Ash stilled his gentle writhing on top of her, dropping his left hand to her chin and lifted her face.

The fire in his eyes had abated, as though they had entered a calm, a last moment before the madness would take control.

"I waited for you, and you are losing yourself as we speak."

He leaned forward, kissing her, full lips pressing hers apart before she could say anything more.

And then his tongue was in her mouth, and it was thick, heavy, burning.

When he removed his tongue, her mouth hungered. It felt coated, almost numb from the effect of his pheromones.

He heaved a breath, the enveloping heat covering her face.

Finally, he said. "The longer we wait, the less of you I have a chance of being with - this first time together."

Netta opened her mouth to - what, protest? Surrender? She felt as words that she would have said back to him seemed almost to have been ripped from her mind.

A sudden burst of energy - toxic, threatening to immobilize - wracked her body.

Ash's voice cut through the darkness and he seemed to press her back to Earth. When she roused a measure, she found that he was melding his body against hers, pressing them together in a way that should hurt, given his physique against hers.

Instead, it felt more like intense warmth permeating her skin.

He had ahold of her hands and held them against either side of the pillow that her head was resting on to. She realized only then that he did it to stop her from clutching her head violently.

Looking up, she saw what she knew to be a panic nearly mirroring her own reflected in his eyes.

"We have to do this, if you mean to withstand the trauma of killing a member of your Coven."

When he mentioned the horrific act, Netta found that she had to put all of her energy into stopping herself from recalling perfectly the sensations of her hands on her adopted sister's coat.

She put all of herself into reaching up to wind her arms around Ash's shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked, panicked, up at the man.

Monster.

Ash thrust one of his hands through his hair, agitated."Nettles - Netta - you need to tell me that you want me. I can't save you if you don't consent."

When Netta, panicking, felt her ability to speak gone, as though it had never existed, she looked up at him, begging him to help her.

Ash yelled out, frightening her, then, baring his teeth as wide as he could in a way that made his mouth seem too large for his face - unnatural - he ordered, "Let me bind us before the curse swallows you whole!"

There came a pause. Moment by moment, it seemed, Ash appeared to relax. It occurred to Netta that he was possibly forcing himself to in order to stop frightening her.

He sighed in shallow breaths, an indearingly human thing to do. Netta could feel the tremble in his hands as he caressed her sides, her hips and the curving indentations of her ribcage.

He continued to do that for what felt like a minute, even as Netta felt herself losing less and less of a handle on the physical world. The only thing that seemed to anchor her in her own body was the sensation of Ash's burning hands.

Slowly, she became aware of the fact that she was no longer under the oppressive weight of the encroaching madness in her mind.

The calm lasted until he bent down closely to her neck. Pressing his lips against her ear in a voice that had the quality of the wind in it, he said, "Tell me that you want me so that I can save you."

Netta wanted desperately to open her mouth, to speak, but that ability had gone.

All that seemed to be left in her mind, in fact, was the need to tell him that she couldn't ask someone who had waited so long for her - diligently, in his own way, even loyally - to sacrifice himself for one night.

For the Witch whose fate it seemed to be to enslave him.

But the nothing that seemed to fill her was so very terrible - awful.

The promise of his warmth filled her, promised to save her from the cold. It was impossible to ignore.

As he softly, lovingly, begged her to tell him what was needed in order for him to save her life, Netta felt her resolve wearing thin.

Maybe it was his true nature, as a creature of lust, corruption and manipulation, but the more he whispered into her ear and provided her link back to her body, the more she felt the urge to obey him as it wracked her.

Trembling, she willed her hand to meet his left hand along her body. She entwined her fingers into his.

Ash stopped moving, frozen in place for a moment. He moved away from her neck, looked into her eyes.

It might have been a trick of the light, but his eyes seemed no longer to be that ludicrous purple. Rather, they seemed to have transformed into red. It could have been the twin of the blood that had spurted around where the blade had been thrust in Ximenia's chest.

It was fitting imagery - she felt that she was close to being damned.

