WHISPERS OF LINGORM : A One-Shot Anthology - Chapter 20: Chapter 20

"Are you hungry?"
Tawan's voice sliced through the tension, calm yet assertive, as she leaned against the kitchen counter, her gaze fixated on Ira who stood several feet away-arms crossed, brows furrowed, clearly irritated.
"No."
Ira shot back with a pout, her voice defiant-but her stomach betrayed her a second later, growling loud enough to echo in the silence between them.
Mortified, she cursed under her breath, shifting awkwardly. Tawan's lips twitched, just a hint of a smile, amused but she masked it quickly and turned away.
"Sit down."
Ira didn't budge. She scoffed. "What?"
Tawan turned her head slowly, eyes like winter frost.
"I said. Sit. Down."
Ira opened her mouth to argue, but Tawan was already moving-calm, dangerous, like a predator who didn't need to raise her voice to dominate. She picked up the knife from the counter, and with a lazy flick of her wrist, tilted its pointed nib toward Ira-not threateningly, but with enough precision to make a statement.
Ira froze.
That look in Tawan's eyes-sharp, unreadable made it very clear that disobedience wouldn't end well.
Without a word, Ira sat.
Tawan turned away, plating food in silence. Every movement was effortless, laced with a cool grace that didn't ask for attention but commanded it anyway. She set the dish down—Creamy Truffle Alfredo pasta—the exact one Ira had once, only once, mentioned she liked. It made her blink, processing. She remembered...
Before she could comment, Tawan placed a spoon and fork in front of her, then draped a linen napkin over her lap. The motion brought tawan dangerously close. The loosely tied apron on Tawan's body was the only thing between them and Ira could see it clearly now, underneath, she wasn't wearing much else. Her toned abs teased with every breath. That damn intoxicating perfume clung to the air between them like a drug.
Ira's brain short-circuited. Her throat ran dry. She stared without realizing... until-
"Stop drooling sweetheart—eyes up here."
Tawan's voice was low, teasing, like a silk glove hiding a knife.
Ira snapped out of it, yanking her gaze away and scoffing dramatically, pretending she hadn't just been caught sinning with her eyes. Tawan said nothing, simply continued serving her with a cold elegance that made Ira want to throw something.
But just as she was about to speak or maybe toss a sarcastic remark, Tawan's phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket, and her entire expression shifted.
Darkened. Hardened.
Ira noticed.
"Eat."
Tawan said simply, before walking out toward the side balcony, answering the call with her back to Ira.
"Whatever" ira scoffed.
She picked at the pasta, pushing it around with her fork. But her mind stayed on that change—the sharp turn in Tawan's mood. Something wasn't right. The tension in the air now wasn't just between them. It was bigger. Heavier.
Minutes passed. Curiosity ate at her. She got up quietly, moving to the balcony door, staying in the shadow of the frame.
Tawan's voice was laced with fury, spitting venom into the phone.
"If he doesn't stop all this now then you will see that people will come in front of me and I will only return the bones."
Ira flinched at the venom in her tone.
Tawan ended the call. Hard. The sound of her phone crashing against the floor made Ira jump.
The screen shattered. Pieces bounced against the cold marble. And Tawan stood there, chest heaving, jaw clenched.
Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver cigarette case. Premium.
She slid one out, lit it with the kind of grace. Just as the flame touched the tip-
"Please don't."
Tawan paused. Her head turned slowly. Ira stood there, barely a whisper in the doorway, eyes softer now.
Tawan stared at her for two long seconds. Then, without a word, she turned back to the flame.
Flick.
The cigarette lit.
"P'Tawan... please don't smoke."
Ira stepped forward, this time braver. She reached out, her hand wrapping gently around Tawan's wrist before she could bring the cigarette to her lips.
Tawan turned to her, that same dangerous look returning—cool, unbothered, sharp.
"Didn't I tell you to shut up, sit down and eat your food? What the hell are you doing here?"
"You're angry." Ira answered, firm but soft. "But this won't help."
Tawan took a step forward. Then another.
Ira backed up.
One more step and another.
Until her spine met the cold wall of the balcony, and Tawan's body hovered in front of hers—too close, too intoxicating, too intense.
