In A Cabin In the Woods

[Aurora]

Aurora lay there in his bed, sighing contentedly, her eyes heavy lidded with passion and satisfaction and alcohol. It was warm and comfortable. Diego looked down, his eyes hungrily tracing her face. He couldn't believe his luck. Then again, the universe seemed to always give him what he craved. He had not realized how much he had craved this again. Especially with her. Before, it had been his father. Now the son would have his chance.

The redolent scent of her and him, of the wood, the fire crackling in the bedroom hearth, would cement this moment in his mind, forever giving him a doorway back to now, to this woman, to this place.

His hands itched to touch her, fingers flexed, fists squeezed. She was tired and drifting off. Carefully, gently, he glided his fingertips along her collar bone, the slight dip at the hollow of the throat. His hands trembled and he felt a stirring. Was it him? Her eyes fluttered, tried to open but it was too much, too relaxing. His breaths were coming, short now, his heart beat accelerating, the beat of the hoofs of the stallions he'd ridden. His nostrils flared as the memory came back to him.

He closed his eyes and savored, for a moment. Perfection. His mother's face below the surface, eyes wide as saucers. The raw savage power of his father. The light difused through water made her face glow, a goddess, an angel, hair haloing around her head. So many things coursed through his mind, stimulation, fear, terror, excitement, rage, awe, ecstasy. This moment, this one place and time in all of time, here it was, the human experience at its core. And she was the vehicle. He felt as if he were absorbing everything from her, consuming her energy and passion, her very essense. His father was oblivious to the gift being presented, blind only with rage at his discovery of her betrayal that day. So foolish. He didn't understand. But he was the one who acted. Harvest. The thought passed through his mind.

He remembered all the other times, those girls, the fear and passion in their eyes, ecstasy and agony. He devoured it hungrily, bringing them to the brink again and again, only to let her slip back just before the end. Soft lips on his, breathing into them, compressing their chest as a god, pumping life back into her. The eyes fluttering open, confusion and terror and pleasure anew.

The reverie that washed over him was near to orgasmic levels. After sighing in perfect bliss, he opened his eyes again. This time would be the best of all. To savor and enjoy. His father hadn't understood, even as his mother's beautiful face stared up at him. This time, she would be looking at him, connected forever. And he would enjoy her, ravish her, consume her.

He reached for the red silk scarf that hung innocently on his bed post. He had others too. She was mostly asleep. He began to tie her up. He couldn't help the smile on his face, the anticipation that threatened to overwhelm him.
Edited by Aurora, Mar 27 2015, 02:52 PM.