The Passion of Darius, A Gothic Tale of Love and Seduction

Darius woke in the night. The wind blew hard outside, rattling the trees against the house. Something wasn’t right—she was not next to him in the bed. “Marianne?” He was unable to thwart the edge of panic escaping in his voice. Even he could hear it.

“I am here,” her soft voice answered.

He followed the sound to the fireplace where she sat before the fire, hugging her knees. She had put her gown back on. The diaphanous thing trailed over the rug. Her long, dark curls rioted over her shoulders and down her back.

She looks like a goddess. And she is mine now. Truly mine.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “What are you doing down there?”

“Thinking.”

“Of what, my darling?”

“Many things.”

“Are you well, Marianne?”

She looked over at him then. Her eyes looked full of mystery and understanding at the same time. “Yes, Darius.”

He shrugged into his robe before coming down to the rug, sitting back on his knees, facing her. For long minutes he stared, enjoying the view.

Gorgeous.

Marianne held his gaze and waited.

“You are so lovely. Your body is glorious. I want to see you. Take off your gown. You want to take it off for me, don’t you?”

“I do,” she answered.

He watched as she got to her knees and sat back before lifting the hem of her gown up over her head.

A woman of splendid form—that’s what Marianne was. Breathtakingly fine. Delectable breasts with dusky rose nipples hardened immediately under his desiring gaze. They were marked all over with the feathery love bites he had made earlier. A flat stomach, slender waist, and the flare of lush hips framed the dark V of curls at the top of her thighs. That mysterious place he desired to know evermore. He wanted inside her again. No, he had to be inside her again.

Those eyes of hers, waiting… waiting… always waiting, looked to him for direction.

Darius opened his robe. His body was more beautiful than hers, Marianne thought. A beautiful man. Superb in physique. Smooth golden skin, rippled muscles on his lower chest and abdomen, the trail of dark hair that dipped low to encircle his cock. Sitting before her boldly, his shaft hard, needing her again, with no unease in his nudity, Darius wanted to take her again. Marianne knew all of this.

She thought about how it had been with him. Intimate, raging, tempestuous. He’d been inside her, pulsing and thrusting wildly, going deep. He’d filled her up with his seed and given sensations like she’d never known.

Once he’d told her she was beautiful when she took her pleasure and he’d loved watching it happen. She now understood what he’d meant. The beautiful part. Darius had looked beautiful to her when he had spilled inside her and found his release. His neck and arms rigid, looming over her, the weight of his hips, his eyes glowing down at her, his mouth working soundlessly before choking out her name. All of it beautiful to look upon.

Knowing she was giving him his pleasure was like a drug, and it had affected her strangely. Marianne hadn’t meant to cry like a baby, but when it was done, her emotions had bubbled up, overflowed, and out everything had come. She’d broken down and knew why. She felt guilty for having such joy. Surely this couldn’t be fair for her to have so much. Jonathan got nothing but death.

Darius had been ever so sweet with her, though, holding and caressing. He was very good to her. He’d insisted on letting him cleanse her with a cool cloth. His hands so gentle, taking away the traces of her virginity and his seed. I’m no longer a maid, she thought, and felt great relief, glad the experience was behind her and not the ordeal she’d feared. Far from it. It was good. Being taken. It felt glorious with him.

Darius kept on staring at her boldly, his cock hard and jutting in her direction, looking like it wanted in her again… badly. Marianne wanted to touch it and kiss him there, in the way he had done for her, but she waited for him to tell her. His voice was everything. The words directed, but the pitch of his voice, the silky croon, bewitched her in totality.

“Touch me, Marianne. Put your hand around it and stroke up and down.”

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his rigid cock. Her fingertips didn’t quite meet her thumb though. She stroked up and down as he had told her, mesmerized by the velvety softness of the skin that sheathed him. The slit at the head opened up when she stroked downward and closed when she stroked upward. The opening and closing made a small sound because it was wet. A bit of shiny moisture wetted the slit. Marianne wanted to taste it, but she waited for him to tell her.

“Lick me. My cock, Marianne. You want to lick it and kiss it. Take it into your mouth and suck with those sweet, strawberry lips of yours.”

She stretched down to meet his quivering cock flicking out her tongue, and licked the drop that seeped from the slit. He tasted salty but slightly sweet. She pointed her tongue and dipped inside the tiny hole for the remnants. She heard Darius groan above her. The sound of him made her hot all over. Even so, Marianne still waited for him to direct her.

“Take it all the way,” he gasped.

The rigid flesh slid into her mouth, and she had to stretch her jaws wide to accommodate his girth, but relished the sensation of being filled. His scent carried the remains of what they’d done before… some of him and some of her mixed together.

Marianne realized it felt right to do this. She wanted to.

Descending slowly, she felt the head brush the back of her throat, and it spurred her on. Marianne liked his cock in her mouth.

Darius put his hands up to her head and buried them in her hair, holding her mouth steady while slowly thrusting in and out, seeking a rhythm, just like before.

