blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

blood orange sky (bwwm horror)

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing9h 2m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Feb 22, 2025
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Fiction
Romance
"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." Calliope's breath shuddered as she pressed trembling fingers against her wound, trying to stifle the slow, relentless flow of blood. The dark crimson smeared her deep brown skin, glistening in the faint moonlight filtering through the trees. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, forcing herself not to cry out, even as the pain in her arm surged with each heartbeat. Her body was coiled in the shadows, hidden among the thick underbrush. The scent of damp earth filled her lungs as she crouched lower, her deep brown eyes flicking toward the faint beam of light where he stalked her. The trail of her blood, leading back to her, was a cruel betrayal-he'd see it soon enough. In the distance, his boots crunched on the gravel path, slow and deliberate, the sound crawling through the silence. His shotgun dragged behind him, the barrel scraping along the stones with a sharp, unsettling screech. His tan skin glowed under the night sky, brown hair falling messily over his forehead, casting shadows over his deep-set brown eyes, eyes that no longer held the warmth she once knew. "Callie, darling..." His voice rang out, taunting. It was a mockery of affection, twisted and sharp. "Come on out. You know you can't hide forever." He scanned the woods, his gaze erratic, desperate. His hands tightened around the shotgun, knuckles white as his eyes flared with hunger, the hunt fueling his madness. The stillness was thick, suffocating, but Calliope could feel the tremor in his voice, the impatience-he was unraveling. She swallowed hard, trying to quiet her heavy breathing, her heart hammering in her chest as he stepped closer, the smell of blood growing stronger around her. If he found her, there would be no telling what he would do. ------------- In which a predator hunts prey.
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🩸 YAKUZA'S DIRGE- "A dirge is a funeral hymn, and his love was a slow, brutal mourning-not for her death, but her freedom." "Do you know why I keep you locked up?" Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled against his chest - hesitantly, reverently - and oh god. The feel of him. Hard. Unforgiving. A wall of heat under her trembling hands. His chest was broad, every muscle taut beneath the thin shirt, his pecs shifting as he breathed - not shallowly, but deeply. Controlled. His teeth grazed her cheek. A bite. Gentle. Carnal. Her lips parted. A broken breath fell from her. Then a whisper - from him. "Hmm?" She shook her head. Too slow. Too dazed. His hand slipped lower, finally, cupping her waist - his palm large enough to cage her, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of her ribs while his other arm remained hooked around her back. Not pinning. Holding. Pulling. She was caged. Held flush to him. Nothing between them but her open robe and his clothed chest. But even then, the heat bled through. He bent again - lower this time. His lips kissed the corner of her jaw. Not sweetly. Possessively. Then he whispered something so sinful, so deliberate, it felt like it was made of oil and ash and honey: "Because if even one man saw you like this... he'd forget his god. He'd fuck his name out of your mouth and never ask if you were promised." Her thighs trembled. Her hand fisted in the fabric at his chest - not to resist. To survive the feeling. He dragged his lips to her jaw again. Her ear. He didn't press them to her skin. He simply hovered. Teased. Waited. She could barely breathe. Her body shook in his hands, her inner thighs slick with her own arousal, every nerve burning like she was being readied for slaughter. Then-her voice. Small. Too soft for anyone else to hear. But he was not anyone. "...But I already attracted the worst kind." His head stilled. Eyes lowered to her again. She swallowed. Then added-"Didn't I?"

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