Volo watches the steady rise and fall of Dawn's chest as she falls into a drugged slumber. She's soft. Pliant. Unresisting. The remaining pieces of his kind persona fall away like chipped glass as he stares at her, untucking the duvet from around her body. "You trust too easily," he coos, mouth stretching into a Lurxray grin, "but that's what I love about you, my dear." Volo settles himself comfortably on the bed, secure in the knowledge his sins would go unnoticed.
Calloused fingertips run up the insides of her soft, unblemished thigh, pushing up the hem of her dress. Part of him wants to hurry this, wants to claim Dawn's body as quickly as he claimed her heart, but he forces himself to slow. She's a gift, he reminds himself, and shouldn't be damaged by haste. "And much like a gift, I suppose I should 'unwrap' her," he quips, chuckling at his own joke. It's easy to slip her out of the dress, tossing it to the side. Dawn "sleeping in it" would explain away its wrinkled state in the morning.
Her undergarments are pink, of course. They match perfectly — with each other, and with Dawn herself. It's adorable. He tugs at the elastic of her underwear, listening to the quiet snap as it hits her skin as he releases it. "Did you do this for me?" he asks. "You really didn't have to go through the trouble. You're gorgeous no matter what you wear." After a moment, he adds, "Though I think you'd look best wearing nothing at all."
There isn't a clasp on the front of her bra, so Volo gently rolls her onto her side to access the back. He fumbles with the clasp for a while, trying not to get frustrated as it refuses to unlatch. He would never understand why women decided to make their undergarments so complicated in the modern era. It's not as though Volo lacks in dexterity — modern clothing is simply evil. "Next time, maybe you shouldn't wear this at all," he hisses, irritation starting to overtake his desire.
Dawn lets out a quiet sigh when he finally succeeds in removing it, shifting slightly in her sleep. He lays her back down, annoyance soothed by her soft, steady breathing. Removing her panties is a simple task in comparison to his earlier struggle. Dawn's naked body is fully revealed to him now, an endless expanse of soft, unblemished skin, and he settles himself between her legs. He cups one of her breasts in his hand, enthralled by how perfectly it fits in his palm. A gentle brush of his finger causes her nipple to harden, and he listens to her breathing hitch as he plays with her.
He leans down and kisses the space between her breasts, wishing he could take a bite. He loves how easily she bruises at his touch, he truly does, but in this moment he wishes she were slightly more hardy. It's difficult to hold himself back when she's pliant and unknowing beneath his ravenous gaze. Gentleness does not come naturally to him, no matter what lies he's been feeding her. Still, he can't afford to shake her trust in him by waking up with hand-shaped bruises and dark bite marks, so he resigns himself to feather-light kisses and soft caresses. There would be time to satisfy his more possessive urges in the future. He would ensure it.
Dawn makes a quiet, pleased sound as he mouths at her unoccupied breast, taking care not to bite at her raised flesh. He peeks at her face and lets out a smug hum. There's a blush spreading across her cheeks, creeping down her neck, staining her skin a lovely red. Volo removes his mouth with a wet pop, smirking as he sits back up to admire her. It's impossible to stop himself from staring at her sleeping face, soft lips parted slightly as she lets out incoherent murmurs. He ghosts his hands over her stomach, feeling the muscles flutter at his touch, tracing the planes of her body. "You're so small, my dearest Dawn," he says, letting his fingers drift lower, slowly pressing his index finger into her core. "How will I ever fit?"
He fingers her slowly, gently, moving at a pace that sets his teeth on edge in aggravation. It's so utterly slow. "I'm doing this for your sake, you know," he tells her, pressing another finger in. Her body accepts it easily, and he lets out a shaky breath. Soon. Soon. Be patient just a little while longer. "You're just so tiny compared to me — in all ways. So I'm doing this to prepare you, okay? When you finally ask for this, your body will be able to accept me easily, without any trouble. You should be thanking me, really."
He shifts further down the bed and presses his mouth to her core, still fingering her at that damnably slow pace as he laps at her clit with his tongue. Dawn whines in her sleep, contracting around his fingers as he devours her. She shifts but never stirs, her mind kept under by the drugs he gave her, but her unconscious reactions are beautiful and honest. He loves it. Another finger is added and she shudders, muscles tensing as he begins to finger her faster, harder, driven by his slipping control. Her breaths come faster, turning into pants, and Volo hums against her clit, revelling in the reactions he can wring from her body.
Her arousal drips down his wrist, staining the cuff of his jacket sleeve. If she were more observant, he'd probably worry about it — as it stands, there's no reason for concern. Even if she noticed the stain, she wouldn't think anything of it. "You're such a fool," he says as he pulls his fingers out, licking them clean. "But I must admit I like your naïveté much better than Akari's suspicious eye. She would never have allowed me to get this close." The thought once filled him with directionless anger, but now all he feels is smug superiority. Dawn loves him, would allow him anything and everything — the ultimate victory over his oldest, dearest enemy.
