Delia Darling

Romantic Fiction | When love making is a weapon

In the dusky orange haze of sunset, Delia finds herself splayed across the rug at the foot of her bed. Tean knows the strings to pull that make her tremble. He plucks, plays, and pulls. She, a violin, vibrates a warm, sustained melody that rises up to the ceiling. It wraps them up as he laps, spreads his tongue flat, pulling a song out of her that soars and soars until it reaches a crescendo.

She tenses. He chuckles, marveling at the chatoyance of her skin in the light of the setting sun. Marveling at the tautness of her muscles in this position, spread out for him like an offering. When she finally relaxes into the silence of the after he rests his head at the base of her stomach. He enjoys how soft and warm it is. Presses a soft kiss of thanks there. She sighs a long, heavy sigh that crashes through the air, a passenger airline tumbling towards the earth in freefall.

“We can’t keep doing this,” she mutters

“I can. We can,” he whispers, kneading the flesh of her thighs.

“I can’t. I can’t keep accepting sex as an apology or a distraction. We never ever solve anything.”

“Do we need to? Do we need to do this right now?” He lifts his head to stare at her.

She turns away, avoiding his gaze.

“I’m serious, Tean.”

“You’re always serious, Delia,” he mutters, pressing soft kisses up along her midsection until he finds his way to her neck. “You were serious last week, too. Serious in the back of the movie theatre. In the bathroom of the party two months ago. Serious, serious Delia. I like your brand of serious. I’d buy it in a bottle and bathe in it every day.”

“Fuck off, Tean,” she grumbles. “Why won’t you leave me alone? Let me go?” Her voice drops as if terrified that the words would reach his ears.

“Delia darling, does your body feel like it wants to be free of me?” he asks, taking a nipple into his mouth.

She whimpers.

“You wield it like a weapon. It’s violent—” her statement is cut off by another whimper.

“Such sweet violence, yes? Would you rather me use you as a shield instead?” he asks, letting the coolness of the air kiss the wet space where his mouth used to be.

He does not give her a chance to answer. He closes the distance between his mouth and hers and swallows her protests into himself. Sticks his tongue into her mouth as if to force back any words of protest. She softens beneath him and moans into his mouth. When he finally pulls away, she turns her head, watching the final rays of sunlight die into the darkness.

“Darling Delia,” he mutters again and again a prayer of adoration, a hex of possession, as he makes himself home inside her.

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It’s always a fun challenge to write romance and walk the fine line between being steamy and cringe. A true challenge if there ever was one. I hope you all enjoyed this break from the more refletive mystical magical horrifying fiction i typically write. I got to keep yall on yall toes. Haha.

TELL ME:
Have you used sex as a weapon/had someone use it as a weapon? What line/lines were your favorite? Did you want more? Do you think Delia will ever get the courage to leave Tean or will he leave when he grows bored of her?


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