80. Calla

80. Calla
Leonidas' breathing pattern increased in volume and frequency, and I could sense the anguish that rose within him. He was...scared of something. He stared between me and his lycan servant—Orina, his face creased with worry.
He suddenly wrapped a hand around my upper arm, and I gasped softly as I immediately felt those tingles crawling up and down my arm. The way that little something inside of me stirred.
He started walking, forcing me to do the same and I stumbled after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides.
"H-hey—" I didn't even get to scream at him properly as swiftly, he opened the door to that room where Athos had slipped into, and shoved me inside.
I pressed a hand against his chest and opened my mouth, just about to try and scream again and demand that he let me go, but that look in his eyes managed to stifle my momentum once again.
"Stay. And don't come out of this room without him," He pointed a finger at me, and I considered biting it off just to spite him, but then he stepped closer to me, and that hand cupped my jaw, his tone softening as he pleaded,
"Don't leave his side. Please."
I blinked, staring between his eyes. He offered me one last tender look, and then his hands were leaving my body, as he went out that door.
"Send someone to take care of the mess in my room, now," I heard him tell Orina, right before that door slammed right in my face, closing me in there.
I stared at that white door with anger, debating whether I should go back out there, and demand an explanation, but a slight chill quickly deflated me, as I remembered that I was still stark naked. And kind of dirty too.
I turned and looked around, noticing that I was alone in there. Wait. Where was Athos by the way? I could swear I'd seen him enter this bedroom. Surely he couldn't have slipped back out when we weren't looking.
Wow. This room was very clean. And very tidy. Nothing was out of place. Except for that corner of the duvet, maybe. I walked around slowly, noticing that he had a walk-in closet filled with his signature shirts. I thought about borrowing one of them, but then I remembered that I was still caked with dirt and sweat. I needed to take a shower first.
I went to the adjacent bathroom, noticing that the door was ajar. I could hear water running from the other side. I pushed the door open without thinking, and immediately, my gaze landed on Athos. He was standing under the shower head, with that water pelting down his naked body. His eyes were closed, and he was leaning against the wall, breathing deeply and laboured. My eyes followed the path of those rivulets that ran down his skin, and as soon as I saw it, my face flared with heat. He was...incredibly thick and monstrously long. And veiny. An angry shade of red. My lips parted, and he groaned at the same time, the sound pained. Guttural.
"Oh, fuck it," he swore under his breath. And then his hand was wrapping around that swollen and veiny member, gripping it tightly. My eyes widened.
It started to move, up and down. Stroking it slowly. From tip to base, and then right back up. He let out another groan, and I bit my lip, my body warming fast as I watched him perform such an arousing action. He looked...incredibly beautiful. Enticing, with those big muscles that kept bunching in his arm. His chest. I couldn't stop. I couldn't look away. I knew that it was wrong; that I was invading his privacy with my presence. But I just couldn't bring myself to leave. I didn't want to.
He continued to caress himself as the water pelted down his flushed skin, his eyes remaining closed. He let out a pleasured moan—my knees softened, almost buckling from underneath me. A pulse started low in my belly, and I felt my pussy tingle, growing even hotter as I continued to watch him, entirely fascinated. He increased his pace, and that hand gripped tighter at his large member, stroking it so roughly as he panted and moaned, jerking his hips at the same time. Oh, Goddess.
My body started to tremble lightly, and I fought that desperate urge to dive my hand between my own legs, my nipples pebbling, and my skin growing so sensitive as I watched with rapt attention. I couldn't stop. I couldn't look away. And my heart was beating so fast, as I wondered what would happen if he caught me. The thought somehow managed to excite me, and my pussy started to pulse, begging to be touched. I grew hotter and hotter, craving more and more for something inside of me. Preferably, the member that he was stroking so violently. I yearned to feel it. Have those hands on my hips as he slammed into me, over and over again. I dared envision that image, and my eyes closed on their own accord as I unwillingly started to dream about that. About his hands on my skin. His lips on my neck. That big and long veiny member sliding in and out of me, slow and deep.
"Calla..." I moaned softly, as I could hear the ghost of his voice whispering so sensually in my ear, before I quickly remembered where I was.
My eyelids fluttered open, and I let out a gasp as soon as I noticed that he was already looking at me.
None of us uttered a single word for a few long moments. We continued to stare into each other's eyes, locked, as if in a trance. My heart was drumming like crazy; it almost threatened to explode. I didn't dare move. I remained rooted to the spot.
He wasn't stroking himself anymore, but his hand was still there, wrapped around his manhood. He let his gaze trail over me once, and his eyes flashed with that glowing golden.
