NSFW SMUT - Black x Cream …

[Content Warning: The following text contains explicit content, including non-consensual consent (CNC), physical violence, and strong sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.]

Cream was on edge. The energy in the room was charged, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. She had tried to ignore it, tried to push it down, but it was a futile effort. The urge, the need, was too strong. She was in heat, and it was unbearable.

Across the room, Black sat on the couch, his attention engrossed in a book about reptiles. He knew what was happening, he wasn't oblivious. But he couldn't care less. To him, Cream was a nuisance, an annoying fly buzzing in his ear.

"Are you really going to sit there, pretending I'm not here, Black?" Cream's voice dripped with venom, her temper flaring. The last thing she wanted was to give him the satisfaction of knowing her desperate state.

"Are you just going to ignore me!?" Cream snapped. She was frustrated and irritated, but she would rather die than admit that she needed him.

Black's eyes slowly lifted from his book to meet hers, his gaze icy and distant. Cream's anger flared, her fists clenching. "Can't you see I'm..." She clamped her mouth shut, swallowing the words that almost slipped out.

Black's grip on his book tightened. The feeling of the hard cover under his fingertips did nothing to alleviate the building frustration within him. Cream's continuous bickering was getting on his nerves. She was in heat, and her jittery, restless movements were nothing short of irritating.

Black suddenly shot up from his seat, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her with him. In an instant, she found herself pinned down on the couch, her face pressed hard into the cushions, Black's weight on top of her.

Without a word, he shoved her pants and panties to the side and pushed into her in one swift, brutal movement. Cream screamed, the sound muffled by the cushions. The pain was sharp and intense, but it was exactly what she had been craving.

"Black, you–" she tried to bite out, her voice choked as she struggled beneath him, but his grip tightened further, the back of her head pushing even more against the cushions.

"Shut up," Black snarled, he didn't care about her pleas or how she felt.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t give her time to adjust. Instead, he started a ruthless pace, his movements harsh and unyielding. Each thrust drew out gasps and cries from Cream, a mixture of pain and pleasure. He enjoyed it, the way her body fought and yielded under him, the sounds she made - it was intoxicating.

But as much as she hated to admit it, Cream was enjoying every moment of it too. Each rough thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body, the pain only adding to the intensity of her pleasure. She wanted more, she craved more. "Black," she whimpered, her voice shaking, "More, please..."

"Shut up," he growled, not slowing down his brutal pace. The cries and pleas escaping her were making him grit his teeth in both irritation and arousal. The more she writhed, the more he wanted to break her. He watched as she squirmed under him, a cruel satisfaction warming his blood.

Cream's begging escalated, her cries echoing around the room as she lost herself in the cruel rhythm. "Black...harder," she whimpered, her voice barely audible, her body begging for him to give her what she wanted.

A low growl escaped Black's lips, his thrusts becoming even harsher, "I said... shut up." He continued to slam into her, watching her body convulse from the relentless pleasure.

The more she resisted, the more pleasure she found in the pain. Each brutal thrust was an assault of pleasure and pain combined, pushing her closer to the edge. And when her release came, it washed over her in a blinding rush of heat, her body convulsing.

Yet, Black didn't stop. He continued with his brutal pace, pushing her into the realm of overstimulation. The pleasure was intense, too much, but it was exactly what she craved.

Cream writhed on the sofa beneath him, the dull throb of pleasure coursing through her, intensifying with each cruel thrust of Black's. He showed no signs of stopping, his strokes unrelenting, vicious. She squirmed, the overstimulation making her whimper.

"Slap me," Cream demanded through gritted teeth. The words echoed eerily in the vast room of the spaceship.

Black, still deeply buried within her, stilled at the unexpected request. "What?" he growled, the single word holding a myriad of emotions - disgust, confusion, and surprisingly, interest. He eyed her warily, taking in her flushed face and the desperate glint in her eyes.

"Do it, Black," she urged him on, a desperate plea slipping past her lips. Her hips moved restlessly against him, craving friction, craving more. "I need it..."

With a harsh laugh, he yanked her up by her hair, causing her to gasp sharply. Her body was flush against his, her ass pushing against his hard length. He tightened his grip on her hair, forcing her head back to meet his icy gaze. "You really are pathetic." He sneered, finding a cruel delight in her discomfort.

The sight of her, desperate and begging, did something to him. It was grotesque and tantalizing all at once. His disgust warred with his curiosity. Against his better judgment, he found himself wanting to give in to her demand.

Without giving her a chance to respond, he shoved her back onto the couch, pressing her face into the cushions. Her whimper was muffled by the fabric, her body quivering with anticipation.

He raised his hand, hesitating for a moment as he glared down at her, and then brought it down with a hard smack against the curve of her ass.

The sound of the slap echoed through the room, followed by Cream's gasp of pain. But instead of crying out in distress, a choked moan slipped past her lips.

Without a word, he drew his hand back again and slapped her ass hard, leaving a stinging imprint on her soft flesh. Her body jerked, the pain sharp and sudden, but it only added fuel to the fire. She moaned, her body writhing as the sting mixed with the brutal pleasure he was inflicting upon her. It was too much, the pain, the pleasure, the harshness of it all - overwhelming, overbearing.

