In the End, Taken Away (2)
His heart was being ripped apart. Even as he ground his forehead against the wall hard enough to crack it, even as blood welled from his clenched fists and bitten lips, his eyes refused to miss a single motion of the two figures beyond the hole.
“Nngh…!”
Ceres curled inward with a pained moan. Her thighs clamped tightly around Zarco, yet the thing buried inside her only drove deeper. After a long moment of trembling, the strength drained from her body. To Zarco, that was the signal to begin.
“Haaah…”
From between Ceres’s spread legs, Zarco’s cock slowly withdrew. It emerged glistening with her juices and a thin streak of blood, flaunting its conquest like a trophy of victory held out before Dain.
The moment the flushed head of the Hero’s cock appeared at the pink cleft, Zarco thrust it back inside. It was a declaration that he would leave none of Ceres for anyone else. Out again, then plunging back in. Right before Dain’s eyes, Zarco’s shaft began to savage her with brutal force.
“Ah, ngh! Ngh!”
Ceres bit down hard on her lip, but every thrust still tore a thin cry from her throat. Dain didn’t want to hear it. His vision blurred; sight and sensation no longer matched. The flickering shapes of Zarco and Ceres, the accelerating moans, the wet slap of flesh—everything swallowed him whole.
“Khh… ugh…!”
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Each collision of hips drew a cheap, lewd smack from Ceres’s thighs. Zarco adjusted his stance, lifting her legs higher, and his voice rang out.
“Ceres! Ceres!”
“…Ngh, uuu…”
“How long—how long have I wanted this since the village! This ass! These tits! Shaking them around without a shred of shame!”
“N-no… ngh! Hic!”
“Like hell it’s no! Hans, Melan, the tavern owner, the mayor, every man in the village! They got hard just from smelling you! I bet they all jerked off at home thinking about you, imagining exactly this scene!”
Zarco’s hips moved even more violently. His injuries no longer seemed to hinder him. He hooked her knees over his arms, shifting into a position meant solely for a man’s lust, and began ravaging her cunt with renewed savagery.
“Ngh! Uhhk!”
Even someone as inexperienced as Dain could tell the angle allowed him to pierce her far deeper.
“Z-Zarco, in the next room… Dain is…! Ngh!”
“Those pathetic bastards didn’t even have the guts to touch you. What? Dain’s hero material? Who the hell decided that?”
The increasingly violent thrusts bent Ceres’s waist backward. The Saintess, who had been biting her lip to hold everything in, now stared up at Zarco with wide, dazed eyes that could no longer resist the overwhelming sensations.
“Z-Zar… ah! Haaah! Aah!”
Zarco’s cock swelled obscenely, twitching as if something was rising inside it. The motion of his shaft scraping along her inner walls grew faster.
“It’s me! I’m the Hero! This Zarco Monzor is the Hero! Not Dain!”
“Haaahng! Ngh, ughk!”
A moan loud enough to shake the entire inn. Ceres clung to Zarco with all her strength, trembling violently, before her limbs went limp and dropped. When Zarco lifted his hips, his cock slid free from her obscenely spread thighs, releasing everything he had pumped into her.
“Haa… haa…”
Obscene panting filled the air. The aftershocks of her first climax still hadn’t faded; Ceres’s body continued to quiver in faint spasms. Her belly, rising and falling with each breath, squeezed at Dain’s heart like a vise. Then something began to leak from her slit.
Thick, white fluid. From the pink cleft that still hadn’t closed after being stretched by Zarco’s massive cock, the Hero’s semen slowly dribbled out and dripped onto the sheets. He had released so much that a small puddle of cum formed between her thighs.
Dain felt something leaving his own body. And it had. Without a single touch, inside his untouched pants, his own cock had soaked the fabric with shame. He could feel the semen sliding down his underwear and along his thigh.
He no longer recognized himself. The only certainty was that he could not look away from that hole overflowing with rage and disgust. Whether from the ejaculation or the fury, a sound of agony only he could hear leaked between his lips.
“Hoo… haa.”
Zarco poured water into a cup as if his throat were parched. As he drank, he gazed at the evidence of his conquest still leaking from between her thighs and smiled with satisfaction.
“Haha… hahaha…”
He hurled the cup to the floor and immediately moved toward Ceres’s face. Grabbing her head while she was still catching her breath, he crushed his mouth against hers.
“Mmph! Uuu…”
It could hardly be called a kiss. Zarco’s long tongue ravaged the inside of her mouth. While Dain watched in blank despair, the final spurt of self-loathing and defeat surged from his untouched cock.
“Mmm… ha. Nngh.”
