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Honestly, it was more of a frog march than a romantic post-ceremony stroll, but the joke was on him because I was into being manhandled.
Pity for him that he didn’t know my brain was wired wrong. Whenever I saw pointed teeth, I imagined them pressing against the delicate skin of my neck, pinning me in place while my monstrous lover fucked me ruthlessly into the mattress. Or the ground. Or the wall. Basically anywhere he could have me.
I wasn’t opposed to being hunted through the palace halls and consensually ravished, but I wanted to know him a little better before we played that way.
