Primal Instinct-Lesson Learnt

BY : blackink
Category: 1 through F > Equilibrium
Dragon prints: 3823
Disclaimer: I do not own Equilibrium, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

(I do not own Equilibrium, John Preston or Christian Bale) The story is purely fiction and any similarity realreal life" (how THAT can possibly happen I dunno) is done so by coincidence. Likewise any comments and criticism is really appreciated it would only help but create a better story. Happy Reading.

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Primal Instinct - Lesson Learnt

He had only seen her once before, a very long time ago on the steps of Libria. Her hair, adorned with a long black braid whilst a tight slender dress kissed every curve. Back then, he was not aware of its mesmeric effect. Nevertheless, back then he hadn’t expected her to be a sense offender.

Preston watched transfixed for a moment in the doorway as the young woman who had been working on a painting took a few steps back to examine her work and then, instinctually, wiped her hands on the cloth she had been using to clean up excessive paint.
Were their any possibilities of her concealing a weapon? His eyes narrowed, noting the contents on a nearby table. Paintbrushes, paint tubes and old rags. The only source of light in the room coming from tiny holes in grimy glass which shone boldly upon the canvas whilst small particles and dust motes formed a moving waterfall, yet seemingly suspended in mid-air. A mattress occupied one corner of the room and boxes full of idle bric-a-bracs took up the other, a small satchel lay on a nearby chair. She seemed defenceless Preston noted as he continued to eye her cautiously.
It was time to make his presence known.

“How does it feel?”

Natalya turned swiftly in the direction of the voice and saw to her horror the cleric standing in the doorway. She was about to make a run for the satchel when his hand raised quickly, the revolver pointing squarely at her chest.
“I asked you a question” he responded detached from all human emotion as he leisurely stepped towards her, imprisoning her between the easel and his body.
“How does it feel?”
He watched inertly as the paintbrush she held passionately a few minutes ago dropped to the floor with a clank, tears slowly wielding in her eyes.
“Is this emotion worth the agony you will suffer?” he smiled knowingly. “Is it worth sacrificing your life?”
“It’s worth everything.” She shot back instantly “I’d rather take my own life than return to Libria!”
Preston saw her chin lift, and watched as molten fire exploded in her expressive eyes. She was attractive, he reflected. Long ink like hair framing an oval face and coffee coated skin. Her breathing had quickened as her crimson tinted lips parted slowly with apprehension.
“Go on shoot me. Get it over and done with” She sneered her eyes already closed, prepared for the impact.
Yet Preston stood transfixed as he eyed her with a vindictive cool. A muscle in his cheek twitched, and his features lost all animation, his eyes darkening with an emotion she was not prepared to recognise.

“Remove your clothes.” He instructed instantly.
“What?” Natalya asked horrified, praying she had heard him wrong.
“No! You…You can’t do this!” Desperation shred her nerves, and almost tore the very breath from her throat.
“I said remove your clothes.” Preston demanded, and she seethed as his teeth parted to reveal a mocking smile.
“Go to hell!” She spat, she had made a futile attempt to lash out at him, but he was too quick and grabbed her wrists pulling her instantly towards him.
“Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” Natalya shrieked her face hot with anger and frustration yet her attempts to free herself were of no use as he clamped her shaking body to his, his mouth seeking hers in grim determination.
“Do you like it? Is it worth feeling?” he snarled, and she felt a hot moist pressure forcing its way between her lips and teeth and into her mouth. It was his tongue, and she almost gagged when he thrust it back towards her throat in an ugly parody of sexual possession.
“Are you enjoying it?” he taunted as he forced his leg between her thighs.
“Please - Stop!” she choked, dragging her mouth from his with a supreme effort, and trying desperately to turn her head away. But it was useless. He was much stronger and she couldn’t escape his hand behind her head forcing her face back to his. His mouth was devouring her. His lips cold and savagely insistent possessed hers with a feverish urgency, which made her senses swim beneath a torrent of brutal emotion. Don’t let him do this! She ordered herself feverishly; remember who he is! What he believes! Don’t give him the satisfaction. He’s only trying to humiliate you, to toy with your emotions. But no matter what she wanted to feel or how she ought to be feeling the truth was Preston’s persistence was having the effect he desired. Unwillingly perhaps, but consciously her lips were softening, parting and moving slowly beneath his exploring his mouth.