It's quick work to undo his trousers, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes. After a moment, he pushes her knees up towards her torso. She's utterly exposed like this. If Dawn were awake, Volo's sure the vulnerability of this position would make her squirm. He grinds against her slick entrance, coating himself in her arousal, obsessed with how big he is in comparison to her. He almost doesn't think all of it will fit. Slowly, carefully, he presses in. The sensation steals the breath from his lungs, thoughts going hazy in pleasure as he successfully, mindlessly hilts himself within her. "Oh, would you look at that," he breathes, shaking with sick exhilaration. "It managed to fit after all."
He gently presses on her stomach, obsessed with the knowledge he's inside her. That he's claimed her. That she put her trust in him and he's broken it so easily. That, come morning, she won't even know what he's done to her, that she'll still look at him with lovestruck eyes and continue to put her misplaced trust in the nonexistent goodness of his heart. It was almost sickening, her unshakable faith in him. How perfect.
"Ah, if I still believed in Arceus, I'd say They put you on this earth just for me," he laughs, starting to fuck into her pliant body with small, shallow thrusts. "But no, you're not some divine gift. You're just unlucky enough to be mine." His smile is predatory, a baring of teeth, all traces of kindness stripped from his being. There's no reason to act in front of Dawn anymore, not when she can't see him. He slowly picks up the pace, fingers twisted in the sheets to stop himself from crushing Dawn's hips in his hands. It makes it more difficult to hold her in place, but he doesn't particularly mind. She's unresisting and beautifully responsive — that's really all that matters.
Dawn's face is twisted in pleasure even in her sleep, whines and pants and quiet moans slipping through her parted lips. He runs his thumb across them curiously, feeling the softness against the rough pad of his finger. "Will you let me have this too?" he asks, low and wondering. After a moment of hesitation, Volo dips his head and steals a kiss, thrilled at being able to take this from her too. She's unable to reciprocate his actions, but he doesn't mind. Taking from her is so much more thrilling, after all. Her lips are soft against his and he drinks down her moans with glee, reminding himself not to bite. When he pulls back, wiping the spit from his mouth, he briefly mourns that he can't get her to suck him off in this state. Her pretty mouth would've felt heavenly, he's certain. Not that he's complaining about current events — it's hard to be upset when he's able to press his hips flush against her. Perhaps next time he'd see if he could fuck her mouth in this drugged state.
Pleasure slowly coils in his gut as he takes and takes and takes from the oblivious girl beneath him. He curls himself over Dawn, pressing his lips to the slender curve of her neck, tormenting himself with the things he cannot yet have. She's so unbelievably tight around him, and stopping himself from leaving marks takes all his focus. Quiet moans and unintelligible words fall from her lips, and Volo can almost convince himself he can hear her calling his name. "What's that?" he teases, knowing he won't get a reply. "You need to speak up, dearest. I can't quite hear you."
Her head lolls to the side as she shifts in her sleep. "Mh… Volo…"
He stops moving. That was his name. Dawn had said his name. "... Dawn?" he asks hesitantly, praying she wasn't actually awake. This wasn't exactly a good situation for the drugs to wear off in. There wouldn't be a good way to explain why her "sweet, trustworthy friend" was fucking his way into her guts while she slept. Even so, on the precipice of a possible disaster, Volo finds his arousal hasn't dimmed in the slightest. If anything, the possibility of being caught only serves to drive it higher.
Dawn sighs and mumbles his name again but doesn't give a true reply. When he hesitantly reaches out to stroke her cheek, she nuzzles into his touch but doesn't stir. Volo relaxes slightly. The drugs hadn't worn off after all — she was just talking in her sleep. He resumes his actions, hesitantly at first, still slightly worried, before regaining his previous rhythm. Hearing her call his name so sweetly, even if she wasn't aware of her actions, made it so much harder for Volo to control himself.
There's a spark of realisation, one that makes Volo's heart stutter in his chest. She's… sleep talking. She's sleep talking and still calling out for me. "Oh… you're such a good girl, aren't you?" he breathes, utterly consumed, shaking with exhilaration. "Begging for me, even when you shouldn't. Such a sweet girl." The praise falls easily from his bitten lips as he presses a kiss to her brow, the tender action at odds with the pure want flooding his veins. She wants this. She wants this.
The tenuous hold on his control snaps.
He fucks her viciously, the bedframe shuddering with each snap of his hips. She'll probably feel it in the morning, but Volo's sure she'll explain it away with any number of silly excuses her mind can come up with. She can be quite creative when she's desperate to justify things to herself. Dawn's hair clings to her sweat-slick brow, skin flushed with arousal. He wishes he could add bruises to the canvas of her body, mark her in such a way that everyone would know she belongs to him. The desire to bite at the soft meat of her shoulder is so powerful that Volo fears he may break. She contracts around him, more powerfully than before, and lets out a breathy, desperate sound. Volo nearly chokes. Did she just —?!
