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It’s a quiet night in Pomefiore, as always. All is calm. The students have all gone to bed… except for the housewarden and vice housewarden. The soft, cool summer winds blow against the windows; and flow against the curtains of Vil’s open bedroom window. The undeniably gorgeous Roi du Poison is laid across his bed, hair down. His skin is damp from a recent shower, and glittering in the moonlight. His chest is completely exposed, rising and falling with his breaths. He looks relaxed, at peace; but he knows he’s being hunted. It’s him and his dearest hunter’s favorite game, after all.
Rook stands just outside, gazing at his darling with what can only be described as all-encompassing lust. Not just for his body, no- Rook isn’t that type of man. While he does appreciate the sheer perfection of his beloved’s physical form- Vil’s beautiful hourglass figure, his long, elegant legs- especially in heels, his slender fingers, those hands that are ever so skilled at everything they do, the way his eyebrows furrow and his eyes no longer shine when he’s angry, his neck, always marked and claimed– something about Vil’s very soul makes Rook want to devour him whole in every way possible. Rook almost drools at the sight, feeling his cock twitch in his pants.
Rook knows he can’t strike yet. Can’t let this little game end too early. But if he doesn’t do something, it’ll be no fun at all.
He taps on the window frame twice, startling Vil enough to make him sit up straight, looking around in faux-bewilderment. Vil pants heavily, forcing tears to well up in his eyes just to rile up his darling hunter even more. Acting perfectly scared, much to Rook’s delight, Vil rushes out of his room- purposely leaving his window open.
Taking the bait, Rook climbs in through the window. He can’t let Vil get away for too long. He needs to see the frightened expression on his beautiful queen’s face, the tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes he’s been caught, and accepts that there is no escape for him. Rook bites his bottom lip at the mere idea as he closes Vil’s window, heading into the hallway to search for his beloved.
Vil hasn’t gone too far; lingering at the end of the hallway. He needs Rook to see him running. He wants nothing more than to feel utterly pinned in place by Rook’s gaze, unable to move and forced into submission. He waits to feel Rook’s sharp gaze on his back before he runs into the back garden.
Rook spots Vil running away, his purple silk robe flowing behind him. He chases after Vil with pure hunger filling his body, only one thought in his mind. You can never escape me, mon amour. Your hunter will always catch you.
The garden is dark, frightening yet familiar, with only the moonlight illuminating the ground below. It shines through the trees, giving away Vil’s first hiding spot. Rook can’t help but let out a small, low chuckle. This is his favorite part. He slowly draws his bow, his eyes locking onto the trees ahead of him.
Rook, thankfully, has very good aim. He doesn’t want to hurt Vil… not much, anyhow. He loves seeing small droplets of crimson blood drip down his queen’s neck when he bites down, loves seeing the scratches his beloved leaves all over his back after a passionate night, adores the sight of mascara streaming down Vil’s fair cheeks as he sobs from overstimulating pleasure, his messy hair– …focus.
He sees Vil’s silk robe shimmer in the moonlight for only a split second, and lets his first arrow fly. It pins the sleeve of Vil’s robe to a nearby tree, leaving him no choice but to tear it away. It leaves his left shoulder bare- just as Rook intended. Vil rushes to find another hiding spot, enjoying the chase just as much as his darling hunter.
Rook’s next arrow catches the hem of Vil’s robe. Vil, even though not required to this time, tears away from the arrow, leaving his milky, pale thighs visible- still faintly marked from their last passionate night. Rook had marked him up all over, claiming him as he had done many times before. Vil wanted that so badly again… but he had to play this little game first.
Rook can barely handle the sight of his lover’s exposed skin anymore. His pants feel tighter than ever before, and his breathing has quickened. Rational thought has given away to pure hunter’s instinct- and his instinct tells him nothing more than to catch Vil, now. He needs to claim his queen.
Dashing forward, Rook chases after Vil through the trees. Vil doesn’t care to keep quiet anymore, panting and whimpering in exhaustion as he loses the strength to run. Rook finally grabs Vil by the shoulder, tackling him down to the ground with ease. Dopamine floods Rook’s brain as he realizes he’s caught Vil, and his pupils go wide.
Vil nearly gets the breath knocked out of him, but it only serves to excite him more. He chuckles, scoffing in a cocky manner. “Such an untamed hunting dog I have. I should discipline y–”
Vil looks behind him to see Rook looming over him, panting wildly and looking at him with pure lust in his eyes. The sight turns him on more than anything, and he can tell that Rook is just as eager to claim his prize.