Ceres’s hand, which had been pressed to Zarco’s neck during the kiss, slid down his chest. Her breasts heaved as she lifted her upper body, following his tongue with her own, licking, sucking, devouring. In Dain’s mind, the bright smile Ceres had once worn beneath the moonlight cracked apart.
Zarco was the first to pull away. Ceres looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, tongue still extended in longing. Dain’s knees gave out.
“Who am I, Ceres?”
“Z-Zarco…”
“Wrong.”
Zarco pinched her nipple.
“Nngh…!”
“Again. Who am I, Ceres?”
“H-Hero…?”
“Hmm.”
The Hero yanked hard on the Saintess’s nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Her breast stretched outward. Her neck arched back from the mixture of pain and pleasure.
“Huu… haaah…!”
Zarco slapped her breast with a sharp smack, then stared into her face, waiting for an answer. Saliva dripping from her lips, Ceres finally answered in a weak, broken voice.
“…H-Hero… sir…”
“Good.”
Zarco’s face was hidden, but the ugly smile on it was unmistakable. When he stood, his cock—already hardening again—appeared right in front of Ceres’s face.
Zarco said nothing. Yet Ceres, blinking and trembling, slowly brought her tongue to the thing that had just torn her apart. She licked it carefully, gauging his reaction, then grabbed his thighs and began sucking the cock with ravenous hunger.
Obscene, wet sounds filled the room as saliva and fluids collided. Every time it hit the back of her throat, Ceres made strange, choked noises. Dain simply watched as she drooled and serviced the man’s cock. No thoughts remained in his head.
“This is your role, Ceres.”
The Hero held her cheek and pulled his cock free. The shaft, glistening with spit, pointed upward again, hard enough to pierce anything.
“To restore the Hero. Isn’t that right?”
“…”
Zarco climbed onto the bed and flipped Ceres over. Her pale, round ass rose into view. He grabbed the cheeks that couldn’t be fully covered by his hands and spread them. The hidden, shameful parts between them parted with a wet heat, revealing their flushed pink interior.
“It’s not fully healed yet. Come here.”
“W-wait…!”
They fucked in doggystyle, sweat flying everywhere. The sound of slapping flesh, the moans, the jiggling ass, the swinging breasts—none of it reached Dain anymore. Defeat and self-loathing had paralyzed his body, yet no matter what, the two of them remained lost in their frenzy.
“Haa! Ang, haat!”
Slap! Slap! Slap!
His head spun. The world tilted sideways. He felt the cold floor against his cheek and the dried tear tracks cracking. He collapsed with a dull thud, but it didn’t matter. The two people still joined at the groin didn’t care either.
Dawn light crept through the curtains. At some point the act had ended. Beyond the wall, he could hear the steady breathing of the two sleeping figures wrapped in each other’s arms. Dain slowly pushed himself up. His entire body ached, but he hadn’t lost consciousness. His eyes fell on the sword and shield he had thrown to the floor. With unfocused vision he gathered them and staggered out of the room.
The early morning streets of Hargon were quiet. Cold air from the mountains flowed in, but he felt nothing. Like a zombie, Dain dragged his feet in a crooked posture until he reached Grahn’s forge.
“Auuu~ mmm. Hm? Dain.”
Grahn, who had just stepped out to stretch, met his eyes.
“Wait, you…”
“…”
Dain looked wretched. The same clothes still bore the traces of yesterday’s fierce battle. Dry, cracked skin. Split lips. And eyes so empty of light they seemed undead.
“…Something happen?”
“…”
Only a scraping, metallic breath escaped Dain’s mouth. Grahn wondered if the boy was even looking at him.
“Wait here a moment. I’ll bring some water.”
“Shield.”
At Dain’s words, Grahn turned. Dain set down the longsword and heater shield Grahn had given him on the shelf. The equipment was badly damaged in just a single day, but Grahn’s gaze lingered far longer on Dain’s face.
“S-shield?”
“I need one. A big shield.”
“Hmm?”
“A sword too. A short one. Big shield and short sword.”
Grahn scratched his beard.
“Well, that’s standard warrior gear. Heavy on defense, though…”
“Yes.”
Expression had finally returned to Dain’s face. Yet it was so terrible that the previous blankness seemed preferable.
He had failed to stop Marus’s attack. No—he had chosen not to stop it. He had forgotten his duty to protect the Hero and the Saintess, drowning instead in jealousy and rage. The promise to wait had been broken because of Dain himself.
Hiding regret and sorrow behind a deeply furrowed smile, Dain spoke in a low voice.
“I’m not the hero. So that will do.”