It's almost a relief when he peaks soon after, spilling himself deep inside her willing body, heat rushing through his veins. It marks her from the inside out, an invisible claim, and he forces himself to be content with it. He peppers her with chaste kisses, whispering praises against her skin, uneven breaths echoing in the room. After a few moments he slides out of her, pushing her legs further towards her head so he can get a better look at her. Her entrance is puffy and swollen and wet, pink-tinged cum starting to drip out, and he almost wishes he could go for a second round.
"…as lovely as this looks, I suppose I can't afford to stain the sheets," he sighs, annoyed with himself now that his initial desire has been satiated. Only slightly reluctant, he bows his head and eats her out again. Long fingers twist within her to pull out as much as possible, swallowing the mixture of her wetness and his seed. It's mildly unpleasant, but not the worst thing he's ever consumed. The slight metallic hint of blood makes it more bearable. "I hope you appreciate this," he grumbles, "because I'm not doing this again." He thinks it over for a moment, then amends, "Unless you ask, I suppose. Though you're pretty innocent, aren't you? I think you'd combust even imagining it." He can perfectly picture her stammering out the request, hands covering her bright red face as she begs him to perform this filthy act. It's… quite attractive. He finds he wouldn't mind doing this again as long as she begged him exactly like he imagined.
Urges temporarily satisfied, Volo begins removing any evidence of his sins. Choosing not to undress makes his personal clean-up quick — he simply tucks himself back into his trousers. For Dawn, he has to do a bit more work. He redresses her easily enough, but leaves her bra where it lies on the floor. After all the trouble he went through to take it off, he refuses to put it back on. She'll come up with an explanation as to why it's on the floor as opposed to on her body, he's sure. The rest of her clothes he folds neatly, placing it on the nearby chair. Her sheets are slightly damp with sweat, but it should dry quickly enough and there aren't any stains that might cause her to worry. He pulls the duvet back over her body, though he doesn't bother tucking her in very well. Dawn tends to move in her sleep — it would be more suspicious for her to be perfectly tucked in.
Satisfied with his work, he runs his knuckles down her cheek, admiring the fading blush that paints her skin pink. He smiles with smoke-stained teeth, gaze predatory and smug. "My sweet little virgin Dawn — though you're not exactly a virgin anymore, are you." Laughter bursts from him, mocking and mean, a cruel twist of the lips. "But don't worry, my dear. I'll be more than happy to take it from you again when you offer yourself up to me."
And he knew she would, knew she would someday approach him with averted eyes, cheeks dusted pink, slender fingers fidgeting with her scarf. She would beg him to fuck her, offering up something she didn't know he had already taken. He would act appropriately, of course, ask if she was really sure and wouldn't you prefer to be with someone your own age, but it would all just be for show. Maybe he would be gentle the entire time, fulfilling every sweet dream she ever had about her "first time." Maybe he would slip and show hints of his true nature, marking her pale skin with dark, mean bruises. Either way, he would make Dawn scream his name.
He covers his mouth, biting at his fingers, already working himself back into a frenzy with his imagination. Later, he reminds himself, and is only slightly bitter that his life is a series of laters. He knows he will have Dawn all to himself for the rest of eternity to do with as he pleases; that doesn't make holding himself back in the present any more pleasant though. "I hope you have sweet dreams, my dear," he coos, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "Do tell me if you dreamt anything interesting, will you?" After one final check for evidence, he leaves the slumbering girl's room. It's a quick walk back to his room from there, his brisk pace fueled by unrepentant glee.
Volo waits until he hears his door's lock click behind him before losing his composure, hysterical laughter bubbling up from his chest. He can still smell her arousal on his fingers, taste her wetness on his tongue. It's everything he ever dreamed of. He settles himself on the bed, deft fingers pulling a cigarette and lighter from his pocket, lighting it with practised ease. The first drag he takes makes his head swim pleasantly, bitter smoke mingling with the remnants of Dawn's arousal. Smoke curls from his mouth with each exhale, turning the air hazy. His body is relaxed, dark satisfaction warming his bones. Volo thinks this is the closest he'll get to heaven outside of Dawn's body.
With his free hand, he fishes out an age-worn photo from his coat. Akari smiles up at him from the creased film, this snapshot of her boundless enthusiasm. There's a figure being pulled into view by the hero, a smudge of familiar blue and yellow at the edge of the photograph, though they are mercifully unidentifiable. Volo gazes at the old photo, a vicious smirk curving the corners of his mouth. "Are you watching, oh beloved hero?" he asks, mocking a girl long dead. "Your descendant is mine in mind, body, and soul. She'll never betray me the way you did."
Akari had run from him after the temple incident, sheltering herself in the arms of that stupid, vain, loathsome Clan Leader. The knowledge had consumed Volo for a century, hatred dictating his miserable existence. Now, Volo was finally free. His sights were set on a sweeter, more naive girl, and now he had completely consumed her. He caresses the edge of the photo, humming gleefully. "Don't worry, Akari. I forgive you for leaving me for Adaman," he says, voice tinged with malicious satisfaction. The grin that splits his face is cruel and utterly victorious.
"You've given me Dawn, after all."