Drunken Confessions (ii) [R18]

Warning: The content of the following chapter has visual descriptions that might not suit certain readers, I request readers below 18 years of age to skip it. 

"You're perfect for me," Ethan murmured, his trembling hands moving reverently over her bare skin. His touch, heavy with longing, mirrored his words. "Neither your family nor mine could ever understand that," he continued, his voice thick with frustration. As he cupped her breasts, his grip tightened, betraying his anger at the expectations placed upon him.

"Society wanted me to find a gentle wife," he spat bitterly, "but the woman I love was meant to be given to a fool who'd never cherish her as I do." His voice dropped, tinged with possessiveness.

He lifted her breast lightly, as though weighing it. "They're not just perfect," he added, his tone reverent. "They were made for me."

Vivian's breath hitched, her emotions a tempest of anger, confusion, and reluctant affection. The man she admired now worshiped the parts of her she loathed. The court whispered of Ethan's devotion to Flora, yet here he was, marveling at her chest as though divine.

She buried her desires for him years ago when he dedicated his hard-earned accolades to Flora, cementing his role as her suitor. She'd seen him risk his life for those accolades, defending a fort and nearly dying. How could the man who gave so much to Flora now bind and subdue her with praise?

Her spiraling thoughts shattered as Ethan's thumb tugged sharply at her nipple. He chuckled, low and drunken. "Sturdier than I thought," he remarked, his tone curious. "Not as delicate as they look."

Holding her gaze, his hands kneaded her breasts with slow precision. "Even more perfect than I imagined," he murmured. "I've always wondered if they'd spill over my hands. And now… they do."

Vivian's cheeks burned. "You're impossible, Ethan," she snapped, her voice trembling with frustration and humiliation.

Ethan's grin widened. "I'm not jesting, Vivian. I'm worshiping perfection," he replied, his tone reverent. His hands roamed with an unsettling mix of possession and adoration.

"Do you remember the cadet who spread rumors about your grades?" His voice turned sharp. "I made sure he regretted it."

Then, softer, almost as a confession: "No one was going to ruin what was meant to be mine."

Vivian's breath hitched again. She recalled the bully who stopped tormenting her without explanation. Ethan's drunken confession pieced the memory together, leaving her stunned and conflicted.

Bound and bare, she struggled to reconcile the man she respected with the one now claiming her in words and touch.

Noticing her distraction, Ethan's expression darkened. Was she thinking of that gossiping fool instead of him? His grip tightened, and with a sharp tug at her nipples, he pulled her forward into his lap.

Vivian gasped, defiance blazing in her emerald eyes—a look Ethan found maddeningly enchanting. He wanted her obedient to him and defiant to the world.

Her breasts rested heavily on his knees, their weight drawing his attention. Pain left her wincing, but her vulnerability only fueled his triumph. His fingers trailed her waist, pulling her upright to sit with him on the cot.

"Even your strength," he murmured, his thumb circling her navel, "is divine. Soft, yet unyielding."

His gaze drifted upward, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Why are you so large, Vivi?" he mocked. "Swordsmanship? Or something else?"

Her silence amused him, his fingers pressing into her navel to draw a shudder.

"You'd make a fine mother," he murmured indulgently, his hands trailing her sides with reverence.

"But raising obedient children?" He chuckled. "That might be hard with someone as stubborn as you." His tone dipped into possessiveness as his fingers brushed her hip.

Vivian's glare burned, she heaved at the pain. "It's the training—years of swordsmanship," she snapped, trying to halt his whims. She knew the truth—her chest, raw from his teasing, had always been a burden in training.

Ethan's smirk softened. "Training or not," he murmured reverently, "you were sculpted by gods for me alone. No one else will touch what's mine."

Vivian exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Ethan," she muttered, frustration and reluctant acceptance mixing in her voice.

Ethan grinned as his hand traced her side, his touch both teasing and firm. "Impossible? No, Vivian. I'm just thorough," he whispered, his voice dripping with indulgence.

Ethan paused, his grin mischievous and unrestrained, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns over her chest. The haze of alcohol stripped away every layer of his usual restraint, leaving a man driven by long-suppressed desires.

"Vivi," he began, his voice carrying a playful lilt, "do you think all those years sparring with me are to thank for how… prominent these have become?" His fingers lingered, his tone heavy with mock aristocratic indulgence. "Perhaps I should thank myself for contributing to their growth."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and self-satisfied, before leaning in closer.

