Silent Treatment
Clair, Fire Emblem Echoes Shadows of Valentia
Non-con, asphyxiation, choking, necro.
Gray strangles Clair, taking place between their B and A supports.

XXX

Gray finds it harder and harder not to resent her. He confessed, he poured his damn heart out to her, telling her he loved her… and was told never to speak with her in response. Clair, who always speaks her damn mind, no matter how much it hurts. Clair, who he can't even think of without shaking, without getting angry.

Yet, she's so infuriatingly gorgeous he can't help but think of her. Before, he wanted her to be happy. Now, he wants her to hurt like he does. The villager lies awake at night, thinking of it. Of how badly he wants to hurt her. Of course he feels awful about it, but the desire doesn't fade.
And each night, it gets worse. Eventually he can't even try to sleep. Instead, Gray paces the camp, trying to keep his mind on other things. Trying to keep his thoughts away from making it so she can't speak to him. From her face, twisted as she gasps for breath. From his hands, locked around that slender, pretty neck. So alluring, so fragile…

And suddenly, Gray notices where he is. A very familiar tent is before him, dark, its entrance unguarded. He knows she's asleep inside, not a worry in her head. She can just cast him out, throw him away, and sleep like a baby? It isn't right.

Before he can stop himself, Gray is lifting the flap of the tent. He leans in, gazing at Clair. The light of the Moon makes her radiant, as she sleeps, her hair sprawled out beneath her head. That neck, so enticing… her chest, rising and falling with each breath, while he suffers under her words.

He can't take it. Gray steps in, crossing to her bed. He lowers her covers, slowly, so he doesn't disturb her. In the dim lighting, he can still make out her curves under the thin night gown, and he wishes things could have been different. He feels a stirring of arousal, and Gods does he wish it was different. But now, this is the only way. He'll win. Clair will be his, and no one else's.
So he climbs into the bed, straddling her. Each of his legs pins one of hers. The weight causes her to stir, to open her eyes and see the dark outline of her uninvited guest. Before she can scream, however, his hands clasp around her neck. It's so thin he can easily wrap his fingers around it, and squeezing feels so natural. Her hazel eyes go so wide, when she realizes her breath won't come. Gray watches as her mouth opens, closes. Silent gasps as she struggles for air. Then, those eyes lock on his. Even in the dark, she must be able to tell. Her eyes beg, they plead.

“Why are you doing this, Gray?” they seem to ask. “What did I do to you?”

Threw me away, he wants to say, but the words won't come. What does it matter, anyway? Gray has no intention of letting up, and slowly, that dawns on her. Her lungs scream for relief, for air, and suddenly she is desperate. She begins to thrash, to struggle against her assailant, but with her legs pinned she cannot overpower him.

Gray's arms have the strength of a man who's worked the earth, while Clair has lived in luxury. Her training isn't enough to win her the day, and her thrashing slows. Her hands, attempting to push at Gray, to claw him, fall. As she runs out of air, she goes limp.

Gray stares into her eyes, as the spark that gives them so much inquisitive charm slowly fades. Beneath him, Clair loses consciousness. Laying on top of her the way he is, he feels the warm rush of her piss as her bladder empties. And yet, he holds his grip. He wants to be sure. Absolutely sure that she's gone. So, he presses harder. Squeezes tighter. Until he hears a soft pop, and knows he's crushed her windpipe. He breathes deeply, then, enjoying the breath he's taken from her.
Only then does he realize how hard he is. Even in death, Clair is beautiful, and now… she's all his. With a shudder of apprehension, Gray frees his cock. He lifts her nightgown, and tugs down her soaked panties, revealing her cunt.

“I love you, Clair,” he says, as he pushes the tip of his erection against her. “You made me do this…”

He pushes in, then, marvelling at how warm she is, how alive she feels even though he knows she's gone. With nothing holding him back, he fucks her. He uses her, like nothing more than a pretty doll, thrusting into her, rough and hard. In moments, he comes, his seed spilling into her dead cunt.

There's a certain satisfaction in his climax, an ownership that he can't deny feels incredible. And leaves him wanting more. Of course, tonight is his only chance, and if discovered, he won't survive tomorrow. So he rolls over his lover, dead as she may be, and presses his cock against her ass, next.

He fucks her until just before daybreak, enjoying her every hole cold as much as he did hot. By the time he's done, her body is coated in his come. But, naturally, he has to leave if he has any hope of survival. Not that he cares either way, with Clair gone.