"And if I don't listen to you?"
Her voice was low. Dangerous.
"What will you do?"
Ira blinked. Her breath hitched. She hadn't expected this. Not this kind of closeness.
Tawan, still staring into her eyes with that terrifying calm, lifted the cigarette to her lips. Took a long drag.
Then just as Ira panicked, expecting her to blow the smoke in her face—Tawan tilted her head.
And released it to the side.
Ira peeked her eyes open, heart pounding. The smoke never touched her. Now, Tawan stood by the railing, back to her, exhaling quietly into the night.
Ira breathed again.
Her eyes drifted to the cigarette still burning between Tawan's fingers.
"P'Tawan... please don't," she tried again. Her voice smaller now. "It's not good for you."
Tawan glanced back, unimpressed.
"Keep quiet and go eat your food."
But Ira stepped forward again.
She walked right up to her, stared into her eyes.
"What if I don't want to stay quiet?"**
Tawan didn't answer.
So Ira did the unthinkable.
She snatched the cigarette from her fingers and shoved it between her lips.
Took a bold inhale.
One long, deep puff.
And instantly-
Choked.
Coughs ripped through her chest, uncontrollable, harsh. Her throat burned, her lungs begged for air. She stumbled back, eyes watering.
She coughed hard, the bitterness of the cigarette clawing down her throat.
"You Idiot," Tawan muttered under her breath, her voice tight with panic as she caught Ira before she collapsed.
In the next second, she was dragging her back inside.
There was no softness in the way she held her—just urgency and a strange kind of fury, like she was angry at Ira for breaking, angry at herself for caring.
Tawan grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and pressed it against her lips.
"Drink."
Ira obeyed.
Because in that moment, that voice... that dominance—it wasn't a request.
Tawan's hand brushed her neck and face as she wiped away a drop from the corner of her mouth. The contact was barely there, but it scorched Ira's skin.
And something shifted in the air.
Heavy. Heated. Electric.
Their eyes met and they were suddenly too close.
Neither of them moved—but both of them leaned.
Drawn to something they didn't understand. Couldn't fight.
Tawan's breath ghosted across her cheek, and Ira's lips parted on instinct.
They were almost there-almost-
Almost.
But Tawan flinched like something struck her in the ribs. Her hands dropped from Ira's face, and she jerked back, stumbling as if she needed distance just to breathe.
"Shit," she whispered under her breath and turned, fingers running roughly through her hair.
"P'Tawan-" Ira began, dazed.
But she was already walking away. Fast and Silent.
Through a door.
Gone.
Ira didn't hesitate. She followed.
And found her.
In a dim-lit room lined with glass shelves and expensive bottles. Her personal bar.
Tawan poured herself a drink like it was medicine or poison.
"You're unbelievable," Ira said sharply, eyes narrowing at the drink Tawan was reaching for. "First cigarettes, now alcohol? What exactly are you trying to drown?"
Tawan didn't flinch. Didn't blink.
Only muttered, "Why the fuck do you care?"
Ira stepped forward, voice firm. "Because you clearly don't."
Tawan spun around then, glass still in hand, hair wild from her own fingers running through it. Her voice dropped, low and sharp like a blade-
"This is my house. My body. My rules. You don't get to come in here and play savior. I live how I want. Die how I want."
Pause.
"You don't like it?" She leaned in, eyes glinting. "Door's right there."
"Then push me out," Ira challenged, stepping in.
"Go on." She said.
Tawan stared.
Ira grabbed the glass from her hand and, without a second of hesitation, gulped the whole thing down. Her throat worked hard, the bitterness choking her, but she didn't stop. Not even when the coughing hit.
Tawan groaned. "You're such a fucking child."
But Ira smirked between coughs, lips wet. "And you're a coward."
She walked closer. Calm. Defiant. And poured up another glass from the counter.
"Fine. Don't listen."
And she drank again.
The liquid hit her throat like fire. She coughed again, but didn't stop.
Tawan rolled her eyes, infuriated.
"You're not proving anything Ira."
But Ira grabbed the third drink.
And the fourth.
Then the fifth.
By the time she reached the sixth, she was stumbling. Blabbering. Crying without tears.
