Fandom: Snow White and The Seven Dwarves
Rating: M for sexual scenes and violence.
Summary: Even a huntsman can desire someone as beautiful as Snow White.
Written for: wallflowerx07, because she found The Lies Behind the Mirror hot. :))
She was a very noisy runner.
Even if her feet were dainty and her body lithe, he could still hear the ragged breathing, see the pressed grass and smell the sweat-stained trail that she left for him to follow. He does not need to run at the state of her tracks, merely following the clues that would lead him to the woman he was supposed to hunt.
The knife sprang to life as the last rays of sunlight hit its blade, making it shine. He merely smirked and followed the tracks in a nimble fashion, not even making a sound that could undo the forest’s silence.
Like a fox. He was always labeled as such.
The trail ended in a river, making him curse as he tried to traverse against the flowing current. The scent of her supple skin was washed away by the running water and he could almost feel a pinch of pride for her strategic approach to him following her so aimlessly in the woods.
Yet he was no fool.
He took off his hide and placed it near a rock, taking his time as he surveyed the clearing and the riverbanks. The boots followed next, their dragon skin shining amidst the noontime light, making him appreciate their beauty once more. He got them from trading a few golden pieces he found near the outskirts of the doorless tower. He was able to trick the long-haired maiden into throwing him a few gold pieces, running away as she cried for his name, wanting to be released from the enchantment created by a cruel witch.
An enchantment created by the Queen. The Queen—his current moneymaker.
A twig snapped. A whimper followed. The huntsman smirked as he removed the outer leather vests, not showing the maiden that he was aware of her location, making her think that he would cross the river and got carried by the currents.
Again, he was no fool.
“You can never outsmart me, Princess.”
The princess yelped in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her sweaty body, the fabrics of her dress clinging onto her body as she squirmed against his. She was hiding behind a huge, rough rock, making him scrape his arms, the blood leaking out.
The blood as red as her lips.
He felt his manhood stir as he stared at her distressed face, tears forming on the corners of her eyes as his rough hands caressed her body.
Her beautiful body.
He growled and began nipping on her earlobes and her neck, his lips attacking her skin and leaving marks that would forever stain her body. She was a temptress the moment he met her, a mere look at her beauty making him lust for her—desire her in ways that are more perverse than necessary.
And right now, she was his.
He tore her dress and kneaded her breasts, her body pressed against the rough rock. The friction provided her with various wounds, the blood mingling with her sweat as he caressed her body roughly, his manhood poking through her skirts, teasing the slit between her thighs.
And then he rubbed her womanhood, earning a scream of pleasure and fear. Such a beautiful combination.
The wetness of her thighs made him growl, turning her to face him as he continued caressing her voluptuous breasts. The nipples were hardened and dark from all the touching. He took both in between his thumb and forefinger, twisting them and pulling them apart, her breasts heaving and reddening at the rough contact. His lips found them right after a few teasing touches, sucking on her mounds hungrily as his hands rubbed her over and over…letting her wet herself using his calloused hands.
Such a tease. Such a beautiful tease.
No wonder the Prince wanted to wed her. And the Queen to kill her.
Yet her beauty was something that enchanted every man—including the huntsman. He dared not speak to her as he removed her underskirts, his fingers probing her entrance as his mouth played with her breasts, sucking hungrily and biting hard. He had desired for her himself, lusted for her body and her mind, selfish about his intent for her with no qualms of sharing her beauty with anyone else.
Not the Prince. Not the Queen.
“I am going to kill you.”
He breathed into her ear as he positioned her on his lap, her breasts pressed against his chest as she straddled him. He gripped her buttocks and rubbed his eager manhood against her wet entrance, making her gasp at both his words and his actions.
“I will cut you open.”
He laid her on the rock, their bodies intertwined. The blade pressed coolly against her hardened peaks, the buds reddening as she gasped and shivered. He spat on her breasts before licking them fully, making her gasp and grip on his hair rather violently.
It turned him on.
He touched her fair skin, his fingers running through her ebony hair, her snow-like skin, her blood-red lips…
“…will keep your heart for myself.”
And then he thrust inside her, his manhood slipping inside her virgin walls and letting the blood flow. Her cries made the birds fly and her hands gripped his shoulders, her whole body quivering under him.
For as his manhood impaled her core, the knife cut her open, the wound deep and the blood flowing.
The pain and pleasure mingled on her beautiful face as he fucked her hard against the rock, her wound bleeding profusely. Her bloody hands gripped and stained his shirt yet he paid her no heed.
“Mine…” he whispered as he caressed her breasts, making the blood flow even faster. “You’re mine…”
And he plunged his hand inside her body, making her gasp and cough out blood, his manhood still pistoning in and out of her, the thrusts more forceful and quicker—
The heart thudded in his hand as he came, his seed spilling inside her lifeless body.
She was his first kill. Hers was the first heart he ever tore out, the first body he mangled and savaged.
And she was more beautiful in death as she were in life.
And she was all his.