"Do it," he said all of a sudden. Brief. Commanding.
I blinked, a little lost at first. But then my cheeks flushed so furiously as I realized what he was trying to say.
"It's okay. I won't come any closer. You are safe here," he added, his voice a little rough around the edges.
I stared into his golden eyes, swallowing thickly. My legs were still shaking. I wanted to. I wanted it so badly. I yearned to find release, and I didn't care how. I just knew that I needed it.
"You can do it too if you want to. You can do whatever you please, Calla," he said softly. I mewled, giving in so quickly. I already knew that I was safe with him, and that I could trust him with my life. I felt so connected to him. I'd always had. Ever since we met.
With my heart galloping in my throat, I dared wrap a hand around my breast. His eyes immediately went there. I gulped, licking my dried lips. I didn't feel ashamed or hindered. I liked the way he was looking at me. I'd always had. He made me feel seen. Beautiful. Special. I trailed the other hand down my body, caressing my stomach. His breathing hitched, and mine did too at the same time. I shivered, as renewed arousal pooled low in my belly. I wanted to do this. I wanted to come undone beneath his gaze. I wanted to feel his presence, his hungry eyes on me as I touched myself.
I looked at his swollen cock—he was already stroking himself slowly. I inched lower, and lower still with my hand. And then my fingers were sliding over that special spot between my legs, provoking a tiny whimper from me. I was soaking wet. And aching so hard. He groaned softly, as if he had felt it too. The slickness of my flesh, those delicious tingles that erupted with my touch.
I caved to the craving quickly. I fell to my knees, as my legs were already trembling way too hard, and then I put my fingers there again, caressing myself slowly. I kept my gaze trained on him the entire time, watching him stroke that angry red rod. I imagined it sliding into me, and I slipped a finger inside, my lips parting from the pleasure. I let out a moan, and he joined me immediately, whispering my name so sweetly, "Calla..."
It sounded like a plea, a desperate prayer. I pushed my finger in and out, moaning louder as that pleasure only increased. His eyes were roaming over me, gleaming with desire as he watched what I was doing to myself; that hand that was pinching at my nipple, and the other that kept working at my slit. Up and down, in and out. My hips started to move on their own accord, riding that feeling, that wave, and I increased my pace, moving in sync with his hand. I panted faster and faster, beads of sweat gathering on my skin as I rode and rode with him, moaning and shivering, working ourselves until that blissfulness finally took us both at the same time. I cried out loud, spasming as that wonderful sensation wracked through my entire body, and I watched him jerk his hips, his corded muscles straining as ropes of white shot out of him, trailing over his knuckles and dripping on the shower floor.
I let my hands fall to my sides as that moment of blinding pleasure finally subsided. And when it did, there was nothing but sorrow left in its wake. A hollowness that gnawed at my very soul. I did not bother trying to hide it from him. I had no reason to. And like before, I simply gave in. I let it take over me, let it consume me.
I sat there, letting those hot tears fill my eyes. Letting them fall. I did not run and I did not hide. I let myself feel, in the comfort of his presence.
I heard his footsteps on the bathroom floor. And then I felt his arms wrap around me. I let out a hitching sob, burying my face in that space between his arm and chest. His skin was slightly cool to the touch, and those droplets of water that clung to him were equally cold. But when we stepped under the falling rain, there was nothing but warmth that enveloped me. The water's and his.
We sat there for what felt like forever, with his arms wrapped around me, and the warm water pelting down our bodies as I wept my bleeding heart out. Mourning, for a love that I did not receive. For the sting of being rejected since birth.
"Cassius is your father, Calla. Your real father..." I couldn't erase those words from my mind. No matter how hard I tried. And I did try. I tried my hardest not to think about them. Not to remember them. I walked through that forest running away from them. Struggling so hard to leave them behind. Leave them there, in that desolate place where they had been uttered. But they followed me here. Even now. Robbing me of my peace, my sanity. Tormenting me with their insistent presence.
I didn't know how long I wept. But my sobs did finally cease at some point, leaving nothing but silence behind. Rawness, and pain. I let Athos' fingers trace my skin. Tread through my hair. I let his soothing touch consume me, his presence envelop me. His scent. He cleansed away those tears, that grime and sweat that clung to my body.
I let myself fall into his arms, over and over again, revelling in that safety that he represented. His warmth. His familiarity. I let myself feel vulnerable, and small. Feminine, and delicate. Breakable. He wrapped around me in return with his masculine strength, his protectiveness.
I fell asleep in his arms. In his bed. Wearing his clothes, his scent, and his powerful presence wrapped around me like a shining armor. A shield, protecting me from the world.