Gothikana: A Dark Academia Gothic Romance

by RuNyx .

  “Because of the full moon?” she asked putting her bag down, her mind still lingering on the conversation she’d had with Mrs. Remi.

  He gave her a strange look, one she couldn’t decipher, and started the ignition. “Because driving up the mountain after dark is dangerous. Driving up the mountain after dark during a storm is lethal,” he pointed at the roiling, tumultuous clouds in the rapidly darkening sky, speeding towards the mountain.

  She bit her lip and fidgeted with the strap crossing her chest, bisecting her heavier breasts in a way that was severely uncomfortable but necessary.

  “You sent your letter?” he asked quietly as they edged near the end of the town, houses growing sparser with every passing mile.

  “Yes. Your errand went well?” she asked, not understanding the very polite way they were suddenly having a conversation about something mundane. It felt odd, new, but not entirely bad.

  “Yes,” he swerved the car over the first curve as the incline began. “I take it Mrs. Remi told you about the local legends?”

  Corvina, who had been looking out the window at the view – a window he had rolled down for her without her saying it, turned to him. “You know Mrs. Remi?”

  “Yes. I’ve been to the post office often enough,” he supplied, driving confidently under the worsening weather.

  “What do you think about the Slayers?” she asked him, curious to know his thoughts on the legends.

  A side of his mouth tipped up slightly. “Those ruins in the woods you like so much? They’re called Slayers Ruins. People say that’s where they used to bring people, where they were found,” he slowed as the elevation increased, “and where they were killed.”

  Wind whipped through the car. “How many of them were there?”

  “Seven, I think,” he replied.

  “But there are fifteen unmarked graves,” Corvina pointed out. “I counted.”

  He smiled slightly. “Interesting, isn’t it? If you believe the local legend about those graves being theirs, then who else is buried there?”

  Corvina put her thumb in her mouth, thinking.

  He chuckled darkly at her silence. “The graves are empty, little crow. Don’t think too much about it. Anyone who’s followed the investigation knows that.”

  Corvina ignored the view outside for a moment, watching him, his muscled forearms exposed under the sleeves that were pushed back, his skilled, wonderful hands mastering the car like he mastered the instrument he loved so much.

  “What’s your interest in the investigation?” she asked him quietly, needing to get a sense of his involvement in any of it.

  He smiled but remained silent, leaving her even more confused.

  The first fat drop of cold water hit her cheek. Corvina gazed out the window. They had driven up high enough on the mountain road that nothing but a thick white cloud of fog blanketed everything below them. Above them, the skies turned an angry purple and grey, darkening everything enough to make the headlights seem like the only light.

  A loud boom of thunder rumbled all around them, and the skies burst open, pouring their wrath down on the earth.

  Mr. Deverell cursed, slowing to a crawl as she rolled her window up on the side quickly.

  “Shouldn’t we stop?” Corvina asked cautiously, looking to see him entirely focused on navigating the road.

  He shook his head. “The storm is coming in too strong. We’ll roll right down if we stop now.”

  She swallowed once, her heart beginning to pound as her knees began to shake slightly. “But-”

  “There’s a space up ahead for turning around,” he informed her, shifting gears as the car groaned and the wind howled. “It’s relatively flat. We just need to get there before the storm worsens.”

  Corvina nodded and stayed silent, letting him concentrate on getting them to safer ground, her mind whirling with the tempest outside. Is this what her mother had meant in the nightmare about a storm and a devil keeping her safe – this silver-eyed devil and this storm? Or had she meant something else? More importantly, how did her mama in her dream know about any of it?

  After what felt like hours of crawling up the mountain at snail’s pace, fighting against the onslaught of the wind and the rain, Corvina saw a little flat space to the left, almost enough for a car to park. She watched as Mr. Deverell expertly maneuvered the huge vehicle into the space and turned the ignition off. As the vehicle went dark, he slumped back in his seat, gripping the sides of his neck and letting a breath out.

