it felt like a piece of my heart ripping when I thought of parting with it. Like a ghost possessed me, I quietly wrapped it in a kerchief and put it in my purse. Before we leave for the airport, I would simply sneak it into the collection box so customs won't seize it. Maybe let it be researched in the lab — who knows, we might have found Pakistan's national secrets?" She jested, a nervous laugh to cover her wrongdoings, but Iqbal didn't laugh.
"Sorry," she muttered, sinking back against the wall.
"Don't do such things," he tsked, tossing the dagger into his gear bag. "You have a whole life ahead. Live it as you wish, but be mindful of a few things."
She looked like a kicked puppy, that pout forming on her lips and eyes downcast. "Sorry, Iqbal."
Iqbal, not Major Sahab or Major Iqbal. Just Iqbal. For a sick reason, it sounded so good to him — his name rolling off her tongue so beautifully.
"I should have tossed it in the river—" she began, but a rustle interrupted her.
Rustling outside the bunker. Footsteps, heavy and slow, that approached. Slow and deliberate, as if each step were a warning to the insiders.
Vidhi's eyes widened, flashing towards the opaque window. Her breathing hitched, coming out as cold puffs of air as the temperature inside the bunker dipped several degrees. A shadow crossed into the line of vision — a deformed silhouette of something too tall and too grotesque to be human.
It approached the window, the shadow growing darker and darker.
She whimpered, then felt an impossibly warm hand on her knee. "Shush, don't be afraid," Iqbal said. He looked at the window, at the shadow, at the concrete barrier between them and whatever stood outside.
"It — it's right outside," she whispered.
Then she heard it. Her name. The beautiful name her parents had given her.
"Vidhi."
Her name called out in a voice that imitated a human's, but only a growl came out of it. It called again — this time her name rolled out demonically, stretched and distorted.
Iqbal immediately pulled her shaking body to his chest, caging her with his legs. Time stretched like an elastic, torturous, marked by Vidhi's uneven breathing and Iqbal's unnervingly calm presence beside her.
When she didn't answer the entity's calling, the screaming started. The door rattled loudly, the entity shrieking at her in a demonic tone while she cried into Iqbal's neck, her heart frantic inside her ribcage.
"Vidhi, mere veer..." His voice low, close to her ear. "Stay strong. Listen to my words only."
But her body went weak against him, strength draining out like water, like fear had hollowed her out entirely.
He held her face in his hands, the pads of his fingers firm against her cheeks, tilting her up to look at him. "Vidhi. Look at me. Only me — forget everything outside."
Her tear-stricken face nodded. She focused on his deep-set eyes, soft for her, and the way his thumbs moved across her cheeks, wiping away the tears.
Then the sounds stopped. The screaming. The door rattling. All of it — halted.
Vidhi tried to look towards the window, but Iqbal's grip on her face was firm, not allowing her to break eye contact with him. Gently he turned her away, pulling her back against his chest.
"It won't hurt you," he breathed into her hair, caging her with warmth and the solid wall of him. His voice was soft, almost a coo — the kind that reaches past panic and anchors a person somewhere steady. Her heartbeat began to slow. The dizziness faded.
She pressed herself against him, still trembling. The terror sat like a live wire in her gut, coiled and uncomfortable, worming through her body — but underneath it, something else was beginning. Something she had even less of a name for.
The strong scent of oud cologne hit her, layered with smoky cigar and something sharp like gunpowder. Unmistakably him. She shifted minutely, feeling the hard planes of his chest solid against her back, the impossible warmth of him surrounding her completely —
And that's when she felt it.
The rigid ridge of his erection pressing against the base of her spine shamelessly. He snuggled into the crook of her neck, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine perfume, his hands enclosing her small body into a living, breathing cage.
She felt a hot, shameless jolt in her core, his proximity and her feelings clashing into something that will probably put her No. 1 on God's list of sinners. It is madness! There is an eldritch terror outside, waiting to tear her apart, but here is her body, wanting his body, his sinful touch.