"You know," Ira slurred, laughing at nothing, "I've never—never—been with anyone. Not seriously. Not emotionally. Not physically. I've had a hundred chances. But no."
She looked at Tawan with glassy eyes.
"Because none of them were you."
Tawan froze.
"I told myself you were just cold. Or scared. But you never even tried," Ira whispered. "You never let me close. You push me, pull me, fuck with my head-and I let you. Every time. Because I'm a fucking idiot for you."
She reached out and grabbed the loose strap of Tawan's apron, gripping it like a collar.
Tawan didn't move.
"You say it's your life. But you're wrong," Ira breathed. "It's not just yours. You're not the only one, it fucking hurts. I've been bleeding from the sidelines for years. You just never bothered to look."
Her voice cracked at the end.
And something shattered in Tawan's expression.
A stillness. A sharp breath. Something shifting—something breaking.
She stood slowly, grabbing Ira's wrist—not hard, but firm, anchoring her. Her other hand slid up, fingers tangling into Ira's hair—not pulling, just... holding. Making her look into her eyes. Forcing her still.
"What did you just say?" Tawan whispered, her voice dark silk, trembling at the edges.
Ira stared at her. Eyes wide. "I said I-"
"Again."
Words snapped from Tawan's lips, dangerous and low. "Say it again."
Ira didn't hesitate this time.
"I love you. I always fucking have."
And that's when Tawan snapped.
She didn't think. She didn't breathe.
She just crashed her lips onto hers, Hard. Ruthless.
It wasn't soft, wasn't pretty. It was all fire and fury, all the nights they didn't speak, all the words never said. Her hand stayed tangled in Ira's hair while her other arm gripped her waist, yanking her forward so their bodies slammed together, heat against heat, pain against ache.
Ira gasped into her mouth, moaned when teeth scraped her lower lip—when Tawan's tongue pushed past resistance like it was owed.
It was dirty. Messy. Goddamn addictive.
And Tawan didn't stop.
Not when Ira's hands clawed at her apron, pulling her closer. Not when they stumbled backward, lips still colliding, breath panting, skin burning.
The kiss tore away from their lips like a gasp ripped from a drowning throat.
Ira's breath trembled, lips swollen, her pupils dilated so deep the brown disappeared. Tawan's chest rose and fell in erratic waves, the echo of something long-buried clawing its way out from her.
She stared at Ira—raw, unreadable, almost haunted and then in one savage motion, swept everything off the counter with her forearm. Glass shattered. Metal clanged. Plates cracked against the marble.
Ira flinched as the chaos exploded around them, but before a sound left her throat, Tawan had lifted her up, fingers locked under her thighs like she weighed nothing.
She set her down on the now-bare counter. Cold surface. Hot skin. Breathless silence.
Then, Tawan leaned in.
Face inches away. Voice low. Dangerous.
"Tell me," she whispered, her hand gripping Ira's jaw-not hard, just enough to keep her still.
"If I touch you like you're mine tonight... if I break you down like I've wanted to for years... will you beg me to stop? Or beg me for more?"
Ira swallowed. Her heart was a drumbeat gone mad. Her legs involuntarily tightened around Tawan's hips, eyes flickering between her lips and the wildness in her stare.
"I asked you a question," Tawan murmured darkly, leaning close enough for her breath to ghost across Ira's lips. Her hand slid up Ira's bare thigh, stopping just before the curve of her hip.
"Do you want this, Ira?" she hissed. "Or are you just drunk enough to pretend?"
Ira's breath hitched. She didn't speak for a second. Then—
"I've wanted this," she whispered, voice wrecked and honest. "Even when I hated you. Especially after you leave."
That was it.
Tawan's control cracked like thunder splitting the sky.
She crushed her lips to Ira's again—not like before. There was nothing gentle now. It was possession, feral and bruising, teeth clashing, breath stolen. Her fingers tangled in Ira's hair a little tighter, tilting her head the way she wanted, like Ira was hers to shape.
Her other hand slid over her waist, then lower-tracing the inside of her thigh with maddening control. Ira arched, a half-choked whimper leaving her lips. She didn't know when she'd started trembling. She just was.