"If I'd known sparring with me had such benefits, I'd have added it to my daily training schedule." His grin widened, eyes glinting with a mix of drunken arrogance and playful curiosity as he awaited her reaction.

Vivian was still reeling from his shamelessness when Ethan had another idea. He wanted to explore her fully, his drunken logic insisting that she was his to savor, to claim.

With a firm grip on her waist, he pulled her closer, his hands roaming her hips as if they held secrets. He leaned forward, pressing her back onto the cot, his head nestled between her mounds.

For a moment, he stilled, his breath warm against her skin, but soon he raised his head, his glassy blue eyes gleaming with mischief and unchecked desire.

Vivian's breath caught as she stared down at him. The pain from her tormented buds lingered, yet his disheveled, angelic appearance unsettled her more. His golden hair caught the dim light of the hearth, and his muscular upper body pressed against her abdomen. She could feel his sweat against her skin, the heat between them palpable.

Ethan's lips curved with wicked intent as he captured her sensitive nipple, his tongue moving with maddening precision, sending sharp waves of sensation coursing through her body.

"And now," he murmured against her skin, his voice heavy with triumph, "I finally get to savor what I've only imagined."

His attention shifted to her other bruised bud, and he smirked.

"They're so massive," he teased, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. "Do they hold milk?"

Vivian's face burned with fury, but before she could snap a response, his lips latched on again, his sucking unrelenting and deliberate. She gasped, the pain mingling with sensations she couldn't suppress.

"Someday," Ethan whispered, his voice low and possessive, "I'll taste your milk."

His hands roamed her hips with newfound fascination, kneading and pinching as if committing their contours to memory.

A drunken realization lit his mind—her hips were a hidden vulnerability. His touch grew bolder, his fingers pressing and teasing her sides, drawing involuntary shivers from her.

"Beautiful, Vivi," he said, his blue eyes gleaming with playful arrogance. "Your body seem to crave me, don't they?"

His words, laden with mischief and awe, left her cheeks burning with humiliation and reluctant heat. Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to her chest, his lips capturing her other nipple with unrestrained fervor.

Vivian's breath hitched, anger and vulnerability twisting within her. "You...," she snapped, her voice trembling, though her defiance remained.

Ethan leaned closer, his breath brushing her skin. "Go on," he dared, his voice a low taunt. "Scream. Let them hear what you really sound like."

The Ethan she knew—the composed, disciplined soldier—was gone, replaced by a man wholly consumed by his desires. Each touch, unrestrained and deliberate, left her reeling. His drunken courage revealed the depth of emotions he had buried, transforming him into someone raw, unfiltered, and utterly consuming.

He looked up at her face, her breath ragged, escaping through slightly parted lips. Her wide, uncertain eyes and trembling mouth captivated him, momentarily drawing his focus from her chest to something far deeper.

With a possessive hunger, his lips claimed hers in a fervent kiss, his tongue exploring with unrestrained passion. When he pulled back, his smirk softened, his voice slurred yet filled with sincerity.

"The soldiers were right," he murmured. "A kiss truly is the most intimate connection."

Vivian's cheeks flamed as his words settled. Could this really be his first? "Have you… never kissed anyone before?" she asked hesitantly.

Ethan's grin widened, disarmingly honest. "I've never wanted to kiss anyone but you."

Her surprise was palpable, but his brief triumph darkened as jealousy crept into his expression. "Tell me, Vivi," he demanded, his tone low and sharp, "was this your first kiss too?"

Her silence shattered his fleeting satisfaction. His blue eyes burned with frustration as he cupped her face, his grip both possessive and pleading.

"Answer me," he insisted, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

When she remained quiet, his anger flared. How could she, laid bare beneath him, still defy him?

Driven by jealousy, he leaned down, sharply nipping on an exposed bud. The sting jolted her, forcing a gasp as her body arched instinctively. Ethan watched her reaction with a mix of satisfaction and regret. His lips brushed over the tender spot, a fleeting apology mixed with his unspoken claim.

"You drive me mad," he murmured, his voice trembling with frustration and awe. "How can you make me feel this way and still refuse to be mine?"

Vivian, her pride still seething from his last attack, asked, "Is this how you deal with heartbreak? Substituting me for Flora?" Her voice trembled with frustration.

