How To Polish A Pearl

Chapter 4 - Choking

A/N: This chapter contains mild gore and non-con. Please don't continue reading if this is something that makes you uncomfortable.

⊂ (▀▿▀) つ

When he feels the blanket disappear in the blink of an eye and ice-cold fingertips sliding across his lower abdomen, he instinctively stops breathing. Realizing that he is not covered with anything except for the bandages over his wounds and whatever straps are holding him in place, his mind races at lightning speed. What the hell? What happened to the robes?

Trying to remember his QingGong, Kung Fu or any type of self-defense or at least how to break free, the headache strikes so hard he goes momentarily limp. Blood is gathering in his lungs and throat making him wince internally as he tries to suppress a cough.

Instantly, two cold hands wrap around his wrists, pulling them over his head, as the Guzhu of the Ghost Valley sits on his thighs pressing him down even more firmly on the bed.

"Don't move around or your wounds might re-open, and I don't have the patience for that."

The implications of those words involuntarily send goosebumps up his naked arms, only to be made worse by the tip of the man's nose tracing along his left arm, as if satisfyingly breathing in his reaction.

His mind blank, having a man on top of him for the first time, at least for the first time that he could remember, he asks, "What do you want?"

"What a boring question. Isn't it obvious?" Sighing, the Guzhu of the Ghost Valley licks his wrist and smacks his lips. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect." The man's breath feels like it will freeze the wet spot that was left on his wrist.

"..." Stunned he cannot even react to what just happened before a sharp pain shoots from that same frosted spot.

"What is your name?", the Guzhu asks with a muffled voice whilst sucking and licking the blood from the bitemark he just inflicted.

"Why should I tell you?" He says coldly as he feels those blood-soaked lips trail along his arm, leaving the open wound to freely stain the sheets.

"Just tell me your name."

"..."

Sticky lips cover his in a kiss so disgusting he wants to bite down hard, but that would mean opening his lips. Shit, he is actually serious about this. What is this man? He hadn't been able to see the man clearly through his two black eyes down in the prison.

With lightning-speed his arms have been firmly secured under knees, pressing down so hard they will definitely bruise, freeing the hands of the man on top.

"I have tasted many men in my life without having known or caring about who they are. However, since I am taking you as my wife, I think it is good manners to at least know your name."

"..." What was the name I was supposed to use? Struggling to remember the headache burns from the inside.

Trying to twist his face away, slender fingers take a strong grip on his jaw, holding him in place as the man crushes his mouth down so intensely their teeth collide, pain shooting to the back of his skull.

The fingers tighten, pulling his jaw open so forcefully he thinks his teeth might get crushed by the sheer force from this man. His spiritual core is exceptionally strong. Instantly he feels the taste of blood as the man's tongue licks the inside of his mouth as it explores every part.

Trying to bite down, the hold is so strong the jaw muscles cramp against the conflicting movements, his eyes involuntarily tearing up. As a single teardrop escapes down the side of his face, it is instantly licked away by the man on top.

"No need to cry. I will be gentle with you if you let me. Just give me a taste of our wedding night."

Without being given a chance to speak, his mouth is again invaded by a tongue searching so frantically around his mouth he is wondering if his saliva has been fully licked dry. His only response a muffled, "nh... hn... er..."

Pulling back from the kiss, he repeats, "Tell me your name."

"Fuck you."

"Tsk. Tsk. Didn't your parents teach you manners? There is no need to be so crude." Sighing he continues, "However, to be clear, I will be fucking you on our wedding night. I will take you right here as many times as I want. You should look forward to it."

A cold and smooth palm moves to cover his nose and eyes. Those same lips bite down on his, continuing to smear a mix of saliva and blood all over the lower bottom of his face. The tongue reaching so far back inside his throat he starts to choke. The grip tightens over his face leaving him with no alternative for breathing.

The first sign is the ringing in his ears, which grows louder and louder until it drowns out the headache. If he could see, he knew that his vision would be starting to blur at this point. Adrenaline starts to kick in as his muscles, without any luck, tries to toss and turn in self-defense, instinctively trying to break free and find air. Survive, I have to survive. Don't think about the training, just let the body react.

Having been deprived of air for minutes, his lungs are burning like fire trying to erupt through his chest, he feels himself on the verge of collapsing. As his mouth is suddenly released, he greedily gasps for air as he coughs. Instantly, his mouth is covered again, kissed even more fiercely than before.

His system deprived of air for a second time, eyes as dry as dust from not having blinked, the adrenaline forcing his eyes open as they stare blankly into the hidden face of the person above. Seconds before he is certain he is going to pass out, his mouth is released. Another breath fills his lungs before the mouth is back, tongue so deep he wonders if this man is even human.

After the tenth time, the Guzhu of the Ghost Valley says, "Tell me your name." His head screaming and his ears ringing so loud he can barely hear the repeating question. Even if he wanted to answer, his burning throat won't let him. When the mouth is covered again, he falls into nothingness and finally blacks out. His chest still.

Coming to, he feels the other man breathing into his mouth, the used air filling his lungs and somehow bringing him back to life. Between his spiritual core almost being grinded to dust over the past week to being choked from the inside, he is so drained he can barely move his lips. Whilst the man is forcing another breath down his throat, he mumbles through a pitiful cough, "Zhou Xu."

As the man slowly pulls away, the cold breath against his face, he licks his dry blood‑stained lips and through shallow breathing he repeats, "My name is Zhou Xu."

Zhou Xu...? I don't think so. Smiling, the Guzhu of the Ghost Valley sits up, still with that delicious body locked between his legs.

"Zhou Xu." He says the name slowly, as if tasting it between his bloody and swollen lips, continuing, "I am Wen Ke Xing, your future husband."

~(>_<~)