"Iqbal..." she breathed. But the fear had stripped away any false civilised pretences, only leaving a raw primal ache.
His breath felt hot against her earlobe. One of his large and calloused hands slid from her stomach and down the thin fabric of her track pants, resting high on her thigh.
"Vidhi," he said her name, and haye bhagwan! That sounded beautiful. Like a prayer.
She turned her head, rough stubble of her jaw brushing the softness of her cheeks. In the sliver of moonlight shining from the opaque window and cracks of the bunker, she saw his eyes. They didn't hold the coldness or hard glint in them.
Dark hungry pools swirling with want stared at her, a reflection of her own chaos. That terror and need crystal clear in his eyes.
No one said anything. The silence was broken by a rustle outside; the creature was now circling the bunker, dragging its feet against the ground.
She made an attempt to look at the source of the sound, head whipping, but Iqbal held her possessively, forcing her to look at him and him only. His rough pad of thumb brushed her lower lip, and in an instant, he crashed his lips against hers.
The kiss was frantic, desperate and fuelled by the adrenaline flowing through their veins. She moaned into the kiss, fisting the front of his uniform shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.
He tasted like coffee, bitter and sweet at the same time. He shoved his tongue into her, lapping at her taste like a desperate man, which she met with her own frantic and needy dance.
His hands were everywhere, feeling the soft skin with his rough palms, the difference of sky and earth, yet she felt perfect under his touch. He broke the kiss only to yank the T-shirt over her head, his mouth immediately latching onto the swell of her breasts accentuated by her black bra.
"Iqbal..." she whimpered at his teeth nipping the soft flesh, marking it as his claim. "That thing-"
"Forget about it. Focus on me."
The fabric was gone, and his hot mouth was on her bare nipple, sucking and ravishing it, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud until it was a hard and aching bud. She cried, arching into him. "Iqbal!"
In an instant, he flipped her with ease. One moment she was against his chest, the next she was on her back against the dusty concrete floor. His body loomed over her, caged between her thighs. In a brutal, thrilling motion, he ripped her pants and underwear down, the material lay forgotten somewhere behind him.
The cold air nipped at her wetness, she shivered as goosebumps erupted on her thighs.
He didn’t undress but unfastened his trousers, freeing his cock. It was thick, veined, and ruddy in the low light, jutting proudly from the dark and neatly groomed thatch of hair.
She stared at him, gulping at the size of it. Vidhi Rawat, who had no luck at love or lust, her first time was going to be with this handsome Pakistani major whom she's meeting and seeing for the first time, whom she might not even meet later, who's fucking her but also protecting her from that eldritch terror out there.
She suddenly didn't regret getting down from the car.
He leaned over her, bracing himself on one arm, his other hand positioning him at her entrance. His eyes locked on hers.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" he stated, voice gravelly. It wasn't a question but rather a tease. "I felt how your body reacts to me, vidhi..."
She nodded wantonly, spreading her legs wider in invitation. "Yes."
He plunged into her in one deep, relentless stroke. She cried, her back bowing off the floor. His girth filled her completely, pulsing against her velvet walls, the stretching invasion chased away the remnants of fear.
There was only his brutal fullness, the scraping of his uniform against her bare skin and the animalistic sounds of skin slapping.
He set a torturing rhythm from the start, each thrust a hard slam of his hips that jolted her body, that made her breasts shake. The concrete was hard and unforgiving underneath her, but the pain was nothing but an echo, drowned out by the explicit pleasure.
He was dominant, controlling the pace, his gaze never leaving her face, watching every flicker of ecstasy and overwhelm swirl on her face, like an open book.
"Mere veer, taking me so well,” he grunted, pistoning into her. “Meri ruh hain tu, dekho kaise kaap rahe hain teri jism mere chune se.” His words were filthy, spurring her on. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the small of his back, meeting him thrust for thrust.