But Black didn't stop. He struck her again, harder this time. His handprint appeared on her skin, a stark red mark that had her gasping. And still, he continued. Slap after slap landed on her backside, each one harder than the last until her cries echoed in the room, and her skin burned a fiery red.

"You're a sick woman, you know that?" he spat out. "I know," she purred back, a daring smirk playing on her lips. Before Black could process her audacity, she was grinding against his cock. His disgust grew with each guttural moan that escaped her lips. Still inside her, he held himself back from moving, making her seek her pleasure on her own. Cream rocked her hips back and forth, impaling herself onto him, trying to satisfy her own lustful needs. Black watched as she rutted against him, her body moving on its own accord, chasing a release he wasn't willing to give.

Throughout the ordeal, Black remained eerily silent, the only sound in the room the slap of his hand against her skin, and her gasps, moans and cries. His gaze was locked on her reddened skin, a dark satisfaction taking root within him as he watched the marks he was leaving on her body.

Lifting his hand again, he curled it into a fist and drove it into her side. A sharp cry of pain tore through her. "Bastard!" Cream spat out. Unlike the sting of his slaps on her ass or back, this pain was different. It was sharper, harsher, and it lacked the cruel pleasure she had found in his previous punishments.

"Black, Stop!" she gasped out, her voice muffled by the fabric of the couch. Confusion flickering in his eyes.

Black's fist was raised again, preparing to deliver another blow to Cream's side, still under the impression that it was part of their twisted game. Her cries of pain, her writhing body beneath him - he saw them as part of her act, her way of pushing their boundaries further. Was this not what she wanted?

But as his fist began its descent, Cream's hand shot out, shielding her side. Her eyes met his, wide and filled with fear, as she tried to ward off the impending blow. It was the look in her eyes, more than the protective gesture, that gave him pause. This was not an act. This was genuine fear, genuine pain.

Black froze, his fist hanging in mid-air, as realization struck. He'd hurt her - truly, physically hurt her. He had crossed a line in their game, a line he hadn't even known was there until he'd crossed it.

But the sight of Cream, writhing in pain underneath him, was not what he had anticipated. He withdrew his hand, realizing the severity of what he had just done. The twisted game they had been playing had gone too far.

"Cream..." Black started, the words stuck in his throat. He was angry, yes, even disgusted by her earlier requests. But he never wanted to hurt her. At least not like this.

Cream just lay there, gasping for air, clutching her side. She didn't say a word, didn't meet his gaze. She was hurting, but she wasn't going to show him how much.

But then, Cream's voice, raw and hoarse, broke the silence. "Not there, asshole," she grunted, panting heavily. She was clearly in pain, but there was a twisted satisfaction in her eyes. "Hit my back... That's what I want."

With a rough push, she rolled fully onto her stomach again, her fingers digging into the couch's fabric as she presented her back to him. Black watched her, a mix of confusion and disbelief written all over his face. This was Cream, stubborn as always, unwilling to back down even when the game had gone too far.

With a heavy sigh, Black leaned over her again, his hand raising to meet her back. The slap echoed in the room, followed by Cream's pleasure-filled gasp. This was what she wanted, he reminded himself, even as his stomach turned at the thought.

He didn't understand it, didn't understand her. But in that moment, he didn't care. He resumed his assault, his palm connecting with her back, the force of his slaps causing her to jerk forward with each impact.

Each strike sounded like a harsh drumbeat echoing in the large room, punctuated with her screams. The sight of her back growing a darker shade of red with each slap and hit was strangely captivating.

"I hate you... so much," she growled out, pushing back against him as she fucked herself on his dick. Black's response was a noncommittal grunt.

He let his hips start moving again, thrusting into her in a rhythm that matched the tempo of his strikes. He was repulsed by her enjoyment, yet his body was in its own rebellion, responding to her moans, her writhing.

With each ruthless thrust, each hard strike, Cream's cries grew louder. Her body arched, her hips thrusting back against his, seeking more contact. Her fingers dug more into the fabric of the couch, her whole body trembling, teetering on the edge of an orgasm. His hand, now landing on her already red and tender skin, pushed her over that edge. Her body spasmed, her walls clamping down on him as she came with a guttural cry. He didn't stop his movements, his thrusts, pushing her higher and higher.

Finally spent, Cream fell limp beneath him, her body twitching from the oversensitivity.

Black withdrew abruptly, his expression as cold as ice. He looked down at her - a whimpering, shaking mess sprawled on his couch, her backside red and marked, a silent testament to their rough liaison.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. He left her there, sprawled on the couch, her body still twitching from the aftermath of her climax. His disgust was still there, hot and bitter, but it was overshadowed by the satisfaction he felt at having brought her to her knees.

"Get out," he ordered, his voice icy.

"But you didn't..." she protested weakly, but he cut her off.

"I don't care," he replied, standing up and adjusting his clothes. He didn't care that she was still gasping for breath, still trembling from the intensity of her climax. He didn't want her there, didn't want to see the satisfaction in her eyes. She had got what she wanted, and he had delivered. But it didn't change anything. He still despised her, and no amount of rough sex could change that. "Get out. Now."

Despite the sting in her backside, and the harshness of his words, a satisfied smile spread across Cream's face. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, and it was more than she could've ever imagined.