Would Netta have still breathed a sigh of relief as Ash, abandoning all vestiges of the trappings of the physical realm, ripped the remaining clothing off of her body with a forceful swipe, had she not been on the border of losing her mind?

It was the sensation of Ash as he pressed against her, all of him that seemed to go on for miles, that so strong she missed when she had regained control of her vocal cords.

She tossed her head back and moaned.

As she lowered her head back, she caught Ash as he arched backwards to let out a rumbling groan. She felt splintered and broken.

Where his skin met hers felt somehow more real and complete, a vast sea of contrast between his playfully cruel teasing in the past.

Perhaps it was the bestial energy that had taken away any sense of lewdness that she may have felt before from his earlier advances.

Somehow, and perhaps it was how close death felt for her, but his closeness and touch felt good. Natural, even as it was exhileratingly alien.

Tender.

Any chance for an introspection was taken away when Ash lowered his head and began to kiss her.

She did not realize that she had begun to kiss him back with equal ferocity until he broke off the kiss abruptly and began to take his lips down her chin, her neck, kissing in a path down between her breasts.

He paused in the middle, his hands working gently but aggressively on her breasts.

Netta closed her eyes and arched forward.

When she opened her eyes, she could not see any more of him except for the tousled mass of his brightly golden hair, moving slowly down the expanse of her body. As she watched, his head disappeared past the twin, stiffened peaks of her nipples.

She thought that she was surely delirious when she saw her breasts enclosed between those hands of his with those long, long fingers.

She closed her eyes and startled herself when she felt her fingers lost in the forest of his hair. She was tugging him up.

Ash sighed, his breath a mist on her stomach.

"We are in a time crunch, and there's not much more I want in the world than to be with you, especially in this moment. However, you're not ready, yet."

Netta groaned and lurched against him. She didn't know how much longer she could take this - she didn't know quite what she wanted, but she lusted for it.

He answered the desperate question in her mind after he paused to swirl his tongue over the curve of her belly button. "You have to experience a shock to your system to be free of the curse. You know what I mean, don't you?" As if to illustrate exactly what he meant, Ash rolled his tongue, plunging the tip inside of her belly button.

Netta moaned in answer.

He continued to kiss his way down, while at the same time his hands took gentle hold of the beginning of her thighs.

Netta felt a momentary seizing in her chest, a chill that seemed to spread through her limbs.

As if sensing her unease, Ash looked up, his askew hair partially covering his luminous eyes, his lips puffy, alluring.

"What have you masturbated with in the past?"

Out of everything that she had ever imagined him asking her, that was not one that she may have never envisioned.

Through the depths of madness that was beginning to twist and contort the world around her, Netta blinked.

"Uhh?"

He smiled softly - in her mental state, his teeth almost looked sharp in his mouth.

"What's gone here before me is what I'm asking you." He tilted his head to the side. "Can you talk again?"

Netta bit her bottom lip and had to force herself to maintain eye contact with him.

"I've used a - a dildo in the past. A, um, a cucumber on the smallish side as well."

I thought about you only, oh, three quarters of the time when I did it as well.

Ash smiled a little broader then, his face rosy with what she realized had to be lust - looking horribly, like smeared, drying blood.

"Okay then. I'm glad that this won't be so traumatic for you, then."

Before she could suppose, in her haze, what he meant, she jumped as she felt the brush of large finger tips on her labial lips. Her legs were firmly closed, but she felt his knuckle as it pushed, parted.

He looked up and met her gaze and continued to stroke only when she had stopped shaking.

His touch - it burned there. But, like where he had touched her before, it wasn't exactly painful. And his touch - Goddess help her - it made her want more of that burning sensation.

With a soft smirk, Ash said, "You can rest assured that I don't mean to kill you."

His fingers multiplied on her, smoothly, insistently stroking her.

At some point, her legs had fallen open. It felt brazen, lewd and she tried to not focus on it.

Ash gazed up at her, making Netta wonder what he was waiting for. And then his other hand appeared, tenderly stroking against her inner lips.

