Chapter Text
You couldn’t put a finger on the pulse point of what went wrong with König.
Maybe it was the long months he spent away, that made distance begin to swell in your heart, eating through the purity of the love you had for him. Perhaps it was the fact he missed the birth of your third child, a baby girl, because he was earning huge amounts of money doing god knows what, in some far flung corner of the world.
When he came back to you there was a second honeymoon each time. All pacific blue eyes and puppyish adoration, that boy like charm that lightened his harsh features would reel you in. It was almost suffocating. König adored you and the family you gave him. But you felt he enjoyed the violent glamour of mercenary life more, continually putting it above you all, and that was a bitter pill to keep swallowing.
Then there were the moods. Black storm clouds of darkness that seemed to descend on him without rhyme or reason. It could be an innocuous comment about his absent and longed for father, made via Skype by his Oma. Or just an everyday inconvenience like someone cutting him off at an intersection. But tendrils of a vicious melancholy would inch over his personality like a sickness, dragging you under the heavy mist of it too, until you were at each other’s throats spitting venom.
König would beg your forgiveness, tender kisses and stolen moments when the children were in bed. Then he’d be gone again with the promise of improvement, spending more time at home in the near future, that never seemed to come to fruition.
Your babies would sob for him and you would have to sweep up the pieces of the hole in your lives, for however long it took him to get paid.
The straw tenuously holding you together, was ripped to shreds after König told you he was sending money, in lieu of coming home for Christmas. He couldn’t understand why you were so upset, he’d make it up to you once he got home and buy the kids plenty of tat to help them forget he’d been away. As ever his selfishness stung, but this time it tipped you into a precipice of self preservation.
You’d packed the 4x4 up and left to stay with your parents for the foreseeable, your darling boys and sweet sleeping girl in the rearview. When you sent the divorce papers to his base, he returned them with a post it note stating plainly he’d signed up for ‘death do you part’. König intended to hold you to those vows by force if necessary.
It was clear in his normally neat handwriting, now blurred with fury. Splashes of ink staining the paper like droplets of murky blue blood, rips in the fragile material where his fist had driven the pen clean through it.
That should have been a warning sign.
König took the next flight home, though no amount of pleading would change your mind. So an uneasy truce was reached, you would stay in the house he paid for indefinitely and König would get visitation whenever he was on leave. Everything remained in his name, the bank accounts were always full of his dirty money, but he signed the papers legally ending your duty as a wife.
Except that it made absolutely no difference. König came home like a victorious barbarian every few months. Sliding easily back into the house and heading straight for your marital bed. It was such a pain to get the locks changed after all and honestly you doubted whether that would stop him.
Before you could protest, he’d be nose deep in your folds, eating your pussy so rapturously it almost made your sleepy brain forget about the bullshit of being married to him. König would make love to you with his tongue and you’d make excuses for why he couldn’t fuck you. It was inappropriate for one thing. But König barely listened, sensing the way your resolve crumbled every time you felt his hung cock harden just for you.
“No one else can fuck you like this Maus. Let’s have one more baby ja? We always wanted four and I know you would like another girl.”
It was insidious, the way he made you question your own valid reasoning for abandoning the ship wrecked union, every time he brought you to a shaking peak beneath him. He would be ravenous, pussy drunk and it reminded you of better times before the tempest of separation took hold. Hands in his cropped hair dragged him into the crook of your neck, where he placed burning love bites, like he wanted to replace your missing wedding ring.
One night, after eons of time without the weight of a man between your thighs, you got ballsy and let the sweet but slightly nerdy guy from the bar take you home. Out with your girlfriends, they encouraged you to accept a drink from him. In the half light and under the influence of a crisp Chardonnay, he was cute and you wanted some affection.
In his apartment, you examined the extensive collection of Warhammer figurines, painstakingly decorated with a steady hand.
It was a solitary and average shag, which you thought little about. It scratched that particular itch, a craving for closeness you’d been so sorely lacking. A few texts were exchanged afterwards, then you politely dipped out of the conversation.
You had no idea, that while eating cheerios with your sons at the kitchen table one morning, they had innocently mentioned to König that their aunty had babysat so you could go out. Your little boys were full of excitement, telling their daddy how they’d watched cartoons until past bedtime, not noticing the violent possessiveness clouding over König’s features.
“What time did mama get home, tell me?”
They told him happily you hadn’t come back until morning, you were none the wiser. König’s usually mischievous disposition had evaporated, replaced by something frighteningly savage.
It was also news to you, that König had the password to your phone. He needed that to install a tracker obviously, so silly maus to think he would allow you to roam around unchecked while he was abroad.
It took him less than five minutes to find out the man’s name. Your chat history had signed the poor blokes death warrant.
A few days later, you’re idly flicking through the channels on the TV, sipping a coffee from the expensive machine he bought you for your birthday. There’s been an animal attack in a park nearby, suspected bear but the details are unclear.
Then the image of your one night stand plays across the screen and you choke, rasping for breath. Shit! Poor guy! It feels odd to see him plastered on the screen, especially because you have no idea why anyone would go camping in the middle of November. It’s even more puzzling that he got attacked by a wild creature, in your quiet little town that hasn’t seen anything of the sort for years.
But you’re busy, dealing with an increasingly territorial ex husband and three little ones. König’s intensity is bordering on obsessive, he insists on going everywhere with you under the guise of not missing out on time with his children.
You try and argue that the kids are at school and you don’t need him to help with the groceries, but it falls on deaf ears. He’s got tinnitus remember? From one too many explosive devices being detonated nearby.
