The Deathstalker [3]

"Ugh..."

For the umpteenth time, a painful, loud groan echoed from the room. The sound reached even the four young people in their respective quarters.

"Huuuh!" This time, the grunt resembled that of a captive animal.

Viper sat up abruptly in her bed. She couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing a syringe preloaded with morphine and a couple of vials, she carefully opened her door, hoping not to alert her teammates. To her surprise, they were already outside their rooms, standing in the hallway.

Viper sighed. "I... I'll give him the morphine," she said.

"Are you sure?" Fire asked.

"Yes. I can't bear hearing him groan like that. It must be excruciating," she replied. Lifting the two vials of morphine liquid, she added, "I'll stay with him and administer the morphine as needed."

"Be careful..."

"I know Death. He won't harm me," Viper assured them. She turned and walked toward Deathstalker's room, unlocking the door before pushing it open.

The other three watched through the gap in the doorway as Viper entered. Deathstalker let out another guttural grunt, his hands clenching the sheets tightly. His sweat-drenched face twisted in agony, his entire body tensing with each wave of pain.

Viper reached out, placing a hand on his forehead. The burning heat made her jolt slightly. Without hesitation, she found his arm and injected the morphine into his vein. Within two minutes, the contorted expression on his face began to ease.

Viper exhaled in relief and turned to her teammates. "I'll stay here and watch over him all night. Get some rest," she said.

"Be careful," Bruno muttered before reluctantly pulling away from the door gap and closing it.

Viper turned her gaze back to Deathstalker, staring at him for a long moment. This young man—this soldier writhing in pain before her—was the one she loved. She had loved him since the very first time she met him. No, not in primary school. Much earlier than that.

She was the girl who had once healed Chien Dai back in Country V. When the Westerners came to take Chien Dai away, she had begged the couple to take her, too. She had promised them unwavering loyalty. Perhaps out of pity, the woman had agreed.

Adopted by the Andrews, she had taken the name Lily Andrew and undergone intense training under her foster mother, a scientist of the organization. She had become the best in both medicine and poisons, all while maintaining her bond with Quint Rauss—a boy who had to lose his memories in order to cultivate his strength.

Together, they had proven themselves prodigies, earning their place in the Royal Knights. Now, they fought as soldiers.

Fifteen years. That was how long she had followed this man. And yet, he never spared her a second glance—never once looked at her with anything beyond camaraderie.

And despite all those years together, moments like this—being close, almost intimate—were rare. The last time had probably been during boot camp.

Deathstalker groaned again, his face twitching in pain. Barely five minutes had passed, and the morphine's effects were already wearing off.

Viper reached for another injection, but Deathstalker's deep, agonized growl made her pause. There was something about the sound—something raw, almost intoxicating.

She hesitated. Then, as if making a silent decision, she stood up and walked to the door, locking it. Returning to the bedside, she sat down again, drawing another dose of morphine into the syringe before pressing it into Deathstalker's vein.

"Ugh!" He groaned, his head arching forward, eyes squeezed shut. A second later, his body relaxed, his head falling back onto the pillow as the morphine took effect.

"Ssh... ssh... ssssssh..." Viper hushed, running her fingers through his damp hair. Her hand stilled as she found herself mesmerized by his face. Gently, she traced a finger along his forehead, down the bridge of his nose. As an Eastern, he had striking features, especially his nose. Her finger traveled further, grazing his thin lips.

Suddenly, his lips parted.

Then—he sucked her finger into his mouth.

A soft, surprised moan escaped her. "Quint..."

Deathstalker's eyes slowly fluttered open

+++++++

{WARNIINg 18+ MATERIAL| Underage is highly not recommended to read this. Just scroll down until you foung another + sign. This part won't affect the story much.

"Quint..."

The voice called to him from the haze of burning heat and desire.

His eyes fluttered open, vision blurred, body aching with unnatural need. Every breath felt thick, suffocating. The fever scorched through his veins like liquid fire, an unbearable ache clawing through his muscles. His mind was drowning in a single, overwhelming thought—touch, take, consume.

And then—he saw her.

A silhouette sitting beside him, a ghost from his past.

His breath hitched. His pulse pounded.

"Mila...?" His voice was hoarse, cracked with disbelief.

The thought of her being here, real, was impossible—but he couldn't doubt what his senses told him. She was warm beneath his hands, solid, real. He wouldn't let her go.

His fingers dug into her wrist, yanking her down onto him. She gasped as their bodies collided, her soft warmth pressing against his fevered skin.

"You're here..." The words were a desperate whisper. "You came back to me."

Before she could respond, he crushed his lips to hers, devouring her like a man starved.

The kiss was raw, desperate—his tongue forced past her lips, taking, drinking her in. His grip tangled in her hair, holding her still as his hands roamed lower, possessive, claiming.

"I missed you, Mila... I missed you so much..." he groaned against her lips, his fevered mind spiraling into madness.