He whispered it, but she could very clearly hear his words - or maybe she was only imagining it. "Yet."

Surprised, Netta gasped and let her head fall backwards so that she felt as though she was plunging back into the messy nest of her hair.

She felt the heat of his hands caressing her clitoris briefly, making her feel as though that part of herself was being wrapped in him and rubbed against.

The tension, the burning was too much to handle. So used as she was to controlling the pace and the intensity, she could not think, could scarcely breath. Her mind seemed incapable of imagining - him - stimulating her.

And then she could feel, as she gulped and writhed, riding the engulfing sensation of his warmth as he surrounded her clitoris, the invading, penetrative sensation of something so hot entering her.

She gasped, and looked down, propping herself up on her elbows enough to watch as Ash delved two of those large, long fingers inside of her.

When her eyes rolled up in her head, she briefly saw his face as he looked up at her while he penetrated her with his fingers. She could not make out the expression on his face. She thought, however, that she could see monstrous horns rising up from between the weaving of his fallen blond hair.

Those fingers delved in shallowly, stilling after he reached a certain depth.

The momentary trauma of the intrusion was soon something bordering on a lush feeling of fullness, complete with a torturous heat that rivalled even her own.

Netta panted to keep up with the rapidity of her breathing and locked her eyes on Ash's hands.

It occurred to her, somewhere in the back of her mind, that this was a scene that she had once swore to herself that she would never find herself in.

Ash glanced up at her, and she made brief, manic eye contact with him. It was impossible to miss how moved he was as well, underneath even the facade that he was putting on.

His shoulders shook as he breathed, intensity written in the engulfing quality that his eyes had taken on.

Still, it was impossible to also miss how her madness seemed to have distorted him, so that he looked, increasingly, twisted. Her vision tricked her, made her think that she was beholding the transformation of the beautiful, youthful-looking man into a crooked half-man.

He removed his fingers briefly, to not only re-insert them, but to dip deeper.

Netta felt the top half of her body go rag doll, even as the lower half lurched up to try to force more of him inside of her. The pain of He was like flames licking her from the inside.

She breathed heavily and continued to try to arch so that she could wrap more of herself around him.

For a moment, she forgot about everything she feared for and bucked.

She was rewarded with him giving her a gentle jab, this time taking his fingers as far as they could go, spreading an infectious heat that felt as though it was filling her.

She cried out and could only vaguely hear herself. She realized that she was also crying his name.

When he stopped, those fingers a tether between the two of them in a level of intimacy that Netta rarely allowed herself to imagine even in the deepest depths of her lust, Netta looked up, greed unfurling in her.

She wanted more of him, all of him, and she never wanted motion, heat, to stop.

In her gaze, she beheld a Monster that barely kept the vestiges of humanity about him, wrapping it around him almost like a tattered disguise. Large, sharp teeth, massive horns, and eyes that seemed to not be the color of fire, but to be made of actual flame -

For a moment in her fevered madness, she did not know if what she thought that she beheld was nightmare or truth.

When she shut her eyes - hissing, wishing for the vision of what she was imagining to go away - she opened her eyes to behold the beautiful man once more.

The fire in her cooled when she saw the strained, rigidity that his face had taken on, the way that his eyes glowed brightly in the dark.

It was the way that he looked up at her, there was no way that she could pretend that she was experiencing this great pleasure from a human. And the image of that monstrosity that kept replacing the man was left, imprinted in her mind.

She cried out, suddenly, "I wish to be consumed, I wish to be taken!"

He didn't say anything, but gave her exactly as she ordered, of course not in the way that she had meant it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to take in a deep, meditative breath. In a movement far too fast to be natural, his head was pressed between her legs. All vestiges of teasing and mental foreplay gone.

He buried his face between her thighs, beginning to bury his tongue wherever it could glide, freely.

The sound he made was shocking - a rabid, slurping sound, like a beast gorging on flesh. He was eating her, even his teeth digging in his savage, manic attack. His mouth was fire, burning, filling, consuming.

