Truth Laid Bare In A Dream
~Sexual content and potential trigger warning. Reader’s discretion is advised.~
She said no at first, but for some reason, Grant just wasn’t in the mood to take no for an answer. There was a part of him that seemed to recognize her “no” as an absolute, as something he couldn’t deny even if he tried, but not here. Not tonight. Tonight he was the one in control, he was the one who called all of the shots. It didn’t matter what she wanted, only what he wanted, what he needed. His surroundings weren’t clear to him, seeming almost ethereal at first, slowly becoming solid around him. He took her face in his hands, cupping the sides of her cheeks firmly, though not too hard. He pushed her back against a wall that seemed to solidify the moment her back touched it. He drew her face up, his own dipping down and soon her lips were claimed by his own. The kiss was hard, but not rough, firm, yet didn’t bruise. The kiss was a gateway, and the rest of his body moved through it to press against her own. They weren’t naked, but didn’t seem clothed in normal clothing either.
Grant seemed to be adorned in a suit of black armor from head to toe, including his head, but the armor was translucent in both sight and touch. One could see his naked form through the ghost-like armor, and he could certainly feel the warmth of her flesh against is as he pressed against her. She was wearing a long, flowing silk gown with gloves that reached her biceps, a long, cascading veil covering her face. Like his armor, the silk coming her form didn’t seem to exist to him, but even though he was kissing her, he couldn’t see her face. THAT part of the veil seemed to be real. He continued to kiss her until he heard a growl behind him, a deep, and guttural sound, filled with a barely contained rage. Grant broke that kiss and turned away from the faceless woman who seemed to slump a bit in his grasp, as if catching her breath. His eyes slid to the origin of the growl and he saw a male chained against a stone wall that suddenly materialized the moment Grant noticed it. The male seemed half man, half beast, though like Grant and the woman he held, it seemed only half real.
Around the male was the form of a large were-wolf like creature, chained to the wall, struggling uselessly to free himself. The wolven form was translucent though, and within it one could see the form of a man mirroring the wolf’s struggle to be free from his bindings, though much like the woman, he couldn’t make out his face, just his eyes. For some reason seeing the beast bound in such a manner pleased him. He could see the rage blazing in those eyes and after a moment he recognized it. Yes, this was a rage he knew all too well. The moment he felt that familiarity the male’s features became clear and Grant knew who it was. It was Grayson, his rival, often times enemy, and sometimes partner. With a sudden realization he turned back to the woman he held in his arms, reaching up with his right hand and ripping away the veil that covered her face. The face of a goddess stared back at him, HIS goddess. Sylvi Ragnarok, goddess of forbidden love. Now he understood why he’d felt that her telling him no should be absolute.
Sylvi could turn him to dust on a whim if she wanted. However, something was different here. This place was his, and not even a goddess could hold him back here. It was in that moment that he realized his inhibitions, that there were parts of him holding him back from doing things he really wanted to do. Was it duty that made him hesitate? No, that wasn’t it. Perhaps it was because while he loved Sylvi, he also revered her as a Goddess, one that perhaps he didn’t deserve. Whatever it was that held him back, it was gone now. There were no constraints here. Grant reached up and ripped at those ethereal threads, yanking them from her form, those shreds disappearing in mid air. The armor that had surrounded his form shattered as well, shimmering out of existence before hitting the floor. He would not be denied, not by her, for she had never denied him anything, but he had denied himself plenty. Hands reached down and grasped her by the hips, fingers tensing, tips rolling into her flesh as he gripped her, lifting her up against him.
He turned to face the chained Grayson, a grin curling the edges of Grant’s lips upward. All of their fights, whether they be arguments, or bloody, flesh ripping physical fights, were over Sylvi. Grant loved her, Grayson loved her, and she loved the both of them. She didn’t quite take them both completely though, which created an intense tension between them that she no doubt enjoyed. But right here, right now, there was no tension, there was no threat of Grayson. Here, Sylvi was his, and his alone. He felt her body tremble in his grasp as he dropped her onto a large bed that suddenly materialized the moment her naked form bounced upon it’s silk covered mattress. There was no foreplay, no sweet kisses, or long, sensual licks. No suckling along the smooth, heated contours of her beautiful flesh. Normally Grant was a attentive lover who paid attention to every inch of his lover’s form, every twitch of muscle, every touch that caused her to gasp or squirm. Usually he wanted her to experience release multiple times with ever increasing intensity before he even came once.
