Chapter Text
“I suppose the risk of you biting my head off makes this worth the risk— would you agree, weaver~?”
Grimm's voice, normally insufferable, proud, and theatrical, was the only thing keeping her sane. Hornet can only gurgle in response; her fangs were clenched tight around the balled up fabric in her mouth. And she couldn't remove it if she wanted to— both hands bound behind her back by her own silk. Normally, being put in such a vulnerable position might panic her.
But when Grimm has two of those sinfully long fingers pressed deep into her slit, curling and rubbing against the nerves that made her vision blur, she couldn't give a damn about how weak she was. All she wanted was more, more please—
Grimm hooks his fingers again, and rubs firm circles into that spot that made Hornet nearly choke on her gag, hips twitching violently, as a rush of fresh slick spills from her cunt. The nightmare king behind her laughs— an annoyingly attractive sound that makes her squirm against her binds. But he uses one hand to spread open her slit more, speaking with a faux-sympathy, “I'm so so sorry for having to tie you up like so, your highness. But we can both agree that consuming me after our copulation wouldn't be preferable, now would it?”
Hornet wanted to snap at him, wanted to goad him into untying her so she could sink her fangs into his flesh that surely tasted sweet and addicting. Venom beads at her mandibles, the fabric sizzling a bit as it burns through, but remaining steadfast in keeping her from back-talking him.
Which was exactly what he wanted, she thinks. He wanted to be the one spewing filthy words while all she could do was lay there and—
A third finger cuts off her thoughts, and her back arches, and she growls, the sound melting into a moan around the makeshift gag in her mouth. It was a thicker stretch than before, and Grimm seems all too happy to draw out this unnecessary prepwork. Normally, they would move faster— she would pin him down and bite at his neck as she forced his cock inside her slit, as she rode him until the both of them were snarling, moaning, until—
“Keep your thoughts here, princess,” Grimm coos, with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers. It makes her squirm, gasping and shuddering, as they brush all the oversensitive nerves inside her soaking wet slit. Gods, she was making a mess; the fluid steadily oozing down her thighs, coating his hand, the blankets and— she didn't even realize, but her hips were rocking back against the curling motions of his fingers, fucking herself onto his hand.
Pathetic, reduced to base instincts. Instincts that made her drool at the idea of sinking her fangs into him and tearing him apart, and eating every—
“Focus, I said,” Grimm snaps, and he withdraws his fingers to glide them over the lips of her slit instead, making her whine and shake violently. She tries to beg, tries to say something behind the gag, but all he does is laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, you can beg all you want, but you were the one who agreed to be tied up now, weren't you?”
That was infuriatingly true, but it didn't mean she wanted to be teased and edged. She wanted him to pin her down and fuck that cock deep into her until she could no longer think. And she expresses her displeasure at waiting with a snarl behind the gag. It was muffled, sounded pathetically weak, and it made Grimm laugh again.
“I say, I think as much as I like to hear you sing—” And he punctuates that thought with a particularly rough thrust of his fingers that has her shaking and squirming. “—I also enjoy when you can't spit your venom-tongue at me, weaver. All you can do is lay there, and let me ravage you with the passion of my flames, yes~?”
The three fingers fucking her cunt open make it incredibly hard to think; especially when they pick up the pace, slipping deep into her with wet, slick noises. Her chest heaved, and she whimpers behind her gag, squirming. It was so pathetic, how easily this was affecting her. So rarely, did she give up the reins of control to someone else. And now here she was, at his mercy, and it shouldn't make her slit so wet, so achingly needy. But it does, and when he withdraws his fingers from her hole once more, she damn near sobs.
“Patience, sweet princess,” Grimm coos again. That faux-softness was making her head spin, and she tried to swallow down the venom and saliva pooling in her mouth, panting around the fabric gagging her. Grimm reaches his other hand down to gently stroke at the cool whiteness of her mask, giggling. “Calm, weaver. I'll bring you to your bliss soon enough; have patience.”
And although the roaring beast that seeked to dominate and claim threw a violent fit inside her chest, she remains laying there: helpless, bound, shaking, and throbbing.
Grimm shuffles behind her, and then she feels his long fingers spread open her cunt, as he chuckles, looking over her sex. It makes her burn with embarrassment, and she whines a little, but does not dare to pull from his touch. He had his reasons, and she trusted him to reward her obedience with pleasure. The pleasure she so eagerly needed, that would quell the aching in her core.
Two fingers move to start rubbing slow, teasing circles around her hole, and her eyes roll to the back of her head as she gasps, arching to try and maybe encourage those digits to sink inside again, to fuck into her and— but no, Grimm pulls them, back, and with another rustle of fabric—
Grimm pushes his cock into her; long, thick, and so hot as it presses inside, and she fights the urge to scream, whimpering and shaking violently as he presses flush into her. He leans down, chest pressed into her back, and he whispers, “Now princess, let us see how many times I can fill you before you break.”
And Hornet can only arch in response, whining for him, her mate.