It was impossible to discern what was happening, and she flopped around in the crevice of sweat and heat that she had created in the bed, beating a rhythm with her arms as she flailed and cried.

The madness flowed out of her as she built in her energy, flowing into the mouth of the creature who wore the disguise of a human.

She heard herself crying out for him to stop - she did not want her first orgasm with him to be like this, trapped. She would be possessed in a lewdly metaphorical representation of everything that a Witch feared most.

And then his tongue plunged, carved blindly in a rabid flurry of muscular, flexing movements, burning over clitoris, the trail to her ass, and then plunging inside her burning, aching vagina.

Her mind was taken over by the convulsions in her abdomen that crawled up her spine like a shock wave.

Then she he realized that his tongue seemed to have grown and thickened past the level of sanity, penetrating her in wild motions that was plainly representative of a penis.

She thought that she was going to choke, suffer permenant paralysis or feel her soul fly out of her body.

And she didn't care.

She wrapped her legs around his awful, corrupting head and shoved him into her. She selt him oblige, the Monster's tongue filling her in a wicked pantomime of a penis, thrusting and hitting her g-spot with horrible, predetermined accuracy.

She fell forever, falling past the pyre flames that Witches were trapped in, then into Hell.

As she floated up from that, and into a sensual paradise, she thought, numbly, that she had done it.

It was over, as far as saving her from the curse was concerned - as long as Ash could withstand the full force the horrible power. The rite was completed - he was eating the darkness of the kinslayer's curse as freely as he was supping on her flesh.

There was no more than a moment for the beginnings of such thoughts, however, as she felt her still spasming legs being pulled apart.

She was aware, somewhere in what was still functioning in her physical senses, that she was being straddled.

She looked up and saw, with her breath catching in her heaving chest, that Ash's hair had fallen almost completely over his face to cover his eyes.

His hair was no longer that dark blond, but was, rather, a dark, deep brown. His body seemed much larger and he seemed less to be bending over her, a Monster looming over its human quarry. His arms had become larger, lean muscles jutting out from his every angle and line, tense with power.

This was no falsehood brought on by her purged illness.

"I will fit you perfectly," he said in a deep voice that seemed to reverberate in his chest.

His hands grasped on either side of her abdomen, so large that their combined span on her sides and across her stomach shared more in size with an ancient predator's clawed paws than even a large human male's.

Instead of feeling horror, Netta felt a surge of happiness tempered with a renewed lust. She felt, for the first time, that she was looking at Ash - the true Ashwood that was hidden beneath the mockery that was the blond facade of himself.

Unerringly, she allowed her legs to fall open, to welcome him to her with a doped grin spread across her face, her face wet with tears.

She was in the depths of a depraved rapture, baptized by his saliva. She barely got a glance, in her haze, at the weighty part of him that jutted out from between his legs.

It was impossible to tell what color Ash's penis was tinged, but it was impossible to, even in a glance at the thick shadow between them, miss the sheer size of him.

He sat between her opened thighs, her legs spread as far apart as she could manage, her thighs barely sitting comfortably as they spread apart, her skin pressed against the solid-looking columns of his legs.

In a heartbeat, he reared back and, with his hands lifting her, sank into her welcoming body.

It became immediately clear to Netta that there was something different about this part of Ash inside of her, in comparison to his fingers, his tongue. Even his tongue was not as hot as this part of him. It burned her, more than due to the pain of him pushing inside of her.

In one swift movement, she felt him fill her to the point that she thought that he had actually pierced her.

Looking down, she saw where their pubic hair met.

She breathed heavily and looked up, even in wonderful pain, a delirious smile beginning to form on her own mouth.

"Ah, Ash, we're together now -"

Her voice was cut off by the sight of his face. When a rare beam of moon light from outside shone across his face, Netta saw the unfocused nature of his blood red eyes, his jaw was clenched so tightly that he looked as though he was in agony.

Alarm filled Netta, and as she did, she felt herself clench around him like a vise.

