Prologue

                                    

                                          
Author note:
The prologue is 18  content , if you are not comfortable please skip it and start from chapter 1. As story contain some 18  (smut ) content, but i will mention in chapter name so don't worry.
you can start reading...
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The night was thick with silence, broken only by shallow breaths and the occasional rustle of leaves outside the shuttered windows. A cold draft drifted through the dimly lit room, brushing against his exposed skin like an unfeeling specter. He had been trembling for what felt like hours now, muscles aching from futile struggles, wrists raw from where they had been bound by invisible, unbreakable forces. His breath hitched, each inhale burning through his lungs, the taste of salt heavy on his tongue from the endless stream of tears.
He had never imagined it would be like this. In the darkest corners of his mind, he had imagined pain, yes, but not this. Not this kind of soul-crushing helplessness, nor the overwhelming sense of being devoured whole.
His captor—no, the man standing before him was no longer a man—was a beast driven by a force beyond control. His eyes, once deep and intense, had darkened into an abyss, empty of the person they once reflected. Now, they were glazed, consumed by a need too primal, too overwhelming to be anything other than monstrous.
"Please," he whimpered, his voice hoarse from crying. "Please... stop."
But no answer came, just the low growl from the other, the beast. The man—his tormentor—stood over him, a predator surveying his prey. The air between them crackled with dark energy, thick and suffocating. He could feel the weight of it pressing against him, making it impossible to breathe, impossible to think of anything other than the cruel reality unfolding before him.
He had tried, in the beginning, to escape. When the bindings had first appeared, wrapping around his wrists like steel chains, he had fought back. His mind had scrambled for a way out, any way to break free from this nightmare. But as the night wore on, and the beast's hunger grew more insistent, it became clear that there would be no escape. Not from this.
"You don't... have to do this," he begged, voice cracking with the weight of his desperation. He didn't know if the man—if he—could even hear him. It was as though he had been swallowed by something darker, something more ancient and powerful than any magic or willpower could suppress.
But the words fell on deaf ears. The man's jaw clenched, his breathing deep and ragged, his muscles rippling as he fought with himself—fought with the beast that had overtaken him. There was a brief moment, just a flicker in his eyes, where the man seemed to surface. He looked down at the body trembling beneath him, and there was something—regret? Anguish?—that softened his gaze, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
He knelt down, hands rough and possessive, running over the other's trembling body. His touch was searing hot, like fire branding flesh, leaving invisible marks of ownership. The soul that controlled him—the force that had taken over—was relentless, cruel in its demands. It cared nothing for the pain it caused, nor the pleas for mercy. All it wanted was to take, to claim, to devour every last part of the person bound before it.
The first touch was brutal. His hand gripped hard enough to bruise, yanking the smaller body toward him with a violent, almost feral need. There was no tenderness in the way he handled him, no semblance of restraint. The force between them was too strong, too overpowering for the man to resist, even if some part of him wanted to. The bond, woven from ancient magic and raw power, made resistance futile.
The younger man cried out, a sound that echoed through the small room and seemed to linger in the air. It was a sound of pure anguish, but there was no one to hear it. No one to come to his rescue.
The beast above him growled, low and menacing, the sound vibrating through his chest like a threat. His hands roamed possessively, pinning him down, forcing him to submit completely. His mouth was hot and harsh against the other's skin, biting and sucking with an intensity that left marks. Everywhere he touched, he left a trail of fire in his wake, branding him, claiming him as his.
He begged again, his voice cracking as his body shook with violent sobs. "Please... please stop. I don't want this. Please..."
But there was no stopping it. The beast inside the man—the soul that burned with such ferocity—had no interest in his pain. It sought only fulfillment, and it would not be denied. With every moment that passed, the connection between them grew stronger, tighter, binding them together in a way that could not be undone.
The bindings tightened, invisible but as strong as iron, pulling his arms above his head and pinning them to the floor. His legs were forced apart, and no matter how much he struggled, how much he fought, there was no escape. The man—the beast—was relentless, his body driven by a hunger that could not be sated.
His soul, the fiery entity that controlled him during these moments of weakness, was like a raging inferno. It was wild and uncontrollable, its desires consuming every rational thought, every ounce of restraint. The man had been swallowed by it, his mind and heart lost beneath the overwhelming tide of lust and power.
The other gasped as he was forcefully entered, the pain sharp and searing. His body wasn't ready for this, for the brutality of the assault, but that didn't matter. The soul that controlled the man had no patience, no consideration for his suffering. It only knew that it needed, and it would take until that need was satisfied.
He screamed, his voice hoarse and raw, the pain too much to bear. But the beast did not stop. The thrusts were hard, merciless, each one driving deeper and deeper, tearing through him until he was sure he would break. His body trembled, every muscle tense and straining against the bindings that held him down.
He sobbed, his voice a broken, pitiful sound that filled the room. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and pain, unable to comprehend how this could be happening. How he had ended up here, at the mercy of a creature that seemed to know no mercy.
The hours passed in a blur of agony. Each thrust was a new wave of torment, a reminder that he was powerless to stop what was happening. He begged, over and over, but the man was too far gone to hear him. His soul, consumed by the inferno within, could not be reasoned with.
It wasn't until the first light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the windows that the assault finally slowed. The man's body was slick with sweat, his chest heaving as the soul's desire finally began to wane. But the damage had been done. The body beneath him was bruised, battered, and broken. The smaller man had long since gone silent, his voice lost to exhaustion and pain.
He had fought, for hours he had fought, but in the end, there had been nothing he could do. His body, his mind, his soul had been taken, consumed by a force that was too powerful to resist.
His eyes fluttered closed, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision. His body was limp, too weak to move, too drained to fight any longer. He could feel the weight of the man still pressed against him, but it felt distant, as though it was happening to someone else.
And then, finally, blessedly, his mind gave in to the exhaustion, and everything went black.
The man, too, collapsed beside him, his body spent. The fiery soul within him had receded, its hunger sated, for now. But as the heat of the moment faded, the man's eyes cleared, and the weight of what had just transpired began to sink in.
He looked down at the broken body beside him, the marks of his cruelty evident on every inch of the smaller man's skin. His heart twisted painfully in his chest, the full gravity of what he had done crashing down on him.
But it was too late. The damage had been done.
As the first rays of sunlight began to break through the darkness, the man closed his eyes, his own exhaustion pulling him into unconsciousness.