**Chapter 5: Consummation of Darkness**

The moment seemed to stretch on forever, the only sound the heavy breathing of the two women and the sickening squelch of their entwined bodies. Magik's eyes gleamed with a feral light as she finally reached her climax, her body shuddering with pleasure as she moved against Psylocke's battered form. Psylocke's body convulsed, her muscles tensed in a futile attempt to escape the pain and the horror of what was happening to her. As Magik finally pulled away, Psylocke lay there, her body bloody and bruised, her eyes wide with terror and despair. She cried out, her voice hoarse and barely audible, as Magik lay down next to her, her eyes fixed on Psylocke's battered form with a twisted sense of satisfaction. For a long moment, Magik simply lay there, her eyes drinking in the sight of Psylocke's broken body. Psylocke's tears flowed, hot and bitter, as she lay there, her body screaming in protest at the pain and the violation she had endured. Magik's chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths, her eyes never leaving Psylocke's face as she seemed to savor the moment. Finally, Magik stirred, her eyes flicking away from Psylocke's face as she sat up, her gaze taking in the bloody mess that surrounded them. She seemed to come to life, her movements swift and efficient as she stood up, her eyes scanning the area for something to clean up with. Psylocke lay there, her body broken and battered, her eyes fixed on Magik with a mixture of fear and hatred. She knew that she was at Magik's mercy, and that she was completely at her disposal. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she cried out again, her voice lost in the darkness. Magik's eyes flicked back to Psylocke, her gaze lingering on her battered form before she turned away, disappearing into the shadows to find something to clean up the blood she had left behind. Psylocke lay there, her body bleeding and bruised, her eyes fixed on the spot where Magik had vanished, her mind reeling with horror and despair. The darkness seemed to close in around her, a living and breathing thing that pulsed with a malevolent life of its own. Psylocke's tears flowed, hot and bitter, as she lay there, her body broken and battered, her mind shattered by the horror of what had happened to her. She knew that she would never be the same again, that she would carry the scars of this night with her for the rest of her life.