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Chapter 1: Moving In Fleur stepped into her new dorm room, taking in the blank walls, the sterile furniture, and the faint smell of paint that filled the air. It was supposed to be an exciting moment—finally, she was here, admitted to the prestigious university she'd worked so hard to get into. Yet, as Arthur moved beside her, placing down a box with a gentle smile, an uncomfortable heat coiled in her chest.
Arthur looked at her, his gaze full of warmth and pride, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "It's just the beginning," he murmured, giving her a soft squeeze. His voice was filled with excitement for her, with the hope he thought she shared. Fleur smiled, but even as she tried to focus on his words, her mind drifted to what it had taken to get here.
They unpacked together, Arthur moving boxes and setting things up, treating the moment as a milestone. But every innocent touch, every sweet kiss on her cheek, reminded her of the things she'd done to secure her place. Her hands tightened on the edge of the box she was opening, her fingers brushing over the rough cardboard as she remembered Professor Antoine's unyielding grip on her. She shivered, heat flooding through her, despite the growing sense of guilt that prickled beneath her skin.
Arthur handed her a picture frame with a smile. "This'll make the place feel a little more like home," he said, his voice full of that earnestness she knew so well. She took it from him, placing it on her desk, aware of how light his touch felt compared to the grip she secretly craved. As he moved around the room, helping her settle in, her body reacted involuntarily, responding to the memory of being held down, taken with a ferocity she hadn't known she wanted until that moment.
Arthur, oblivious to her struggle, kept organizing her things, chatting about classes, new beginnings, and the life they'd imagined together. His voice was calming, his words reassuring. But inside, Fleur's thoughts churned, dark and needy, each affectionate glance from him only sharpening the craving that had started simmering the day she'd met Professor Antoine. She glanced at Arthur as he set up her books on the shelf, his movements careful and precise. Every innocent touch from him made her yearn for something more—something she couldn't ask him to give.
They continued to unpack, Fleur quietly moving her clothes to her closet while Arthur organized her desk. Every once in a while, he'd glance over, smile, and give her a quick kiss, clearly trying to make her feel loved. But it only amplified the ache inside her. The craving for something darker gnawed at her, memories of being used as nothing more than a body to be taken, filling her mind. She felt her breath hitch, a slight tremor in her hands as she folded a shirt and placed it neatly on the shelf.
Arthur reached out, pulling her close, oblivious to the turmoil bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "I'm so proud of you, Fleur," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. His hand slid down her back, slow and deliberate, as he tried to show her the love he thought she needed. But each soft touch, each careful caress, only heightened her frustration. She longed for him to take her with a fierceness he didn't possess, to push her against the wall and give her the roughness she craved.
His fingers traced gentle patterns across her shoulders, down to her waist, making her skin prickle. She wanted to melt into his embrace, to accept the comfort he offered. But a part of her recoiled, the dark need within her twisting, reminding her that this wasn't enough. Arthur was kind, sweet, his intentions pure and affectionate. But her body craved something harsher now, a force that could bend her to its will, that could make her feel like nothing more than flesh to be used and taken.
Arthur tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her. Fleur closed her eyes, letting him press his lips to hers, soft and caring. But as he deepened the kiss, her mind betrayed her, and the kiss felt hollow, lacking the fire, the roughness she was starting to realise she wanted. The kiss broke, and she forced a smile, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.
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