Christopher at the King's Grave
The cold morning rain poured steadily from the sky like a silent cry from the heavens.
It was 7 a.m.
The sky was covered in thick grey clouds, and the wind had a slight bite to it. The air smelled of wet stone and earth.
Christopher stood still.
Not a word escaped his lips. Not a movement in his body.
He stood completely soaked, his clothes clinging tightly to his skin, his black coat heavy from the rain, his boots half-buried in the soft, muddy ground.
In front of him lay a single grave—the grave of King Adam, his adopted father.
The marble stone was tall and grey, engraved with gold lines and the royal crest of Velmora. Around the grave, freshly planted white lilies struggled to stand against the wind, their petals trembling.
Christopher didn't blink.
His silver eyes stared at the stone as if trying to read answers that weren't there.
He whispered, almost too quietly for the rain to hear,
> "In my last life… you didn't die."
His voice cracked slightly.
> "You lived. Old and bitter, but alive."
He clenched his jaw.
> "But now you're gone. Why? Why did it change?"
He raised his head slowly, letting the rain hit his face.
His long black hair stuck to his cheeks. His fists were tight at his sides, nails digging into his palms.
> "Was it… because of me?"
He looked around the graveyard.
The Royal Cemetery of Velmora. A silent place. A cold place.
Stone graves stretched in every direction—ornate, grand, proud. The resting places of kings, queens, generals, and nobles. But none of them had family visiting.
> "They all died rich. Powerful. Feared. But in the end..."
His lips curled slightly in bitterness.
> "They were still alone."
He looked back at the king's grave.
> "You too… You had wealth, an army, servants, and yet…"
A drop of water slid from his hair down his cheek.
> "You died with no one holding your hand."
He took a long, slow breath. His expression hardened.
> "I was never your real son. Just a lucky commoner you adopted."
> "Still... you gave me food. A roof. A name. I don't care for sentiment. But... I repay my debts."
His voice turned cold.
> "Your death—was not an accident. That much I know."
His eyes narrowed.
> "Something… or someone killed you. Hidden in shadow. Behind false smiles. And even though I don't feel pain…"
His hand reached out and gently touched the edge of the gravestone.
> "I will kill them."
> "I don't care if they are nobles or gods, human or beast. No matter how strong they are. No matter how far I must go. I will drag them out. And I will end them."
He stood there for a few more seconds.
The wind howled softly.
Finally, without another word, Christopher turned around.
His figure slowly faded into the white mist that had begun to crawl through the graveyard.
Only the rain remained.
Tapping quietly on the stone.
And the grave of a dead king.
.....
IN THE HEAD COMMANDER OFFICE ...VELMORA
The office was filled with the scent of leather and old parchment, the air thick with tension and desire.
William, a commanding figure with his blonde hair and stern features, stood behind Loraine, his eyes locked onto her bent-over form.
She was positioned over his desk, her ass presented to him, her body ready and eager. The room echoed with the sounds of their pleasure, Loraine's moans of "Aah, aah, aah" filling the air, a symphony of her submission.
William, with a predator's grin, gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, leaving marks of his passion.
He spanked her, the sound of his hand meeting her ass echoing through the room, each spank accompanied by a moan from Loraine, her body arching, her back curving to meet his touch.
"You slut," he growled, his voice a low, dominating rumble.
"You never get tired of fucking, do you?"
Loraine moaned in response, her voice a mix of pleasure and submission. "No, William. I don't."
He continued his relentless assault, his cock sliding in and out of her ass, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting filling the room, a primal, raw symphony. He leaned down, his lips capturing her neck, his teeth nibbling, his breath hot and heavy on her skin.
"Today is a holiday," he growled. "No one is here to hear your screams. So scream for me, Loraine. Let them know who owns this ass."
Loraine moaned louder, her body trembling, her hands gripping the edge of the desk for support as William's thrusts became more powerful.
He reached around, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, her moans escalating, her body tensing, her ass clenching around his cock, milking him, urging him to release.
With a final, powerful thrust, William pulled out, a wicked grin on his lips as he took her left nipple in his mouth and started sucking it then he turned Loraine around, positioning her so that her back was against the desk, her legs wrapped around his waist.
He placed his cock at her pussy, their gazes matching, a look of pure, raw desire passing between them.
He leaned in, capturing her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth, tasting her, claiming her.
Loraine moaned into his mouth, her body pressing against his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, urging him on.
William started to move, his hips moving in a back and forth motion , his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, the sounds of moaning filling the room.
"Fuck, Loraine," William growled, his voice a low, dominating rumble. "Your pussy feels so good. So tight. So wet."
Loraine moaned in response, her voice a mix of pleasure and submission. "Yes, William. Only you can make me feel this way."