  He cracked his window down an inch, cold wind assailing the insides of the car even from the small space, and opened the dashboard, bringing out a pack of cigarettes.

  “You mind?” he asked, and she shook her head. God knew the stress had been enough to drive anyone up a wall.

  He took one out and placed it between his lips. His hand shuffled items in the dashboard, his agitation growing as he couldn’t find the lighter. “Fuck!”

  Corvina brought up the bag she’d settled between her feet, zipping it open and scrounging in for the box of matchsticks she always kept with her. Finding the small cardboard box, she took it, picked a stick, and struck it against the side.

  The wood lit up with a crackle and she turned to him, her heart stuttering as she saw his silver intensity on her. Those turbulent, mercurial eyes watched her with a ferocity unmatched, the unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as the matchstick burned, lighting up the space between them in an orange glow. Feeling a sudden burst of shyness, Corvina broke their gazes and brought the burning stick up to the cigarette.

  He took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew on the matchstick, extinguishing the little light between them, ensconcing them in the dark silence. The sound of the rain battering the car was loud in the quiet insides, the cool air from the crack in the window keeping her from feeling suffocated. Unclipping her seatbelt, Corvina put her bag down between her feet, the matchbox falling to her lap.

  “I can’t get attached,” his words in that deep, gravel voice of his broke through the silence.

  Corvina looked at her nails, neatly trimmed and unpainted, and wanted to bite them for a second. She had been a nail-biter years ago, a habit her mama got rid of by putting some kind of bitter oil around her fingers that tasted awful.

  She knew exactly what he was telling her.

  She replied, worrying the nail of her index finger. “But why are you telling me this, Mr. Deverell?”

  "Vad,” he reminded her.

  “Vad,” she spoke his name in the quiet of the car.

  “You know exactly why I’m telling you,” she felt him turn fully towards her in the limited space. “I cannot afford to get attached. My emotions are off the table. I have other things to focus on at the moment. But this thing, it’s getting hungrier every single day.”

  Corvina turned to him, her heart pounding at his words.

  “There’s no one here, Corvina,” he told her using her given name like that for the first time, his gaze heated but severe on hers. “Only us. Whatever does or does not happen here will stay here.”

  “And after we get back, nothing changes,” she finished for him.

  His hand came forward, taking the tip of her braid between his fingers even as their gazes stayed locked. He brushed one of her pebbled nipples with the tail-end of her own braid, the feathery sensation sending a long shiver over her body.

  “This is the time we can succumb to your sorcery,” he stated softly, his pupils dilating, the braid in his fingers wreaking havoc on her sensitized nipple. “The one time I’ll allow myself to possess you.”

  Corvina swallowed down her nerves. She wanted it. The one time to follow her urges and expunge this madness from her flesh.

  “Will you regret it after?” she asked him, remembering the aftermath of their kiss.

  Understanding dawned over his face in the dark. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her nose, right above her piercing. “I never regretted kissing you, little crow.”

  C
orvina looked at his face, so close to hers, her body warm. “Then what did you regret?”

  “Having to end it.”

  Her heart stuttered at hearing him say that. She hadn’t realized how much she had needed him to say that until that moment.

  “So just one taste, then?” she asked, repeating his words from the library.

  He flicked her nipple with the tail of her braid in response. “One taste. A deeper taste.”

  This was the universe giving her a birthday gift, the man she had wanted for months from afar finally hers to take for a night stuck on a mountain away from civilization. This was her one chance to understand what it felt like to be claimed.

  “Possess me then,” she whispered against his lips and the words hung in the air between them, crackling, colliding, consuming.

  She was suddenly out of her seat and over him, her skirt pooling around then, her braid fisted around his hand, tugging her head back as his mouth opened over her neck. He licked the line of her neck, the wet trail of his tongue making a gush of liquid fire pool between her legs, right where she was pressed against his bulge, just the flimsy fabric of her panties between them. She clutched his shoulders with her hands, feeling the warm muscles under her palm, feeling the heat rolling off his skin.

