Bitter Murmur | Abby Anderson x Male Reader

Chapter 17

Abby's grip on his collar loosened, the tension in the room palpable as she stepped closer. "You're mine," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper that sent a shiver down his spine.

Y/N's eyes searched hers, the whispers in his head a quiet murmur of confusion. Was this a trick? A way to maintain her control over him? But the look in her eyes, the heat that flared in her gaze, told him something else entirely. It was a challenge, a declaration of power that went beyond mere words.

Her hand slammed into the side of his head, sending him crashing into the wall. He felt the whispers surge in his mind, a cacophony of anger and fear that seemed to fuel the fire in his belly. But he didn't fight back, didn't resist as she grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head. Instead, he let out a soft moan, the sound surprising even to him.

Abby's eyes searched his, a mix of surprise and hunger. He could see the war in her gaze, the struggle between the woman who needed him and the warrior who feared him. But the whispers in his head grew louder, a gentle coaxing that seemed to guide her hand to his neck, her thumb pressing against his pulse point in a gesture that was both tender and possessive.

Her breath was hot against his skin as she leaned in, her lips crushing his in a kiss that was more force than passion. Y/N felt the whispers in his head swell, a chorus of lost souls urging him to submit, to give in to the fierce need that pounded through him. And for a moment, just a moment, he did. He let her dominate him, let her claim him in this small, violent way.

Her tongue invaded his mouth, a fierce dance of power and control that left him breathless. He could taste the anger on her, the desperation that had driven her to this point. And beneath that, something else, something sweet and intoxicating that made him want to pull her closer. But the whispers grew louder, the dead watching them with a hunger that was almost palpable. He knew he couldn't give in to her completely, not without losing himself.

Abby's hand slid down to his crotch, her grip firm and possessive. He felt himself respond despite the fear that coiled in his gut, the whispers in his head a siren's call that grew louder with each passing second. She knew just how to touch him, how to make him want her, and it was a power she wielded like a weapon. He moaned into her mouth, the sound a mix of submission and need.

"You like that, don't you?" she murmured, her voice a dark caress that sent shivers down his spine. "You like it when I control you."

Y/N's eyes searched hers, his breath ragged. He knew she was goading him, using his attraction to her to maintain her power. But the whispers in his head grew louder, a seductive symphony that whispered of a different kind of control, one where he could be more than just her weapon. "I've never kissed before," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

Abby's smirk grew, the curve of her lip a taunt that made his blood boil. "Is that so?" she murmured, her voice low and hungry. "Well, I've never kissed a whisperer before."

With a sudden ferocity, she ripped his shirt over his head, the fabric tearing with a sound that echoed through the quiet of the hut. Her eyes raked over his bare torso, the whispers in his head a gentle hum of anticipation. He could see the desire in her gaze, the hunger that matched the whispers of the dead that surrounded them. And for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, she saw him as more than just a means to an end.

Her own shirt followed, the fabric falling to the floor in a heap as she stood before him, her chest heaving. The scars that marred her body told a story of pain and survival, each one a battle scar that mirrored the emotional turmoil that churned within her. Y/N's eyes widened at the sight, the whispers in his head a soft sigh of awe. She was so much more than just a warrior, she was a survivor, a woman who had faced down death and come out the other side.

He felt his own body respond, his need for her a living, pulsing thing that seemed to resonate with the whispers that filled the room. But he couldn't look at her, couldn't bear the weight of her gaze as she studied him, her eyes a mix of anger and hunger. He dropped his gaze to the floor, the whispers in his head a gentle reminder that he was still in control, that he could still walk away.

But when her hand closed around his chin, forcing his head up, he knew he was lost. Her eyes searched his, the intensity in her gaze a challenge that he couldn't ignore. "Look at me," she demanded, her voice a soft growl that seemed to resonate through his very bones.

Y/N swallowed hard, the whispers in his head a tumult of confusion and desire. He didn't know what she wanted from him, but he knew he couldn't refuse. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to hers, the whispers growing quieter as he met her gaze.

Abby's eyes searched his, looking for something he wasn't sure he could give her. "You're mine," she repeated, her voice a low, seductive murmur that sent a thrill through him. "Say it."

Y/N took a deep breath, the whispers in his head a gentle reminder of the power she held over him. "I'm yours," he murmured, the words a surrender that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her eyes lit up with victory, her hand sliding from his chin to his neck, her grip firm but gentle. "Prove it, get your pants off, now." she whispered, her voice a soft command that sent a shiver down his spine.

Y/N's heart raced as he reached for the button of his own pants, his fingers shaking with a mix of fear and anticipation. The whispers in his head grew louder, a cacophony of voices that seemed to egg him on, urging him to submit to her will. He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers as he pushed his pants down, his erection springing free.

Abby chuckled, the sound low and mocking, as she took in his nakedness. Her smug smile made him feel vulnerable, like a bug pinned to a board. But the whispers in his head grew gentle, a soothing lullaby that reminded him of who he was. He wasn't just a whisperer, he was a man, and she couldn't take that away from him.

With a sudden sureness, he stepped closer, his hands reaching for the button of her pants. She didn't resist, her eyes watching him with a mix of surprise and excitement. As he unbuttoned her pants, his thumbs brushing against her hips, he felt the whispers swell with anticipation. He knew what he had to do, knew that this was a test of sorts. If he could take control, even in this small way, then maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to be more than just her pawn.

But before he could push them down, Abby's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist in a grip that was iron-tight. "Not so fast," she murmured, her eyes flashing with a challenge. "I didn't say you could do that."

Y/N's eyes searched hers, the whispers in his head a tumult of confusion and anger. But he didn't pull away, didn't fight. Instead, he let her push him back onto the bed, her body a warm, heavy weight that seemed to pin him in place. The whispers grew quieter, a soft murmur of submission that seemed to echo the need in his own heart. He knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn't help the thrill that raced through him as she straddled him, her thighs pressing against his hips.

Her hands moved to her own pants, sliding them down her legs. Her panties followed, leaving her naked and exposed before him. He couldn't help the way his eyes roamed her body, the way his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. The whispers grew louder, a siren's call that whispered of possession and power. But he knew he couldn't let them control him, not completely. He had to find a way to be more than just her weapon.

As she straddled him, her eyes never leaving his, he felt the whispers in his head swell, a tide of need that threatened to overwhelm him. But he clung to the last vestiges of his control, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek as she positioned herself over him. "I need this," she murmured, her voice a soft plea that made his heart ache.

Y/N nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as she lowered herself onto him. The whispers grew quieter, a gentle hum of approval as their bodies merged, the heat of her surrounding him like a warm embrace. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the tightness of her grip on his arms as she began to move. It was a dance of power and submission, a fierce battle for dominance that seemed to mirror the chaos outside their makeshift shelter.