Tawan broke the kiss, lips trailing down her jaw. Her mouth grazed Ira's throat slowly then sucked at the skin just beneath her ear. A place no one else had ever dared to claim.
"Mine," Tawan murmured against her neck. "Even when you run. Even when you lie to yourself. Every. Fucking. Inch. Of. You. Is. Mine. Ira"
Ira gasped as teeth grazed her collarbone. She didn't stop her. Couldn't. Her hands were in Tawan's hair now, helpless, lost, desperate to feel more.
Tawan pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.
"One last time, Ira," she said, her voice like smoke and silk.
"Say yes. Say it like you mean it. Because once I begin—there's no halfway," she added, her hand pressing firmer into Ira's thigh, now under the fabric, skin to skin. "I'll ruin every man or woman who ever thought he or she could touch you after this."
Ira's voice was a breath.
"Yes, P'Tawan."
Ira’s reply was a breathless moan, eyes already glassy.
Tawan's smirk returned, sinful and slow. She pulled Ira to the floor and
spun her around—chest pressed to the bar table, arms pinned beside her head. Her cheek met the cold table while her ass met something far hotter.
Thick. Heavy. Alive.
Tawan’s cock was rock-hard, pressed between Ira’s thighs, hot skin grinding against barely—there lace. She rutted against her once—just once—and Ira nearly came undone.
“Feel that?” Tawan growled against her ear. “That’s what you do to me, babe.”
Her hand yanked Ira’s dress up, bunching it around her waist. Then—two fingers hooked into her panties and dragged them aside, not down. Just enough to expose her soaked heat.
“So fucking wet,” Tawan muttered. “Messy for me, huh?”
And then—without warning—she drove in.
Ira choked on her scream, fingers clawing the cold table. Tawan didn’t give her a second. She pulled back and slammed into her again, hard, her cock carving into her like she belonged there—like this body was built for her alone.
Thrust.
The counter creaked.
Thrust.
Ira’s moans broke into sobs.
Thrust.
The air was filled with wet sounds, skin slapping, breathless curses. Tawan’s hips snapped ruthlessly, her cock pistoning in and out of Ira with punishing force, stretching her open, filling her up until Ira was shaking uncontrollably.
“You’re gonna take it,” Tawan growled, one hand tangled in Ira’s hair, jerking her head back so she could hear every broken sound from her lips. “You’re gonna take every fucking inch.”
“P'Tawan—I—oh god—” Ira sobbed, legs trembling, nails scratching at the counter like it could ground her.
“You love this, huh?” Tawan hissed. “Love getting fucked like this. Say it.”
“I love it—fuck—I love it” Ira gasped, voice cracking.
Tawan’s fingers found her throat—controlling, not choking. Her cock drove deeper, angle brutal, rhythm relentless. Ira’s panties stayed pushed to the side, soaked, clinging to her skin, the filthy image seared into Tawan’s mind.
Her other hand slipped under Ira, rubbing her clit in sharp circles.
“Come for me, right here on this counter.”
“P'T-Tawan—please—!”
“Now.”
Ira shattered.
She screamed into the table, her body convulsing, walls clenching tight around Tawan’s cock as wave after wave tore through her. Tawan groaned through gritted teeth, hips stuttering as she pulled out, her length glistening, slick with Ira’s release.
Ira’s legs gave out.
Tawan caught her.
Lifted her like she weighed nothing—limp, ruined, still trembling.
She leaned down, voice raw against her ear.
“I’m not even close to done babe.”
Then she carried her to the bedroom.
Tawan’s smirk didn’t soften this time. It sharpened—like a blade about to cut. The way she looked at Ira was no tender. It was hunger in its most unfiltered form. Dominance. Possession. Obsession.
“Lie still,” she growled, voice dark and low, commanding instead of coaxing. “Or I’ll tie you down properly.”
Ira's breath hitched, her thighs instinctively pressing together—but Tawan was already between them, spreading her again like she owned every inch of her body.
And she did.
Tawan’s fingers wrapped around both of Ira’s wrists again—but this time, she grabbed the silk sash from the edge of the pillow, wrapped it around Ira’s hands, and yanked—firm, smooth, and unforgiving.
“You’re mine tonight. No control. No mercy,” Tawan muttered, tying the knot tight enough that Ira gasped at the pull.
