“Stop it Casca,”
“He’s always into you, why?! Why you?” She hissed back at him. “Why you?!”
“How the hell am I supposed to know!” The male toothed out before receiving a straight elbow to his jaw, which resulted in him thrusting deeper.
“Fuck! Guts!” The ebony growled back, trying to keep her composure all the while feeling him.
It was another usual day for the Band of the Hawks; Griffith out dealing with the snobby ministers and their ‘friendships’, Ricket & Judeau were being swooned over by the maidens & mademoiselles, Pippin kept to himself—he knew it was too good that it was silly—and rested against one of the castle’s walls, Gaston and the rest of the troopers lollygagging with a pint or two, Corkus doing…whatever he does.
And then there were Casca & Guts, the so-to-speak sub-leader and the commander of the raiders in the far back, away from the public eye and yet somehow exposed…arguing over as usual.
This time was different though, a whole lot different.
“Fuck,” Guts twitched before adjusting himself against the corner. He was in a rather compromising situation, something involving Griffith became the reason for yet another heated quarrel between the two hotheads and they were suggested, by Griffith of all people, to take it to the back. And they did.
But something struck Casca, something she had never even contemplated of in her years. She never thought about it first, one can doubt if her mind ever went towards it but…
“This is ridiculous,” Guts muttered. “We have nothing to settle and yet we’re forced to—” he was interrupted as Casca shoved his back against a nearby wall, far enough away from the public eye. Guts was taken aback by the rather impromptu action and before he knew it, she gripped onto his collar and pulled him in for a heated kiss.
His eyes shot wide open and suddenly his heart began pumping blood throughout his body at an exhilarating rate. Not because of Casca’s actions but because of his inability to respond.
He would’ve shoved her off and even chopped her head off in an instant but… he just stood there and took it.
“I’ve had enough of you,” Casca hissed in his ear. “Every day and every hour Griffith is singing your praise and giving your performances as an example whereas it is I who has taken all the shit just to get close to him.” She nibbled his earlobe before ferociously attacking his lips again. Even with that hateful comment Guts was numb; his mind was beginning to connect all the dots, was…was he soft on Casca?
No, no. That’s certainly not the case; Guts was and would never have a soft spot for any of the members of the Band. He had a fixed goal: obey commands, and fight. In there laid an underlying agenda: revenge. Revenge against Griffith for beating him years ago and taking him as his ‘slave’. Guts always hated that word, ‘slave’. He didn’t want to be a slave to his dreams, let alone to a physical being. The thoughts of being under someone else’s command throughout his entire life had him lay awake many nights. He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t a follower. And yet he was under captivity, and whose captivity? A fine young man, admittedly. But not worthy of Guts’ ownership. No one was capable of his ownership, Guts thought.
And there he was, against the stone wall as his lips were being latched upon by someone who despised him just for that very belief.
Something snapped in Guts and he pushed his head forwards, forcing his lips back against Casca’s. He nipped and licked and sucked on her soft lips, but he wasn’t doing it for pleasure. He was fighting.
Casca let out a muffled moan because of the sudden assault courtesy of the larger male. She tried to fight back using all sorts of tactics; yanking his hair, running her nails against his flesh, even rubbing his heated privates. But Guts was not the one to be deterred. She knew. She had realized that Guts wasn’t taking advantage of a female’s apparent sexual advances, he was doing battle. Something she can do.
She pulled back from the kiss and turned herself around, slamming her weight back-first towards Guts. She pulled her trousers down just enough to expose her surprisingly wet nether regions, she did the same with Guts—another surprise that Guts let Casca undo his pants—before sliding herself over him.
He hissed and winced, before adjusting himself. As soon as he was done so Casca began slamming her hips against his pelvis. She wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him down in the nape of her neck. Guts instinctively tasted the sweat over the ebony’s skin, causing her to let out a heavy sigh and slightly lose control. Guts seized the opportunity and gripped hard on the petite female’s hips before driving himself full force inside her, earning a hiss layered over a moan. Casca felt her insides twist and tighten themselves around Guts. The large male began slowly pounding her, they both let out hoarse cry.
She realized he was winning, she couldn’t let him do that. She rose to her toes and with more vigor and strength rocked her hips over him. Her fingers gripped onto his waist and neck for more support as Guts groaned in a low voice. They both were jocking for position; it was only a matter of time now.
“Why don’t you just leave?!” Casca grunted, the clear hatred in her big ember eyes burned Guts’ stare, which in turn was boring holes in her.
“I never asked for this myself, I wanted to kill that white haired bastard the day he captured me!” Guts replied both verbally & physically, matching before eventually overcoming Casca’s rhythm. The brunette moaned under his control, her head snapped back giving Guts a whiff of her short mop. She shot her eyes wide open at the bold statement, but then again she expected something like this from Guts.
“The—then what’s stopping you?” She huffed in between grunts, slowly overpowering him again, her hips smashing against Guts and their sweaty bodies rubbed against one another.
“Gr, I wish I knew,” he simply replied, not able to answer. Not because he had an answer, but because it was thumping in his consciousness much to his surprise.
“I want to keep your dreams alive, Casca.”
“Fuck!” Casca felt her juices release over him. Was she enjoying herself? Blasphemy! She was supposed to be Griffith’s and….
Guts let out a hungry groan, feeling her fluids and using them to increase his pace, plowing her deeper and harder than before eventually overtaking her once again. Casca was now helpless, she was in control throughout the situation but something had popped in Guts and now he was winning.
“Shit, Casca!” Guts growled before pulling out as his seeds shot out, staining her trousers. She slumped back at the larger male, both panting for their lives after the rather physical bout.
But they both had forgotten what they were fighting for.
They obviously never spoke of the incident again, but since that day the fight between the two wasn’t about Griffith anymore. It was about something else…it involved dreams.