Ash threw his head back and roared, his hips bucking back and forth, pummelling her.

In a daze of burning pain and lush, utterly ingentle pleasure, Netta felt her hands reach forward to try to grasp ahold of the feral Monster's hips.

Instead, she felt his hands close around hers, giant palms encircling the fragile knuckles of her hands in his.

He thrust deeply in one swift motion, then stayed buried completely.

They remained there for a few moments, still, save for her intense rhythmic breathing.

Finally he opened his closed eyes and said to her, "I'm sorry, but I'm very close. It's been so long since I last..." He trailed off with a shudder, his hips seeming to possess a will of their own as they gave a buck, plunging deeper inside of her.

Netta stared up at him and felt astonished at the sensitivity in his words. They seemed impossible to translate into the massive frame of the large Monster atop her.

She felt the fear in her, as natural as an animal's against a great beast when its jaws were wrapped around the half-circle of the animal's throat. Along with that, however, she felt something that entwined with that fear, making it into an aphrodisiac.

He was not a well tamed pet, as he had told her numerous times before. He was being kind to her and not ravaging her utterly, bloodily, like he very, oh too easily, could.

She acted impulsively, looking up into his dazed, yellow-red-white eyes. Taking a deep breath, she thrust her hips first away from him in a slow movement before pinioning herself back into him.

Ash seemed almost to burst in that moment, his eyes wide.

He looked almost frightened, and then was transfigured into what looked like a cross between agony and ecstasy - mind numbing pleasure and horrible, almost painful tension.

She rocked twice more off and back onto him, surprised at the elasticity of herself while simultaneously shocked as she felt the length and the sheer girth of him.

She understood in a frenzied moment what exactly he had meant when he had said that he woud "fit perfectly".

She was unsure of how he had done it, but his penis was perfect in size and shape, seemed almost to have been made of a mold cast from inside of her.

It bounced inside of her, slamming into its perfect fitted mate.

He cried out, but it sounded more like a bloody roar than any noise that a human throat could produce, a sound that rang off of the walls of her childhood room and astonished Netta.

Staggering forward on his knees, Ash made the bed creak loudly in protest as he lay over Netta, his outstretched arms cradling her head in his hands.

As he stared into her eyes, Netta felt something strange overcoming her. She felt, with a deep certainty, that she was no longer herself.

She shared a mind in a moment with something terrible but beautiful, ancient in a way that was ancient even by the exceedingly aged standards of Witches.

Terror filled her, even as she was soothed by the wafting smell of wildflowers, the kind she had never smelled before and had a hunch had no longer existed for a very long time, filling her lungs.

She was jerked out of that duality as she was filled by Ash, her ears with his splintered roar, her nose and mouth with the smell and taste of his opened mouth and hair, his pheromones, her breasts imprinted with the texture of the dark hair on his chest and the salt of his skin.

She felt as he joined as much as he could, filling and unifying with her one moment before she felt a haze of something that began in her abdomen and bloomed. It felt as though it was penetrating every cell in her body.

She realized, faintly, from a state of bliss more utter and complete than anything that she had ever felt before in her life, that this was the fruit of Ash's orgasm that filled her.

His magic mainlined through her, blooming inside of her, wrapping and filling to the point of painful, bursting, internal pressure.

It occurred to her only afterwards that what she was experiencing was what was colloquially known as the "Witch's passion" - the act of sexual completion from a Familiar, the act of binding completed only with the sexual satisfaction of both in in the same moment.

When she came down from the high, she was laying prone beneath Ash.

She looked up, unsure of what she would find in his face, but both anxious and still feeling the aftereffects of what was thought of to be one of the purest forms of magics.

Looking into his face, Netta was struck by one thing that she had not expected.

He wore a still, cold expression.

Netta reached a hand up to caress his face. "What's wrong... Ash..."

Ash ducked back a measure, still buried in her, brushing her hand away gently.

"Nothing." He muttered.

In an equally as gentle movement, he extricated himself from her and blinked off of the bed.

Immediately, fear for her lover's safety shook Netta.