Uriel Wayne Dana Alfred
Uriel was dreaming again today.
This time it was a lucid dream. Lucid, and yet she could not move the self that lived inside it. The view was first person, but it felt like watching through a stranger's eyes — body and thought running on separate tracks.
And the shape of the dream was naked to the point of indecency. A lewd dream.
Perzen stood before her. He had both her arms pinned high and his face buried in the nape of her neck, retracing without a pause the red stains and teeth already carved into her waking body, as if he meant to walk the same path over again.
Each time he did, the Uriel in the dream shuddered from head to toe and spilled a strange, clear slick from below without end. Then Perzen drew a slow hand over it and whispered something. Perhaps because it was a dream, she could not hear him.
He threw her down onto the bed as if tossing her there, seized her breasts hard, and began to suck at them with a greedy hunger. It was a disgrace unlike him. But this was a dream.
Was the unconscious she could not even recognize wishing for exactly this — that he would lust for her enough to show such a disgrace, that he would hunger for her body?
Teeth marks and vivid handprints sank into her large breasts. A moment later Perzen caught her by the hair and brought her face up to his rigidly erect cock. Watching it, her body moved of its own accord: it hesitated before that monstrous size, then pressed kiss after kiss to it.
A humiliating sight. And yet Uriel knew the self in the dream was panting, lewd and breathless.
At last that monstrous thing forced its way into her mouth and roughly violated her throat, handling her like an object. Tears streamed. She gagged. Even so, the Uriel in the dream looked up at Perzen's face, steeped in desire, and smiled a satisfied, wanton smile with her eyes.
Not a sound reached her, and yet the sensations were unbearably sharp. She could feel his cock, filling the mouth that held it so desperately, throb hard and swell. The ejaculation that followed soon after emptied thick semen into her mouth without mercy, as if he were pissing. The self in the dream coughed and spat every drop of it onto the bed.
Then the Perzen of the dream, as if to scold her for it, pinched her nipples and drew them out long in a torment that was really a teasing, seized her by the hair, and ground her face down into the semen she had spat up.
Lick.
And the dream-self that began to lap it up was so base that Uriel could not bear to watch with both eyes open.
Ah...
Right after, Perzen took hold of her hips and spread them wide. The sensation, at least, was vivid enough that she knew her anus and her sex were opening and closing like a dancer desperate to hold his gaze even a moment longer. Then he freed both her hands, and the Perzen of the dream leaned to her ear and whispered something low.
She still could not hear it. But judging by the sight of her dream-self spreading her sex wide and lewdly twitching her hips, he must have told her to beg him to put it in.
Don't you even have...
a shred of pride?
She rebuked the self in the dream, but the moment his hot, rigid sex drove roughly into her, Uriel felt her whole body flush as if it had caught fire. No — however vivid a dream's sensations, they were bound to come diluted. His body bore down on hers, mating like a beast. In that primitive motion, the wish to spill his seed into her womb, Uriel felt a pleasure that satisfied her in the mind, and felt it desperately. Like someone whose thirst is never quenched, no matter how much water they drink.
Violent. Mindless. The undignified sight of him lost in her, rocking his hips.
Uriel simply liked it.
"Ah... hnn!"
Waking, Uriel felt a faint climax break over her in that instant, and her body twitched on the bed in little starts. Her panties were soaked. She would have to change them. Even so, for a moment she whimpered through the lingering ache of it, letting strange, heated breaths slip out, and only then gathered herself and sat up.
Cloth rustled. She lifted the hem of her skirt and drew her panties down. They were drenched, as if she had been caught in the rain.
"I've lost my mind..."
Rebuking herself, Uriel changed her underwear in a hurry and stood before the mirror, setting her disordered hair neatly back into place. It was a little unsettled outside. Had something happened?
My body...
It seemed fully healed — healed past the point of needing a physician's care. When he came by in a little while, she ought to tell him he need not come again.
And he said he would drop by now and then...
As expected, a promise built on some vague sense of time was not to be trusted. The empty courtesy of we should have a meal sometime.
I don't need it.
Fine. If she went on like this, it would look as though she were waiting. Waiting? Hardly. She had never waited. Shaking her head, Uriel went to the bed and perched on its edge.
If she married Perzen, then that child Lizzy's face — how was she supposed to look at it? She knew what House Claudia had suffered, and with what heart they had given their daughter to her elder sister.
"......"
For a long while she let herself think only unkind thoughts of Perzen. Then, all at once, the sex she had seen in the dream rose in her mind, and Uriel bowed her head. Beginning at her own sex, she carefully tried to take the measure of that size.