"Oh my lovely little whore, does it turn you on? Being stranded with a stranger, getting fucked while the creature outside is ready to tear you into pieces."
His dirty talk turned her on even more, a dormant sick version of her sadistic for pleasure awakened. She clenched hard against him, he grunted at the walls clamping against his cock.
Her lower stomach fluttered at his assault, her lips open into silent pleas and moans. He shifted his angle slightly, and the next thrust brushed a spot inside her that made her vision whiten.
“There!” she sobbed. “Right there!”
A savage grin touched his lips. He focused his assault on that sweet, devastating spot, his pace becoming erratic, frantic. The sounds in the bunker were obscene—the wet slap of skin, their ragged breaths, her high-pitched whimpers. The entity outside was forgotten. There was only the need to claim her, fuck her and feel her.
She chanted, a string of yes, his name rolling out of her like a desperate prayer.
His control began to fracture. His thrusts became shorter, harder and deeper. “Look at me,” he commanded. She forced her eyes open, meeting his blazing gaze. “You come for me. Now.”
It was the command that shattered her. The orgasm ripped through her with violent, convulsing waves, milking his length as she screamed his name into the dank air.
However, he stopped his pace when the rattle of metal jolted them from the throes of passion. The ventilation pipe groaned, a dark chuckle outside taunted them.
The only sound was of their ragged breathing, his length hard inside her. It slowly hit her, the post-orgasm shame riding her body like a wet, uncomfortable cloth. But Iqbal stayed buried inside, even as a loud thud erupted loudly, shaking the ground.
Vidhi froze beneath him; the warm slick aftermath felt cold, her body exposed.
His eyes no longer held the hunger for her; now they were simply hard chips of obsidian, scanning the bunker as if he could see through the concrete walls.
The sound of scraping against the concrete reverberated, like a rabid dog scratching the walls with its sharp nails. It taunted in a low demonic voice, but Iqbal didn't cover in fear.
It confused her. What powers does he have that he's brave even with that anomaly outside, clawing like a wendigo? God, is it a fucking wendigo? A skinwalker? What the fuck is it even?!
A fresh wave of terror hit her, much colder and more rational than the first. She tried to speak, but he silenced her with his eyes, a small shake of his head.
His cock, wet with her juices, came out from her cunt with a plop. She felt a void, suddenly missing the feel of him in her. He didn't even finish, she thought. But her thoughts halted when he rolled her off her feet.
“Up,” he ordered, his voice a gravelly whisper.
He didn’t give her time to obey. His hands closed around her waist, hauling her upright against him. Her bare skin met the rough fabric of his still-fastened uniform shirt, the contrast shocking. He walked her backward until her shoulder blades hit the cold concrete wall beside the door. The scraping outside paused.
Then, his hands went to her thighs. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and guided her legs to wrap around his hips. She clung to him, her arms looping around his neck, her heart hammering against his. She felt him—hard, still impossibly thick—pressing against her sensitive, swollen folds.
“Iqbal,” she breathed. "This is fucking crazy!"
His answer was to cover her mouth with his large, calloused hand, his fingers pressing firmly against her cheeks. His eyes locked onto hers, and in them, she saw a dare. His actions were silently challenging the thing outside. Or he was just a mad major with incredible lust for women that he seemed fit to take even as a fucking demon was outside the bunker.
God, does he have a death wish?! She questioned his ways, now counting down the possibility of her surviving this ordeal. He's not stopping, she realised. The realisation hit her like a dizzy cocktail of terror and desire flooding her system.
He positioned himself, the broad head of his cock nudging at her entrance. She was slick and open, but the angle was different, needing all of her senses to be vigilant, all her attention solely on him. He didn’t ask; her eyes and the want in them acted as a enough invitation to him.
He thrust upward, burying himself inside her in one deep, claiming stroke.
A muffled cry was trapped behind his hand. Her inner walls, still fluttering from her last climax, clenched around him violently, a shockwave of pleasure and pain that made her eyes roll back. He was deeper like this, hitting places he hadn’t before. He held her there, impaled, his own breath hot against his knuckles as he listened.
