There isn't enough art on the wall. For Zeonath, anyway.
He couldn't resist having Rawn's form on THAT wall, close to the hibiscus, white chalk directly in contrast with charcoal.
While his right hand highlights her figure on the wall, his left hand unbuckles his belt and tucks into his pants, brushing the hardened outline of his boxer-clad bulge.
Zeonath cranes his neck to take a look at Rawn. Then he returns his gaze to the wall, sketching roughly, yet clearly.
Hot imaginations sail through his mind—how fine Rawn's lips would look wrapped around his dick, the glow on her skin when she digests his cum, or the heavenly trigger that'd shoot up his cock when he has it deep in her wet flower.
"Fuck!" he rasps while throwing the chalk aside, walking across the room to stand beside the small table.
On the table, there's a coffee mug in front of which be unleashes the beast within his pants.
He strokes, fast and rough, eyes darting from Rawn to her incomplete sketch on the wall.
Nearing climax, he grabs the table's edge and leans against it, his weight shifting the table from its original position as he releases his seed into the cup.
His throaty grunts wake Rawn up.
On sighting Zeonath and his member, her eyes take a round shape. And her view darkens with exhaust as she scrambles to a kneeling position. Due to that she couldn't see when Zeonath leaps on the bed, pushing her to lie on back.
He straddles her torso with his thighs, holding her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head despite her panicked state. Then he puts the mug before her lips.
"Power, right?" he grinds out.
Rawn winces while distorting her expression in disgust. "Who are you?"
"Who I am is not important. It's what you are." Zeonath presses the mug rim on her lips. "Feed."
Rawn instinctively spits into the cup. She doesn't know where she got the courage from, but she's grown an intense anger for men.
From what she's experienced so far in Lyecan and Uksean, men like to solicit their victims, which is one thing she won't stand for any more.
"You men love to feed on this…" Slapping the mug to the floor and reveling in its crashing noise, she hisses, "…disgust."
Zeonath huffs a dry smirks. "A Mistake. What you are isn't important. It's who I am. Never forget that last part."
He shifts from his position so that he's sitting lightly on Rawn's chest while his knees are trapping her shoulders on the bed.
Now Rawn notices his member more than ever. Why not, when it's dangling before her eyes, grazing her lips.
"Oh, this is sexy," Zeonath moans with a faint gasp. "It's turning me on." He sucks his teeth, trying to break free the boundary in Rawn's mouth by pressing his cock tip on her lips. "You'll take my cum whether you like it or not; directly or indirectly."
Rawn's mistake is trying to scoff. Because then Zeonath gets a clear entry into her mouth.
She bites hard on him with brutal intent. But it only makes the man knead his thumb on her throat while shoving more of his length down her.
Rawn chokes and tears up, her face turning as red as a mashed tomato. Zeonath, on the other hand, laughs hysterically, moving his hips and thrusting. First slowly, then faster.
"Stop struggling, baby girl," Zeonath tells the battling Rawn. "I either take you in your mouth or pussy. Which one?" When she doesn't reply, he jerks the corners of his lips downward. "I guess that's my answer."
"The fuck you doing, wolf!" someone bellows from behind him. But he couldn't process who it was before heavy wind blasted him to the wall at his side.
He falls to the floor with a grunt, his wolf dulling the pang in his head. Then Zeonath rubs his eyes and looks at the room exit.
There stands Ju Xiang, her hands still stretched forward, and stance tense, ready to blast Zeonath again if he tries to attack her.
"I'm sorry, master," she rasps breathlessly, "I truly am. But you know my views on sexual assault. Especially on women. You were supposed to stick with art."
"This is art." Zeonath huffs, his expression darkening as he rises to his feet. "Do you know art, woman?" He shrugs. "Beside, a man will always be a man in the presence of a woman dripping of sex."
Xiang looks down at his exposed manhood, shocked at its erection. "You never get a hard-on for me," she says throatily, and doesn't even know when she relaxes her hands. "That is all I've ever wanted from you."
Zeonath scoffs and utters boorishly, "Knock it off, love. I want that girl in my studio before nightfall."
He leaves in a sluggish manner, while Rawn watches as a tear strolls down Ju Xiang's eye.
But the tear isn't her problem at this point. She just wants to get away from these people. Be far from them. If possible, not even exist to them at all.
"Dearest, are you okay?" Ju Xiang croaks out, wiping her tear and approaching Rawn.
The latter shuffles backward. "Get the hell away from me, witch. You're just like them. Pretenders. Hypocrites. Liars—like you did about not being a witch."
Rawn can sense that the powers Ju Xiang displayed is far from being just a woman who speaks with nature.
"So what now?" she asks. "Are you just going to hand me over to him?" Ju Xiang's face is indifferent, quite unemotional. And Rawn points that out immediately. "He has something on you? You know you can make a choice, right?"
"It's loyalty, Rawn," Ju Xiang mutters. "And I know that where you come from, you weren't really given the privilege to develop it. But Nath's brother helped me when I needed it the most. He saved me as a teenager from the hands of a degenerate Firne who longed to suck from me to her fill. I saw him capture the Firne. And I saw him drop her dead body at my feet days later."