Her mouth brushed Ira’s jaw, her voice rough with the kind of restraint that barely held back something ravenous—“You begged to be ruined, didn’t you?”
“P'Tawan—”
“I said, didn’t you?”
“Yes—” the word broke from Ira like a cry. She didn’t even try to hide how wet, how wrecked she already was.
Tawan moved like a woman unhinged. No more teasing. No more softness. Her mouth returned to Ira’s chest with bruising kisses, sharp sucks that would leave marks she wanted her to see tomorrow—reminders of who she belonged to.
Ira whimpered, her body twitching with every new press of teeth, every graze of nails trailing down her sides.
“Count for me,” Tawan said, her voice dark silk. “Every time I touch you, you count. And if you mess up—” Her fingers ghosted over Ira’s inner thigh, nails of left hand scratching lightly. “—I’ll start all over.”
Ira moaned, mind already hazy, but she nodded.
“One,” she breathed as Tawan’s fingers found her again.
A slow, sinful smile curved Tawan’s lips.
“Good girl.”
And then it began.
Tawan worked her fingers inside with slow, deliberate cruelty. Pushing in deep, curling just right—dragging the pleasure out like punishment. Ira’s hips bucked, but Tawan pinned her down again, pressing her forearm across her stomach to hold her still.
“Two—three—oh god—four—” Ira gasped, her voice trembling.
But Tawan didn’t slow. Her movements got rougher, each thrust punishing and precise, the smell of sex between them lingered like a rhythm of ownership.
At “seven,” Ira slipped—stuttered. Missed her count.
Tawan froze.
“No—please—” Ira sobbed.
But Tawan was already pulling out, already withdrawing with an infuriating calm.
“From the top,” she whispered, leaning in to suck her neck—hard.
Ira moaned, body arching, wrists tugging against the tie. Tawan didn’t care. She watched her lover writhe beneath her, body flushed and soaked and trembling.
“You wanted raw?” she hissed. “Then take it. Every second of it.”
And when she returned her hand, this time there was no mercy. Fingers thrusting harder, faster, hitting deep. Her thumb found Ira’s clit and circled it with ruthless precision.
“Count, babe. Count or come undone with nothing.”
“One—two—three—” Ira’s voice was cracked, desperate, sobbing the numbers as pleasure and pain blurred. “—five—six—fuck!”
When she got to “ten,” her body betrayed her.
She broke.
Came with a scream so raw it sounded like heartbreak. Her wrists pulled against the tie so hard her skin would bruise. Her body convulsed beneath Tawan’s weight—completely wrecked, soaked, and done.
But Tawan wasn’t finished, she licked her fingers clean and savoured the taste of her lover.
Then reached up, undid the tie with a single flick, and pulled Ira’s limp hands over her shoulders, kissing the inside of her wrist where the marks would show.
“You still want more?” she whispered, voice softer now—but still possessive. Still dangerous.
Ira nodded weakly, tears slipping from the corner of her eyes—not from pain, but from how wrecked she felt. How loved. How claimed.
Tawan kissed them away.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not letting you go yet.”
She kissed her like she was trying to stitch her back together, tongue slow, lips gentle this time—but still full of heat. The kind of heat that warned:
I'm not done. Not even close.
Ira was still trembling, her chest rising and falling in broken gasps, when she felt the shift in Tawan’s body.
Heavier. Hungrier. Predatory.
Tawan didn’t say a word at first—she just slid her hand down Ira’s thigh again, gripping it, spreading her open wider again.
Ira’s head turned, cheeks flushed, sweat beading along her collarbone. “P'Tawan…wait—”
But she knew.
She felt it.
The thick press of Tawan’s cock against her inner thigh—warm, real, pulsing with want. Ira’s breath stuttered.
Tawan leaned down, lips brushing Ira’s ear as she whispered, low and possessive, “You think I'll be gentle this time? No, babe… now I fuck you. Hard. Raw. Deep. Until your body only answers to me.”
Ira whimpered, legs instinctively tightening—but Tawan’s hands forced them apart, firm and merciless.
“Ah, ah,” she growled. “I told you. You don’t move unless I say so.”