This was different. This was raw, unadulterated, uninhibited lust and passion. This was something that some part of him never let him truly enjoy. He looked down into her wide eyes, seeing a hesitation he NEVER saw in Sylvi’s eyes as strong hands yanked her thighs apart, spreading them wide. Right hand reached down to grip his hard, thick shaft, feeling it pulsing so heatedly in his grasp that it seemed an entity all it’s own. His hand guided that pulsing beast to her waiting slit, soaked to the touch, despite her hesitant attitude and once he felt silken petals begin to split open around his girth, he thrust himself inside of her, totally and completely, not stopping until he’d buried every thick, throbbing inch he could into her. Her body jerked, and she gasped out a scream. Her back arched so sharp that she would have bucked a lesser man right off of her. Her firm breasts shook and jiggled lewdly as her body spasm and she came. It was almost as if her body shared none of her mind’s hesitance, and had been waiting for this for a long time.
So had Grant it seemed, because he didn’t pause. His body began to move immediately, hips thrusting wild yet controlled. At first glanced it seemed like he was simply fucking Sylvi like some wild beast in heat, but each and every thrust was a kind of controlled chaos. His hips pumped hard, and fast, almost a blur of motion, but each time he thrust into her, he hit a precise spot that drove her completely wild, causing her to writhed and jerk beneath him, almost as if she were trying to run away from the pleasure, but accept it at the same time. Before long she simply gave in, no longer saying no with either her mouth, or her body. He lifted her up into a straddled position, and they were suddenly no longer in some mostly empty stone room with a bed and a chained werewolf. Instead they were in a large, intricate throne room filled with white and gold marble floors, pillars that seemed to reach into the heavens above, statues of the Gods lining the walls, and a large glowing white throne dominated the middle of the room.
Grant sat Sylvi upon that throne and rode her into it so hard that it seemed to shift against the floor beneath it, grinding at the marble, ruining it without a care. He loved the way her breasts bounced against his chest, the way her thighs clung tightly to his pumping hips, the way the heels of her feet dug into his body just above his waist. Her nails drew down his back, leaving long, angry wounds that he welcomed with a reckless abandon. He didn’t know how much time passed, how many positions they took, how many different landscape changes happened around them, how many times he’d filled her with his seed. It seemed endless, as if the raw emotions that had been held back had no end. Then they were back in that first room, on that same bed, Sylvi on her hands and knees, gripping the sheets so tightly that they ripped beneath her nails. Grant was in a full mount behind her, his hands grasping her hips, thumbs digging into the dimples in her flesh just above well rounded ass cheeks.
Hips pound against her flesh, bouncing her body forward, facing the still chained Grayson. The Wolf of Asgardian blood was almost crazed, and it only drove Grant on, loving every second of it. He thrust into her harder, faster until his right hand slid up her back, fingers spreading as they reached her hair, tensing up as they gripped those blonde strands and yanked her up until her back was against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, hands gripping her sweat covered breasts as his thrust jerked to a sudden stop, grinding against her hard as he came inside of her one last time. It was like a never ending rush, his entire being spasming with that god-like release, driving himself so deep that it almost felt as if he were trying to stuff his body inside of hers hips first. After what seemed like forever that orgasm tapered off and Grant fell back. He didn’t land on the bed though. There was nothing beneath him as he fell, the room disappearing along with Sylvi and Grayson. There was nothing but pitch black around him, a single pillar of light shinning upon him from above as he continued to fall.
Grant suddenly woke, his body shooting upright in his bed. His black cotton blanket was on the floor, his sheets were a wet mess around him, covered in sweat, and cum. It had been a dream, but a dream so vivid, that it seemed to have effected his physical body as well. His chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, right hand raising to wipe sweat from his brow, his mind racing, trying to find an answer as to what could have done this to him. He remembered everything he ever saw, could recall even the most minute details from the time he was born until now, but nothing could account for that dream. SOMETHING had caused it though. Was it a mutant sent after him? Another inhuman? Had it been magic, or some god mad at him because of his status with Sylvi? No, none of that made any sense either. He had fail safes in place against powers, and Sylvi would kill anyone who tried to ruin her fun.
He would have to consult with someone who could tell him what the fuck had gone on, but there was nothing he could do about it right now. Getting up from his bed, he gathered all of his bedding and dumped it into a large trash bag to be replaced later. After he stepped into the shower to wash up. He had to push this aside for now, he had a mission to capture a Super Adaptoid, and that would take focus to accomplish. But he had a feeling, that even if he didn’t remember or recall any and everything that crossed his consciousness, waking or sleeping, that he would never forget that dream. How it would affect him physically, however, was yet to be seen.
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