His motives were mapped out, his plan was simple. Take her to a state of no return and humiliate her, it was simple. But what had begun as a calculated attempt to humiliate her, to prove to her that emotions were irrational and reckless had backfired.
And as his teeth grazed the skin of her shoulder, and then, painfully capturing the lobe of her ear, he instead proved his own lack of control as he heard her sweet cries of pleasure and pain. Possessed by a pleasure all too new he lifted her unto the table his arm swiping the contents unto the floor then roughly he ripped her bodice apart, her chest fully exposed to his gaze.

“God!” the choked oath was uttered as the rounded swell of her breasts nudged his chest. His hands moving to grasp their soft fullness, his mouth following in passionate pursuit.
“No. Stop you-you can’t” she got out unsteadily, closing her eyes against the picture of his gel slicked head against her tan skin. But there was something inexplicably erotic in feeling him suckling with such evident enjoyment that she had to clutch his hair, the tugging of his teeth and lips causing an insatiable ache between her thighs.
“Why not?” He countered. “Don’t you like it?” His fingers ripping her skirt and pulling off her underwear leaving her fully exposed. And even as instinct scissored her legs closed, she could only gasp out loud as he trailed a hand to the juncture between her thighs. This time his lips when they found hers were harder, more passionate, and she didn't struggle as his hands moved to cup her buttocks arching her instantly against him. She knew she couldn’t fight it; she could only let her body feel, and in doing so lost her only chance of redemption.

Her hands slid into his hair, winding the silky strands around her fingers and grabbing it furiously as he unbuttoned his jacket and trousers. Explicitly, he rubbed his pulsating heat against her stunned at the sensations it brought, the honeyed heat between her thighs opening for him. Completely lost in his desires he thrust himself inside her, she had cried out primitively then, at the paroxysm of pain.

He knew he should have stopped but he couldn’t, his body caught up in a delirious sensation which took his breath away and as he fastened her legs around him, his waist thrusting into her relentlessly it was then he knew his faith was sealed. She arched into him her arms wrapped around his back her nails raking his skin, it was all she could do to hang on as he rode her hard.

Dear God! He thought, in one fleeting moment of lucidity, he believed that he had known everything there was to know about human emotion. How wrong he had been. What had begun as an attempt to simply embarrass her, was building into a pleasure so intense, he was afraid he was losing his mind. The rhythmic demands of his flesh had become an urgent striving towards a goal he hardly knew existed, and just when he had begun to believe there could be no greater pleasure, he felt himself fragmenting onto a splintering wave of ecstasy. He groaned into her mouth his tongue flickering hers in an ancient dance. His arm wrapped firmly around her leg pinning her to him, whilst his seed spilled inside her.

Preston collapsed unto her, he couldn’t think and he knew he couldn’t move, so delicious was the fatigue that had swept over him it made even conscious thought an effort. Yet, gradually his breathing resumed its normal pattern and with it came his first coherent thought which was one of utter shame. In the after math of Preston’s withdrawal, the cool air that fanned his moist flesh cooled his blood as well, and with the return of sanity came the unwelcome realisation that he had not only slept with her but he’d also enjoyed every bit of it. He instantly pulled away repulsed by this thought and she instinctually turned away.

Only then did he realise how much she was shaking, and only then did he notice her skin was shimmering with sweat, their sweat. Gathering his clothes he dressed quickly, unable to bring himself to even glance in her direction. His eyes instead focused on the painting and its brushwork which pulsated with energy as with the explosive use of colour. He knew she was trying to piece together her clothing, maybe wondering as to what would happen next. Dear heaven what had possessed him? Had he been consumed completely by emotions so tumultuous it had resulted in an orgasmic meltdown? He didn’t want to think about it. All he knew was that he had to leave and he had to leave quickly. Picking up his jacket and making his way to the door he paused momentarily, before casting a sideways glance.

“Don’t expect me to suddenly feel.” He drawled with sarcasm and with that he walked out of the room.



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