  “I thought you didn’t like wearing underwear,” he grit out against her neck, his other hand going under her skirt to trace the cotton on her panties.

  “Doesn’t mean I don’t wear one,” she moaned as his teeth worked over her lobe. “I just like going without some days.”

  “Fuck,” he pulled on her braid. “And here I was thinking about you going bare with all those salivating little boys around you.”

  “You’re not that older,” she ran her hand over his shoulder and up his neck, into his hair, touching that distinctive white streak she’d wanted to touch for a long time.

  “Old enough to make you come like a firecracker around my cock.”

  Her walls squeezed around empty air at his growled words, begging to be filled. It was in that moment she thanked the doctors who had put the patch on during her tests. She wasn’t ready for a consequence of the tryst after it was over.

  His left hand boldly cupped her between her legs, the heel of his palm pressing into that sweet, sweet spot that made black spots dance around her eyes. She’d never felt this, never been possessed, owned, claimed like this with just one touch. Everything inside her melted, bowed, submitted to the thrust of his power, aligning around him, like a stream wrapping fiercely around the rock that cut through it.

  He wrapped his fist around the fabric right between her legs and twisted it up, the pressure of it mashing right into her clit with such force she knew it would be swollen after. Her eyes closed of their own accord, head falling back as his lips trailed down her neck, over her chest, his breath falling right on her engorged nipple. It strained further towards the warmth, needing it, wanting it, wanting to be submerged in it.

  He rubbed the bunched cotton of her panties against her, breathed and blew over her nipple, over and over and over, keeping her in place with his hand around her braid, controlling her body without even touching her flesh, and the heady sensation of being so utterly, completely at his mercy shot through her nerves, coiling the serpent of desire tighter and tighter and tighter in her belly, until she felt strummed, hanging on the precipice of a cliff she couldn’t see.

  And then he flicked her nipple with his tongue. Just once.

  She crashed.

  Down the cliff, into the oblivion, splattered with sensations so intense her mouth opened on a silent scream, her body shaking, toes curling, back arching as much as it could in the limited space.

  It lasted for seconds, minutes, hours, she couldn’t tell. But she became aware of her panties being ripped in his grip, the bite of fabric sharp on her hip, the chill of the air naked on her exposed flesh.

  “Look at me,” he commanded, and her eyes opened of their own volition, finding his molten silver ones in the little light coming from the moon. That was also when she suddenly became aware of the silence. She looked out, surprised to see that the torrential rain had slowed to a drizzle, the clouds had parted enough for the moon to shine on. Which meant they had to head back soon and it would be over.

  Her scalp prickled as he tugged her braid. “Eyes.”

  She locked gazes with him.

  “I’m clean. I’ve had a vasectomy done. I’m assuming you are clean?” he asked her seriously.

  Corvina nodded. “I’ve… I’ve never done this before.”

  The heat in his eyes flared as he sank his middle finger inside her, her wet inner walls clenching around him in relief.

  “You chose the wrong guy for your first time, little crow,” he murmured to her, pushing in another finger, stretching her out as she breathed through her mouth.

  “What?” she asked softly, her fingers flexing in his thick hair.

  “But it’s too late now,” he scissored his fingers inside her, eliciting a moan from deep within her. “I’m going to fuck you so raw you’ll never get me out. This time is mine. This pussy is mine.”

  “For now,” Corvina reminded him on a whimper.

  His response was to pull his fingers out and slap her pussy, stinging it enough to make wetness gush out, as though punishing her for saying that.

  “Take me out,” he told her and she slid her hands down his hard, rising chest to his stomach, feeling the packs of muscles under her palms, and finally down to the belt that held his jeans. She undid it, fumbling slightly at the belt and finally figuring it out, pulled his zip down carefully over his bulge, and put her hand inside, holding a man for the first time. He felt heavy, pulsing, big, much bigger than she’d expected or her hands could wrap around.

