Page 73 of Nocturne

“Yeah… I am…” I answer, feeling each word heavy like a confession. “Do whatever you want with me.”

“You sure?”

“I’m yours. Do it.”

Damon rises in one fluid, wild motion. Spits in his hand—the wet sound echoes in the room. He slides a wet finger, slow and firm, inside me. A moan escapes, involuntary, full of pleasure and fear. I move to his rhythm, trying to get used to it, to give in.

“That’s it… don’t stop,” I whisper, voice trembling, drowned in lust.

He spits again, wets his cock with that hot spit, and then slowly pushes inside me. I feel him enter, filling, sliding, burning inside with a sweet, sharp pain. Pleasure takes over me in a brutal instant, and I let out a loud,shameless moan, like a desperate sinner, because here, now, there’s no world left—just us, just this fire that burns and consumes, and I decide to surrender for good.

“Why does fucking you feel so damn good? It’s wrong… but… I can’t go without it.”

The voice comes rough, dragged, stuck between desire and conflict, like each word carries both a curse and a release at once.

“Don’t think about that now… just fuck me, please.”

Damon doesn’t waste time. He starts speeding up, pushing harder with an animal voracity, and soon our moans blend together—muffled, swallowed by the fierce rhythm that sets the pace of our ritual.

He lays on top of me, heavy, absolute owner of the space, and our lips crash in a wild, urgent kiss while he fucks me whole—the way I’ve always wanted, the way I deserve to be fucked. Raw and real, no masks, no mercy.

Sweat streams like rivers, mixing salt with the raw scent of lust. We’re surrendered, completely taken—a ritual of sin, hunger, an almost animal need.

Then, in a move that cuts the air and my heart, he pulls the knife. The cold blade tears through the silence and my flesh, driving brutally into my ribs, right there, while he’s still fucking me.

Blood sprays, hot and fast, splattering on the dirty floor, mixing with the sweat that’s already soaking us.

I let out a loud moan, a mix of shock, pain, and pleasure that hits me like an electric jolt. But I don’t stop. I can’t. I keep moaning for him, encouraging him,surrendering to this madness that only makes the desire burn hotter.

The knife stuck in my ribs sets me on fire, sparking a dark flame that turns me into a hungry monster. I start moving in sync, grinding my ass against him, each thrust harder, more brutal.

Blood stains us, running down our bodies, mixing with the heat of skin, the intense scent of sex, sweat, and a nearly primal tension.

And then, in seconds, we explode together—animal moans, tangled orgasms, him spilling everything inside me while I come without even touching my cock, taken by a raw, visceral ecstasy.

We collapse exhausted, bodies stuck, sweaty, gasping, wrapped in a thick scent of sex, blood, woody perfume, and sweat—a smell of life and death, total surrender.

He settles on top of me, chest to chest, and we stay like that, breathing together, feeling each other’s heart beating to the twisted rhythm of this broken world of ours.

“Now…” He starts, voice thick, dragged, suffocated by heavy breathing that seems to tear his chest apart. Each word falls like a whisper before a storm ready to break. “We’re us against the world. No more Nocturne Pact, no more Iron Requiem. There’s only us.” He rises just a little, leans in, and plunges his eyes into mine—deep, dark, like an abyss swallowing me whole. “Now we’re Savage Reign. Our own gang. Our own empire.”

I stand there, frozen, hypnotized, the lust still burning in my veins but now mixed with somethingbigger—a promise, a vow that burns hotter than fire.

“I… I love you, Damon.” My voice is a caught scream, a painful, urgent confession. “We’ll hunt down every motherfucker who dares stand in our way. Starting with the Midnight Echoes.”

In the silence that remains, only the pulse of our alliance beats—blood, desire, and war—all mixed into one devastating force.