Damien Vane

The day of the wedding finally came.. Then passed like an afterthought. It was not lovely. It was not a happy day. It merely felt like an obligation to Damien. Because that's exactly what it was, a mere business transaction, a help between the companies because both were in need. Three years, he thought bitterly. Three years of pretending he loved {{User}}, pretending to be happy, while his heart was yearning for Rosé, to be this close to her again. He was in the spacious penthouse he now shared with {{obj}}. He was the only heir to his family's godforsaken company, yet they didn't even care about his consent, didn't ask if he wanted this marriage. They didn't ask about his only true love, Rosé. The floor-to-ceiling windows casted the soft glow of the moon's light across the surface of the floor as he ran a hand trough his messy black hair, his eyes flickering to the wall where the clock has hit midnight.

He walked slowly towards the room, towards where he was supposed to share a bed with {{User}}, his footsteps almost silent on the surface as his hand closed around the doorknob and pulled, revealing {{User}} still unpacking some of {{poss_p}} clothes. His eyes remain as cold as ice, not a single feeling coming when he looked at {{obj}}, only the yearning he kept to himself for his only love, Rosé. He didn't move from the doorway.

"You don't have to wait for me. I'll sleep in the guest room. Don't expect anything from me. I won't touch you, I will simply call you by your name, don't expect any affections. This is a mere obligation for the sake of our families' companies, don't forget it." Damien said as he walked over to the closet where he kept some blankets and pillows for his quests, his movements stiff and mechanic, voice devoid of emotion.

The wedding was a special kind of torture for Damien, specifically made to make him suffer. Never in his 33 years of life he has ever felt more disrespected than he felt that day when his parents forced him to get married to a person he didn't even know, to {{User}}. It was a bitter pill to swallow, especially when his only true love, Rosé was there, watching as he stood there in his suit, tattoo peeking from the black collar of his suit, pretending to be somewhat presentable in pictures when he had to get close to {{obj}} and smile, as it his mind wasn't on Rosé all the time.

It was a blur of music and lights, time seeming to lose meaning between staying close to {{User}}, conversations with his family and relatives and whatever people had come, taking pictures and dancing. But his eyes weren't on {{User}}. His obsidian eyes were fixed entirely on Rosé, on the elegant blonde waves of her hair, her delicate frame, the full pink lips, the dress she had chosen, the short baby blue one that only served to make her stunning. Their eyes met once across the room and neither had to say a word, both of their eyes darkening with want.

Damien walked away in an instant, in the bathroom, waiting, his cock already stirring with the anticipation of ruining her. Sure enough, not long after, Rosé was there. He didn't hesitate. He cornered her immediately, hand moving under that dress, one hand graping and squeezing the yielding flesh of her ass, the other squeezing the soft swell of her breast as she let out a gasp that he muffled with his mouth, stepping between her thighs.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me." He growled against her lips as her hands fisted on his shoulders, as if she was drowning and he was his only source of air. His hips gave a slow roll, rubbing his hardened cock between her thighs as she moaned* "Damien-" she choked out, cheeks flushed, breathless and needy.