  “Good girl,” he groaned as she squeezed him experimentally, sending a zap of pleasure coursing through her. “Balance yourself on my shoulders.”

  Corvina did, her chest heaving as he pushed a lever on the side of his seat, sliding it and sending the back flat, enough to make room for movement. He lined up his cock with her, holding her hips with both hands, and locked eyes with her.

  “This is our madness.”

  Corvina nodded, the lust in the air infusing every inch of her being. It was their madness. Just this time, if she could see where it went, what the end to this lust was, she could stay satisfied.

  His grip on her hips tightened a split second before he thrust up, pulling her down simultaneously, lodging half his length inside her in one stroke.

  Corvina screamed at the intrusion, her muscles shrieking as they got penetrated by what felt like a battering ram trying to split her open. Eyes stinging, she breathed through her mouth, trying to adjust to his thickness and length, both so foreign they felt unreal.

  “Oh god,” she whimpered as he pulled her down a bit more.

  “Shh,” she heard him whispering into her neck, his nose nuzzling her, his hands on her hips massaging her, softly settling her down. “Good girl,” he kissed her piercing, her wet cheeks, the corners of her uplifted eyes. “Such a good girl. Relax your muscles. That’s it. You feel your pussy softening for me?”

  Corvina did, her muscles opening up to him, welcoming him as he sank an inch deeper.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Look at me.”

  She gave him her eyes.

  “Magic eyes, magic pussy,” he murmured again, looking all over her face. “Little witch.”

  “Devil. Devil of Verenmore,” she whispered to him, closing that last inch and sinking on him entirely, clinging to his shoulder as the fire between her legs simmered somewhere between pleasure at his fullness and pain at his invasion.

  “More than you know,” he said, spearing one hand into her hair and tilting her head to the side, his mouth slanting over her as his other hand guided her hip up. Their tongues met, separated, glided as he pulled his hips as far as the seat would allow and snapped in, spearing her in her two in a dance her body instinctively recogn
ized. Her hips moved of their own volition, rotating over his cock, going up and down, her inner walls melding around him like they’d been created for it. He let her have her time, adjusting and discovering the newfound sensations, choosing to cup her breasts in the meantime, plucking her nipples with those skilled, deviant fingers, playing them like a maestro.

  Her thigh muscles started to burn, her pace slowing down.

  He gave her ass a little slap. “Get up,” he told her, pulling himself out, lifting her up slightly, and opening the door on the side. Corvina gasped as cold air rushed over her exposed, sensitive pussy, watching him with disbelief as he stood in the very light drizzle in the dark, his fist wrapped around his cock.

  She swallowed, looking up to meet his gaze as he pushed her flat on her back onto the seat, gripping her behind one knee and opening her up even more, his other hand holding onto the opening of the car towards the roof. She was locked in place, with only the space to move her hands.

  His mouth came down on hers just as he entered her again with a thrust so hard it rocked the car, pushing her up the seat, the new angle making tears roll down the sides of her face.

  A noise she didn’t recognize left her, swallowed by his mouth, their kissing frantic, their fucking even more so. And it was fucking – like animals, raw, visceral, out in the open with a mountain at their back and a cliff at their front, with nothing around them but nature in all its abundant glory.

  He was untamed, every inch of his body controlling every inch of hers as he let go of his own leash, his hips thrusting against hers, grinding himself into her clit on every downward slide, splitting her every time, cutting her to pieces before stitching her back together, anew, alive, and even more aroused.

  ‘He’s important, Vivi, this one.’

  Mo’s voice came to her mind out of nowhere, making her freeze for a moment, her eyes flying open as she pulled her head back, disoriented. “Mo?”

  His eyebrows slashed down, his hair wild, untamed, disheveled by her fingers. “Who the fuck is Mo?” he demanded.

  Corvina couldn’t tell him, especially not then.