“God. You’re magnificent. Your lips wrapped around my cock—ahhhhh.”

Marianne kept working his flesh between her lips and would have continued, but he stilled their movements after a time. Gently holding her head still, he withdrew. She felt a bit of a loss when he left her mouth. Why did he want her to stop? She raised herself back up and flashed him a slight curl of a smile before licking her lips, rubbing them slowly together.

Darius brought his fingers to her lips, caressing, and told her why. “I don’t want to come just yet. Sometime, I’d like to come in your mouth, but not this time,” he whispered very softly.

Marianne smiled back at him, feeling suddenly bold. He’s mine.

Yes, she would like to do that for him, remembering how exquisite his mouth had felt when he’d used it to pleasure her.

Darius came at her again, cupping the back of her head with one hand, and the other to cradle the base of her spine. He descended for a kiss. Marianne caught the lingering taste of him on her tongue as it blended with his own.

“Come here. Straddle my lap. Sit on me, my beauty.”

She split her legs over the sides of his, folding them under. His hot erection sandwiched up between her thighs, against her burning cunny, that ached for him again.

He guided himself, rubbing the head against her slick flesh. God, it felt divine when he did that. Whimpering, she pushed harder against him, seeking, needing, craving…

I just need it in me. Hard and deep and… now.

“You want my cock inside you again, Marianne? Tell me, my beauty.”

She did not hold back even an instant. “I want it inside me again, Darius.”

He served.

Twin, satisfied moans pierced the silence as he slid inside, filling her deeply.

“Ride me. Ride my cock.”

She gripped his shoulders and began to rock up and down his length. He cupped the cheeks of her bottom from below and helped.

Writhing atop him, Marianne thought she could not even care about what she looked like or be embarrassed by it. What they were doing was so shocking and pleasurable at the same time; she could die like this and surely wouldn’t care. She wanted him hard and driving inside her. The feel of him piercing her through her own guiding movements was sublime, as was the knowledge that she was driving their sex this time. Up and down, she drew off and then dropped downward, encasing his cock, over and over and over.

Marianne was relieved to have Darius let her take him like this, as he wanted to do, and as she craved.

Her breasts swayed from all the movement, right before him. He captured first one nipple and then the other, sucking deeply, to the point of pain, pulling them up into his mouth. That sweet sting, mixed with the rasping of his cock teasing her clit, forced her to cry out in unimaginable pleasure.

They thrust together wildly. Back and forth, advance and retreat. She felt the spasms starting and bore down to squeeze tightly around him. Her shuddering cries must have told him she was climaxing, triggering an explosive release in him.

“Ahhh… ohhh… God, I’m going to come.”

She felt Darius get impossibly harder, just before he spurted his seed. It shot up deep, and she could smell the earthy scent she remembered from before.

He worked her fast, up and down, one last burst, his fingers gripping into the seam of her bottom. One final thrust finished the frenzy, and he crushed her to his chest, his cock jerking spasmodically.

He choked out roughly, “Bellissima, you are most splendid… ”

Easing down from fulfillment, they stroked each other. Marianne rubbed his back and kissed his collarbone. Darius kissed his favorite spot on her neck and caressed low on her hips. They stayed locked together for a long time.

Marianne felt his erection slowly soften inside her.

Eventually he roused them up to standing again. Helping her up, Darius kissed her deeply on the mouth and swept her into his arms, never breaking contact with her lips.

He carried her that way back to the bed, whispering through soft kisses the whole way. Cradling her head carefully, he laid her out, down on the bed. Darius was so gentle and tender in the way he touched her, it nearly caused her tears to return.

“Responding so sweetly to me, your skin touching mine is blissful, my Marianne.”

Being drawn close, Marianne indulged in the comfort of his sculpted body next to hers.

They stared at one another, lying on their sides, eyes each studying the other’s features. Marianne memorized every line, ridge, and hollow of his handsome face.

“I am glad, Darius, that I please you,” she finally spoke, sighing into the security of his embrace, relishing the solace of being cherished. “I want to. It makes me feel… better. You know what I need.”

He stroked over her hair. “I do know, Marianne, and I will always give you what you need. It is my duty to care for you and protect you now, and it gives me great pleasure to do so. Precious—that’s what you are. You are precious and perfect to me, Marianne.”

Far, far from perfect, Darius.

1st July, 1837

I have learned of the pleasures of belonging to another in the most intimate ways between a man and a woman. He makes me burn when he touches me. The discovery of what passes between a husband and wife has been a revelation, and one I found very wonderful and beautiful. Darius is a perfect lover. Demanding, yet gentle with me, and done in a way that I adore. Darius always knows exactly what I need. I trust him and want to be a good wife to him, but worry the day will come when I am not able to live up to his idea of me. My greatest fear is that Darius will become ashamed of me at some point, and I don’t know how I will be able to bear his derision. If it happens I don’t know what I shall do. The loss of his affection would be the most painful for me to bear. He deserves the best of everything. I shall try to be all that he would ever want.

MR