The dragging sound resumed, circling the bunker. A low, guttural murmur vibrated through the door, words in no language she knew.
Iqbal began to move into a lazy, slow but devastating rhythm that made her see stars on the ceiling of the bunker. He pulled almost all the way out, the cool air kissing her wet flesh, before driving back up into her with a force that drove her body up the wall.
The entity's menacing patrol, their ragged breaths, and the wet, rhythmic sound of their coupling were the only sounds.
She was overcome with sensation. Every time she raised and lowered her body, the coarse material of his clothing brushed her nipples.
The unrelenting invasion of his cock was sharply contrasted with the sturdy wall. Every other sense was heightened as his hand over her mouth turned into an erotic prison. He was on his skin, and she could taste salt. She could hear his grunts, how he worked harder than the devil trying to claim her body.
She had heard of men who worshipped their lovers. Iqbal was the opposite; his actions were desperate indeed but with a much darker intention. Every thrust, every mark he made against her body hid his need to claim her, a possessive and sadistic pleasure he revels in.
His moves became faster, more desperate. Both of their actions were fueled by the thing outside; the sheer audacity of the act fed her own sick pleasure, which coiled tightly and desperately. Right in front of a nightmare, she was being taken, claimed and owned in the most sinful way possible. In an attempt to create more friction and more of that glorious, punishing fullness, her hips started to move against his.
"Darr lag raha hain?"
She shook her head, dizzy from the fullness and pleasure in each of his thrusts.
"Jhooth," he rasped with a wicked grin, pressing his palm in between the valley of her trembling breasts, feeling the pounding heart throb against his touch.
Her teeth bit into his palm after a particularly forceful thrust. With a feral grunt, he moved his hand away from her mouth and tangled it in her hair, fisting it to tilt her head back. He repeatedly slammed into her, the angle now striking that deep, ideal spot.
His fingers worked magic, the pads of his thumb pressed hard on her pulsing clitoris, rubbing incessent circles while his other hand held her steady, his body caging her against the wall.
“You feel it out there,” he rasped against her ear, his voice raw. “And you feel me. Which is real? Which is keeping you alive?” He punctuated each word with a deep, penetrating thrust. “Tell me.”
“You,” she gasped, the word torn from her. “Only you.”
“Then cum for me,” he commanded. "Let it out."
His voice was enough for her, the orgasm shattered her, ripping through her like silent violence. Her walls clamped down on his length, making him groan in pleasure. The intensity lasted forever, waves of her orgasm bordered between pain and pleasure, her thighs quivered in his grip, toes curled, and hands fisting his soft hair.
A choked scream was trapped in her throat, her mouth open in a silent cry as the orgasm slowly rode down, like tides against shore.
Her climax triggered his. His thrusts became lazy and long, as if feeling the velvet for one last time. With a guttural roar, he drove into her one final time, so deep into the places no one would ever, his hips stuttering as he painted her womb white with his hot and endless seed.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their panting breaths, the world had gone blurry around them. She had forgotten what awaited outside.
The outside had gone silent, thankfully.
Slowly, carefully, he let her slide down the wall until her feet touched the floor. Her legs buckled, and he caught her, holding her steady against his body. They stood there, clinging to each other in the dark. In the pale moonlight, she could see his two gold teeth, glinting.
They spent hours, forgetting morals and whatever common sense was left in them, fueled by adrenaline and aching need for each other as they fucked each other against the various surfaces. They collapsed, after several hours, on the dusty hard concrete floor, their bodies becoming the sole comfort to each other.
No royal bed, no silk sheets or fluffy pillows. The hard, dusty concrete and both of them were more than enough for a peaceful night of sleep.
Their bodies felt perfect, wrapped around each other. She fit him perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece to his game. It was when soft, sweet chirps of birds echoed through the bunker, they both woke up from their embrace. The grey light seeped in, with dawn breaking like a new beginning.