“Ma reine… my dearest queen,” Rook whines pathetically. “Please… I need you. Now. I can’t wait any longer, mon amour, I have to breed you–”
Vil gives a sharp nod, rolling his eyes at the sound of Rook’s whining. He has to give Rook a bit of dominance.
That’s all the confirmation Rook needs. He tears Vil’s robe off- knowing it’ll get him scolded later, but not caring- and bites down on the back of his neck, drawing blood.
Vil yelps in a mixture of pain and pleasure, tears welling up in his eyes at the sharp, burning feeling. “You- You brute!” He scolds Rook sooner rather than later.
“Ah- désolé, mon amour… I just… I need you so bad.” Rook nuzzles into the back of Vil’s neck, kissing and licking like an untamed dog. He lets out a soft moan as Vil scolds him- he’s always enjoyed his queen’s anger, no matter how genuine. To be scolded by such a beauty is an honor, in Rook’s eyes.
Rook sees how Vil is practically trembling for more, desperate and needy- and loses all composure. He’ll give his beloved more, that’s for certain. He would do absolutely anything for Vil.
Rook flips Vil onto his back, then holds his legs up. He starts to lick and bite at old marks and hickeys, teasing the sensitive skin and making Vil moan in delight. Rook loves seeing Vil like this; messy, in bliss, and with not a damn worry in the world. Rook loves knowing he can do such a thing to Vil. He loves being useful to his beloved, wants nothing more than to serve him and make him feel good.
Just as Rook’s mind is overflowing with need, Vil speaks two words that almost make him instantly cum.
“Good boy.” Vil exhales, closing his eyes and letting his back arch.
Rook whines loudly at the praise, nuzzling into Vil’s inner thigh in a wordless plea for more. He’s desperate, needs it more than anything.
Gripping Rook tightly by the hair, Vil huffs. “Focus, you pathetic dog. Take care of your queen.”
Rook lets out a choked moan, but nods nonetheless. He’d rather die than disobey Vil.
Rook holds Vil’s legs, then practically folds him in half, in a mating press. He grinds his clothed cock against Vil’s bare hole, panting needily. He continues to rut against him as if he’s in heat, whining and whimpering pathetically. While he does so, he leaves marks on Vil’s neck and collarbone- hickeys and bites, eagerly licking up any and all blood. To Rook, his darling queen’s blood is the finest wine in the entire world.
Vil quickly grows bored of Rook’s incessant whining, and huffs. He grabs Rook by the jaw, making him look him in the eye. “My dear hunter… breed me.”
Rook’s eyes widen, and he nods eagerly. He clumsily unbuckles his belt and takes his cock out, already dripping precum. Without warning, he slams into Vil’s hole, setting a quick and rough pace.
Vil squeals, his breath catching in his throat. He grips onto Rook’s shoulders, tears of pain streaming down his cheeks and leaving mascara stains. “S-Slow down!” He can’t help but moan, the pain turning into pleasure. “Fucking– ah! Rook, slow d-down…!”
Rook doesn’t listen a single bit, panting heavily as he fucks Vil. “My queen,” he whispers into Vil’s ear. “You feel so good, mon amour…” He raises his head up to witness Vil’s tears, his cock twitching at the sight. “Keep crying for me.”
Vil’s eyes roll back for a moment as he tries to keep himself even somewhat composed; but he can feel his thoughts slipping away. His hunter’s cock is just too good, he can barely handle it. His mind goes blank, and he lets Rook use him like a mere toy.
Rook continues to fuck roughly into Vil’s hole, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the garden. He can feel pressure building up in his lower stomach, and knows he’s about to cum. Quickly, he pulls out and releases onto Vil’s chest, a low moan escaping him. Despite this, he isn’t nearly done yet. He won’t be done until Vil cums untouched.
Rook goes another three rounds before Vil finally cums, his jaw clenching and his eyes crossing lewdly. Rook relishes in the sight, pressing a kiss to Vil’s forehead. Carefully, he scoops Vil up, a small chuckle escaping him.
“Quite spent, aren’t you, mon amour? Désolé…” Rook speaks sweetly as Vil regains his senses, holding him close. “Let us go inside. I’ll get you washed up.”
Vil merely whines into Rook’s chest, exhausted. “Mm.. yes, that would be nice.”