His touch was rough, impatient. He needed her now.

"No waiting. No teasing. Just let me have you."

She barely nodded before he thrust into her in one swift motion.

A painful scream left her lips as he filled her, her nails digging into his arms. She cried out when he brutally moved in and out of her.

But Quint didn't notice. His fevered mind only registered the unbearable heat, the way her body clenched around him, the electric pleasure blinding, all-consuming.

"Shit—Mila, you're perfect..."

His rhythm was unforgiving, brutal, his hands gripping her waist so tightly it left bruises. His body burned, the aphrodisiac coursing through him, his need escalating with every second that passed. Even more with the feeling of how her fingers nailed deeper into his skin, how her whimpers catched his every movement.

Then—he felt it. Her body clenched around him. Her breath hitched. A sharp cry left her lips.

She came.

But he didn't.

The fire inside him only grew hotter, more unbearable. He was nowhere near the edge.

Not enough. Not deep enough. Not rough enough.

His fevered mind screamed for more. A new level. A new position.

Without a word, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing his chest against her back as he grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her head to the side.

"Look at me while I take you," he growled against her ear before biting down on her shoulder.

His hips snapped forward, his thrusts turning merciless, his fevered breath heavy against her damp skin.

Her moans turned into shaky cries, her hands clutching at the sheets. But she didn't resist.

Then—her body tensed again. Another cry. Another release.

She came a second time.

Still, he didn't.

The frustration twisted inside him, his need growing unbearable, the aphrodisiac pushing him further into a mindless, ravenous state.

Not enough. Need more. Need her completely.

He sat up, grabbing her hips and pulling her onto his lap, impaling her onto him in one rough motion.

She let out a sharp moan, her head falling against his shoulder. Her legs trembled, her breaths uneven.

"Q-Quint…" her voice cracked, "I'm tired… please, stop…"

But he didn't stop.

He kissed her deeply, swallowing her plea. "Just one more, baby. Just one more."

She shuddered in his arms, and moments later—her body convulsed again.

A third orgasm.

But still—he didn't reach his peak.

He needed more. Needed to claim her in the deepest way possible.

His fingers trailed lower, brushing against the last untouched place.

"Let me take you here, baby," he rasped against her ear. "Say yes."

She hesitated.

Then—she nodded.

That was all he needed.

Final Claim

Quint flipped her onto her stomach again, pulling her hips up.

He pressed against her tight ring of muscle, pushing in slowly.

She screamed.

Her entire body jerked violently, fingers clawing at the sheets.

But Quint didn't hear her.

The aphrodisiac was too strong. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out everything except the overwhelming pleasure.

"Shit… so fucking tight…" he groaned, gripping her hips tighter, forcing himself deeper.

Her body shuddered, tensed, trembled—and then—

She went limp.

Her fingers, once gripping the sheets, loosened.

Her head lolled to the side.

Her breath turned shallow—then silent.

Quint didn't notice.

He was too far gone, too lost in the primal haze of pleasure, his pace never faltering, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, desperate.

"You're so good, Mila... this is so good," He hissed in between his groaned, unnoticed Mila's unresponsiveness against his words.

Minutes passed. He chased his peak with no awareness of the woman beneath him slipping away.

Then—finally—his release hit him like a crashing wave.

A guttural groan tore from his throat, his body shuddering violently as he buried himself deep inside her one final time.

The tension in his muscles finally eased, his fevered mind spinning from the raw pleasure.

Spent. Satisfied.

He pulled out, breathing heavily, his body aching with exhaustion.

Without thought, he dragged her body onto the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close.

His fingers brushed through her damp hair, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder.

"I love you, Mila…"

+++++++

Deathstalker stirred as the warmth of the morning sun seeped through the curtains, casting golden rays across the room. A slow smile spread across his lips.

His dream... it had been beautiful.

Mila had returned to him. She had come back, slipped into his arms, and they had made love for hours. He could still feel her warmth, hear her whispers, taste the salt of her skin.

It had felt so real. So painfully real.

But Mila was gone. She wasn't coming back.

The thought sent a hollow ache through his chest. His smile faded. His eyelids fluttered open, adjusting to the light—

And then he froze.

There was a girl lying beside him.

Naked.

Deathstalker's breath hitched. A sharp jolt of shock ripped through his body. His hands trembled as he yanked back the covers, eyes darting to himself—

He was naked too.

A sudden, strangled "Aaaahh!" tore from his throat as he scrambled to grab his bathrobe from the corner of the bed, wrapping it around himself like a shield.

The shout startled the girl awake.

Viper's eyes snapped open, locking onto his wide, horrified stare. The moment their gazes met, she screamed too, frantically wiggling away, dragging a handful of pillows to cover her exposed skin.

"W-why are you screaming?!" Deathstalker demanded, voice hoarse with panic.