Because it was a dream...
A size that could never be taken in reality.
"Ah..."
Struck by what she was doing, Uriel snatched her hand away and slapped her own cheeks several times.
Knock, knock.
Today... he's a little early.
The hour was six-fifty. The physician usually came around eight. Uriel rose, still heavy with sleep, and opened the door.
"Oh..."
But the one who had come for her was not the physician.
"Professor."
Gerard Ren Milrain Asran. That boy had come, standing with an umbrella in the drizzling rain. It would have been polite to ask him in. Uriel could not.
"You were not in your office either. I made a little use of my information network."
"Ah... yes."
"The name on this house is Professor Perzen's. And I was told you were seen leaving the Academy in Professor Perzen's carriage."
"......"
"You told me there was no man you held in your heart. That I had no need to be anxious. Did you not say so to me?"
Gerard spoke softly, but a faint anger was steeped in it.
"What are those marks on your neck?"
"Ah..."
Uriel hastily lifted a hand and covered her throat.
"Have you already been tumbling in that bed? I heard he was already married. Are you his mistress, then? Judging by the marks, his tastes are foul indeed."
"Gerard."
"He was a filthier man than I thought. He was."
"......"
"And seeing you have not even aired the room, you were a lewder woman than I thought."
"Stop."
"Even if it was a political marriage, I knew you were more than I deserved, so I meant to come to you as a gentleman — with care, little by little. Did it please you to make a fool of me? Whatever the case, a clean ending would have been the proper thing, would it not?"
"That hurts—!"
Gerard had seized her wrist, hard.
"I know House Alfred has felt inferior to Brutein for a very long time. Is that why? Do not deceive yourself. He is a Luerg. In the North, House Asran yields to no one. At least within the North, we are Brutein."
"......"
"That you will become my wife is a fact that will not change. I will not care how many times you have rolled with him. If you wish the matter quietly buried, follow me and stay at my mansion."
"Don't delude yourself. I haven't slept with anyone. Not yet."
"And you expect me to believe that?"
Gerard let out a hollow laugh.
"Can you prove it?"
"What?"
"I asked whether you can prove that you are chaste."
"Don't cross the line..."
"The one who crossed the line—!"
Uriel flinched at how sharply his voice had risen.
"Was you. You did it first."
She looked at his blue eyes, trembling, and then looked away.
"First of all, you're wrong about a great deal. I am not his mistress. And I'll say it again — I have never lain with him."
"Then why on earth are you staying here? Did you not say yourself that you would not wound your pride, that you would stay in the faculty office?"
"......"
"A contradictory woman. And yet to want my trust on top of that — do you not find it exceedingly selfish?"
Little by little, and only just, he forced the overheated excitement down, and went on.
"...Let us go."
Strength entered the hand around her wrist. Uriel was about to be dragged out, awkward and unwilling, when a man's footsteps stopped.
A plain black suit and a white shirt. A beautiful brooch set upon a black necktie. Shoes and umbrella alike drawn into the same black — he barred Gerard's way, glanced at Uriel, and spoke.
"Aside from the physician, this house should have no invited guests."
"......"
"Uninvited guests ought to leave."
Folding his umbrella with unruffled calm, Perzen stepped to Uriel's side and took hold of the hand gripping her wrist, meaning to peel it away. Gerard did not yield, as if he meant to make a contest of strength.
"She is the woman who will be my wife."
"Anyone listening would think a woman already married was lodging in my house. Gerard Ren Milrain Asran. Why don't you put away the thorns soaked into your words."
"A more shameless man than you appear."
"Well. I couldn't say which of us is the one who sees no one but himself."
"Ah..."
Uriel still had a hand raised over the marks on her neck. Perzen brushed that hand aside and stroked her nape and collarbone with a gentle hand, kindly tracing, one by one, the marks he had carved into her that night.
"They've faded a great deal."
"D-don't..."
What did he think he was doing? Uriel shook her head, but Perzen only made her lift her chin, as if for an audience, and showed Gerard the traces he had left — clear, and plainly, and as if to boast.
"I will speak of this to Elder Coleone."
At last Gerard, unable to bear it, opened his mouth. Perzen looked down at him with a sneer of pure disbelief, as if that were all he had managed to say.
"Do as you like."
If the boy actually went, then House Asran would have to ready the largest wager it could. And the moment that auction opened — a seat that would be nothing but empty ceremony —
I will attend with nothing but myself, and the winning bid will be mine.
Let them pile gold into a mountain. That old monster Coleone would still be reaching for one more drop of his blood.