The Conquerors bloodline

"Unbelievable, utterly unbelievable." Bleu scoffed as he stared across their large, luxurious suite. A chandelier hung from the ceiling and beautiful decorations lined the walls. It was larger even than their own lounge back in Vale, though perhaps just a shade under-decorated… Bleu did always like his fancy trinkets and baubles.

Marigold pushed herself up from the bed and onto her hip. Sweeping a hand over her brow she winced at an ache in her arm and glanced to the blue bruise just above her elbow and shrunk as she covered it with her other hand. "It's alright dear," she spoke, her voice softly, submissively, fearful of the man before her. "Lets just enjoy our vacation."

Seconds is what it took for Bleu to swivel his head just enough to bear down a rage filled glower on her. "I. Purchased that room Marigold. Rightfully it is mine. It doesn't matter, how much more he payed, I, booked, it, first." Raising to his feet, Marigold watched his smooth back and bottom as he lumbered towards the balcony window and threw open the door and stepped outside. He peered over the ledge, eying with hate the cloud layer below, his finger crushing at the metal railing, threatening to buckle the metal.

"How can a child even have that much money? Ridiculous! Three hundred and fifty thousand… how utterly absurd. That's more than I mad in the first year since I started my company!" throwing his hand up, he slammed his down on the railing, not even wincing as it landed. Leaning over the ledge, he almost pressed his face against the clear wall protecting them from the pressure and coldness of the upper atmosphere.

Tossing her gaze to the side, Marigold swivelled ontop of the bed and brought her feet to the ground. Sweeping up in the process her long sleeved dress and pulled it on to hide those awful blue spots her husband disliked before standing. She skated around the bed, feet sticking slightly to the smooth floor until she was just behind Bleu.

"Must be family. Has to be." Grumbling, Bleu pushed off the railing and spun, he pushed past Marigold, shoving her to the side as he marched towards the small kitchenette and pulled open the door, scanning over the various drinks and snacks within. The smaller suites didn't have anything like, that, at least, Marigold didn't think so.

Like a dog following its owner, Marigold tracked him, keeping silent as he ranted to himself. When he pulled out a small silver can of beer, and pulled the tab open with the loud hiss of escaping carbonation, she winced. Bleu always drank when he was angry, and the drinking only made him angrier.

Tipping back his head, her husband downed the can in three gulping swallows and crushed it, tossing it off to the side for Marigold to pick up while he was sleeping. He grabbed another, this time shutting the fridge before popping it open and charging past Marigold who'd moved out of his path just in time. She looked to the crinkled can on the floor, a small drip of amber fluids leaked from the opened end but she didn't go to pick it up. He'd get angry if she did and she didn't want to make him angrier than he already was.

Following on heel, Marigold kept standing even as Bleu desended with a plop into the plush grey couch and threw one hand over the backrest, his expression wandering but locked eternally with a scowl. He didn't bother to cross his legs, leaving his limpid member open to the air as she was the only one there. If they had guests he'd dress himself up in a formal suit, always had to look his best for the company. Even with his friends.

Seeing Marigold in the corner of his vision, Bleu's rants dwindled and he trailed up her ankle length dress. Focusing on her hips and ample bosom before turning away. "Sorry, Marigold. I don't mean to be so aggravated. Just that boy, it irks me that he stole what should have been the perfect vacation for us."

Just like that, like a switch flipped, the anger was gone, shifted to a nurturing softness that brought a happy bubble to Marigold's heart. Patting the seat besides him, Bleu shifted to the side and said, "come Marigold." She was quick to join him, a bright smile on her face as she gently descended and sunk into the seat. Bleu hook an arm around her back and tugged her cheek onto his eternally warm skin. Unable to help herself, Marigold hummed pleasantly at the feeling.

His fingers worked circles over her shoulder, soon trailing to a lock of her illusttrious platinum gold hair and twirled it around his digits. In the silence that followed, Marigold felt happy, truly happy. This was Bleu. This was her husband. Loving, caring, always hugging her even after the stress made him angry. This… this was who she married those years ago.

"Have you ever heard of this… Evans family?"

But as was always the case, this momentary respite always fell apart someway, somehow. Marigold shivered, unable to turn her head up and meet his hollow eyes as he stared down at her unblinkingly.

"I-I, I can't say that I have." She crossed an arm over her body, brought it to his chest and tickled his stomach. Hoping that might quell the rage just the tiniest bit, though it never actually did.

"I thought as much. You never have been the brightest." Whatever darkness there was, wafted away and Bleu came to lean his head over the back rest. The half empty beer dangled precariously between his fingers, threatening to drop at the slightest drop of a hat. At the same time, Marigold couldn't help but be drawn downwards, her gaze peeked through the corner of her eyes caught his penis. Soft, large… slowly growing harder, thicker, longer.

Her jaw trembled nervously, the finger that twirled her hair turned to fingers turned to a hand and soon he was gripping the back of her head with a vice like hold. She was half inclined to cry out from the pain but forced the cry into a muffled whimper as she obediently slid from the couch and onto her knees. No words were needed for him to order her and for her to obey. Releasing her, she slid between his opened legs and for a second, peered up to his dark, hollow-of-emotion eyes and gulped.

He was scariest like this. Silent, domeneering. Like a fuse just centimetres from a charge, ready to burst at the slightest mishandling. Marigold pursed her lips to lines, diffled her dress straight and brought her hands to the floor, not daring to set them on his knees should he see that as rude, and brought her lips to his half erected mast.

As she began to work, drawing Bleu's pleasure higher and higher, the man sipped away at his beer. Only letting out the barest grunts of acknowledgment to his pleasure. Though when her motions weren't enough, he reached for her head, grabbed her hair as hard as he could and Marigold gasped in a lungful, ready for what was to happen.

In a single motion, he was pressing Marigold's face down into his stomach, forcing his member deep down her throat and till her nose smooshed against his groin. He held her there, not for a few seconds, but a minute that turned to four then five. By the sixth, Marigold's hands were curling to as her chest heaved, pleading to have some sweet breath, but it wouldn't come. Not till Bleu was pleased with her gargles and cries.

When he was, he threw her off and she staggered limply to the ground on the verge of unconciousness and came to loom over her. He said nothing, just stared down at her as she gasped and choked on air. Leaning down, he nurtured her, held her closely and brought her to her feet. "I'm sorry Marigold, I shouldn't have done that to you. Will you forgive me?" Even as speaking hurt, she smiled at him, sweat and drool slobbering her face as she nodded.

He helped her to her feet, but he was far from done. Gripping her upper arm tight, squeezing that bruise till it felt like her bones were to shatter, he dragged her around the couch and to the bed. Vertigo assailed her and the cushioned bunk seemed to grow for kilometers around. And as Bleu roughly threw her onto her belly atop it and ripped up her dress till her ass was on display and aligned himself with her hole, she bit into the fabric and hid her tears.