"Why are you screaming?!" Viper shot back, her voice shrill with what sounded like fear.

Deathstalker blinked. His heart pounded violently against his ribs. Why was she acting afraid of him?

"I... I..." Viper stammered, her body curled defensively, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Deathstalker's breath was ragged, his mind spinning as his gaze flickered down—

And then he saw it.

The torn fabric near her—a ripped sleeping dress, a destroyed bra.

Flashes of last night slammed into him.

The heat. The desperation. The need so intense it had blinded him.

The way his hands had moved over her body, the way she had trembled beneath him—

No. No, no, no.

"Were we...?" His voice came out strangled.

Viper nodded.

"Last night... it was you?"

Another nod.

Deathstalker's stomach plummeted.

His fingers dug into his scalp as he squeezed his eyes shut, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. "God… I…" His throat burned. "I'm sorry."

His hands reached out, trembling, wanting to touch her—to comfort her, to fix whatever had just happened.

But the moment his fingertips grazed her shoulder, she let out a small cry and hurled a pillow at him, scrambling off the bed.

Her legs buckled.

Her body crumpled.

She collapsed onto the floor.

"Viper!" Deathstalker lurched forward.

"Get away from me!" she screamed, shrinking away from him, her body curled in on itself.

Panic gripped him like a vice. What had he done?

His breath hitched as he reached for the blanket, wanting to cover her—wanting to do something—but then his eyes caught on the bed.

His blood turned to ice.

A pool of dried blood stained the sheets.

A virgin's blood.

"God…" The word barely left his lips, his body stiff with horror. His hands shot to his face, clutching his temples. "You… you were…?"

Viper didn't answer.

Tears filled her eyes, her body trembling violently.

And then she broke.

She let out a strangled sob, burying her face in her hands. "I lost… both…" her voice cracked. "I lost both my virginity."

Deathstalker winced at the way she said it.

Both?

Then, it hit him.

His stomach twisted. "I was rough on you, wasn't I?"

Viper didn't speak. She only nodded.

A slow, painful nod.

Deathstalker felt sick.

A hollow ache tore through his chest.

"I'm so… so sorry, Viper." His voice cracked with regret. He dropped to his knees, wrapped the blanket around her with trembling hands, then held her.

This time, she didn't push him away.

She collapsed into his embrace, sobbing against his chest.

The perfect trap.

Viper let him hold her. She let her body tremble in his arms, her sobs soft and fragile, but she never let her guard down.

This was the moment she had crafted.

This was the moment she wanted.

And Deathstalker was falling for it.

"It wasn't totally your fault…" Viper whispered after a while, her voice weak and hesitant. "You were exposed to an aphrodisiac."

Deathstalker stiffened. "I was…"

"The altar boy… he snatched your mask away, didn't he?"

His breath hitched. "Yeah… yeah, he did."

He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I was going to isolate myself after taking a bath… but I underestimated the effect."

A slow smirk flickered over Viper's lips—gone in an instant—as she lowered her head. "You're dangerous, you know that?"

Deathstalker scoffed. "I think you're the dangerous one. You created the poison."

Viper let out a small, soft chuckle.

Deathstalker exhaled sharply before suddenly scooping her up into his arms.

She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders.

"W-where are we going?" she stammered.

"Bathroom. You need a bath."

She buried her face into his chest, her body curling into him as he carried her out of the room.

His teammates were waiting in the living room.

All three of them stared.

Viper's face burned. She hid further against his chest, letting shame do the work for her.

Deathstalker ignored the looks, carrying her into the bathroom. He lowered her gently into the tub, turning on the faucet to let warm water spill over her sore body.

"They say warm water helps with soreness," he murmured, running his fingers through her damp hair.

Then, his voice softened. "I'll buy you painkillers. And birth control."

Viper stiffened.

Then—she started crying again.

"Oh God… what if I'm pregnant?" she whispered, clutching her stomach.

"You won't be." Deathstalker's voice was firm. "That's why I'm getting birth control."

"But it's still possible, right?" Her voice wavered, her fearful eyes locking onto his.

Deathstalker hesitated. "If it happens… I'll take responsibility."

Viper swallowed. "Only if I'm pregnant?"

"Well… yeah, I mean—"

Viper sobbed again.

Deathstalker hushed trying to calm her down.

"I lost my virginity, both of them..." Viper mumbled between her sobs. "Nobody would ever want me..."

"No... No... that's not true. People don't care about virginity any..."

"I CARE!! I CARE about my virginity," Viper shouted then bursting into cry again.

"I'll take the responsible, okay," Deathstalker finally said.

Perfect.

"How ?! By biying me new hymen ?" Viper challenged.

"Be my girl," Deathstalker said firmly. 

Viper's breath hitched.

"I'll take you as my girl as long no man wants you," Deathstalker made an ode.

"You… you mean it?"

"Only if you want me."

Viper hesitated—then nodded.