Ethan's expression darkened. Flora was nothing more than a younger sister he pitied, compared to the fiery woman now in his arms. Without a word, he shifted Vivian onto his lap, her bare back pressing against his chest, her weight resting against him. His touch became his confession, tracing her torso with possessive need.

Even drunk, his restraint held. His pants stayed on, but his hands explored her curves with deliberate intent. To Ethan, each caress was a claim. But to Vivian, his actions screamed that he needed her body, not her.

His fingers moved over her mounds, kneading with precision, his thumbs teasing her sensitive peaks. His lips traced her back and collarbones, pressing deliberate kisses against her skin. Occasionally, his fingers tugged at her bitten bud, calculated to evoke both pain and submission. Her fiery glare pierced his drunken haze.

"How does it feel, Ethan," she hissed, "to toy with my body while thinking about Flora?"

Her accusation cut through his haze. His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. "Heartbreak?" he echoed bitterly. Twisting her body toward him, he bit her other bud harder this time, silencing her with a deliberate sting. She stiffened, the intimate pain breaking her defenses.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Ethan's expression softened as he brushed it with his tongue, a twisted apology.

"If I loved Flora," he murmured, "would I endure your insufferable brat of your brother or silence fools who gossip about you?"

His unwavering gaze held a sincerity that left no doubt.

He cupped her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. "You're not a substitute, Vivian. You're everything." His tone softened, but the possessiveness remained, fueling his triumph.

Her disheveled hair framed her flushed face, and her reddened buds seemed to glare back at him as if they, too, protested his actions. The sight, at first, amused him.

"Both you and your body defy me," he murmured with a faint smirk, though a flicker of guilt crossed his drunken gaze. "Your strength only makes you more irresistible."

His expression softened as he hesitated, his calloused hand cradling her breast with unexpected care. "Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice quieter now. His thumb gently grazed her hardened bud, his touch less intrusive, more exploratory.

When she didn't respond, he leaned in, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak with careful precision. "It'll feel better now," he murmured, his words carrying a drunken earnestness that revealed his faltering confidence.

Vivian's eyes fell, her frustration mingling with confusion as she tried to understand his shifting demeanor. Ethan's smirk returned, but this time it held a trace of vulnerability. "You like it, don't you?" he teased, though his tone lacked the sharpness it once carried, as if seeking reassurance more than dominance.

The winter chill of Altona brushed against her bruised skin when Ethan moved his head away. Gently, he untied her strained hands, his brows furrowing as he inspected them for bruises. He kissed her wrists lightly, lingering as though trying to erase the marks of his earlier fervor. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he murmured, his voice thick with remorse.

Guiding her back against his chest, he held her close, her bare skin pressing against his sweat-slicked torso. Despite the freezing air, she didn't resist, her body reluctantly melting into his as they shared warmth.

Ethan's grip tightened slightly, his lips brushing her temple in a silent apology. His drunken haze seemed to clear slightly, and he savored her hesitant surrender, wondering how he could make her stay.

He held her close, his hands trailing over her body with a mix of playfulness and fascination. She captivated him, glistening slightly with a thin layer of sweat. He gently cupped her mounds, as though to ease their weight, and Vivian adjusted her body, letting them rest fully in his welcoming palms. He marveled at their heaviness.

"Do you think they're ugly, or just too heavy?" he asked suddenly, his tone softer, carrying an unexpected softness.

Vivian hesitated, her gaze flickering away before returning to his intense, questioning eyes. Finally, she muttered, "They've only ever caused me trouble."

Ethan frowned, tilting his head slightly. "Trouble?" he asked, his voice softening. "What do you mean?"

Vivian sighed, a flicker of weariness crossing her features as she began to elaborate. "Back at the academy, I was the only female student in the Warrior department. Most of the men couldn't stand losing to me, so they… found other ways to make me feel weak."

Her voice quavered slightly, but she pressed on. "Once, a group of boys barged into the dressing room while I was changing. One of them held my arms while the others…" Her voice broke momentarily before she continued, "They..."

Ethan's grip on her tightened, his jaw clenching as his blue eyes darkened. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice edged with fury.

"I awakened my aura," she said, her tone hardening with a hint of defiance. "I made sure they never tried anything like that again. The academy covered it up, of course, and I… I wanted to forget it."

For a moment, Ethan was silent, his anger palpable. "They're beautiful, Vivi," he said at last, his voice firm but gentle. "Those men… they probably dreamed about you in secret after what they did."