So your weird feeling about your now deceased night of fun, is replaced by concerns König is getting a little bit too comfortable. Out in the garden, König unashamedly dumps his blood soaked clothes into the fire pit, building a roaring blaze so hot, it takes hours to get it cool enough for you all to toast marshmallows on.
Later on, he lays easily in the kingsize you bought when you moved in, long legs spread out like he owns the place. He does of course, but that isn’t the point. You try not to think about what the sight of the dark hair covering his navel and creeping down underneath his boxers, does to your libido.
“The spare room is made up. You can sleep in there tonight.” You tell him firmly.
König grins maliciously up at you.
“I can’t eat your cunt out that far away maus.” He stretches languidly and gets under the covers, then pats the bed beside him. “Get in and don’t argue.”
You try and make a fuss, ranting in hushed whispers that he’s overstepping your boundaries. In one dizzying motion, his body is next to yours, broad palms on your cheeks, so you’re forced to look up into his marred face, every scar waxy in the warm light of the bedside lamp.
“I could drag you into bed kicking and screaming Schatz, but I’d far rather you spent that pent up energy sitting on my face.” He looks entertained by that, like it’s tickled his odd sense of humour. He always did snort with poorly timed mirth at other people’s misfortune.
Snarling with annoyance at the sight of him lounging in your high thread count sheets, you turn on heel and make towards the chilled hallway.
A heavy hand lands on your shoulder before you can reach it, almost weighing down your steps so it feels like you’re moving through treacle. Then he locks the bedroom door and puts the key on top of the wardrobe. He knows you can’t retrieve it up there.
Like so many nights before, König has you straddling his lap after hours of sloppy, desperate foreplay. His thick fingers cut into the meat of your hips, as he drives your shuddering body down on his weeping prick at an unnaturally savage pace.
Every vein obvious on the tautness of his swollen shaft is teasing you, effortlessly dragging against the walls of your hyper stimulated core until tears pool in your eyes. The sound of your slick is pornographic, bouncing off the tastefully painted walls.
König is glassy eyed too, his short hair sticking up at odd angles, where your hands attempted to tug him away from suckling your clit until it throbbed with both pleasure and pain. It’s what you needed, the thing you crave the most while he’s gone. A ferocious fuck that has your body transformed into liquid by the end, a burning sensation in your gut where he’s planted himself so deeply it’s like he wants to reshape your body to fit his.
“Look at me.” König hisses through his teeth, the words strained as the muscles on his chest tense, fighting to hold off his impending release. “I want to see your eyes roll back when I make you cum again.”
He snaps his hips up hard, pounding into your soaked cunt and spreading your legs so wide you almost break then and there. Deep set and heavily lidded, his gaze sweeps your sweat sheened body, while he grunts with each jerk inside you.
König flips you onto your back, one leg resting on his muscled shoulder, face now so close to yours that you can almost taste his perspiration. The new angle of his cock tearing into you, makes the crest of the wave shatter and you cream for him, a milky collection of your arousal forming a ring at his base.
When you finally regain consciousness, following the blissful sensation of being fucked through a hard earned fourth orgasm, König is tense above you. Like a coiled spring, every nerve in his body is alight with the need to spill until your cunt overflows with his seed.
“Let me cum maus. Bitte.”
There’s a pause, but the minute you give him the order he’s rutting into you until he starts to soften, painting your soft walls with thick spend. König lies shuddering at your side, back to his needy alter ego, with gentle touches and huffs of endless devotion.
You forget sometimes, that there’s nothing your former husband loves more than being your loyal servant. A man who’s life has been built around following explicit commands, and who craves your direction. Even while he revels in asserting himself over you, ultimately you’re the one who gives him permission to let himself go fully.
The power exchange is a hell of a drug. A guard dog tamed into your lap, while it snarls at everyone around you with a curled lip and harsh fangs.
You wake the next morning feeling boneless, melted into a mattress still sticky with sweat. König gets up early always, you can hear him downstairs with the kids. No doubt he’s playing house during an interlude where you’re not there to remind him, he can’t choose when he steps into that role on a whim.
By the time you make it into the kitchen, everyone is in the garden running riot. You watch König using the hose to aim jets of water at your boys, as they shriek and duck, while your youngest hangs off one of his thick calves.
The news is still repeating the macabre bear attack story on an endless loop. It makes your skin prickle, a nervous sense that there’s something at the periphery of your consciousness you’re not picking up on, because it won’t move into the daylight.
König is standing at the outside tap, scrubbing copious amounts of coppery mud from his heavy boots and flushing it down the drain.
“Do you think we should be worried? About bears?” You ask him, thinking about the way your property backs onto open woodland.
He doesn’t even look up from the movement of the stiff brush against the soles.
“No, you don’t need to be worried.” König flicks a bit of grass off one of his laces nonchalantly. You ponder the easy sincerity through which those words are formed. That same uneasy sensation gnawing at the pit of your throat.
“I got the boys a present, it’s in the car.” There’s something in his eyes a little like malevolence, the baby blue of them crinkling at the edges as they flash wickedly up at you from his crouched position.
It’s a Warhammer introductory set. Eerily similar to the figurines you admired in the apartment of your one night of fun.
Nausea creeps into your stomach, a dread filled tingling sense of horror at the realisation your ex husband borrowed your car that night. The same car you’re standing next to, door half open. The one that has the little car seats in the back, your daughters beakers and stuffed toys haphazardly scattered throughout the interior.
You don’t hear him approaching behind you, until he’s pressed up against your back. He moves quietly, no heavy footfalls, only the steps of a trained soldier, bred to sneak towards the enemy unawares.
Wide glossy eyes gaze up into his satisfied face.
“What’s the problem Liebling? You like these little models do you not?”
Oh fuck.