- Real Name
- Zachary Armani
- Missions
- 679
- Ability
- Empath
Hellfire - The Black Wing
Brienne called him out on why he sought her last night. Erika had sent him, no sense in lying about it. So he came clean, which only annoyed her further. He had thought she might understand. He had thought she’d so recently become Queen that she might still remember what it had been like to be bound to follow orders. He had been wrong.
He tried to commiserate, to let her know that he wasn’t too happy about it either, but she didn’t much care. He pushed on, implying that while he may have been directed to pursue her, it wasn’t the reason he’d stayed all night. She wasn’t impressed, and instead just flat out asked him if he was afraid of being disemboweled. But her body was responding, despite how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, so he continued on, expressing his desire to punish Erika a bit for her callousness, knowing that on some level she felt the same way about Alek.
Brienne: Maybe you talk too much.
She said, grabbing a hold of his hair. She was too turned on to think straight, he told himself. It was his own damned fault, he’d teased her up. He asked her to consider his proposition, before his mouth fell upon her, and for a few precious seconds he thought he might have turned the tide. But it wasn’t like last night, when they blocked out their problems and just enjoyed each other. She had called attention to it and now it felt like duty, even when she linked them.
Still, he could push on, until it felt good again, until the baggage dropped away and all that was left was her. But then she told him if he made her come she might consider it, and that was what broke him. Ruthless. She was as ruthless as the rest. And he had known it, but stupidly tried anyway, because he wanted to prove himself wrong. Yet he was not wrong.
None of these women cared one bit for him, beyond what he could do in the bedroom. Half of them didn’t even treat him like a person. It was so demoralizing it made him angry. Now he understood why his father had such a low opinion of the fairer sex. He pushed himself up from her abruptly.
“That must be all I’m good for, right? I’m really fucking annoying and I talk too much, but as long as I make you come, you’ll humor me. Well fuck you, Black Queen. Make yourself come. I’d rather be disemboweled than be reduced to little more than a sex slave.”
He spat angrily, pulling his pants back on.
Brienne called him out on why he sought her last night. Erika had sent him, no sense in lying about it. So he came clean, which only annoyed her further. He had thought she might understand. He had thought she’d so recently become Queen that she might still remember what it had been like to be bound to follow orders. He had been wrong.
He tried to commiserate, to let her know that he wasn’t too happy about it either, but she didn’t much care. He pushed on, implying that while he may have been directed to pursue her, it wasn’t the reason he’d stayed all night. She wasn’t impressed, and instead just flat out asked him if he was afraid of being disemboweled. But her body was responding, despite how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, so he continued on, expressing his desire to punish Erika a bit for her callousness, knowing that on some level she felt the same way about Alek.
Brienne: Maybe you talk too much.
She said, grabbing a hold of his hair. She was too turned on to think straight, he told himself. It was his own damned fault, he’d teased her up. He asked her to consider his proposition, before his mouth fell upon her, and for a few precious seconds he thought he might have turned the tide. But it wasn’t like last night, when they blocked out their problems and just enjoyed each other. She had called attention to it and now it felt like duty, even when she linked them.
Still, he could push on, until it felt good again, until the baggage dropped away and all that was left was her. But then she told him if he made her come she might consider it, and that was what broke him. Ruthless. She was as ruthless as the rest. And he had known it, but stupidly tried anyway, because he wanted to prove himself wrong. Yet he was not wrong.
None of these women cared one bit for him, beyond what he could do in the bedroom. Half of them didn’t even treat him like a person. It was so demoralizing it made him angry. Now he understood why his father had such a low opinion of the fairer sex. He pushed himself up from her abruptly.
“That must be all I’m good for, right? I’m really fucking annoying and I talk too much, but as long as I make you come, you’ll humor me. Well fuck you, Black Queen. Make yourself come. I’d rather be disemboweled than be reduced to little more than a sex slave.”
He spat angrily, pulling his pants back on.