Her cock brushed against Ira’s soaked entrance, teasing just enough to make her cry out—part desperation, part anticipation.
“You feel that?” Tawan whispered, rolling her hips ever so slightly, just letting the tip press in enough to burn. “You begged for this. Every time you talked back… every time you looked at me with those fucking beautiful eyes like you didn’t know you belonged to me…”
She thrust in, just the tip—slow, deep, cruelly controlled.
Ira’s nails clawed the sheets, a scream lodged in her throat.
Tawan groaned, voice shaking with restraint. “Tight. Still so fucking tight. Look at you… already trembling and I’m barely inside babe.”
Ira tried to buck her hips, but Tawan pinned her down with one arm across her belly.
“You take what I give,” she growled. “And you thank me for it. Say it.”
“P'T-Tawan—please—” Ira gasped.
But Tawan didn’t move.
Her grip tightened.
“I said… say it.”
Ira’s eyes welled with overwhelmed tears, her voice breaking into a desperate cry.
“Thank you… thank you for fucking me…”
Tawan snapped her hips forward—burying herself to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
Ira screamed.
Her entire body arched like a live wire had hit her. Tawan moaned into her throat, kissing her hard, possessively, as her cock filled her completely—stretching her, branding her from the inside.
“Good fucking girl,” she growled, thrusting again—harder. “You take it so well. God, you’re made for this.”
Every thrust after that was rough, rhythmic, deep—designed to own.
Her hands gripped Ira’s hips, slamming her back onto her cock with every movement, like she needed Ira to feel her—feel the shape of her, the weight of her, the claim of her.
Ira was moaning uncontrollably now, her voice ragged, sweat dripping between her breasts. “P'Tawan—ah—P'Tawan, I’m—”
Tawan grabbed her face, forcing Ira to meet her gaze mid-thrust.
“You’re not cumming until I say.”
Her pace didn’t slow.
She rotated her hips cruelly at the end of every thrust, making Ira sob and tremble beneath her.
This wasn’t just sex.
It was power.
It was devotion.
It was Tawan giving up control, and Ira protecting it like it was sacred.
When Tawan finally bent low, biting gently at Ira’s shoulder, her voice came out softer… but no less commanding.
“Cum for me now scream for me babe,” she breathed. “Let them hear who you belong to.”
And Ira shattered again—louder, harder, her cries echoing off the walls as her body convulsed around Tawan’s cock, clutching her tight as if it never wanted to let go.
Tawan moaned deeply, hips faltering as she followed—thrusting deep one final time and groaning against Ira’s throat as release overtook her, claiming Ira from the inside—filling her full.
They collapsed into each other—slick, breathless, shaking.
But still connected.
Tawan brushed Ira’s hair back, kissing her damp forehead.
“You did so good, babe,” she whispered, fingers tracing her cheek. “So damn good for me.”
Ira smiled weakly, eyes fluttering. “Only for you…”
Tawan cradled her, whispering against her lips,
“Mine. Always.”
The rays of sunlight pierced the shadows, creeping into the room like intruders, unsettling and unwelcome. Ira stirred beneath the heavy blanket, her body still tingling from the heat of the night before, a mixture of pain and pleasure lingering in her veins. Her skin still held the marks of Tawan’s touch—soft bruises, faint scratches—tokens of the raw intimacy they'd shared. It was a beautiful pain, but it was also haunting.
For a moment, she let herself linger in the warmth, eyes closed, remembering the feel of Tawan's body against hers, the way she’d taken control of everything—her mind, her body, her heart. Ira thought she could still sense her, feel her presence.
But then she opened her eyes, and reality slammed into her like a cold gust of wind.
Tawan wasn’t there.
The bed beside her was empty, the sheets twisted in the aftermath of their passion, yet cold. The scent of Tawan, that intoxicating mix of smoke, sweat, and something far more addictive, was gone, leaving only the lingering taste of emptiness.
Ira’s chest tightened. Her heart raced, a sudden rush of panic flooding through her. She sat up sharply, the room spinning slightly as she looked around frantically. Where? Her eyes darted from the empty space beside her to the floor, to the scattered remnants of their night. The only sign of Tawan was a pack of cigarettes on the bed on tawan's side, and next to it, a single, folded piece of paper......