11-19-2018, 05:47 PM
Hooves clatter on the stoney ground, drawing my attention away from my own anguish. The steps are too light to be the dragon stallion, and if that wasn't enough to give me pause, then the effervescent glow that precedes my guest certainly is. Suddenly my dim residence is illuminated by a mare bathed in white light. An angel, surely, for how else could she know my name? She touches my neck softly, and my chest aches as the muscles of my belly harden again.
"Take this from me. Please. I...AH! Please! I know I haven't done anything to deserve your help. I know." My voice falls into a tiny note of fear and pain as the contraction runs its course. The pressure that has been building all morning is growing too intense to ignore and I drop to my knees as another contraction chases the last. Tears that have been threatening now begin to spill out, leaving silver tracks down my cheeks. Between spasms I hear the sharpness of landing footsteps again, heavier than before. The rhythm is the one I've grown intimately familiar with.
My heart leaps as the familiar splashed face comes into view, only to fall with realization. Something is wrong. He's winded. Castile, my unbreakable Castile, is winded and stumbling. My focus internalizes for another long moment, and I can only breath as he greets my angel. My next comprehension is the stoney expression he's fixed me with this. This is wrong. This is all wrong. He should be anxious but excited, I should be caught up in anticipation, not dread. This should be his baby. And he knows it.
My eyes meet his as my defilement replays itself. "His. Before he stabbed me but after he tore my wing, he... he did this." I can't stand the way he's looking at me. Like I willingly allowed this. Like I betrayed him. My breathing is growing more erratic, its getting close to time. The pain is incredible. "Cas, believe me. Please. I didn't want this. You're mine as I'm yours, and I would never choose another over you, I swear." My voice is rough with misery, vision blurring. I'm breathing too hard, too fast, head feeling light with the beginnings of hyperventilation.
Like fire in my hips I can feel the contractions begin to produce meaning. If I wasn't already in labor, the stress might have been enough to trigger it. As it was, we were all about to witness the culmination of my abuse. Cas and his ire would have to wait until afterward. Now it was time to strain and push and give life to the one who almost died with me.
@[Ilma] @[Castile]
"Take this from me. Please. I...AH! Please! I know I haven't done anything to deserve your help. I know." My voice falls into a tiny note of fear and pain as the contraction runs its course. The pressure that has been building all morning is growing too intense to ignore and I drop to my knees as another contraction chases the last. Tears that have been threatening now begin to spill out, leaving silver tracks down my cheeks. Between spasms I hear the sharpness of landing footsteps again, heavier than before. The rhythm is the one I've grown intimately familiar with.
My heart leaps as the familiar splashed face comes into view, only to fall with realization. Something is wrong. He's winded. Castile, my unbreakable Castile, is winded and stumbling. My focus internalizes for another long moment, and I can only breath as he greets my angel. My next comprehension is the stoney expression he's fixed me with this. This is wrong. This is all wrong. He should be anxious but excited, I should be caught up in anticipation, not dread. This should be his baby. And he knows it.
My eyes meet his as my defilement replays itself. "His. Before he stabbed me but after he tore my wing, he... he did this." I can't stand the way he's looking at me. Like I willingly allowed this. Like I betrayed him. My breathing is growing more erratic, its getting close to time. The pain is incredible. "Cas, believe me. Please. I didn't want this. You're mine as I'm yours, and I would never choose another over you, I swear." My voice is rough with misery, vision blurring. I'm breathing too hard, too fast, head feeling light with the beginnings of hyperventilation.
Like fire in my hips I can feel the contractions begin to produce meaning. If I wasn't already in labor, the stress might have been enough to trigger it. As it was, we were all about to witness the culmination of my abuse. Cas and his ire would have to wait until afterward. Now it was time to strain and push and give life to the one who almost died with me.
@[Ilma] @[Castile]